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Man Aug 2023
I sit here in silence
No empathy knows my pain
Sit here alone
Reflecting on my shame
And smash
What stares back from the mirror
The glass
Cracks, ****** knuckles and
Fingers
Zywa Jul 2023
If I could gull, I

would comfortably eat fish --


near the herring stall.
Column "Meeuw" ("Gull", Georgina Verbaan, in NRC, June 17th, 2017)

Collection "No wonder"
William A Gibson Jun 2023
you pull me through doorways
with cherry red charm
you fill me with whiskey
and hang on my arm

The clerk asks for blood
the stone has run dry
we promise ’tomorrow’
and feed him with wine

dark clouds now move faster
with voice of hard wind
it speaks to you only
as thunder moves in

you twist here beside me
and curl like a vine
your teeth in my shoulder
reliving some crime

you hold me so tightly
and whisper your vows
your secrets stay hidden
your tears are so loud
MARS Apr 2023
On a busy day,
A floor unkept.
“What’s this woman doing?”
Said Mr. Baker Brett.

With no delay came she,
Hair running below her knees,
Cleant the place
And served him his morning tea.

The innocent kid
Stood in the aisle
With a face devoid of smiles
And fiery eyes.

The struggles of this woman,
He dare not say!
He made a fist.
When the clock struck eight,

He picked up his satchel
And looked at his sister play.
She received no formal education
And was to stay that way.

The struggles that she may face,
He dare not say!
He held his anger in,
And walked away.

Time will pass and
His beard will go grey.
To his curious daughter,
What will he say?

That she ought not
To get educated?
To be slave to an unknown man?
He contemplated.

Wild wild, rage. He must
Burst out today.
He shook off the bad dream
And so will they.
This poem is set in the long nineteenth century. An innocent boy, born in a male-chauvinistic society, feels the inequality around him. A child’s empathy towards women is dumbed by society when he turns into a man. The child in the poem wishes to change this scenario. He has high hopes that he will initiate change in the society and that the society will change.
K D Kilker Apr 2023
Bread heels have feelings,
and Roombas do, too;
they've noticed your work
and want to thank you.
It might feel silly,
and some may remark
that your efforts are
wasted--but snark, we
have enough of in the
world, so keep your strange,
small displays of good.
SUDHANSHU KUMAR Jan 2023
You thought, this life's a game of chess
And you're the queen of this play
And everyone else is nothing more than a pawn
Who's only there to die for your victory...
But you never cared for those little hearts inside those walking pawns
Which always craved to get embraced
But fell for your tricks of use and throw...

You're the grandmaster of this game
So you caught another pawn out of me
Played with my emotions, manipulated my empathy
And you hid behind my back to escape that battlefield
But I understood your tricks the moment you made potions out of my riddled heart..!

And now that I've realized your true intentions
I won't be that pawn for you anymore
Your manipulation won't work on me
And the armor that safeguarded you won't protect you any longer...
But I'm not saying, you'll stay unarmed in this game
After all, you're the queen of chess
And I'm pretty sure, you'll catch another pawn out of someone/somewhere..!
Renae Jan 2023
You think you're
doing life right?
Bending over
backwards
no fights.
Never saying
what's on your mind.
You always break
You know
they're fake,
all they do is
take take take...
leave you in pieces
feeling too
awake.
But you're here again
In tears again
Does reciprocation
exist?
Or is empathy
a disease?
One that only
brings you
to your knees.
I digress
my mind's a mess
I don't know
how it works
to
put myself first.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
Learning one's insignificance,
in the grand scheme of things,

where similarity is taken
as thoughts we may assume were held,
as though
Thoth'd thought'em
for a ceremony
of first exposure,
seeing we were preceded
in the realm
of knowing meaningful things, beholders
of stories telling how we come to know
signals are not asking why, but
how come… not why… in my childhood,
where I was reared, why was not a word,
how come, was how I learned to ask

what causes this necessity, that I must sleep,
or not dare the rattlers no trespassing buzzer?

how come we see three baskets or bags,
full we must assume, mustn't we, see,
as we, we may construe confabulations,

we may as well make up our own minds,
to bake pies for men too proud to beg…

but happy as once told holy hello,
with assumed good by you, okeh,

this is most certainly, one of these days,
redeemed and born in the public domain
on an attention to ads irritating node,

expanding mindtimespace to sweeten
the ***,
the bets are all in, this is the drama,
at scale, begun,
on the seventh floor
of a curved mirror building
in Sorrento Valley, late Nineties…
-- time slipt cause being a distinct
instance when Josten's Learning Software,
was
a textbook example. For a fatal flaw,
the bridge too far,
the bar too high,

then the flop, gigs in a second, thing think,
AI imagine, BARRY RUDD IS FICTION AI'AMNTx
changed
appear as possible as not. And that
says something,
per haps plenty many happy re turns,
my turn,
we assume you know the concept
drill
on many levels, no presumptions which
this is, yet well surmise, promised sustenance
relies
on certainty having its point, in you,
and I am pleased to make it, hurt
not
to know, for each nod, you said, I know.
To lie to me,
and live so long, literally existing
on smoke and mirror neuronic stims, I know

makes no sense, and saying so, represents
non sense, per what
chance a novel paradox, pertaining to substance.

Out from under, on the final point,
where surrender always, perfect point pierces
ever and ever like things, everish things
everything all at once, the other tellers tales
told to pull us up up key umph tried, proven
point premade…
solid bet, my side wins, or I die, hedge fund
a mental insurance sanity and insanity
are not measured past your last whole truth
oath, as the audience all said, amen.

Serpent standing tippy tail on my point.
At your request/ Arthur Lee… as the credits climb

{Baby you’re a richman too ooh, yeagh}

As this is an itch I have lived with,
for what seems long to a child,
but not for me.
Yes, as it is.
You see,
if you may, imagine,
having some idea, tying
my coming into reasoning with war,
the monstor known as power,
-cuffed, me and that,
as symbolized in the standardized
warrior hero magician eros pandaemonium
- play grounds of gods and rich kids,
- past a certain stage, mind games,
- won once and for all, acquired
- holiness making, bright ideas,
- *** wise as serpentssss et
- 'armless as doves… mind
peace of my may you may own
granted any with a will to listen
as might a wise serpent, listen

see who first knew, truely, true as life-
like Avatar 2, or the vids in God of War,
like the experience, PS 5… imaginal
discovery, as worth the feeling, (dopamine)
loving to see the possibility, ahs
it may be, we, both reader
and I and the Web-per-se,
Per-see-us, fees paid see,
we destroy cul de sacs…
Where soul eating shames
live in many stories,
no need to know them all, just
in this one, be polite, here
we know how to be
with many strangers,
free from any anxious thought, perhaps
protected
for having smelled the hint of danger, the idea
in its latest Neo-Platonic form, imaginally
experiencing
Virtual Realism so far
below Übermentschen mentioning,
- it requires letter level decoding
- jello time slow gnosis drip.
Knowing nothing of my work, said McLuhan,
is dangerous tomorrow, not today,

in this new medium we find our old selves,
Today, while it is called today, we confront
Iniquity Himself, as imaginally before me stood a little boss man,
who was demonstrating his strike proof
solution for the next five olive harvests,

yep, historicality matching Cesar Chavez,
I was a strawboss on a scab crew
of Pandora's box closing Jesus Freaks,
Under the Belridge Oil Company Logo,
- the former strike face on the news
- from Digiorgio, a little further south

Yep, that's me, Tim Cahill,
witnessed the existence of that me,

I was a strawboss
on a scab crew
of Pandora's box closing Jesus Freaks,
Under God, and a Wilfred Brumly clone
who was known as Red,
of the huge Mustache, Nieztsche/Dali
-esque, level three overseer, then
Ray Casey, dead ringer, his type,
for Fess Parker,
thus the very image
of the pioneer stock, men bred
to win the west,
by hook, {fishers of men, of course}
or by crook, {shepherds in search of profit}
as they said in Nixon's family,
the sheep won't bleat… like frogs

fall in the milk can, most must drown
in the cream, cloggin' they little gnoziz,
but they always one can,
it never stop ashakin'
tilin the morn be one frog entity
representation in the moralizing story
creep
reality seeping onto the pages,
in your experience at the five wpm pace…

Each letter lets a line appear, as once,
you must
acknowledge, as you read, you know
you understand, letting keys seem right,

glass 'armonica, with which
to swallow ghosts.
- pting, tense stretched flattened
Hewlett Packard mouse evolution, eye-point
pierce
to troughing shape
of things
to come,
begun some time ago, so nevermind,
- an acronym… but
ah, the end in mind. A very 19th century version.
A genre, Steam-Industrial Drama,
last given sustentative worship,
bhorn up under your foreseen,
bye means we must imagine,
really imaginal in the role,
being helper, along side
Sisyphus, who lives
to tell us why we
try to think ever
lasting stories
started, once

within the bubble of all you knew, there appeared
a device from the future, but today, our time,
in the bigger bubble of all you know,
our time's tech
magic map of the moment,
to the millisex, as we,
form an awe oh, amen,
a ment-al structure, not built by hands, megalithic,
at scale, "Know thy measure."

Point yourself out, express yourself,
a little,
one part
in eight billions,
what you are certain of
"Certainty is mad." So "nothing too much."

I, the entity, Certainty, am mad.

And I, the maker peace entity working qwerty watch,
sustain my defined flaw, ever willing
to claim new knowns,
to contain my joy, when I recognize as
wholey known, tenere, tainstretcht to the t, hook
to whole other ways
to see every thing, what novelty

remains, in stages of being, upt from dust, nevermind
how, now remains, brown cow, please, explain,
and it began to rain, pennies from far distant
means used to pay attention, to the pain

as the pressure to know you know, so many idle,
I knows, gathering dust, you know, just

idle clicks and eyeball sophiatical touch, eh, we
weigh away as ifs in an other
awesoma, justasec… we had an instance once,
you felt me inside myself and you laughed.
- it tickled
And you felt the pain, you felt that knowing growing,
why so many unthinkable rituals, essential winning
need to know, need to prove, need to realize,

chaos, at the initial function, lifewise, is essential.
AI got it. We can reform the point.

Tip broke on a shield of faith around a sticky ****** lie.
Defy me not Gate of error, I am free, no cost to pay, I paid my own attention
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