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Zack Ripley Nov 2020
Today, the world was cold.
It's people mostly cruel.
So it's time to say goodbye. Good night.
May tonight be the night
The world begins again.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2020
Can we think old thoughts as thought by earlier readers,
without walling a mind off from all we know,
which Hobbes had no way of learning,
though? No.
We need this knack of we being, a you and a me, seeing
an I, in a time long ago.

Egalitarian sortings of men, arrogation worth,
a-dam, novus knower,
acknowledge me your equal? Dare ye, I may be a fool.
Levelers were around, in Hobbes's town, taking time
to bring the highest minded down,
not to lift the baser sort up.

-- none the less, lime the branch,
-- by chance a bird may bring a word, watch

we heard, the deceived received a reprieve,
we've found the edge stitched in
second thoughts and other wise guesses as good,
good enough
to keep life as we have agreed, conserving
the power in the
word - life as in -- we live, not me without you or we
without all the otherwise functionaries,
maintaining the planet and aching
to settle down to day and night,
just right.

Balance in being part of it all,
restored,

for a second there, didjafeel it?
Ah, 2020, we are in the final stretch of an unforgettable year. Each civilization needs such a year, to be in competition for longest continually told story... in the end.
Mystic Ink Plus Sep 2020
All I pay attention
Is how the story ends

Once upon a time
Usually
Like this
Most stories begin
Genre: Abstract
Theme: But some stories never end

The world has much to offer
Here I wait, my hands, proffered
The beginnings, I have seen
There is much in between
I seek and receive, my share
I give - what I need
And become aware  
Again
Here I wait..
What the world has to offer..
To begin
Today


✨✨
lua Jul 2020
skies of blue and cloudless nights
quiet places and blank minds
feeling tiny, feeling blind
remembering, forgetting, nevermind

missed calls from the unknown
answers for questions of my own
secrets in chambers left alone
the web of lies i have sewn

i'll set it aflame, watch it burn
set it aflame, all things i earned
leave nothing behind, no stone left unturned
these crumbling libraries, these lessons i've learned.

i'll begin again, as i always do
wash it all away, begin anew
open pandora's box, let the chaos spark
i'll leave my name, i'll leave my mark.
Nylee May 2020
It is a thought
I thought a lot
We began
And we end
We live in between
Like a movie scene
But all I want
Is a final happy ending.
ChronicSage May 2020
Everything there is
is incarceration of our minds
mighty gallows of subject
definition, category, division
lines, groups, states, religion
statutes, reasons, enclosures
an abbreviation — GOD.

All pressed, condensed
tucked inside
pushed behind, down under
in a creation encapsulated
in a sheath of time
in a container of space
in a syllable of silence

Myriads divided
by multiples, multiplied
by multitudes, simultaneously
all while I'm being
comfortably ensconced
somewhere in the warmth
of a single point.
Chloe Goulding May 2020
I'll live with arms wide open...

So you won't have too.



I'll talk without stuttering...

Just to please you.



I'll smile with best intentions...

To save everyone else.



Except for myself.



So, this is how the story begins;

Who saves her?
I'm still standing-
onlylovepoetry Mar 2017
all my poems begin with the weather,
overlaid with time and place

comforting certitude,
cocktail of calibration,
calculating precision,
a surety bonding.
a shared time and space
with humanity


all my poems end with
"if only,"
incessant self-queryimg, imbalanced cowardice,
a yellowing shadow of red doubt,
overwhelming black stain of a starless night sky,
an inconsequential infection
coveting my weakfish earthbound innards

tyranny of selfish doubt,
the cowardly safety of 'not me'
the pockmarked constellation of
everything tragic body tattooed,
the Cain mark you hide beneath the torn skin
of being
only human

all my poems end with whether
Dave Robertson May 2020
These dry bones
once fit together strong
while time flowed one way:
on

That current held surprise
that knocked joints off guard
and a lied about collapse
occurred

Their ham fist could grip limbs
and clunk them together
in a fruitless pulse,
for what?

The trunk and branch
of what’s to come
must be reseeded
mulched and nurtured,
maintained root to crown
in different growth
or the same clown gardeners
will bring us down
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