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J Bjork Sep 15
Everyone has a dream
brewing inside their head,
wishing to quash
the day-to-day
that we all have to dread:
it’s hard not to feel stuck
inside of a revolving door,
hard to escape
consumerism
that wants to make us
think we are poor

At the end of each sunset
comes another rising moon
to some it’s just
a time for sleep,
others it is an unbearable
silence, a deafening clarity
that we are truly all alone
because nobody will ever
see the way our insides tick
and form into afterthoughts,
never to begin

Still, the clock is spinning,
our minds keep spilling
thoughts we appreciate,
others we regret-
the endless war of
waging through mental states
to endure physical reality again
as we get up in the morning
with another attempt
at facing the blinding light,
the arduous day-to-day,
leaving our dream behind
that only wants to
breakthrough, and come alive
within this means to an end
09/14/25
У меня телефонит Айфон.
Кто говорит? — Клон.
Мармеладу сгрузите тонн
И купите себе комильфон.
Что вам надо за этот загон?
— Товарищ, пиздите с умом.
Мы — газэли, мы в гастроном,
И для вас мы не комильфон.

Yaroslav Kulikovsky. Kiev, 2020 (c).
Part of the cycle: Poems on City Flesh and Power.

👉 tiktok.com/@kulikovskyonthepunchline
👉 youtube.com/@KulikovskyOnThePunchline/shorts
This poem parodies the new ethics of consumption and urban madness. The iPhone rings — but it’s a clone on the line. Marmalade, gazelles, a grocery store — these aren’t just quirky images, but grotesque elements of a lifestyle where even clones crave to be comme il faut. Beneath its hooligan tone lies a sharp critique of faceless trends and meaningless status games.
Cadmus May 4
They say love makes the world go ‘round…

But try proposing without a diamond that whispers loud…
Money…

Family dinners full of smiles and fights repressed…
Money…

Cousins showing up at Christmas looking freshly blessed…
Money…

The secret to youth? It’s not kale or prayer…
Money…

Just a surgeon, a syringe, and some derriere repair…
Money…

You want the Nobel? Sure, write your thesis with flair…
Money…

But someone still paid for that tenured chair…
Money…

The kids need books, a laptop, and a chance to dream…
Money…

Also Wi-Fi, tutoring, and a school with steam…
Money…

Evolution gave us fire, but civilization gave us class…
Money…

And the biggest difference between king and ***…
Money…

You want to change the world? Start a cause? Break a curse?
Money…

Or you’ll be that guy with vision… and an empty purse…
Money…

Science needs data, equipment, and trust…
Money…

Also snacks for the lab, and a fridge that won’t rust…
Money…

Want to flirt, be adored, radiate that spark?
Money…

Or stay home, scroll apps, and die in the dark…
Money…

Even funerals aren’t free, your last “to-do”…
Money…

Because dying is easy, but burial? Whew…
Money…

So next time someone tells you it isn’t everything…
Money……

So here’s your truth, wrapped neat and funny:
Everything you touch, trust, taste, or tolerate runs on…
Money…
If this poem made you uncomfortable, don’t worry, it’s probably just your bank account recognizing itself in the mirror. Side effects may include existential budgeting and spontaneous side hustles.
Aaron Beedle Mar 23
When water became water, not lemon and lime,
I drank for the pleasure, not to pass time.

When bread became bread, not pizza and cake,
I'm hearing my stomach, and it needs a break.

When danger becomes danger, not fear on a screen,
I stopped checking corners for foes unseen.

When fire becomes fire, not mirrors and smoke,
my friends sit together, and nurture our hope.

When food becomes famine, and future unknown,
we'll treasure our friends, instead of our homes.
About: About breaking free of the conditioning of living in a very consumerist society.
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
Horizon of heard words bring
feelings
new and relieving
receiving
messages from myself
to be passed to someone else.

Like birth I breathe my
first lesson
in learning a new obsession.
A whole new world
completed by curiosity
and only in generosity of voice
was I shown the choice we each make
to hide and to fake
to fear that we are
no more than animals with complex speech
and we reach desperately to find
some notion that we are tools
but in truth we are without rules
and can experience as much as we are willing to believe.
About: I'm not sure. Let me know if you work it out.
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
I stabbed myself in the face today.
Not literally.
With a bouquet of flowers.
I like to smell them. It was nice.
Pumped my self with drugs.
Sugars and oils and processed blood.
I'm pretty sure it effects my functioning.
Too much and you can't move.
And when I lie there, I see the roof.
It's blank. No one looks at it because it's blank.
It's blank because no one looks at it.
And I stare at that roof and of course, it stares into me.
We connect, we understand.
And I load up the laptop and sit there for days.

Oh well. Who am I harming?
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
The people I see, the young and the free
They dance and they sing in blissful retreat.
Their lives are a sample of pure liberty
And mine an example of firmly fixed feet

I grew up alone, in this I am blessed
I know of the darkness and it knows me best
My friends I found waiting beside the far lights
I wouldn't have seen them without those dark nights.

I feel like the fuse has already burnt.
The engine backfired, old meat past expired
I feel like a liar, pretending to be, pretending to see
what it is they believe they are doing
with their endless consumption and moving
their only function, save but to breathe
is to make our lives harder, or enforce beliefs.

The reality is, its in human nature
to skip the sad memories of our bad behaviour
and think of the times when we looked our best
convince ourselves that we're flawless and blessed.

I won't have such good memories, for I hid in the dark.
Shade like and skinny, and spared any romance.
It's hard to see evil that's basking in light.
So wait for the night and they'll dance, and they'll melt, and you'll see,
those good memories weren't made by people like them.
They were made by people like me.
About: How punishing and unrewarding looking out for other people whilst they enjoy their lives can feel.
Maria Etre Feb 11
I lost touch
with
my to-do list
only to find
myself
found
in my
to-live
list
Anais Vionet Jan 27
Fight the algorithms
that tell us what to do,
to make us predictable,
unoriginal and bankable.

Have you witnessed how
increasingly bland and homogenous
our lives are becoming?

Choose freedom
avoid the diaries of commerce
that riff on the ubiquity of apps

resist the reductive tropes
of our published and circulated,
perspective customer identities.

Fight the algorithms
with their embedded backlot
familiarity, built around class
and consumerism.

Try to understand the
vague, inscrutable and
purposefully circuitous.

Or stop overthinking
and embrace liberating surrender.
That’s the path I’ve chosen.
.
.
Broken People by The Narcissist Cookbook
Talk Down Dijon
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge 01/26/25:
Circuitous = winding, indirect and perhaps unclear
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