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 Sep 2021 multi sumus
Carrillo
Charcoal traces intricate pits of ominous tenebrosity
Cobblestone paths guide and revive the indigenous nation’s daemons  

Splintered in vain, vexed and restrained
My deity must absolve these memories
Merciless silhouettes float amongst the rest
And disguise divine penitentiaries

Fictitious trepidation, nameless contagions, hinders this utopian civilization, callus your feet then fall onto your knees facing the skeletons of your aesthetic beliefs

Charcoal traces intricate pits of ominous tenebrosity
Cobblestone paths guide and revive the indigenous nation’s daemons
IT IS THIS TIME OF YEAR

in the bowl
on the table contains
the last of this seasons fruit
laying this way and that
puckered and pruny, they go
uneaten, they wilt in silence
unable to provoke an appetite
in anyone in the house
who happens to walk by, so they
remain unattended, staying put daily
as they bear witness to a souless sun
as it listlessly tries peeking
through the window hoping
to shed some light on a situation
beyond it's control
still it is unable  to withstand
the whole day, it is this
time of year when
the sun fades quickly
seeming in retreat always, as
the stars once again
remind who is in charge

By Michael Perry
 Sep 2021 multi sumus
Bob B
All day long a fisherman stood,
fishing in a river.
Although he was ambitious, he
Was failing to deliver.

He pulled in his net a final time,
Intending to walk away,
For he was rightfully weary, and it
Was time to call it a day.

"It's too bad," he sighed, trying
Not to be upset,
When all of a sudden he noticed a fish
Squirming about in his net.

The tiny fish pleaded and pleaded
With him to set it free.
"I am HARDLY worth the effort.
Wouldn't you agree?

"Throw me back into the river,
So I can grow for a spell.
When I've become a larger fish,
I could serve you well.

"Right now I am just a tiny,
Insignificant thing.
But later you could put me on
A platter fit for a king."

"What do you take me for--a fool?"
The fisherman replied.
"That you do not amount to much
Cannot be denied.

"How in the world could you expect
That I should release you when
Both YOU and I know that I would never,
Ever see you again?

"Why let go of a certainty,
For something uncertain? And so
You're going home with me, and into
The frying pan you'll go."

The moral? Once in a while because of
The situation you're in,
You must be creative if you
Want to save your skin.

Another moral isn't about
Trying to  save your ****.
It goes as follows: a bird in the hand
Is worth TWO in the bush.

-by Bob B (9-13-21)

°An Aesop fable retold here in verse
 Sep 2021 multi sumus
David Bojay
there's no reason to remember about what I've desired
just like I forgot about the desire to write
I've allowed myself the freedom to do
(when I want) (focus when it comes)
it's what feels to be, spiritual progress
radiant feelings
coming and fleeting
thought forms melting before all I'm seeing
attitude is vibration
the root of creation
divine formation
through useless information
making sense without mystical procedures
wasted leisure
(false ambitions deriving from unnatural greed)
open myself to persecution
only to realize I my"self" am an illusion
so it begins, the dissolution
calm and ready
secluded in the mysteries of this great theatre
life, a series of memories arranged in the practical
harmonical manner
(if that's a word)
(keep typing)
what do I live for?
a production of symbolism
entertained in the prisms
that so happen to reflect human mischief
live to diminish
built up anguish
a hopeless wish
meaningless stitch
can't manage the baggage
inside the cerebral attic
static between breaths
the moment I'll let
settle in the sun that meant to set
(a wedding in the sky)
lost love so divine
tears rushing down my cheeks at night
reflecting on universal signs
eternal truths
3.14
pie
I sigh
a moment at a time
you can't change, only modify
generous time flies
realizations combined
directions for decisions in mind
(this life)
incline, decline
experiences desgined
in
curves, opposing straight lines
how would we even define....
what truly aligns
the spirit
continue, live like there's no finish
vulnerable
characters to diminish
predict my wishes
my heart
longing for what isn't
what was
no longer there
couldn't stare at what I couldn't bare
missed true love by plenty hairs
mistakes were obvious
I was oblivious
thinking of what could've been
again
Limited trains of thought
All I used to sought for, cost a lot
it was you, who inspired some tunes
formed by the formless wind that creates the dunes
Inevitable doom
Saudade
Under the moon
I succumb to you
act upon intentions and responses
perhaps it's way too soon
flowers yet to bloom
ideas flowing out the womb
mistakes to broom
room to improve
a struggle before you wake
less and less to rake
In and out of fantasies
can't trust in (reality)
question my sanity
study my anatomy
Zoom passed meaningless blues
I’m on my walk...
I feel better now
examine the highs before I drown again
calculate the vitamins
narratives written with my fancy stolen pen
this is.... idk
 Sep 2021 multi sumus
Graff1980
Do not let me
be vexed by
exemplary
poetry.

Cause I am
lyrically
fantastic,
like other
lexical lovers,
and word writing
art brothers.

I love the
sweet
syllabic
ecstasy
of channeling
language
for my own
enjoyment.

It is pure
play
and self-pleasuring,
as I go one
measuring
my verbal dexterity
in combination
with clarity.

There is
a sad disparity
in what I write
and what gets through
to the masses who
find my art
hard to digest.

It is a self-serving mess
in which I express
an observance
of the madness
of merely writing
and not expecting
others to grasp
half of it.
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