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Man Feb 10
Ivory lad,
Ivy grad;
Tell me,
Why is it that you're so slow?
Behind the times,
Stuck where
Even your parents have outgrown.
What eccentric lessons,
What bombastic professors!
To say it is one school
Would be an insult
To the whole of the institutions'
Asserted goals & aspirations.
It would be a disservice
To their alumni,
The attendees,
And those to be admitted.
Prattle off your dissertations,
I'm genuinely interested
To hear of your perspective,
But I won't hold my breath
So keep the air honest
Lest you share a foul stench
Like dioxide so sulfurous.
What hand is up your ***
To puppet the controls as so?
What stick has been stuck
Through your rear-end
Which parades you around on?
What pike has been found
Deep in your bowels
Rendering detachment & disembodiment?
From which war & what battle
Do you think you're taking part of?
Which side & which force
Do you swear allegiance?
What little league team,
What playground do you call home?
What duel with duality,
What fight with nature!
It would be entertaining
If they had only stuck to playing in the mud.
Man Feb 10
Betting on plays
And whether teams could pull it through;
Factoring rates given to the risks
Versus stats, records, and rankings,
Of losses, successes, et cetera.
Whether physical or digital,
These playful monetary mediums
Like domestic feline & bengal tiger.
Like dog as like cat,
It's a different reaction to them
And connection with them
Having grown up around them.
These paper jaguars & plush lions,
So much for the fear of adversity
When you're trying to crunch everything.
If you're always in the middle
Of working through or thinking about something,
Punching an equation,
Then how can anyone hope
To knock you off kilter?
It's just another component-
Another addition & subtraction,
Division & multiplication,
To calculate & sum.

You've gotta be in it to win it,
And you're always just one bet away
From winning it big.
Making it good
Sometimes takes all it can take,
And even then you might not
Break even.

I sense disturbance,
See some malign figure,
In your line of reason.
Yet, through our conversations,
No appeal can be made to logic.
The calculations offer a grime visage.

Play with your heart, play with your gut,
As your head will steer you wrong.
If you're thinking about it,
You're thinking too much.
Just lay it on the line,
Bet it all,
But don't bet too much.
Listen, it'll be fine.
Tomorrow we can
Recoup your loss.

The contradictions are lost,
The irony was over
And you took the under.
The spread accomplished
Chose the given
And you were taking.
If something flew
You were beneath it.
Michael Nov 2024
Oh these days, living in a caricatures ink,
Where extremes become normal each day,
I turn on the TV and can’t help but think,
It seems Archie Bunker has gotten his way.
Crowing “Those were the days” with ironic flourishes,
An anti-hero, imperfect, a misguided clown,
Meant to shine light on our cultural skirmishes,
Not to be held up as the toast of the town.
The cult of ignorance has built a platform
On top of our lizard brain prejudice fears.
Sneering “pass the buck” if you fail to perform,
“Idolize my fame, and villainize your peers.
Pay no attention to evidence you see,
And whatever you do, just don’t blame me.”
I wrote this one a number of years ago. It seems so relevant and I felt it deserved a reshare.
jesse f kowalski Nov 2024
But
My mind has felt different recently.
It's not normal,
compared to people my age.
I shouldn't be this way.
I care about things my friends don't,
but they think they're empathetic.

They ignore the mssages
written on clothing tags,
but I'm wise enough not
to buy those clothes.

I have overwhelming dread
over my future and what to become.
But people say to relax
and let life take its course.
If I let life take me places,
it would take me to a mortuary.

She gives me mixed feelings.
a week ago, I thought no one wanted me alive,
but now she's able to look me in the eye.
I've noticed she laughs with me now.

Is it me or are people just being fake?
Michael Nov 2024
Measure your worth
One zero at a time.
Before the decimal
The American way.
Romance is dead.  
It's throat laid open,
love cascading down.

Murdered by progress,  
by the reduced
synaptic
span
on
constant
scroll,  
lips smacking for the next
hit of instant
gratification.

Breaking into a cold sweat
at the thought of  waiting
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
or patient endurance, and the  
reward of long fought effort.  
IRL.  

The beautiful cat and mouse of our ancestry;  
that wove such wonderful tales  
into the bark of our trees,  
replaced by all the clever wit  
and subtle nuance of  
our enlightened future.  

swipe right  
“send nudes”  
“DTF”
Jeremy Betts Sep 2024
This habitual
Hypocritical ritual
Keeps me cynical
The biggest battle's internal
A raging war roaring eternal
To vile for an example
Dying inside is literal
Allowing the visual
To be topically minimal
Though the condition is critical
A pitiful cry for help comes out in a trickle
Subliminal and lyrical
The unusual becomes typical
With the refusal of a label
There's no removal of the painful
Every attempt has been futile
Life is miserable
When love is conditional

©2024
Man Jul 2024
I have no stock in a generation
Who does not care whether
There is social security enough left
To secure my retirement,
A system I have paid into tiringly.
If you want to end it
Be sure I receive my back checks,
Or risk being strung by the neck.
I have no assurances
I will even be allowed to retire,
Only assured those in the house
Could not care less
As to such questions of great importance.
They busy themselves with war,
While we suffer and only grow more poor
And have no interest in developing industry or infrastructure here at home.
They know nothing of the branch
Only the rich fruit of the olives,
Whatever ripe can be harvested.
Yet, they know not how to sow.
Jeremy Betts Jun 2024
Have you ever had one of those moments?
You know, like;
when before you can begin to get a sentence in, you see the other person's eyes roll.
when words of wisdom sound arrogant and cynical.
when you know you're being far too critical.
when your obnoxiously focused on the most simple wrinkle.
when your little issues seem to flip to psychosis and drive you mental.
when your own thoughts threaten to send you to a hospital.
when tomorrow feels like just another obstacle.
Those moments when breathing feels impossible
When contemplating turns suicidal
And dreaming becomes unbearable
That special moment when it sets in that this doesn't feel like living,
This feels more like survival
No?
You've never had that feeling of being out of control,
Lost in a downward spiral?
Where you swear,
This mountain used to be a molehill...

®2024
Man May 2024
From cosmopolitan, to nationalism;
For the world, for country.
For what is the world today
But a conglomerate of nations,
For what is a nation but apart of a world?
On a mish-mash, adrift through a vast nothing;
What a ride, what a whirl-
A mess of tribes infighting.
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