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I was able to fool myself there for a little bit
The fraudulent thought was constant
  However, my penmanship captured a consistent internal beratement
But every new piece is the same 'ol shiit
It just pours out different
Duplicate content no matter the faucet
But it's only ever water coming outta the spigot
Forming from the origin of a recurring script
With only a singular way to interpret
You're only going to get one thing from an unchanging mindset
Just gets reworded before print
"Maybe they won't notice it"
"If I rearrange it it'll at least look different"
But the retreating interest is evident
Leading to the realization that was destined to hit
"They've found my secret"
"This pony only has one trick"
Should have paid closer attention to it
I lie and say it's wit,
Which I know is bull shiit
Because I couldn't and wouldn't argue if you called it redundant
The absolute of my failure is pungent
On my best day I'm still repugnant
Any new muse goes out of its way to be absent
Mostly due to the subject,
That's me,
Becoming complacent
Setting anchor in what was my escapement
Befriending my replacement
I wouldn't suggest it
But I ate it
So now I gotta ingest it

©2024
snipes Apr 28
The only imperfection is the mirror.
The only way the reflection is the same
is if you believe it.
Being afraid will only fray you down.
I know this because I’ve been unwoven.
This life has its monsters and heros.
Villainized and caped.
They’ve been appointed their wills.
But what you, the story’s maker, can find
is the interpretation.
Jeremy Betts Apr 1
Does a poem write itself?
Do they exist before created?
In essence, existing all around us
Absorbed into the psyche
Processed through the brain
Sent to a hand
Finished through the tip of a pen
Too then again
Be consumed by another human person
Producing a new translation
A different interpretation
But there's limits to randomization
Will we ever get to the point where every thought has been expressed?
Every possible sentence arrangement has been recorded and sent to the press?
Is there still the possibility that an original thought can be had?
It's a silly concept but maybe
One day writers block will be victorious
There's only so many different ways that these words can be organized into
Though, I can't imagine what that'll look like
When every thought has been thought through
When nothing's new
Will it still continue?

©2024
i didn't intend
for it to seem pointed
that time the dog
accidentaly ******
on the
     church
              steps
Francis Nov 2023
Old Man Joe says,
Black and white is the art form,
When images can be captured,
Rendered in color.

To him,
The true art is in the frame,
The composition,
The contrast,
Light versus dark.

He says color makes it an image,
But monochrome makes it a treasure,
Such simplicity,
Relying on such grey,
To convey…

A story?
An emotion?
A statement?

Black and white,
If life were only that simple,
As it is filled with pigments,
A spectrum of *******,
To him.

My dear friend detests,
The rendition of color.
Through the glass,
He sees nothing but shades,
Of nothing.
there are times
while reading
that rather
than check
the definition
     of a word
a word
which is recognised
but whose true meaning
evades me
rather than
search the illumined
pages of a dictionary
to reveal
the mysteries of
     this vital word
this word
which carries
the entire weight
of interpretation
and comprehension
for the rest
     of the sentence
     of the paragraph
     of the page
instead there is
a striving
to illicit some
understanding
vague or otherwise
from whatever context
can be applied
to those words
that remain
indifferent to
the possibility
that I might
misunderstand
it all
Ylzm Mar 2022
A mystery you can read and hear:
reading without understanding
and hearing without seeing

The wicked studied and searched diligently
to be on the right side at the right time
only revealing and judging themselves as evil

For without the Prophet's spirit
your interpretation reveals your spirit
oblivious to its grotesque nakedness

Only in private are mysteries explained
as parables were thousands of years ago
for you don't throw pearls to pigs

Then the mystery is as plain as the news
but not as the world count news
even as time is not as the world count time

Infuriatingly frustrating to speak plainly
it's obvious and inescapable as the sun
then your eyes open and you see the blind

Broken, stumbling, falling and crawling
proud of their wits, strength, and unity
I turn to see and touch the face of the sun
Simon May 2021
The Breach Interpretation: Is a mild chemical defect, found on the losing side of painful guilt itself.
Making (or, causing) such troubling acts of kindness, the very rhythm (full of justifiable results...), on the biggest possible gimmick...that could ever be committed.
That's just a rough outline of the very interpretation (of "The Breach") itself.
But the Breach part, is truly insignificantly broken from the deep inside out....
The Breach itself however, fully adopts the very different struggles between both "what is right", and "what is wrong" (with one's own personal image, and their own personal struggles at large).
But that doesn't mean nothing should be any different, then when it came to how right that very someone's personal image was, and how awfully wrong their own personal struggles were...when they interpreted it into millions upon millions upon millions of different fragmented individual pieces, (of their own collection). (And that's just the tip of the iceberg, when you finally console the very dynamic realization, of eventually, coming to terms with the long acts of perspectives...) That then obviously shows that those millions upon millions upon millions of different fragmented pieces (with their very own different properties and meanings), because nothing is truly conclusive in ALL these specifics areas and points (of a system that has more to offer, then any other order of things which could tilt at ANY moment...) Revealing a mere simple reaction in their form upon an even simpler side-effect.
Which tips the balance of power...and creates the most unsteady order of chaos that could become either an unstable universe (that could hypothetically become "stable", anyways).
Or just another standard, simplistic, normal sense of self full of such logical wit, (or the smallest of components of each), could then finally define both each others strengths and weaknesses.
Once this happens, everything becomes much clearer, (of course with time).
And this very interpretation of ("The Breach"), can then become fully "self-established" towards just what truthfully surrounds this very Breach itself.
Nevertheless, things now become more founded upon.
(When once it was truthfully subjected towards an unfortunate one-sided enclosure that didn't know how to officially become as one.) Because it was simply missing its other half that was an entirely unknown placement that didn't know it even existed.
The Breach Interpretation is full of all sorts of unbreachable flaws!
But for how much is truly unbreachable...fully depends on the sorts of acts you commit towards.
That's entirely why, this very interpretation is fully masked by the intentions of either others, (or your very own, intentions).
Because in the end, intentions lie their way too victory!
And that's the start (not the finish), towards an act of serious possible violence...(that truthfully defies the very expectations...), of what The Breach...truly is!
Breaching something (that should never be breached), had its own limits a very long time ago. Nowadays, things become truthfully dormant both "at the wrong time" (for the smallest number of useless reasons). And finally knowing "how to arrive at the right destination" (from which nothing comes back from, unless you specifically retrace your own possibly lackluster full of steps).
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