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Zywa Mar 3
Another new birth,

another programmed clotting --

of exploded cells.
Story "De surprise" ("The surprise", 1968, Belcampo)

Collection "Finethreads"
Ken Pepiton Feb 28
then the full corn, in the ear.

¿Has the seed faith evidence,
made the dedicated monk

useless, due to evolving knowledge,
horticultural returnings to old knowns,
bringing hope to survivalists,

intent on living on Earth, warless

for the ever after this?

No, fighting
for a faith that must be kept,
pristine, clean, cleared of science logic,
such has left all reason bleeding,
use the rags remaining from the old
folded and put away worlds
in storys held
stuck in the stars,
so we may remember, lest we forget.

Those who knew nothing as we ought
to have been knowing by Christmas,
all are forgiven, or nothing is true,

washed, cleansed from perceived stains,
white as new-fallen snow…

Deep Mind white room cinema effect,
preceding the ever after this…

you be come this far, alone.
You be edging up on after all's

been said and done, what you did's
been said to have done nothing,

nothing, thus
nothing done wrong,
nothing done to no effect.
What a release life offers for seekers willing to bet there is more than mortality involved in making peace with priceless joy at having one more day...
Anggita Feb 12
To the child I can't mother;
don't be too smart. At this age, you don't need 1,000 to count the stars.
You don't need pronouns to define what you are. Happiness defines who you are.
A happy person, I wish you become.
I don't mind you causing a headache,
remember when I read you about nations,
and you asked why countries exist to rule?
Little pumpkin, I can't believe I'm raising an anarchist, how funny is that?
I want to take you to walk the beach at sunrise.
You are probably sleeping, so I'll carry you in my arms.
We can study the peebles and find a perfect spot to lie down,
I can smell Johnson's on your hair and the dream you had last night.
Mark Wanless Jan 25
death is part of life
life is part of life birth is
creation of life
Ander Stone Jan 14
I must have been born some day,
some time ago,
against my will.

I must have been born because I have this body coiled around me.

I must have been given shape some day,
some time ago;
molded into something
my soul doesn't recognize.

I must have been given shape because I have this body coiled around me.

I must have been held in motherly arms some day,
some long while ago,
because I remember her saying
that she can take away this life as easily as she's given it.

I must have been held because I remember how many times I cried and asked to be held.

I must have been crawling some day,
many scraped knees ago,
through the broken glass of
always feeling so small.

I must have been crawling because my knees hurt so very much.

I must have been walking around some day,
some time ago,
against the frigid wind.

I must have been walking because I remember that unforgiving blizzard.

I must have been swimming some day,
some time long past,
holding on to dear life.

I must have been swimming because I have saltwater deep in my lungs.

I must have been running some of those days,
awhile ago,
from something
I keep trying to forget.

I must have been running because I feel so very out of breath.

I must have been given a body some day,
some time ago,
against my will.

I must have been given a body because it is suffocating me.

Because I don't feel welcome in it.

Because I don't feel safe in it.

Because my very soul wants to destroy it.

Because I don't want the memories it shelters in its bones.

I must have been given a body because it is forever coiled around me.

I must have been given life one day because I want to give it all back.
maybe these ideations can be seen as something beautiful?
ZACK GRAM Dec 2023
Police gotta gun
Military got a gun
Civilian got a gun
U cant even go outside for silence
Theres just you
An escape room
U locked me in here too
Imma **** every man
Till theres nothing left
Dead ashes
Burn by the olympia flame
Till im free
No existence
Dissapear any man
Man of all mans
King of all kings
Center earth
Ill be free
To destroy you so be it
I got it
God might return to save you
If im God i just saved you
The end girl
Last Man left
The crowd pleaser
The call
Shevaun Stonem Dec 2023
She can not understand
how much a heart can desire
something it never had.
Those little hands and little toes
soft coos and a tiny, button-nose.
Wrapped in white, an angel sleeping,
peaceful and drowsy,
with all the angels waiting.
With hands that don't know how to stay
and cries are all to communicate,
a darling angel grows and cleaves,
relying on one for all she needs.
And wherever in Heaven she may be,
your lonely mother waits for thee.
Robert C Howard Sep 2023
In that brief interval
Between first and final dust
Comes the song.

Lying supine in my crib,
With limbs flailing,
My curious eyes meet
Those of strangers
hovering above my cradle.

They sing softly to me
And I am mysteriously calmed.

In time I too will learn to sing
The names of everything -
Of what to do and why
And learn to check the ragings
Of my feral heart.

Someday I will sing the day long -
Serenading the fruits of the soil -
Belting out tunes of celebration
Or chanting lamentations of loss and sorrow.

But now, lying in my cradle
With arms and legs flailing,
I listen with curiosity
To the mysterious music that comes
In that brief interval
Between first and final dust.

April, 2008
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