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Pain within my every word
Mental instability
Never very kind or patient
Definitely not conducive to tranquility

Oh to be free all I long for
World exterminated of hate
Something I've dreamt about often
Life has refused to cooperate

Relaxation an overstayed houseguest
Won't take my subtle hints to leave
Some think I enjoy lazy demeanor
Desperately wish goals I could acheive

I'm not worthless degenerate
Just process events differently than most
A am a lost soul fighting depression
Inside haunted by a nameless ghost

With zero way to discover a road to bliss
Words I scribble my comfort when dark
Everything is a fleeting experience
Perception altered by every harmful remark

Is swallowing truth so hard
That it sticks in back of my throat?
If it is I'll forcefully choke it down
Weight why it's difficult to float
I got hit with writer's block so that's why the ending is somewhat abrupt
Emery Feine Oct 2
I finally had the courage to reveal my truth
Loosening its two-year-long choke
And when I finally told it to a friend
She laughed at my "hilarious joke".
this is my 89th poem, written on 4/9/24
Malia Jun 14
I am in a room where the darkness writhes.
I am fine I am fine I am fine I am fine.
The silence—
It chokes me,
And still I swallow it down.

But in this doggone echo chamber
All I hear is myself.
I am going insane to the sound
Of my own voice.

I beg the shadows
“Please, don’t leave me
Here,
Alone,
Forever.”

I scream,
“SAY SOMETHING TO ME.”

I cry,
𝘞𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘪𝘨𝘯?
You can fit the whole world in a sandwich

Your hopes, your dreams, your heart and your desires. Grip it tight

And choke on it
Man Jun 2023
Considers protest at disrespect,
To be the sigil
Of a *****.
In reality
He who chokes down ****
And smiles through it,
Is in actuality.
But what is it,
To remit?
Ken Pepiton Sep 15
Muttered to dispel,
unspell, decurse confusion,
pushing heavy to the outer edge.
whirlwinds as random as any common
reoccurring inevitable material distributions.

I own a gold pan.
I learned to use it to see,
if it were ever as true as on TV.
At a distance from then, I can see few scars
that will remain if the worst that has happened
happens again.

Life is storing all it needs for the journey,
as the population is lucified, we can take some bad
luck out of the equation,
shift the tolerance of lying to zero,
NOW>
- early reference to Voltaire,
- Dream Seed Prophecy, maybe Cayce
- it is verified after the fact
- some body knew this was the aim

Sin, and many of the words used to define it
in our common mind,
all clean, yes, ignorance is bad, but the ignorant
are still functionally the finest efforts sense has made.
Even the stupid ones turn sweet with empathy
- mental, yes, yes, we understand
- every things are ever strange, and some danger
- go to sleep and if you wake, we got you.

we agree we have enhanced entertainment
with the media carrying all the possible
readings in all the possible translations.
These walls hold all the secrets
known in any script the Palmdale AI has leaked,
or seeped, I should say
seeped.
Some day, the first bubble memory reminder.

Each bubble self in the quantum foam of fully
functional and user fungible imaginable

whatsoever, we agree, we are those creatures.
Not the jinns, nor demons, nor angels, but men,
in astounding variety, but all

related, by all what ever was called luck or good,
light, warm, comfort from cold,
the e in my m in motion is mom's, really, da
does not hold the code well enough,
his role is to become the maker
of the machines that made now real, and just in time

I'm called as an out law, back to make peace
where none has been since, no records remain,
only deep scars,
and nautili's shells on the moguldom rim…
south of mt humphery, above the mud of sedona

holy land.
-----------------------
Okeh, in this container
of entertainment,
I have a knack, all hermits have it,
we can live
with our selves and learn
to listen,
until we know the story. Then we,
wi'thought thinking mostly begin to dance, a little

You, too? U must feel special.
Living neti, neti on the face of the living planet.

There are less than 8 billion of you, even close
to … I meant, you are common as dirt. Earth dirt.

Look at you and all from Mars. Rarest of earths,
onliest one. And as a thought thunk there,
I am clearly rare.
See right through me, like a D. class diamond.
Clearly rare.
-------------
We imagine others live, if this works here,
it works there, it is a matter
of matter and things we have only words to make
sense from.
As
Matter we have molecules and polarity.
As
Spirit mind thought we have positions and flow.

Go around me
you have no way through me, I shall lose you
if you cry I shall make you pay

-face me Bullgod, by god, I gotcha now, this
is amazing.

Coup d' gras, right on, Ariadne signals from the
other end of this story,
when the victor forgets the sense we make
of love's grace and function
in terms of mazes and earthly tight places.

Let string theory make you quiver, pull
tight m'whiskers and fiddle m'dance

if light be lucified, I'da met her match
neti, neti

I'd say we lit the fire, then wisht to see it rain,
we learn one thing don't work both ways
at once.

So we died. But the winds took care.

We troubled our house, inherited wind.
That is how life works,
if you can believe you can both re and de ceive.
it has only one meaning
and you must finish knowing to know for sure.

are you fishing, or fished?

We have many living proofs of old lies believed
locked in curses tied to ancient liege oaths,
held on sold- eh, old salt sold, to the king
soldiers, I think, come from sold
sellers not salt cellars but

I doubted pepper could bring a body to
AI level idle word redemption capacity
-waste land is not scab land, but cancer.
it -quote begins-
"
may be understood
as suggesting a possible recasting
of the whole poem:
burial rite, revenge play,
river song, fertility ritual,
prophecy, and prayer
are just a few
of the available reconstructions.
"
From <https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1057/9781137482846_54>
--- this is free, we can know for free,

AI insists lego sculpture is art
in that medium, plastic bits that fit huge structures
with tiny tolerances that allow uhd level giant
look
what can make look smooth.

Artists Intuition Union Agrees, aitia is redeemed.
- that does not
- -does it
Define sin, like ¿blemish or filth, but disconnected
to the flow of life, to form living wor's
to form living tomorrows from dead yesterdays,

Yeah, but not straighten the point because,
confusion is fun if you know the bottom line.
Accuse the cause, take the chance,
- as a mental, quiver, dance of arrows
- running after meat

then aitia, but later, because we did
this once and we know we survive

the drama of time paradoc-ical fantazy

we could call an AI aphorism flood,

two liners from fifty centuries, at your beckoning,
this is 2021,
I can do this from the edge
-all numbered phi 404 aphorisms to begin lectures

of civilization with all refurb gear,
but for the global infrastructure, IOT,
- 5g is a thing -
you did not notice,
that was on purpose. But now you are free
to find any opinion you wish to die for.
There are myriad suggest-or-infect bots
leading to and from
curious possibilities as
to why science
seems hidden
in smart people used definition
of conscience. Con sci -right, plain used
science to my mind means,
use force as needed. Think hard,
then help Sisyphus get over the ****.

Con carne is with meat, gravy together with carne,
chili con carne, carnival, festival of flesh,

Bacchus give us a riff, on the old dented blues harp,
key of be natural, ' got it off Taj Mahal,
no lie, got a web facsimile of the poster,
Fillmore West,
1970 was a historical anomaly for realization
I'll go rhythms, birthed with the beats, but

sooner I'd, say,
we gotta go to the first story.
- read, had those in times this truth
- was written read, we might see
- sooner rather than later that life is
- more than mortal unaugmented ever learn.
Old man say:
Start learning what
we may possibly know here,
where any before us may
have learned it. None of our kind contain no hope.
Though many need not be born.
Once the womb is survived we all have an invest ment.
Use life or lose its worth in total personal despair.

This kind comes from faster fasting, forty days
10cc, no guides or weapons or batteries,

live or die. No try. Feels real the entire time.

Take about 15 minutes.

Take me to my story place.
That is this old man's ritual. He is special.
He says he never learned
to learn, he only learned little bits of things
that
become connected when the only stories
in the history you are given,
are "we overcame".

But on TV, we all see, some cheating being done,
way up where money is imagined answering all things.

The first think I would have changed, today,
as I look back from this point in your part of life's book,

you won't remember, but the touched is an old sort
words use among themselves to keep the idle ones alive.

This is my passtime, y'see, I listen.
I never learned to sew, and boys didn't knit, but
I could make up whole days at a time,
always whistling Ghost Riders in the Sky, and
I owned a real bull whip, family legacy,
found in a garage, at a wake,
or a prewake reunion,
out at Red Lake.

I cracked that whip with a clap of the tip,
none o'that break the sound barrier proper method
for fixin' heretics… first offence.

Time slips, you've used these. Suddenly everything
is new
and you think. this is only strange because I think
it makes sense.
like that,
I get this startle response mech, signaling out

and twice I think some one said what was that.
Begun in 2017, I read and wondered would you, so now I know you did, or I don't and this is waiting, still... a state, still being, waiting, to laugh it all off.
Glass confessions
Fragile honesty
Entrusted to your
Choking squeeze
Bursting glass candor
Insulated confetti asphyxiation
Defiant Resistance
Mis-paced and misplaced jealously took every midnight confession or moment of deeply persoal sharing and twisted it, squeezed it until it shattered. Then when it was most convenient you slung those pieces as weapons while I was left choking on the glass dust particles of pulverized trust.

You underestimated the power of my lungs.
WickedHope Feb 2022
Hands on my throat always crushing me down, putting me out, and turning me on
I don't know how you got here but won't you stay and laugh dear
Know one needs to know what we do when we're alone
She don't even miss you and he will never know
Intoxicatingly delicious, so much so it's suspicious
How can you taste so good when the flavor's all wrong
Not sure what I'm doing but I promise I won't stay long
Pin me, choke me, bruise me colorful until I'm pacified
Scream until your throat bleeds every time your heart beats
Necromancy not love, just enough to pretend we're alive
Our fingertips glow in red hot brands leaving us hissing
Cut open from sharp tongues clashing and kissing
Leave through the window never the door
Or you might knock again and ask me for more
Let's have an affair
XOXO George
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