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Ana Jun 8
I have a tendency to romanticise,
A habit of hoping.
Jumping to conclusions in my mind,
Maybe it's a way of coping.

It's caused a few issues,
Assumptions tend to do so.
But my mind won't give up that easily,
It sure doesn’t like hearing, 'no.'

So I may as well embrace it,
After all, what's so bad about hope?
Maybe that’s what we all need,
Maybe that’s a good way to cope.

Ana
I'm not sure how I feel about this one. I like the first stanza or so, but it went a different way than I was expecting. Let me know what you think!
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
In life's darkest, coldest histories, only those told
first tongue, empower courage in the
knowing emparted, as if we
were there. Our best
effort brought us
here, some how. We feel we must stand up for

our self, eh, what about my self? There's a burr, eh?
A dullness revealing fractured christline
constructs and the core, where
courage is stored in true
chain breaking known thought processes,
so
secret you may not be
allowed to know, like when we were kids with
no internet and no adults would
tells us how adultery functions
with usury and political magicians to enslave
us according to sortings in standardized tests.

Conceal weakness with signs of power,

make believe, show believers believable

e-visons as evident possibles,

so the power, small though it be,
the power of the people,
who hold no truths
self
evident, id est evincing and convincing
us, these rights are right,
for those who use us right,

words, true, make free the ready writer to
presume reading truth makes free
thinking go wild, like con
funsion making
sunlight...

in the past hear it... this little light of mine
no chain nor twisted trifold cord can
quench, a word
to the wise is leaven enough for the whole ******
loaf.
Shew, see,
we can wield power, if we can believe
the king, is where the kingdom is,
and any child who asks her pooka can know,
the kingdom is where I always behold
the face of God, angel-baby...

or we can imagine,
we have this power to create entire
othernesses,

similar to our self,
our logos and these pre-loaded breathing
algorithims of in and outs, ups and downs,

twisting and sooming assumed id-intities
are mea nd we wander, meander,

flow in the trough of a spiraling wave
pulling the rain back to the sea,

so each water weness we imagine may be re
used, for goodness knows what,
universal solvency was one
water function ac
cused of causing, aitiatic tic tic time bomb

Jerry-rigged, Rubic cubed trigger,

gay blades shaved the iron legs, y'know
**** Deus is punishing truth,

the true power of any pun
ish bin ein Berliner mit Arizona Prickly Pear jelly,

laughing into funk-tion-ality the oddities of beings
not me,
in my meanderings through optional doors
inside the narrow way,
ala the way to Petra, we've seen the way

similar in every fractal way to the tracks of tears

cuttin crevases through pressure packed dust that
must
have piled suddenly high, for,
when it flowed as the red mud that stopped
right there at the edge of the Sedona
manifestation of oddities.

Check it out. Google Earth it.

**** Deus wannabe, meet my old friend from
the foundery in Arkansas,
E Pluribis Unem Massey

crazy now, there is a man by that name, with a .jr,
a link forgotten,
save the memory that may be in the water,
we used to wash the grime of burning iron into
the river to rust into louisiana to feed
the phyto plankton past the delta
grease of seeping poison
insolvent in the universe, save for fire

fire can burnishit tic make it bright, reflecting
mirrors for the smoke

choking the me who can't see, how Wattie Piper
virus was passed on to
EPluribis Massey, Jr., but it must have been
some variation on the
living words,
like:
I think I can, and the congregation
responds:
as a man thinks, in his heart, so is he.

As the waters all flow to the sea, take no thought
for tomorrow,
take it as granted, today.
Overcoming is done one step at a time, and there is always a place to put one's foot, if, if, if you can remember knowing how to ride a bike, minus the bike.
Sometimes when we are in
Pain we transfer that pain onto other's.
We are stuck in a tunnel of darkness.
Void
Feeling empty with our negative feelings.
Habouring grudges bitterness
until it grows and festers.
Causing all sort of physical illnessness.
Poetic T Dec 2018
If time is consious
      Are we
but a fleeting
          Thought.

Yet to fade into obscurity.

Or are we a
           conclusion
Of repeated ideas,
That just need
         to be tweaked.
David Lampert Jun 2018
Mr. Tilden leapt from a building
and died from multiple contusions.
Later his wife lamented his life
(quote) he always jumped to conclusions.
my first try at a limerick; please forgive the pun
Poetic T Jan 2018
I have a broken
          me...
ta..
                                               phor...
         no one understands its meaning.

Confused with the inner
         emptiness of a shell
            with no substance.

Do you understand what I'm trying
           to say without telling
                                           you the truth
of my conclusions??
eleanor prince Mar 2017
clawing at 'reality'
I strain
object
fight

slice fetid air
with mind's
willing blades

poised to sense
slay
threat

yet all the while
computations gather
holding conference
council within

weighing
measuring
attempting recognition

so labelling begins
imagining potent blows

yet standing back
storm's curt reminder
and all I survey and rate

mocks
informs
this is largely
of my own making

with meaning assigned
spawned of generations of
programmed thinking
fed by muddied bias

perceptions skewed
tortured to fit
fear's *******
power's price

with illusion's
dragon slain
I face
the truth

this state within
maelstrom
of angst

I
alone
create
inspired by NB's astute observations on my last poem...
Do I believe there is love?
Of course
Yet it is hard to say that I have experienced such a thing
And in that it is just as hard to try and justify to anyone that there is, in fact, love

I do not know what is sadder: That I have not experienced love or the way I am responsive to it

I know who I am supposed to love
But it is no love that I can tell

But this is the truth:
I know of hate
Hatred I believe in
Hatred I am all too familiar with

I suppose I could be so enveloped in my own self-hatred
Comparing all other things to me that I love almost anything and anyone

So from my conclusions I extract this:
Because I participate in the deepest and most strewn out of hate
I know that it exists
Therefore, love, comparative to my involvement in hate, can only lead me to an assumption:

If hatred exists, then so must love
Alan S Bailey Apr 2015
I'm a magician,*

Everywhere, every day I do magic, the magic that no one sees,
It is quite silent-the kind you can't hear, the forest for the trees.
Changing, rearranging the whole world "as good as new,"
Flash of fire lightning and rain and a sea was parted too!
Frightened figures hold each other, the earth it shakes,
The vaguest of lost lovers, the energy each marriage takes.
I'm  a person on a mission, I'm a magician, pulling rabbits
Out of hats, telling people run for cover from the "vampire"
Bats. I'm a stranger on a mission as a faith magician what
Could it be? I'm here to preach to you about a God
You can not see! So now that I've told you all that
He's real he is all that you will ever know or feel.
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