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Em MacKenzie Apr 8
The devil is sitting at a table
make sure to provide top service,
and if you are somehow able,
hide that his aggression makes you nervous.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
it might be time for us Canucks to pull a 1814.
How can someone do absolutely nothing right?
and think what will be a nightmare will help revive an American dream?

The devil is sitting at the desk,
and he’s got yes men to shine and kiss his shoes.
It was finally time for him to fail a test
but his misguided cultists refused to let him lose.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
even if the occupant is known to be orange.
He’s shutting the gates just too tight,
rushing Capitol instead of tearing his door hinge.

The devil is sitting at a table
he’s got the finest cutlery set,
and the legs of it aren’t stable
with each wobble he places his next bet.
When the White House is just a smidge too white,
I think it needs to be stripped and gain a new coat.
Why is a symbol of oppression dressed up so bright,
when it’s walls protect one and strangle every other throat?

He “did everything right” and they indicted him;
and now we fight eachother when we should be fighting him.
These people have forgot how the world turns,
infact they believe it’s stationery and around them.
So they anticipate heat when they make the world burn,
and await a rose after they rooted and snapped each stem.

Isn’t it absolutely insane
how the free can unknowingly live in a prison?
Didn’t anyone tell you even a Hurricane
can’t cleanse American Capitalism?
Wake up, the alarm went off hours ago.
CJ Sutherland Apr 18
Close
Your
Eyes
Imagine
This is your
First experience
Of Our Easter
Traditions

First
Time
Tasting
Turkey
With all
The fixing
Stuffing

Whipped Mash Potato
Green Bean Casserole  
Taste buds wet yet
Smell the
Decadent
Aroma

Candied Yams
Cranberry Sauce Sauce
Hot Dinner Rolls
Pumpkin Pie
Whipped
Cream

All made
From Scratch
Two cultures
Converged
Enjoy

A
Family
Of Ten
Is A
Massive
Feast
To
Unfold
I’m told
Quite
Natural
For Me
You see

First
Hold hands
And Pray

Thank God
In what
You
Do and Say

Etiquette
Emily Post
At her best
No uncouth
Banter

Rather A
Splendid
Repartee

Use
the proper
utensil
Sit up
Straight
Posture
Is a
Big
Deal

Don’t
Be
Late
Napkin
In your
Lap

Manners
Pass the
Peas
Please
Thank you
You’re
Welcome

Life
Lessons
Start
At the
Table
Visitors
Apropos
If you’re
Able
Collaborate
Life
Is
Great


Inspired song;
We are family
By Sister Sledge official video 1979

BLT Webster’s Word of the day challenge
4-18-25 Collaborate
To work with a person or a group in order to do or achieve something

4-17-25 Uncouth
Uncouth describes things, such as language or behavior that are in polite or socially unacceptable. A person acting in a rude way.
My grandsons new wife grew up
not celebrating our Easter tradition
When I was growing up for Easter, we used to eat ham until I was an adult and I realized Ham is not something Christians should be having on most sacred day of Easter
A ham is considered an unclean animal.
Although the Bible refers to it for Jews, if you look back to all the diseases came out from eating ham, that’s a good enough reason to stay away from it. Yes, that means bacon too…
so I reverted back to Thanksgiving tradition. We tend to think everybody does the same thing for each events, but how wrong I was.
evangeline Mar 19
For you,
I feel an ancient yearning
Baked into my bones
A cosmic ache-
A prehistoric hunger-
A primitive pining

Yes,
It’s a supernatural connection—
Mine and yours—
A rest-the-vessel,
Let-the-tides-guide,
Sacred sort of love

Because betwixt us,
There is a longing
Only the moon
No — only god, herself  
And all her sapphic sovereignty
Could resist

There is a glowing desire
So fervent within us
That I wish I could reach into your Heavenly Body
And pull out your stars  
And thread them into the nest of my womb

An immortal, galactic romance—
Ours is—
Fit for gallery halls and poetry readings
And woven with all the glittery things  
But it’s Roommates, they’ll call us
Roommates, reads our plaque

Roommates—
Not lovers, nor sweethearts
Not partners, nor darlings
No lust
No lore
The saga of us, enduring no more

Celestial stains and divine shame
Roommates, we’ll remain
So we’ll guard this holy matrimony,
We’ll let our lovers’ anthem die
We know the truth is in the stars
We know who lives a lie
Andy Denson Mar 16
our thoughts are cradled like an unexperienced parent.
our willingness to be in each others work.
to watch is to live. to live is to watch.
films speak more on how we see our worth to
others...
maybe it's the other way around.

the campus is giving 90s teen drama.
motion pictures is why we are
here.

i am the star.
no, is she. or is he. wait, it's
all of us...

it's the thought counts. it's the frames that
count. it's the thoughts that dictate the rate.

the obligation expands as some of the angels cry over
us. protecting the rest.

some scream like the students in 'cleaners'.

does the comedy make us think? or cry instead in the
seats of  
cine lawan --

Me, [insert your name here], a filmmaker. we all win
an award or two. some of us do.
we still keep creating.

my thoughts hold me in a loose trance. dancing with
me in the heat -- walking
with me the rain.

the white lady - i mean ghost- must have stopped recording since
we can here our voices again.


is the world even gonna end? says a fragile student
two rows in front of me. their back facing her
front.

it's giving blue and hidden in the dark. illuminated
by the works of art.
cinema. it's films. movies.

that a big reason i'm alive.
it's a reason to continue
even if there is not a quick
fix to life.
films give us life. or is it
the other way
around?

as the filmmakers desends into madness -
i mean their seats,
they soak the experimental footage,
red dirt sprinkled everywhere in
a ditch--
one weeps and the other takes a shot
for a share later.


everything happens because we filmed it.
thought it. cast it. documented. recorded.
edited.
distributed.

a feedback loop.

we think we know how the plot will unfold.

i see the colors from the projections even
as i look ahead. Still. Here.
I am still here as
my thoughts-
I’m excited to share that “I am still right here for hello poetry” has taken on a new dimension. I created a short film inspired by the poem, and it had its premiere at the 2023 Mindanao Film Festival. I invite you to experience the journey from words to visuals—watch the film here: https://youtu.be/EZK15ska71c?si=UacqFPtbneDJfYeO.

Thank you for being a part of this creative adventure.
Linden Lark Mar 1
I don’t think justice is sweet-
not real justice anyway.

It’s not like a birthday cake,
baked with love, shared with joy.

I think revenge is sold to us as sweet-
the beautiful, perfectly decorated cake we bought from the shop’s window
But one bite in and you realize:
There is no sweetness only salt
And curdled milk

I think justice is communal
For the greater good

For true justice
we must change the way we think.
Not just for me, but for we
For the whole community

So how can justice be people locked in cages
Making slave wages
How is that good for community.
Parents ripped from their children
Mothers’ children stolen
locked away

Not learning how to do better
Be better
Stripped of the lessons from the mother
Taught they are less than human
Treated like zoo animals
Rounded up like rats
Unearthing the secrets of what curdles the milk

How can justice be sweet when this is the reality
Selling out my fellow humans for my right to
THE AMERICAN DREAM
But is it really a dream worth dreaming-
If it’s just for me and not for we

If this is justice
why is it so hard to sleep.
The spoiled cake sold in the bakery window
We’ve already taken more than a couple bite
Will we spit it out?
Or will we binge until we reek-
of salt and curdled milk?
Idk maybe just think about it?
I have an American diner kind of life,
Like a menu full of cheap food,
That's the best you've ever had.

A big stack of pancakes,
A slice of cherry pie,
All for $10.99.

That's how I'll keep living,
With the holes in my pockets,
And my cheap diner food.
I let my friend read this and they told me I write with the soul of a grown man. Hope everybody had a great day today!
G Valentine Nov 2024
I've been American dreaming...a slumber of days untold.
American dreaming...a longing for the days of old.

Because old dogs can't seem to stop turning tricks and the lotto's been called again but I still haven't won my picks.

American dreaming of days of the past where bad things were common and women wore masks.

Of smiles and deceit to hide their fate from the men with knives who swore they'd made the pain fade.

Away to the future where "******" run amok, and the ones elected to "save" us couldn't give a f---.

Yes, I'm American dreaming, of a place welled up with pride, I'm American dreaming as we **** ourselves from the inside.

In a place screaming "Freedom" as we duck and run to hide.
The abyss pulls us closer as we put our trust into those who've lied,

to save their skin, because we only back the best...
I'm American dreaming...but I can't seem to get no rest.
An ode to the outcomes of ole '24
MetaVerse Jul 2024
𝓐𝓫𝓻𝓪𝓱𝓪𝓶 𝓛𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓷'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮,
𝓝𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓘 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓪𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓵𝓪𝓲𝓶.
𝓘 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓪𝓽 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓪𝓵 𝓼𝓹𝓮𝓮𝓭
𝓐𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭.

𝓟.𝓢.  𝓘 𝓯𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓮𝓭.
Compare Abraham Lincoln's original poem:

Abraham Lincoln is my nam[e]
And with my pen I wrote the same
I wrote [it] in both hast[e] and speed
and left it here for fools to read
Sudzedrebel Jun 2024
Our chariot soared through the tunnel
And from out of the dark, light.
The sight of the city erupting
With fires' glare burning bright,
Venom like a snake's bite.
Vast buildings careening down,
As we maneuvered around them
The air was thick with smoke
And the smell of lead & sulfur,
The ground shook in violence.
We landed in a clearing,
The end was close at hand
The limits to see it, subjective;
For many laid dead in our stead,
Many enemies & siblings come to head,
And long did we have to tread before rest.
I unfurled the flag
And hoisted it up overhead,
Flying high on the mast.
I said my prayers
And made my peace,
Before the rain began.
All around me was storming,
Shutters battered marble
Amid crys for no quarter-
Blood was to be our recompense
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