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The Devil
Doesn’t tear you down
He builds you up
Until

You believe you can
Do it alone
Then he smiles
As you fall

And you always fall
star May 27
let the stars fall 5.22.25 (8:01 am)
it’s time to give up
isn’t it

time to let the snow bury me and the hail crush me
i’m giving up, let the stars all fall down

it’s dangerous with me tonight,
just go
i’d save you,
but why?

i’m giving up
what’s even worth living for?
you? me? us?
certainly not the universe, no

forever dissecting myself
in front of a mirror,
i’m not a blonde and blue-eyed barbie

oh it’s time to give it all up
and i’ll do it willingly

[playing: meteor shower by cavetown and hello? by clairo and rejjie snow]
idk what i was doing at 8:01 am
Soul 2d
Some might
scream at you
seeing their
worst pest,
A few might
love you as
their favourite
loving pet.—
Your arrogance
roams every
black inch
on earth.
But still,
for some, you
are their the most
delicious snack.—
Pride do fall,
right?
Decided to start with an unexpected topic, to express the nature of pride...
Soul 2d
Shoved in darkness,
poking the grey mist
from the edge of
your crooked
beak;—
Murmuring omens
of death 'till
the life
ends;—
But why?
Why do you wait
for the fall of fame?
From the one drowned
in the seas of shadows,
may I ask:
Is your heart made
of black-Granite
Stone?
Beware of jealousy...
You can nuke,
or you can spare
a red, red rose.

How grand—
to rule by choice,
to roar with the claim
your vision is pure,
as clear
as morning dew.
Yet you harbour genocide
in Palestine - the innocent rose.

Have you forgotten?
The last titan’s
Rise and Fall?
It will repeat.
That’s no lie.

The nightingale’s ode
to the rose
isn’t always whole.

It knows—
some places
bear more thorns
than eyes can hold.

But like yesterday,
tomorrow again,
it will hum
for the rose.
Beware, if you should venture out
There's spirits in the air
Be on the watch for all about
when walking, if you dare

The wind is up, the moon is full
There are witches in the air
Be on the watch for all about
when walking, if you dare

Ghosts and ghouls are waiting
For the midnight bell to toll
They lie in wait there in the dark
For those who dare to take a stroll

The moon is bright, it lights the sky
You can hear the haunted howls
The coven forms, there in the dark
Hidden by their capes and cowls

Listen close, the wind will speak
You can hear it if you try
The voices of those long gone
Or is it just a ghostly sigh

The veil is lifted on this night
The darkness hides the evil there
You hear it now "rosebud" it says
Do you go out, do you dare

A simple word, between the worlds
Houdini, maybe so
I dare you to go out tonight
But, be wary if you go

For, ghosts and ghouls are waiting
For you to take that stroll
Do you dare to face the moonlight?
Do you dare to bet your soul?
Damocles Jun 19
Fall into me
Like autumnal piles
We can watch as verdant rows
Turn to varying embers
Touching soft fertile ground
Snowing death upon us,
In the sweet scent of post-harvest growth.

Here among the rain-stained,
Rank in mildew and petrichor,
We can sit on fungal-covered logs

Laugh under late afternoon meteors
As the crepuscular pink and purple colors
Dress the sky with glittering Toole
As we sit fireside, cider-drunk
Reminiscing of all the summer days gone by
In a hazy daze as time passes in less than straight lines.

We could kiss like sweater wool
Clinging statically in electric pulse.
So fall into me —
Like autumnal piles
And stick with me for just a while.
Really wanted to write about my love for autumn.
Emery Feine Jun 17
growing and fall is all i do
stuck to the branch of this tree
i sway in the summer breeze
but by fall i have to leave

always arriving, always leaving
swaying in the summer breeze
i want to hold on for a bit longer,
but by fall i must leave

i yearn for an eternal summer
i yearn for winds like these
my whole life an act of letting go
because by fall i must leave
but why would the dreams of something so small, like a leaf, be fulfilled?
Ken Pepiton May 24
{ A convergence of Aldous Huxley and Robert Heinlein,
      where waiting for Godot was traditionally done.}

Transmissive functionality fixed rate
to find words for any mindstate

words to physiologize and reify a wish

to be touched back, felt reaching
through the laminated plane flat re-
ality of thought,

through the space betwixt
us, me and you, in the meandering stream
feeling it's way toward the storied yesterdays,

minding many material reasons, whys for how,
whens for now,
then for earlier or later, waiting is time…

at terminal velocity.
Waiting is.
========
Grok is a technical term, you know.
Time is a technical term, too.

When all things worked together, once,
then fell apart
to form mere fanciful guessings,
informative immaterial instructions
for users, musing using local particle facts.

at terminal velocity eventually, we fall
with the evening smoothing
into airless, fretless

soothing irrelevance,

empty states without perspective ups or downs.

Post haste waste reclamation, I'd say it all again, if it gets to here.
While listening to Huxley riff about ESP, I had to figure out how to spell veridical, and then Grok came along to assist and suddenly we thought...
all intelligence use is art, even the lies. Wait, it all falls together.
Waiting is===A Martian expression indicating patience and acceptance, emphasizing the importance of living in the present and allowing events to unfold naturally. From Stranger in a Strange Land. From Exodus, name of Moses's son, Gershom...
What a noble thing it is,
to leave a blossoming flower to bloom—
maybe plucking a leaf or two
to give growing petals precious room.

As you stroll past the blooms each day,
you encourage their budding hues.
Their fragrance greets you,
hugging you in their delicate perfume.

Soon a familiar chill meets you;
and a familiar grief settles within you.
As the blossoms wilt,
your steps grow slower,
hoping to cling to just a moment of color.

Soon to be surrounded
by Death and Decay,
even if only for a while—
Pondering an earthly truth,
as true as the birds sing:
Nobody gets to keep
a beautiful thing.
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