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Glenn Appleby Jan 2013
I find a part of me produces verse
(well, not verse, not really).
Really, I produce a play.
So, really, the part of me producing verse
produces parts.
So, really,
The part of me producing plays
is part-producing.
The work this part of me produces ,
produces parts in verse.
But really,
It's an inverse play, since really,
the work (a play, with parts in verse)
(Or, really, a play with verse in parts))
is divided into three parts. Like Gaul.
Within this work, this play,
these three parts produce
(or, really, reproduce) a play.
This play, in verse, within this work,
is, in part, an inverse play,
since, really, they produce (or really, reproduce)
a part of me.

The play plays back a part of me -
an inverse play plays back words, in verse,
ever onward.

It's a bit of a play on words, really.

It's partly words at play.
It's partly an inverse play,
producing bit parts in verse with verse parts,
in bits.
Or really, the parts produce plays, that is,
A part of me produces verse and
in part, the verse produces the play.
This inverse play produces parts
these parts, inverse, produce a play,
this play, in part, produces (reproduces) me.

The work is a play on words.
The play is a work in verse.
The work is an inverse play.
But not really.
jane taylor Apr 2016
in the midst of an emerald slumbering forest
laced with pungent scents of jaded wood
a burgundy blushed tail
of a chestnut hued fox
scurries as copper sunbeams part the day

a hospital lumes starkly nearby
its aura exudes hints of melancholy
commingled with faint impressions
of halcyon futures
not yet lived

at neighboring dartmouth
a student sprinting to class
drops his crimson colored backpack
the prospect of cancer
far from his budding consciousness

my beloved sits patiently
pondering pensively
his last chemo treatment
elusion of death
not far from his mind

i feign to fend off future catastrophes
watching letters scramble across my screen
earnestly writing
in a desperate attempt
to be with him forevermore

an aquamarine hummingbird drenched in tranquility
senses the inverse
its amber tipped wings stand seemingly stationary
while it steals a quick glance through the window
curious at chemical infusions meant to heal

my beloved walks out
of the austere building
with rose colored glasses i feel
that we’ll whirl on the tips of gilded stardust
dancing with another chance to fly


©2016janetaylor
Irate Watcher Aug 2014
When the
mess bred
by ancient
logicians
is put to rest
and we dicover:
The chicken
and the egg
hatched
in two
different
places at
the same time;
Love was
an inverse
relationship
between lust
and time;
Infinity was
a universe
we couldn't see.

Will conversation
cease?

Will silence
replace
speech?

Will the larynx
become a vestige?

How will
we debate
the notes
that compose
silence?
Tim English Dec 2013
Light crashes
Slowly
Like waves of mind
Within yet without
I let it out with a ******* shout
Fallen transcendent, ascending inverse
Forked tongue recites, verse by verse
It begins as it ends, cleansed by my sins
Cracked and broken the lens
Try it, don't deny it, it's true
Outside yourself, within you
The truth you seek is a part of Self
In (sic)ness and in health
it's a ll a part of the game
And everything remains the same
Change
Is constant, resonant, a part of it all
Like the angel and its fall
So good to see what's come to be
Let it flow, let it go, let the goodness grow
I am that I am, and everything as planned
I choose that I am
No footprints in the sand,
But I'm not ******...
ghost queen Nov 2019
You ask why I am anxious, why i am depressed, let me list for you the reasons why:

Global warming
Melting glaciers
Heatwaves
Polar vertices
Category 6 hurricanes
F5 Tornadoes
Droughts
Desertification
Floods
Wild fires
Snowless winters
Ice free arctic
Antarctic ice shelf collapse
Greenland glacier melting
Perma forst thawing

Ocean warming
Ocean acidification
Coral bleaching
Sea level rising
Coastal erosion
Over fishing
Fisheries collapse
Plankton extinction
Fertilizer run offs
Chemical pollution
Raw sewage dumping
Red algae blooms
Vibrio explosions

Ozone layer depletion
Lack of fresh potable water
Acid rain
Top soil depletion
Dead soil
Deforestation
Banana palm tree cultivation
Evasive species
Overpopulation
Urban sprawl
Insect apocalypse
Animal extinction
Lower biodiversity
Bird apocalypse
Bee apocalypse
Bat apocalypse
Amphibian apocalypse

Aging nuclear power plants
Superfund sites
Radioactive contamination
Three mile island, Chernobyl, Fukushima
Endocrine disrupters
PBAs
Autism
***** count collapse
Effeminization of men

Noise pollution
Light pollution
Chronic stress
Diabetes
Metabolic diseases
Over eating
Obesity

Drug resistances
New and emerging diseases
Epidemics pandemics
Swine and bird flu
Genetic modification
Biotech tech
nano tech
Crispr
DNA
genetic testing
Designer babies
Aging population
Health care rising
Unaffordable medications
Uninsured
Medicare of all
Medical bankruptcy
Social security bankruptcy

Rise of terrorism
Rise of extremism
Far right
Alt right
Lack of education
Masculine identity crisis
Emasculation of men
Decline of boys
Rise of girls

Increasing depression and anxiety
Increase anxiety depression among young girls
Lack of human connection
Social isolation
Social awkwardness
Snowflake generation
Disintegration of the family
Suicides
Social media addiction
**** addiction
Drug addiction
Alcohol addiction

Lack of equality
Political corruption
Kleptocracy
Corporatocracy
Plutocracy
Oligarchy
New American aristocracy
Too big to fail
Privatize profits, socialize losses
Decline of democracy
Fascism
Terrorism
Religious extremism
Religious tension
Political divisiveness
National unity
Second American civil war
Helplessness of the common man

Big data
Data protection
Algorithms
Internet tracking
Lost of privacy
Artificial intelligence
Singularity
AI white collar job lost
AI automation
AI back office
Autonomous AI
5G supremacy
Quantum computer supremacy
Virtual reality
Augmented reality
Cybernetics
Chronophobia
Outsourcing
Off shoring
On shoring

Over education
Under employment
Skills gap
3rd world immigration
La reconquista
Cultural dilution
Status quo
Declining economies
Housing crisis
Housing cost
Homelessness
Illiteracy
Hunger
Unemployment
Full employment
Racism
Intolerance
Race relationships
Increasing crime
Student loans
Credit card debt
High mortgages
7 year car loans
Inverse yield curve
52 week high

Wars
Military interventions
Social uprisings
Dwindling resources
Resources conflicts
Rare earth metals
Depletion of helium
Peak oil
Fracking
Water wars
Climate refugees
A list of worries people face today that is causing anxiety and depression
Elizabeth Raine Nov 2013
Ask me,
Ask me now daddy.
What I want to do when I grow up.
I want to be happy.
No, not happy
I want to be happiness.
I want to be joy and cheer and admiration
Confidence and peace and optimism

I don’t want to be like others, no, I want to be love.
The smile that comes across your face when they say your name,
The look that makes your heart skip a beat,
The song that makes you rethink every second you spent together.
I don’t wanna be the poem, I wanna be the emotion behind it,
Not the first kiss, let me be the nerves,
Not the dance, let me be the excitement,
Not the Officiant, let me be the vows.

When I grow up, I don’t wanna be a doctor mommy.
I want to be the feeling when someone’s told there’s a cure,
Or when a parent finds out their child will live to be a teenager,
Or maybe I want to be 3 in the morning when a mother holds her child for the first time.

I want to be affection and adoration and passion
Oh, I want to be passion.
Let me be passion.
So that you cannot do without me, because nothing without me has meaning.
So that when you are playing the final strain or scoring the winning goal,
Or writing the last chapter or finishing the last paint stroke,
You will think of me.

Maybe I’ll be allegiance or devotion or respect.
I won’t be the soldier, I’ll be the loyalty.
Or the surprise in a child's heart when their dad comes home early,
Maybe I’ll be the feeling when a father meets his baby for the first time,
And the child already knows his name.

I want to be piety and faith and worship.
I don’t want to be the pastor, I’ll be the lesson.
Maybe I’ll be the obligation behind the first baptism or first communion.
Maybe I’ll be the words when someone so low is told someone loves them.
I’ll be the salvation of the gospel,
The redemption to the guilty,
The forgiveness to the sinners.

When I grow up,

I want to be the opposite of sorrow,
The antonym of misery,
The reverse of fear,
The contradiction of rejection,
The antithesis of disappointment,
The inverse of insecurity,
I want to be the alleviation of anxiety,
The ease of pain,

When I grow up,
I want to be happy.
dean Sep 2012
She doesn’t let herself think about it anymore. She has a schedule now, a timetable, something that might look like a life if you don’t scratch the surface too hard.

Wake up, call the hospital. Tend her garden, call the hospital. Get driven to the hospital and sit with Dean for hours, hours, hours, go home, cry. Lather, rinse, repeat. The only thing that changes in her life is the sky and the inversion it brings.

She walks on the sky when it clouds, because it’s more solid and sure under her feet than the traitorous ground that swallowed her children whole.

She bargains when it rains, to God or Big Brother or Allah or the deity of the day, because if the Jehovah’s Witnesses are right and their god is a merciful god, He will give her family back.

Once there was an earthquake and she smiled so wide she thought her face would hurt, stood between two rickety, heavy bookcases, prayed that she would die.

The most tragic part of her life is that she doesn’t. She knows this, knows it runs through the marrow of every bone in her body, which has to be why they all ache when they see the sunrise, as if to say another day, another tragedy .

Today she wakes before the sun and hugs her knees to her chest, sits there for a good three hours after he’s called the hospital and heard the same thing as always - the only thing that changes in her life is the sky - “We’re sorry, Mrs. N----, he’s the same.” Every day it’s the same, the same, the same-
-but that doesn’t make it any easier.

Same dingy cab, same crotchety driver, same stale cigarette smell. She lets herself smoke in here because if she’s lucky that’ll **** her first, but she doesn’t fool herself into believing that. Her luck ran out the moment she heard that shot from the door, heard her husband scream and saw all the blood staining the foyer-

But she’s not thinking about that. She’s smoking and she’s listening to the sound of the tires pummeling the ground mercilessly and she’s thinking maybe I should be that ground and she’s not making much sense at all, because she doesn’t sleep anymore and she thinks she might be halfway to insane by now.

They pull up outside the hospital. She’s always surprised her feet haven’t worn a track in the ground yet that leads straight to Dean’s room. She supposes she doesn’t need one.

She pushes the door open and the spark of hope he can never suppress dies with a silent scream, because Dean is the same, her life is the same, she’s the same and the same and the same and she hates it.
Alliesaurus  Aug 2012
Calculus
Alliesaurus Aug 2012
Infinite.

Like how many times you can take a picture,
with your mind,
of we intertwined.

Like three chords.
Your pick.

Like each idea becoming a suggestion,
an open ended request,
like the innocence behind "inquisitive"
that is lost in "inquisition".

Like the questions I mean to ask you,
but I'm not sure you'll be listening
at that moment in time.
Stopwatch.
Dewdrop.

Like how I mean to hold
you
r hands
r heart
you.

Like the limit of the tangent of x as it approached y.
I want to curve
and parenthesize around your body.
We will diverge.
We are inverse.
We are combustable.
Whitney Metz Feb 2010
I am the inverse of a human being.

I’m not like anyone I’ve ever seen.

I only like the things that bring me pain.

I don’t know how I ended up this way.

Try to make me cry.

Try to make me bleed.

Try to make me suffer

maybe then you’ll see

only when I’m in pain

do I feel relief

from all of these demons

that have been haunting me.

You can keep all your encouragement

and any happy feelings you have sent.

I would rather hear from someone else

who feels the way I’ve always felt.

Give me sadness.

Give me sorrow.

Give me self-destruction

maybe then you’ll know

that all your hopeful words

will only serve to show

that I am out of place

everywhere I go.

So please don’t try to make me smile

or try to make me happy for a while.

Your cheerfulness just underscores

all of the things I’m longing for.

— The End —