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Lowkie May 2020
I'm a poet, but not a conversationalist
All these thoughts going through my head
But really, I don't talk a lot
"Why you so quiet"
My tongue is caught in a knot
I'll probably turn into a different person
After another shot
-
I'm a thinker, not a speaker
If you want to get know me
You'll probably have to dig deeper
Analyzing my every response
Before finding a simple one
That might hopefully reach you
-
I'm a poet, I'm a thinker
I'm not a conversationalist, I'm not a speaker
If you approach me
I'll probably keep it brief
Maybe it's a blessing or maybe it's a curse
But if you want to get to know me
I'll have to let you into my conscious first
-
Lowkie©
SpiralDancer May 2020
Corona created chaotic choices.
Crumbling and collapsing decaying capitalism.

Birthing conscious awakenings in all corners of the world.
Kindness became the new currency.

The spoon fed fear, once zealously swallowed.
A Grimm bed time story for children grown up
Always thirsting for more,
having known nothing else.

Before the tide turned.
Before the silence.

And the old ways, became the old ways.
And the new ways -
Free will.
Still feeling like dress up clothes
not yet feeling the fit.

But with the courage and curiosity of pioneers,
We learned to feel comfortable in our own power.
We grew into our new skin, as we shed the old.

Conscious awakened.  
Now flying freely.
Free birds flowing on clear currents.

Skies of infinite possibility
Illuminating landscapes of love,
Dancing in footsteps of joy
Draped in New dreams
and hope
On a newly
birthed Earth.

We called that time,
The Beginning.
Written March 23rd.  This great pause for us all is filled with opportunities to shift the collective into a new way of being
Asominate Mar 2020
Pondering upon an existence
Because I exist I can ponder
What if I uploaded my conciousness
And somehow synced ourselves, I wonder
Noah Thibault Feb 2020
Dear old friend and caring brother
New enemy and cracked mirror
Condemned slave and acquitted killer
I already talk with you everyday
I might as well confess my dismay
The onlookers must hate our parley

Four books and twenty-two years
Still we are racked with fears
Still we are lost and estranged
But which one of us is deranged

Does the conscious live in the mind or the soul?
The mind, the soul, the heart, the will, who has control?
Am I writing a plea for ceasefire to you,
Or Am I the one receiving the devastating letter
Are you the one who watches the film
Or are you the movie director
Are you the one speeding down the tracks
Or are you the train conductor

People say we don’t smile enough
I say we don’t fake it enough
People say we don’t live enough
I say we don’t lie enough
Do they hate us?
I must say I hate you
I truly would hate to be you

Perhaps we could still be free
If we let someone else lead
Someone who cares more than us
But the problem would seem to be
which one of us holds the key
Nick Stiltner Oct 2019
top brain forward eyes severed diluted
down mind feared essence ignored
star gaze rays smogged polluted
connect connect widen the gap
flow flow hand meets ice-water
growing numbness crackling bones
crack sip sigh Relax

unattended, withering, left to rot
chime chime signs direct where
why lark fly vines hide
the corner
beads dangle I move them
and they fall back into
they fall back into
their places
stages lights tread lightly across
and bow be sure to bow they like that
humming bird wings on twilight canvas
blurs blurs the paints and hues
dreams and views dreams and views
severed sinews, unabled motion
crack sip sigh Relax
lean back rising tide blanket and jaw slack
Io Sep 2019
Oh, Dark star
To be born in your own death
An existence invisible
To witness the last ancient beasts
Die in the chaos
of resurrected light
To watch the last photons
A dance of final lonesome bright
To feel yourself wane
Die in silence evermore
Oh, lonely star
Dark as solemn night
Breathe the last breath
And as you were born
Let lie the universe
Still forevermore
Sam Wickstrom Sep 2019
Watching the world burn
I pause motionless for a moment and their heads turn
Who can remain still in this trembling state
Locked into to the grip of deaths embrace
I looked out into eternity and saw no hope
Yet I felt no fear, I held no dreams in my hands
Not a single spark of faith in my mind
Yet the days goes by with a tasteless pain
A senseless thought of what could be
I want to live my fantasies, just like you
But I'm sitting here watching the world burn
Motionless for a moment and I can't care
Caring is painful and my heart can't be breaking always
Fiery flickers of love rip apart my despair
Leaving me burnt and turned to unfathomable misery
All because I saw that our heaven was built on hell
Our worthless wealth, made in China
This disposable planet, soaked in petroleum filth
Could you look them in the eye for a minute
Only to feel the dystopian horror that you call beauty
Trying so hard to express this perspective
Living alone in this lamentable lethargy
If I said nothing, who would rise to break the silence?
Efuse apart from our celebratory mania
Refuse to remain in a myopic mesmerization
A hopeless hypnosis of comfortable mass hysteria
How do you call me confused, when you are conscious?
And if you are merely amused, ponder this poetry
Pity this passing plea for empathy
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