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Being shamed
at having lived, survivor who hid,

ducked and covered, and lived, since

from when America
was a Grand Old Party, all righteous
free whites from foreign tyranny refuging

Come ye, to where the railroad grew,
straight across the Hunkpapa Lakota
happy hunting grounds
taken as
homeland
after the horses came
where

before the Methodists
Free Soil, and the making
of good Indians,
and relatively rapid fire ballistic devices
witty inventions circumventing careful aim
tedious patience selecting chosen heads
to remove from the great game,
played with boys
called young men, sent west, believe-ing,
we can take the land,
we can build a castle,
we can build a city and buy and sell
and get great gain, a city on a hill,
famed for sharing bombs, with
peoples of the book,

as sure as-
as sure as-

certain murders are not called ******,
American tradition holds tyranny,
under the banner
of land owners, requiring local labor
to eliminate hate,
by killing any who hate truth…

conserved order, leaders, managers, laborers,

and the cursed worthless good for nothings,
always bred to man the trenches, dig the ditches,

for which we now have machines, no slaves need apply.

Right, the Holy word for authorized readers.

We can all be heros, like

Caleb, whose land had giants, yet Caleb
had the conquerors's courage, his troops
had nothing to lose,
out of the wilderness,
into Ezra's exhortation, work or die,
Noah, Ezra, Joe Smith, same function,
heroic tales told
in Babylon,
under authority
from no less than the authority
of Moses, first witness to events in Eden,
whose will wrote the law, while atop Sinai,
obedient, to the letter, no lie, no lie
the command
not all of it,
of course, the ten commands,
one must clearly outlaw prevarication,
ah
wit wound windwise turning inward,
left and right, swirling axial role rights
tighten
time
BTW, jot and tittle
close inspection reveals,
"Thou shalt not lie" literally is not commanded.
Not one of 10 minimum obediances demanded.

Never the less, chosen to survive the womb,
despite definite spiritual cuckoos egg odd ducks.

Chosen-ness, excluding any not
of the blood, as determined, how, back when,
? serpent on a pole, no, what could determine,
who is included in the chosen to rule class of us

purging foul stench from shame on the mighty

by surging pride in rebuilding a people, a mind,

which when tuned
to prosperities patterns learns,
this is the old way, where good is, we sought.

We find, unnoticed,
here, held seperated, by God,
not our fault, we did not choose
to be chosen, truth, Essene evidence,
is all the evidence
of Genisis we really have…

circumstantial historical happenings happened
to us, each one, made
from two, made
from four, made us, eventually deemed equal,

by virtue of a kinsman's redemption, shoe shucking,
symbiology symbolism recognition, by right, taken,

my ownable, fungible intellectual property, the air
I altered through mediating peace where none ever is,

at the core spin, the one, big spinning polarity that is,
present tension, hold us, each, in mindful now, this is,

as we have agreed, words work thought, we make
believe a verb, we use love as if it, too, is such, a verb…

active ability accounting for idle word, as such, loving

called to become, shapen
by time, the steady course correcting

force pulling,
momentum pushing, coagulating mass,

from once, when nothing was,
but the unspeakably
sacred potential
of you,

the one, you,
never one like you,
your unique role,
the one thing only you are,
and only you may be, that is
the one law
of life
in our bubble
of being, is to be, any must chose,

to be like whatever one feels like,
as birds of a feather flock on,
each parrot or person perfectly
randomly conceived to mature,
unique, vibration of reality
as manifestly difficult
to get through without learning

the root of beauty, is not beautiful,
its functional, essential no light state…
grow up, grow down, grow weary
become old and become soil.

All men decompose, no contest, all tie.
Dust or ash, same difference, pride

lay beside the heretic's troubled cognitions,
say true, pride alone powered all our wars.

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

Ontogeny, whence came we hence,
whither go we thence here after?

Bards sent forth with vatic blessing,
go, thou gifted with gab, go
say thus saith he with power,

to take the breath and the breather,
and punish each wrong imagination,
as adultery, in the core, in the heart,

done, done,
done… In deed, remarkably

non staining, resulting in no outward,
shame on the man, taken in the very act…

what standard waves the same
whether winds blow north or south?

Whose mind opens to recognized
authority, memory verses from childhood,
neighbor hood vacation Bible school,
instead of camp, great revelation,
instead of hell, your default after,

if, you wish otherwise, believe the good news,
it works, with patience, perfecting itself,

Magnificent, magnified,
eye to eye as any little child's messenger
app proves, there is here an interface,

a way,
a portal for important recognition
apropos your purpose driven life,

imagined, along mystical wilderness trails,
far as ever imagined from the maddened masses,

gravity, initially retracting reasonable doubt,
God, Elohim and Hermetic orderly revelation,

leaves us being, recent, new thinkers, thinking
original thoughts, using multifaceted wordforms,

holy invocations, declared knowns, all the people
said Amen, yet,
but

what if, the one turning universe, rewound,
stopped, sistere, reverse course, stand sun still

leave, this POV. Reader reading life in a book,
thinking time from a bottle, an ancient amphora,

thought possibly the uncorked source of story,
the Epimethean suggestion given hope, enough.

Make believe, let us pretend, behave as knowers,
leave us establish order, here,
believe my most used me to make you think

you know, what I mean, you hear, what I said,
filtered through beans in your ears, been there,
done that, read about it, heard tell, one time,

suffer not
a novice,
to teach or preach, eh, there oughta be a law,

lie not, one against the other brother, truth
is not elusive, after all's been said to judge me,

to weigh the worth of my time taken up, thunk,
functionally funky, rough shod, taken strength,

turning universally tightening chirality to work,
two wheels joined tighten toward forward
motion, heuristic conditional ifery, by word

righty tighty, taken to the left side, axially,
loosens and leads to wheels falling off,
and yokes breaking and oxen becoming
barbecue.
-----------------------

Through the industrial spinning
wombed men, leaving children
to fend for themselves, child wise,

never allowed to learn the art
used for casting spells to alert
receivers of magic papers read

as auspex read
the birds and feathers
informing ready readers
look up untested lies,
famously leaders seer's
methods for redemption
of unentertained mobs,
drawn by word of free bread,
too lowly for even the hucksters,

A poet's voice, oh, Emma, beauty,
make the New Colossus bow in shame,
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!"
cries she
With silent lips.

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning
to breathe free,
The wretched refuse
of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost
to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" (1883)

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Emma_Lazarus>


Whose to shame, whose to blame, who
are we to say, we whose nation is so good…

steal from some mind feebler than thine,

self preserve,
within the life
after the womb,

where
in all potential variation
a we acquired local order
involving cascades
of coincidental
instances when next depends
from now,
by a thread, twisting
some how,
should the whole truth we swear
to tell, have fallen into JWST awful true,

look at us from a million miles away, wave,
make noise, holler like the last who in whoville.

What good does it do, who are you to ask?

A truth, fitly twisted,
takes any time paid attention a pinch of worths
good to know,
possibly freeing many children's convinced
fear
of holy wrath, likened
to a raging man,

stilled at the truth,
survivor
of a devious plan
to undermine heaven's command
to turn, universally, inverse, obverse, turn to

see men as trees, ently walking, literally as if,

we may say mankind knows the hero myth,
we may say ourkind knows the messianic version,
we may say kindness knows the kindest way

to say, God sent me, I am here to help.

Hey, sky pilot, what can you be proud of today?

Don't let an old vet make you doubt the whole
truth you are sworn to know beyond all doubt,
truth you serve, guardian of the story, faith tells

children, wordlessly, knowing seeps in, science
occurs, with first lottery lost, with last ditch crossed,
face to face with former soldiers lost to lies, true,

If, my son, you can keep your head…

ah, Kipling, I have wept with you, I, did not die.

My warrior days left me alive, did you feel that, too.

Common Form, we form, whatsoever we
agree, as ghostly reminders of spiritual facts, brave
is a spirit, diffidence and confidence, as well, mere

states of mind, kind of like standing, still, sol-stice,
sistere, tortuga, shields up stand, take the blow,
settle all accounts, love your neighbor, suffer
situations beyond mind's control, sequencing

Hallelujahs from trusters in horses, who deal in war.

"Should any ask why we died,
  Tell them, because our father's lied."
Free to publish any where, I said. Not my intellect's property, in truth.
Therapy is knowing somebody will think with me, and our agreeing may make a political force gone holier than any, humble itself under local face to face truth that killing does to a national mind dedicated to justice in truth.
Aahoc May 27
Is it me? 
As the walls come crashing down, yet again
I can only blame external forces so many times. 
What is the pattern? 
It is I. 
I am the only common thread. 
If fortresses are the end goal,
Then why am I constantly surrounded by rubble?
Stagnant reminders of past failings  
How am I placing the bricks? 
Is that the issue? 
What about the materials? 
Where do they come from? 
The mortar! 
That must be it. 
Couldn't be. 
Could it be? 
I just don't know. 
One thing is evident
-
The fault is mine.
Emery Feine May 27
i was born and on fire. my skin, open flesh words that bled onto anyone in a close vicinity. my face, a cloud of black dust. i knew that i had love in my heart to share with the world, but no one could see past the mold on my skin that would spread to them if they got too close. i was born into two things: a fruit that appeared ripe on the outside but leaked out a decayed, rotten mess, and the hands that opened said fruit with blood that held on. i watch the destruction i've made, that i didn't mean to make, but i believed that it was justified. i wait for someone to understand these words, not to pity me, but to find a part of themselves in me. i have found nobody. i fear that as of now, i am a walking, moldy model of decaying flesh and raw meat. i did not want to be this way. i did not want to be the black sheep. i did not want to be bad. i am a sculpture of wet clay that they could mold with their pure hands, and despite all that creativity in their alive and well minds, they have carved the word "rotten" in my flesh.

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7 a to h
Emery Feine May 27
Will you ever let me love you?
My angel arrow, my fire fuel
Will you ever love me?
Was I such a fool?

You look into my eyes
You see a blinding light
I look into your eyes
I see a pitch-black night

Unrequited, allocated to your hundreds of friends
Obsessive, impressive; your love just pretends
I wait for this fate that brings you back to me
And I wait almost eternally

You build me up; you bring me down
And you somehow blame it on me?
I've made the door and its lock
And yet you've thrown away the key

But I'm alright, I'm okay
I sit on these steps and wait for you
But I'm obsessive, I'm crazy
And I wish it wasn't over you
silver springs
Simon Bridges May 24
I Put a hand behind my head
Pull myself up
By the collar of a shirt
                       That doesn’t fit
Throw myself against a wall
Breaking parts inside
That were reassembled
                                    In haste
Gathered
From remnants designed
                                   For two

I circle a bed in canine fashion
Tread it for comfort
                         Sleep elsewhere
All is a loop
A bowl retaining a fish
A halo worn by a sinner
A voicemail
                   That’s undeletable
louella May 18
i’m not dying to the sound of a lonely armageddon in this cycle of seasons.
just slightly absentminded in nightmares that i refuse to end.
once you stop trying to please
the shadow of another human,
you start to awaken without screaming.
but i’ll always awaken with clenched fists
a quiet, bubbling temper
simmering on the surface.
i won’t point them eye level to you this time,
i’ve learned to shift blame,
i’ve learned to understand your accidents.
and if one of them was me,
i forgive her.
forgiveness is what i need to learn to give to myself and to everyone else.

written: 5/16/25
published: 5/18/25
Cadmus May 17
It wasn’t you…

You were exactly
as you are.

It was me,
who turned your smile into a sunrise,
and blamed you,
when it rained.

☔️
We don’t fall because others lift us too high, we fall because we climbed with our own illusions. My mistake wasn’t in trusting you. It was in scripting an ending you never signed up for.
Gabbro May 10
The world bites and leaves
teeth. Open wounds form gnashing
mouths on the victim
She stayed quiet & chained,                                                         ­                             
                                   ­                                                                 ­                    
too tired, too weak to
think                                                            ­                    
                                            ­                                                                 ­         
He knew that she would
stay                                                             ­                   
                                             ­                                                                 ­          
as he poured another
drink                                                            ­                  
                                              ­                                                                 ­       
She was so beaten
down,                                                            ­                                                
                ­                                                                 ­                                     
she didn't even disagree                                                         ­                   
                                                                ­                                              
While he was *******
around                                                           ­           
                                                     ­                                                             
she told people she was happy                                                            ­                                                                 ­                             
                                   ­                                                                 ­                
He took full advantage
of                                                               ­                       
                                         ­                                                                 ­            
a love he never
deserved                                                         ­                   
                                             ­                                                                  
  When would she call his
  bluff?                                                        ­                
                                                ­                                                              
  ­When would her voice be
  heard?                                                        ­                                    
                                                                ­                                            
  Would there ever come a
  day,                                                          ­                      
                                          ­                                                                 ­       
  that her pain would find a
way                                                             ­                                                                 ­
                                                                ­                                                 
 and her rage would blow him
  away?                                                         ­       
                                                         ­                                                           
No one would blink an
eye                                                              ­                
                                                                ­                                                  
but she would still probably
cry                                                              ­                    
                                                                ­                                              
While everyone was asking
why,                                                             ­                 
                                                                ­                                                  
she was not able to say good-
bye                                                              ­              
                                                  ­                                                                 ­ 
To the man who held her
down                                                             ­           
                                                                ­                                                    
so, he could keep her in
check,                                                           ­                     
                                           ­                                                                 ­            
face pushed into the
ground,                                                         ­                                                         
                                                                ­                                                
and kept his foot on her neck                                                             ­       
                                                                ­                                                    
  When would she break
  free,                                                         ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­                          
  be who she wanted to
  be                                                            ­                                            
                    ­                                                                 ­                             
  not a victim of
  brutality                                                     ­                                   
                             ­                                                                 ­                  
  Why would she dare to disagree?
Married to a narcissist, just saw the truth. It was never me, I tried & tried. I am not trying anymore. I am being heard at last and in control.
Zywa May 3
She took the blame and

between them arose a wall --


of elusive darkness.
Novel "Het duister dat ons scheidt" (2003, "The darkness that separates us", Renate Dorrestein), part 3, 'Achttien' ('Eighteen' years old), chapter 'IJ is een ijspegel' ('Y is an ijspegel [icicle]')

Collection "Old sore"
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