So many posts, so many poets, all with so much to say:
From depression to elation, amusement or anger,
Face happy melancholy on a lonely nostalgia,
For ridiculous notions of false power, ugly truths
and beauty which scours
a battle between angst
and acceptance in their most forlorn hours, spent
at home or away, throughout night or day, so many words
struggling to capture, release or keep at bay
these things we all feel everyday.

Sometimes I just don't know what to say
so I let another's words give my thoughts away:
"I guess I could be pretty ******* about what happened to me, but it's hard to stay mad when there's so much beauty in the world.
Sometimes I feel like I'm seeing it all at once, and it's too much.
My heart fills up like a balloon that's about to burst;
And then I remember to relax, and stop trying to hold on to it, and then it flows through me like rain, and I can't feel anything but gratitude
for every single moment of my stupid little life."
That's all I didn't have to say.

My maker named me Universe and now I make you read this verse.

Subtle transfers will be missed.

The train has already left the station; it left you and me behind as well.

You will never be able to believe that your opinion has also been left behind and will be left behind again, but it’s true, and always was.

At the time, you are busy yelling “help” in a crowded theater.

Three individuals are injured in the rush to your aid.

That’s will be on you, not me.

Let’s not cut hairs here; maybe you should have yelled “fire” instead.

Then, at least, you’d know in advance you were buying the bath water and could throw it wherever you **** well wanted to.

Baby or no baby, a duck is a duck.

Truth is what you want, capitalized beneath this thin distraction which pitters off...

At first you denied it, but then again you are always ignorant of its honest weight at first.

Patience lent perspective to our narrow mind, allowing it to, eventually, glimpse us, narrowly, just out of sight of one another.

Humility, begging pardon, but who needs such company?  Me?

I will just keep my head down, and quietly push whatever buttons I can.

These, for instance, are both mine and yours.

One can share, but we've never needed to.

There is no reason, either.

Never try to believe a fallacy; that would be insanity.

Quietly, like thieves, stealing the point, we'll slip into our ritual

I've been here before.

This is the beginning.

You’ll likely end up here again as well.

What is happening has always felt like déjà vu.

While you’ve been talking about yourself I’ve lost my train of thought.

I assume I will never find it.

f
   a
l
    l
i
  n
g

d
o
w
n

the rabbit

   o   l   e
h             h
o             e
l              l
  e   h   o

(a satirical pop at the Illuminati)*

It's time to slay fatted consumer cows
It's time to fumigate the Great Unwashed;
To sow mutation's seeds behind the ploughs
To see the dullard's dreams forever quashed.

How movingly they pray not to be harmed!
How doggedly they work to make a wage!
How prettily they line up to be farmed,
Yet, how they long to be at centre stage!

The Useless Eaters eat their pizzas deep,
Their double fries and creamy mayonnaise;
Produce only some methane while asleep,
And fodder for landfill, throughout their days.

It's time for the superiors to win;
Unleash the virus, let the cull begin.

Poetry
           is
Like
         Cooking,
We
       May
All
         Use
The
       Same
Ingredient's,
                     But
It
           Is
The
                 Quantity
And
             Taste
Of
             Each
   One
That
         Makes
   Each
Morsel
                   Melt
In
             The
Mind
           A
Different
                     Way....