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Some are most creative and beyond comprehension
For they are that talented
Some have that magic naturally
Some hoping to create and find their way
Their impact makes us better writers
You can agree to disagree
Just read and enjoy
The pleasure of reading and enjoying the talent is so much better
than the so -called talent we tune into to see
Not asking you to tune out but tune into what happens here
Hello Poetry Poets
Thanks
I'm just a sparrow
longing for sky
and if I had wings
I could fly.
He once told me
he wanted to die in a place
that looked like a poem.
I told him
I wanted to live
like I was one.

We were doomed by aesthetics—
too many soft glances,
not enough spine.
He held my wrist like a snow globe
but shook me too hard.

He said I was all feeling,
no logic.
As if logic ever begged anyone to stay.

Once,
he told me I reminded him
of a girl in a painting.
I should’ve asked
what happened to her
after the gallery closed.

I used to count his heartbeats
when he slept,
just to know something
inside him still worked.

I wore my prettiest dress
to the argument—
just in case
he needed reminding
that I’m not easy
to walk away from.

He looked at me
like a cliff he might leap from
or photograph.

I stopped saying his name
and started writing
in second person.
It still felt like calling him home.

Even now,
I write you into metaphors
so I can pretend
you were never real—
just a concept,
a cautionary tale,
a ghost that rhymed.

You wanted tragedy.
I wanted truth.
We got
whatever this was.
For the heartbreaks that didn’t even get a title. For the ‘whatever this was’ that haunts like something more. This poem is about confusion, silence, and the ache of undefined endings. No label. Still devastating.
Let’s cut right through
the bombast ...
your camouflage of words
And redefine
the essence ...
of what you’ve never learned
Your double-talk
pontificates ...
to lure and to distract
Whose lies deride
wherein you hide ...
from what the truth exacts

(The New Room: February, 2025)
~
Dweller on the threshold
It's now coming back
Earth moon transit
Losing contact

Heading for the door
Fuzz and timbre
Surrender in my hand
A final act of war

My last words travel far
Closer to the speed of sound
No time to bury
Mixed flags in the ground

The phantom facing me
Is no recovery
There are a thousand of me
And each one is disappointed

~
Old enough
to be your
Grandfather

Young enough
to be your
Friend

Wise enough
to see your
Greatness

Where time
and tide
— depend

(University City: April, 2025)
"Rising From the Ashes" Amidst the Filth

Rising from the dirt, they claim,
Fascism—like Pol ***'s old name,
Suddenly worried 'bout the build
Of capitalism, grotesquely filled.

"Rising up," the fool’s own face
Falls back into the filth and waste—
For everywhere it’s spread and sown:
Facism’s muck has claimed the throne.



---------------------



Relentless, Talentless

Relentless, talentless, they roam,
Existence among slaves they know.
Yet they're but sheep within the pens,
No chains, but bound by their own trends.



---------------------



The Ubiquitous Crap of the BEASTS

Believe the crap—you're just a fool,
They'll send the herd to play the tool.
CowID was just the start,
Now tests have dulled the mind and heart.



---------------------



A Dose of Love

A dose of love from alley cats,
Poisoned blood, it’s all in that.
Bonmo’s venom, in the veins,
Awaiting Novus to remain...



---------------------



Building the Digital Concentration Camp

Together we swiftly build the Camp,
A red cross on a white flag's stamp,
The end result of “civilized” ways—
Spirit and Reason lost in a haze.
Or more precisely, their CASTRATION!!!



---------------------



The Prodigal Son's Non-Return

The prodigal son, no return in sight,
When madness reigns and blurs the right—
No need for forgiveness here,
Old sayings lie, it’s crystal clear.



---------------------



A Sandwich with Mustard

Mustard’s the spice of life, so dim,
And toil is just stale bread within.
Yet the world remains so flesh-bound,
It resembles more a pigsty ground.

Spiritual drives are foreign, lost,
For most, that’s just the bitter cost.
In minds, the festering lies take root,
And few escape the muck to shoot.



---------------------



What to Neglect?

Neglect: believe the fools' own lies,
Hope for light where darkness lies.
Sarcasm helps, and jokes will show—
To roll the "fluff" in filth below.



---------------------



Who Knows Where

Who knows where, who knows what,
But in despair, it’s all for naught.
Crap leads down the same dark road—
A path to nothing, as it's owed.



---------------------



The Bulldozer of Fierce Poetry

The bulldozer of fierce verse
Sweeps all the nonsense from the curse.
But there’s no gain to come from this—
The main nonsense still persists.

For since our youth, they flood our minds
With heaps of lies, of every kind.
If you remove that foul disguise,
What’s left is rot beneath their eyes.



---------------------



The Sun's Brightness Increase

The chants of man, with wine in hand,
Claim warming skies across the land...
For over fifty years, the Sun
Has shone more bright, as lies are spun.

The world has sunk in brazen lies,
As falsehoods heat like the Sun’s rise.
It's hard to clear the air, you see—
When lies flood in, so endlessly.



---------------------



The Stinking Slaves

The stinking slaves, the walking tombs,
Worshipping fate, their title looms—
"Just whatever"—their guiding creed,
Pushing others to their need.

They’ll drive them all into the grave,
For no place left for those who brave
To stand against this soulless mass—
Where most will fail, and none will pass.



---------------------



Alienation

Scorn the lies of wretched swine,
The dead-souled world is not for thine.
Serve your soul and walk away,
Cast their heresy to decay.



---------------------



The Labor of Verse

No labor can summon a poetic spark,
Yet without effort, it fades into dark.
A poem drains both strength and soul—
Lose what fuels it, and lose it whole.

At times, you'll pay that barren toll,
But work, then rest—don't fear the role.
If you're a poet, then halt means betray—
Build your "paradise" in rhyme each day.



---------------------



"The Enemy" Will Fall, Of Course

"The foe will fall, the fight is ours!"
So beasts send fools to war in showers.
Their goal is clear—more waves, more blood,
To drown the earth in human flood.

They need more bodies, more and more,
For fools can’t grasp what lies before.
It's not about some land or claim—
Just numbers lost—that is the game.



---------------------



The Suicide Club

Too late to beg, too dumb to trust,
No hope remains—just ash and dust.
We are the members of the doomed,
The world joins in—its fate consumed.

For patience comes a bitter price,
And treason’s debt is paid in vice.
As fascist filth now claims its might,
Beneath the Sun—we’re cut from light.



---------------------



The Road to the Global Asylum

A mindset shaped by ads alone—
The path was long, yet carved in stone.
The fools grew loud, their minds grew weak,
The madhouse gates are now in reach...



---------------------



Vegetable Warehouse

Cipollino… Ripe tomatoes…
Will the VEGGIES rise once more?
Yet the lies have built volcanoes,
Blocking out the distant shore.

Cipollino screams for brothers,
But they cannot hear his cries.
GMO turns all to others—
Livestock dressed in a disguise.

No way out, no grand tomorrow—
Only stew and mashed remains.
Peppers, onions, tamed in sorrow,
Bow before their foe in chains…



---------------------



Artificial Degradation

What is soft will fade away,
What is hard will stay.
Mind and soul are torn each day—
Evil paves the way.



---------------------



Youth and Age

At dawn, I walked to meet the sun,
Yet darkness loomed behind the glass.
By dusk, my path was overrun—
Bent to the night, forgot my past.



---------------------



Monuments

They stand like ghosts in graveyard haze,
As if their lives were golden days.
Yet in the ground now cold they lie—
Once minds of strength, now left to die.



---------------------



The Gullible Ones

They chased a dream through stormy tides,
Their "joy" was built on hollow lies.
Once more they bit the poisoned bait—
A fool’s belief in blissful fate.



---------------------



Once you were bold, so full of fire...
Now all that's left is cursing dire.



--- Total 23 poems. ---
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