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Zelda Jul 2024
“What do you want?”

I am
the double braids;
the sunshine in the tutu dress
The linear path
The yellow line
Didn't lead where it was supposed to
(where I thought it would)
I was just trying to catch up

From the McDonald's to the escalator
From the escalator to the McDonald's

I am
An ever-changing labyrinth; A sunflower
Caught in the dead of winter
Suffocating in a sea of strangers
Home isn't where it's supposed to be

From the McDonald's to the escalator
From the escalator to the McDonald's

I know
I can't afford to;
I know
It's best I don't:
Lose my ears
Lose my head;
Lose my feet;
Lose my breath;

But they're not where they're supposed to be
And I can feel myself lose my eyes;
What happened to the linear path?
Where is THAT yellow line?

Third time’s the golden ticket
Get me out of here
Please

From the McDonald's to the escalator
From the escalator to the McDonald's

Ears heard you call my name
Head spun
Feet pushed against marble
Deep breath

Into your warm, comforting embrace
Lift me off the path
Show me the yellow line
Take me where I'm supposed to be

I am
The path less traveled
The yellow line unwinding

“A Happy Meal”

Epilogue
______

Little Miss Sunshine
Sit awhile
Happy Meals turn into ice coffees
We'll wait
No need to worry
We'll be found
Eventually

"Can I steal a fry?"
My Dear Poet Jul 2024
Why do you always do that?”, she asked

What?”, I replied

That thing you always do! Even when I say don’t!

Am I doing it now?”, I asked

No…but when you do…don’t!

So, when I do it, you want me not to?

Yes!“, she exclaimed

So for me to stop doing it…I’d need to do it…right?”, I asked.
My Dear Poet Jun 2024
You’re that feeling that burns
every time you’re filled, not spent
we go back to learn
It wasn’t what I meant

The strong promises and lines
that couldn’t be broken, you bent
among all the go around rhymes
It wasn’t what I meant

The absent truths and stains
of every little word stolen, you lent
only to borrow pain and play
It wasn’t what I meant

and when you finally understood
phrases couldn’t be ripped, but rent
now there’s that silent separation
It wasn’t what I meant.
Ken Pepiton Jun 2024
Creating a passing remark… recreation…
in a mind, a reified fine distinctive will…
said in such a way
as to hold reason on rails, as we rise
slowly to the apex, before the drop.

Such sorts of talks as one might hear…
while thinking something missing…

listen, instants reminding winding
ways, whither so ever this mind listeth.

Then and now, originating force, used
in fact as wind fitted 'round makes uses
of letters leveling the imbalenced powers
using long slow upslope with peak powers
pulling from the down side, launching
minds into wonders yet beheld hid in
understandin' laws selecting ears, hush
such as seek the source of joy used to lure.
The joy strength knowing
Words was writ becoming

Power, to make motion, umph
to push the self positioning
reflex past off imbalence,
back to on imbalence,
patient
waiting being not on or off,
but here in time at a tempting,
attempting attended by all who
have ought against my will to be
as plain as day and simple as phi.

A Sermon on Novel Incomplexity
spiraling wider in reaching for more

in an autodidactic country church,
carried on by disciples of the founder,
the called of Truth, and chosen to teach,

to cultivate as one tends to tender vines,
those lost souls caught in strains confusing
will and ways, mixing will and spirit,
soul and minds creative by nature's go'd
and we the goaded on, kicking not back, but
some will to know, in terms we all agree with,
using terms that yoost to be ere words empow'rin'
agreement to trial rentals,
old works, functional,
used goods
to be retold as true
by some, so called holders
of the lessons learned
for sharing, as affection, any surplus seed.

Did I act, in course of time, of course,
gravity does matter, all ups have downs,
strange and charming ins and outs.

Fast make my point, in effect, a will to make, machen,
means make, manufacture, reify imaginary ways,
same as Latin facere, as a matter of fact, says

Google Translate, at my behest, hight, answer swear
"take or utter an oath,
make a solemn declaration
with an appeal
to divinity" deus "god, deity"
(from PIE root *dyeu- "to shine," and sworn so

to tell me all the etcet'ras as ye's called, Wille zur Machts,
"the driving force behind all living beings, including humans" making thinkable things
useful to rethinkers, at some point…
any wishing uses wills of some sort in fact,
so if your wish were peaceable,
imagine it taken up by all, at this point

try umph und dinkum, humm as manly virtrutheous will to make stuff up allows,
to lighten the load
of memory reminding me
of olden meanings fed me
to teach meekness, as penance
for troubling my house to inherit wind.
As grace, breath, taken, forming this fected
will to use and by using gain more of this will
working wonders to let us think we understand,

three point curving arches in a process known
as growing through the creative process,

supported by the will a toddler achieves upright
status as a force
to be reckoned with
on new terms, better balanced
at agreement, mental fixedness of purpose,

supposed and set as pivot point in time,
myrrh tipped darts - cursor arrows telling course, marking distances in steps,

exclaiming this is the pleasure pursued,
subconsciously diverted in to golf,
{I sell rescue *****, I never played the game}

a fruitless pastime perfecting will
with aimed at pride, some cheat for.

Ranting chance expletives,
followed by, amen…

there above, our letters bringing the common tongue,
into total disarray,

to think the meaning -breathing, the common sense
since simplicity stepped from sublimnity,

to light the way, by mind's alit with news,

actual knew knowns, new translations,
accepted as accurate, aimed
from then to now,

another day in your life,
another day in our life, we wordform spirit minds
kinematic cinematic role inversion,

existing Ich heize, Herr Klumpen, ein Pepito, no mas.

A ******, a loogie, a phlegmish mass spat at nada,

deemed as worth a minute
as any made up will let go
in just right down sloped acceleration
joy may spark an avalanche where avalanche's wait.
Growing old in an easy-by-luck old age, in a presummer quiet,  
before school lets out the seeds
of my past perspicacity, Will to power, is better thought willingness to make.
for taking that chance
to have babies who had babies,
that look like my selected
perfecting other , and read like me,
in hammocks I can see from my porch.
Summers become alive here.
Steve Page Jun 2024
I leave myself all over the place
then retrace my steps
and while I try to collect myself
there's pieces I forget
I overheard the first line this evening
Sorcier d'argent May 2024
I.
There are no pillars of fire to—
gather around; the clouds, they
deluge the prayers to and fro.
The deafened rumblings racing

the pouring torrents, as they
try to reach out, to answer,
and frown like morose protests,
like restless tantrums; and I—

I can only gasp for air.

Like salvations and unmet counsels.


II.
Remembrance follows ever-dearly;
shuffles carelessly amongst hasty—
coronations of dusted amber,
of dubious prints on the sand,

and it comes along, lavishly.
Esperance creeps tauntingly:
I wonder if it’s within me,
to reach out and sear the weave—

with conjoined hands, praying for air.

Like revising sextants and astrolabes.


III.
Dread is a candle in the dark,
nestled tightly into the fingers
and burrowed deeply into—
hands; they choose to hold on.

Blessed are the hands that harrow
and lean to the curtains of twilight,
to the lenses of hindsight:
merely debtors, to the fealty of morrow.

I can no longer grasp for air.

Like rainbows after a downpour, like chrysalides striking an impasse.

.
Holding it in.
Eyithen May 2024
I'm mad at God
I've never been mad at him before
Always understanding and patient
I never questioned the purpose of the pain

The purpose of pain
I'm sure there is one
but I am tired
It is the same thing and I find myself trapped in a cycle of insanity
What is the purpose? What is the lesson? What am I missing?

I'm mad at God
Maybe mad is the wrong word
Frustrated. Hurt. Exhausted. Angry.
But not mad.
Its not so much a place of casting blame
but rather "what do you want from me!?"

How much longer will I have to endure?
How much longer will I have to cry out?
When will I see an answer?
You don't play mind games
and yet I am currently unconvinced of this

Unconvinced I have received any sort of healing
only led to believe so
"I don't know" has been a phrase I've said the most

So yes perhaps I am mad at God.
I don't know what else to feel when one is falling apart, even if they are falling into place.
The pain is still the same.
Jeremy Betts Apr 2024
"It's not a bad life,
Only a bad day"
To which I respond right away,
"Okay,
But what if it's everyday?"
Their reply?
"That's just life"
"Oh, ya don't say"

©2024
bob Apr 2024
Though I'm not in jail it all just feels the same
Waking up depressed told just not to complain
A shotgun to my head i feel like Curt Cobain
Not a literal sense, but the context sustains
I don't want money, success, not even some fame
I just want to learn to play this game
Each day it gets hard i just keep  breathing
Wondering how the **** this happened, it feels like treason
From a comical skeptic to a reliable source
I question the water that was gave to the horse
Viewed as a sinner but always in doubt
"Read from the scripture and figure it out"
Nightmares keeping me awake like a proxy
SO many bad thoughts I wish I could get off me
Do your 12 steps Bob, everything is kosher
Yet I wake every night screaming still sober
A stranger does the same, and everyone wants to know her
A technicality set, a glimpse for closure
Different from most but related to some
I feel alone but second to none
Shaking again always be the **** up
"drinkings a sin" Always press my luck up
Some things I will never understand
But if it doesn't change I will be ******
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