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Renae Jan 30
breathe
in deep, out long
inhale, exhale
if i inhale this medication
will i feel again?
just begin, no, sleep in
long hours, looking
watching them
scrolling,
learning survival
is all i'm interested in

one day
i'll take action
til then
days drag on
skin wilting
strength fleeting
sleep, more sleep
help, no...
i give in

get up
you're still alive
open the blinds
it's nice outside
don't you want to
start, start something
somewhere
don't close your eyes
those pensive ones
as they seem to me
birds on the wire
gazing this way
     and that
lost invariably
to their ennui
their melancholy
their obliviousness
to the point
some may say
     pointlessness
of their existence
in these moments
without reason
or incentive enough
to prompt one
     or the other
to take to the wing
embracing the bluster
of the ever-blowing winds
rather they sustain
this idle malingering
waiting listlessly
for that which none
can know
ANTONIO Ainnoot Dec 2023
There’s nothing novel in my possession
simply a puzzle mind with a broad perspective
Replete with concepts and dozens of questions
Sometimes I wonder if time will confess to its intentions
Does more await of quasars remnant?
Because I see where the dots connected
I am receptive to the astral message hidden amongst the stars
Though if on this journey, were I ever to embark, I must leave the mind ajar
existential fog
George Krokos Nov 2023
You are the Ocean and I am the wave
moving in tandem as if I'm Your slave.
I rise and fall according to Your will
though once in a while I'm kept very still.

I have no real life without Your sanction
which now seems to be like a distraction.
There are so many others just like me
and I wonder somehow if they agree.

In this manner You just do as You please
and deploy us all with surprising ease!
Our goal seems to be on reaching the shore
then return back to You again for more!

The presence of the moon has much to say
with what goes on Your surface every day.
Its influence is more than we'd suspect
and has to be treated with some respect.

Beyond are other worlds and stars in space
along with the sun which dictates the pace.
They're orbs of living wonder in that sky
and cast their shadows if we care to pry.

How unenlightened seems this life of ours
when we consider how we pass the hours.
For our days are numbered lest we forget
but through One's realization some are set.

There isn't much else now that can be said
before a time comes and we're all but dead.
We can only hope that we've done no harm
on the Ocean's surface that's full of charm.
_____
Written Dec.'22.
George Krokos Nov 2023
I once had a dream about what I would like to be
but the dream's still being realized in life to see.
To date I now find myself having a poet's brain
and a passenger traveling in an outbound train.
The carriage I occupy is starting to break down
and I wonder how much longer it will be around.
Though it's better to always keep a positive mind
and not let the devil of despair to rob you blind.
The life we're all living now is just another dream
of that Infinite Existence in the flowing stream
of Its own imagination which has no real end
apart from the limiting state we all try to rend.
Only a few ever come to know about this game
that is played out within a holographic like frame
which includes all dualities of form and substance
created to express Its own boundless abundance.
The illusion's needless to say so very well done
that we are all caught up in it and try to have fun;
going from one extreme to another as we live
in mastering the art of how to love and forgive.
______
Written in Feb.'22.
Another one of those existential, mystical and philosophical type poems.
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2023
At What Cost?
This Purchase of Our Future

a thousand answers + variegated shadings, a summation:


of millions layers of our owned chosen complexities,
so many possible outcomes, it makes infinite randomness
seemingly simpler than our googolplex crazy preposterous
notational choosings, our owned decisions which though false,
cause nothing is tandomn random except for love at first sight

it’s all  just *******, we conditioned from pre-birth,
the expectations subtly subsumed into the woman’s womb,
overlaid by the ***** donors whisperings that you will be a
great third baseman, or a great bass player, or both, but
“your” fate, ha!
is anything but yours…
to purchase!

if you were born to live in a home with no heat, and water was
obtainable by walking 100 yards away, you would still be a
pianist, writing notes of plaintive need, grand desires, musical
words of agonizing delight just as when
you first blushed when the brain
connected yellow rays with a word,
sunrise,
and an experience was synapticaly imprinted,
that real things could be defined by an ordering of letters and sounds
and you were tongue burnt by a need so great
to collect these pleasurable things and put them in a right order
of your
peculiar
particular
personal
inherited inputted
design

=
and
you yet debate
what is my instrument,
knowing that the multiples of your fingers
are the engine of your existence,
and on any particular day they, your well connected perma-crew,
will pick which is the chosen one,
and
no matter which,
for you had nothing or little purchase,
it was coded in your pre-history
just as you prepare a transmission list
of your own,
when you daily first touch your face,
closing the sensory sensual connection tween
the ephemeral and the physical
and
the new combinations
that you will imprint upon
someone’s flesh,
that is your right,
that is you write,
that is what you were
predestined,
to
create

but,
(what the heck)
you get
to-pick the instrument of the day…


(
that,
is your purchase, your only cost,
everything else has been
pre-paid
)
Thu Nov. 9 2023
8:51am
ny
Francis Nov 2023
What goes in, always,
Comes out,
Through the ******* of life,
Which is **** itself.

Such a waste,
That we are born,
Live,
And die,
Fighting for things,
Money
Materials,
******* things,
That we can’t take with us,
When we die.

What a ******* waste it all is,
Yet somehow,
Everything and everyone is needed,
For the next phase of waste.
**** becomes fertilizer,
We become reborn,
Into whatever else is **** out next.
Philosophically marvelous— just kidding
Phia Oct 2023
You peeled back
all of the layers of my existence
to reveal cracks
in my weathered being.
My soul eroded and destroyed
from the harshest of rains
and the most unforgiving storms
Just some random thoughts.
Tony Tweedy Oct 2023
Oh the things that my eyes have seen,
the many places walked I have been.

Upon peak and trough did I roam,
rarely knowing a place called home.

So many turnings along my way,
passing on through to seldom stay.

Staying as long as life allowed,
more times alone than in a crowd.

Beautiful faces that came and went,
both good and evil sometimes sent.

With words sometime of the softest kind,
echoing shrill calls yet within my mind.

Words once soft now turned to stone,
where faces vanish until left alone.

Upon road so full of twist and turn,
until a heart can no longer yearn.

Corners met that were never turned,
unseen paths that were never learned.

Future's short path left to travel on,
in time memory fades and it too is gone.

Things I was and all that I saw,
gone forever through the closing door.

How long then be there just a trace,
that my soul and I ever saw this place.

To dust and particles we all will decay,
those once met too will just fade away.

Until even memories of all are no more,
of a life full lived that no one even saw.
The stream of life and human existence.... a species long journey along an unknown road. Was there a beginning? Is there an end?
Mark Toney Aug 2023
Above the public pool
a volleyball so cool
stuck for years
in the rafters
Someone’s
breath of life
trapped in
it’s bladder
Evidence of
their lingering
presence, me
wondering
if they ever
pondered the
relevance of
the essence they
left behind?
Singsong thoughts
turn inward …
What about me?
In all the places
I’ve been,
pieces of me,
residual traces
of myself
left behind,
cast away!
Small links, unforgotten,
faithfully preserved
by old friends—
threads of connection
reinforced by timeless bonds—
who keep my words,
moves (dancing!), and
shared memories as
precious cargo,
cherished keepsakes,
A clear reminder that
I exist!  I matter!
I’m something much more
than simply air I breathe
on an unremembered day …
Like that beautiful volleyball
in the rafters

W I L S O N ! ! !




Mark Toney © 2023
8/30/2023 - Poetry form: Free verse
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