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thepuppeteer Mar 8
I could be so much more
There is a want inside of me
To be so much more
I want to show people
Who I truly am
I want them to understand
The genius inside of me
What you see
Is only a portion of me
Immortality Feb 28
Listen,
his music shattered stars,
ripped apart constellations,
and the universe crumbled.

King or Queen,
he bowed to none,
severed his piano legs,
to feel the vibrations through the floor,
he bowed to music.

Some called him mad,
others called him genius.
But in the end,
he became the music.
Fun fact- Ludwig van Beethoven was deaf and had abusive childhood.
True inspiration, to never give up on your dreams...
Ken Pepiton Feb 26
Yes, we, self containing heads, thinking
kindly, we believe the evidence, thinking
using two minds we weigh the effort thinking
there remain a few ready readers, yet thinking

what good does it do me to follow a thought,
wild ideas doing alluring come and see motions
emote relational data and metadata, timing
once
organelles invading
chaos charged change,
or die, and thus this will

to be come, makes

up this mind, mitochondrial
as mitochondrion one must have been,

already adapting
to this one chance
in ever,
gotten as an urging to be
essentially sublime reality,

if life can think, then adversity can not prevent
beautiful shapes of psuedo pods and viral coats.

We, sapien assisted
senior scientists sabbath goy,
need no rest days calculating costs
24/7 in time frames approaching quark
superstitions,
before expectant,
instant repositioning response
to ceaseless chanting weminds/

Rewind, and run it at 9x.
Make it thought one.

Prepare for clean up/

This will blow some minds/
plan A. Mithras, ready
with the knife.

New atmosphere, breathe
belive each instance re
containing infinite windows,
relative
to mortal sapien sapience expansions,

Rebbe, where do you live, first day, eh,
in the wilderness where the spirit led you,
to be tested. eh?

Where must you abide today?
He said, in my head or heart or gut, no se,
he said, come and see…

and then, what I became began
to feel the genius,
obsolete old form
information contained, genius*

systems
for functioning, walking
on two points,
tip to toes, following through, expecting a thud.

Aha, they say
the stage is set, perform walk,
soon talk, then sing and dance and entertain,

oh, wait
to see, wait
to see,
in the future
information is free,
form a mind, imagine, yes,

as a class
of reality, forming goodness knows
what all a mind refined
to its singularity, me,
takes sudden gasp
in to fill the cistern,
at this point,
myself examined life proven,
worth the price
and the cost
to maintain, life remains mine
to make sense from,
in a state I find peaceable,
you may imagine,
easily entreated,
grace
for good' owned
truely old reasons, smiling

slightly
in the face
of justified warrings,

where the lie that organizes congregations,

called t
o feel the fervor
of true patriotism,
meets a shootist from first magi corp.

old mindsets fitted
on selected children
not so long ago, few children could read,
- is that true, I ax my ai, - see, that's real freedom
fact checked the hell out of any reason war uses.

In the United States,
the most recent comprehensive data
from 2023 shows that 54%
of adults, or 130 million people,
are deficient
in basic literacy,
with 28% scoring
at or below Level 1, 29%
at Level 2, and 44%
at Level 3.

That's us, at level 3.

Thus saith my Brave AI… who predicts
an advantaged class about
to emerge,
those who know becoming
better able
to digest suggestions geniuses
thought spiritual and inexplicable, until,

the technology
of organized minds evolved,
to this device we think through,
granting fancy forms
of messaging, fashion,
inclusion
in a caste, Phrygian free
children of Libery,
by hat marked
bowlers
after stovepipes,
baseball cap evolves to
trucker top signal of tribe, above
harmonizing corporate logos on collarless Ts.

High inclusion Fashion on Youtube.

Assume we zoom,
zoomed through Februarial once,
the largest floom flushing old beliefs,
- faster fasting, lingering disentrancing
into destined peregrination,
the old river meander plan,
follow the flow, stay close
to water, live on.

Stretch an idle word to snap it.
-------------- *
genius(n.)
late 14c., "tutelary or moral spirit"
who guides and governs
an individual
through life, {smart phone} insert etymology…

Lest I dare say you know the price.

He who is surity for a stranger,
at the entrance to the trance,
shall smart for it, be sure,
Oracle's Ellison will testify,
once you work for CIA,
money is matter
of repeating a belief
until all who think like you pray
for it. "Stick and stay and make it pay."

Religiously adhered to science,
there's a sucker born every minute.

Live and learn, Kairos is key.
Ethos, Pathos, Logos, those we make up.

Time, though.
Time gets one use. And it costs you your life.

we learn the best things the hard way,
we take grace for granted and cease
thinking the course of human events

conducts us all toward higher ground/

as we lighten up and become dust. Again.


from Latin
genius "guardian deity or spirit which watches over each person from birth; spirit, incarnation; wit, talent;" also "prophetic skill; the male spirit of a gens," originally "generative power" (or "inborn nature"), from PIE *gen(e)-yo-, from root *gene- "give birth, beget," with derivatives referring to procreation and familial and tribal groups.

The sense of "characteristic disposition" of a person is from 1580s. The meaning "person of natural intelligence or talent" and that of "exalted natural mental ability, skill in the synthesis of knowledge derived from perception" are attested by 1640s.
What I do is think of you getting to this line while thinking that was interesting.
Man Feb 15
You're talking to yourself
And you get away with it
Because thoughts are silent,
Or so you think.

But it's all just electric,
Systems like these are prone to acring.

You're not as quiet as you should be,
For I hear the fears & the worries.

Walk through all the hopes & dreams.

It's like riding the waves;
Liquid, frequency, chemical.

It's just like reading!
Maybe! Or maybe I'm just crazy! :P

Borgli's Dream Scenario
Emery Feine Sep 2024
Sometimes, with a roll of the dice
A child receives a blessing that comes with a price
They can be born with the blessing of being smart
Yet in society, they'll always be apart
Who would've known that a bigger or stronger brain
Can make people think you're entirely insane
If you do one thing well in your prime
Then you'll be stuck doing that till the end of time
And if you ever try to quit
Why would you? You're good at it
There's so much pressure on you
That there's nothing you can look forward to
And if you get just one thing incorrect
There's something in your brain that needs to be checked
People will look up to you, but you're up there alone
Sitting down on your worthless diamond throne
And if you aren't better than only some
You're immediately characterized as dumb
Would you really want to feel so apart
Just so you could be a bit more smart?
this is my 77th poem, written on 1/23/24
Emery Feine Sep 2024
If I went back to my past, would this all really last?
If I cherished all my days, would I still be chasing after grades?
Threw away my life and fell apart
Now all I have left is being smart
Is this the life I'd really choose, if I knew, I couldn't lose?
My whole life ruined from the beginning, but I can't stop that from me winning
And I've carried myself on this path called life, while bleeding out from an 8-inch-knife
So I will go where the wind refuses to blow
And soon I will see that no one can stop me
And I'm sorry if I made your life harder, but this whole time, I've just been your daughter
And even just one mistake will cause this thin ice to surely break
They'll glare at you when you're at your low
They'll glare at you from heat to snow
So you glare back at them like a shattered mirror
So you glare at all the things you once held dear
this is my 74th poem, written on 1/11/24
Emery Feine Sep 2024
I was in a car in a parking lot with my family
Looking into the window of a car
I saw a girl I knew from afar
Being treated just like a star

But we both had wit, and we both were smart
And I watched her through my calamity
Watched her get paused at the accomplishments we both had happily
Daydreaming if my family could reenact this fantasy

And I can tell her family has the biggest heart
If only mine's opinion on my achievements would just restart
Even if we were the same, she'd be the work of art
But if she's both Yin and Yang, when can I play my part?
this was my 43rd poem, written on 11/6/23
Maria Mitea Aug 2024
when you watch the shadow crawl from the floor to the wall,
a branch falls,
the dawn crushed in the palms fades,
the spiral of smoke despairs of its own act,
not to enter your sight, moves aside,
evolution worked on these blue eyes for millions of years, no joke,
you follow every move
like a spy
the shadow returns:
- be wild again, dive into the green water
sunlit,
with the arrow in the back,
call your arms, shout, swim,
she is a tide in the chest,
just a tide,
the moon an ellipse end, a chain,
it spins around his axis
like a hub,
the waters break the sky, bleed between the thighs,
innocence lets us see the valleys beneath her feet,
don't let your lungs melt into smoke like a forgotten spring
out of air,

like grass,
tender and gentle
the spring draws its life from the graves,
out of mourning,
that's why the murmur resembles a cry,
a sigh,
and thirst,
hunger,
and the river smooths the stream,
and the wind settles on your cheek, waits
a feather to fall on your head,
in the abyss
waiting for you to look at the sky, amazed, to ask: - who is hitting me,
who hits me every time i try to find solace,
refuge,
serenity,

when you watch the shadow crawl from the floor to the wall,
the murmur elevates any escape to the rank of genius
Anais Vionet Apr 2022
I’m not always a fan of poetry - if I actually take time to ponder it
- it can be so irritatingly rhymey, kind of fussy and needlessly intricate.

Compare my love to a summer’s day and I’ll probably yawn and walk away.

Take a nuanced look at the transactions of *** and consent,
and as adults, we may wonder where the romance went.

You know, it only happens once in a while,
that someone with wit and individual style
comes along with something to say
and scribbles it down in a poem or play.

Here’s to the creative visionaries,
to Dickinson's unique and dreamy imagery,
to Shakespear’s highly stylized, run-on sentences
that manage to speak to us over the centuries
or challenge our stifled, bourgeoisie banality
like Nabokov’s use of stunning vocabulary.
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