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Nat Lipstadt May 16
man says, this life, for what, a thousand dry
holes drilled, wildcatting, a win-loss record,
that didn’t approach, come close, to breakeven,
not even an asterisk in the records kept

man says, this body, its rate of desolations
increasing, the goal line distance secretions,
decreasing, this broken runner, tackled from behind
by the past, as his future caught up with him

man says, goals, deadlines, hamstring him,
due dates, an invitation to a criminal activity,
rub, nobody wants to take it down, his record,
left behind, when they shut Rikers Island

man says, always poor at maths, a loser of words,
his parents, his children, all time despairing of him,
called the AAA to come, tow him away, but,
all the junkyards refused him entry

man says, what separates ought and nought,
a little letter, just an n, that screaming thought,
a little letter, insufficient to bridge a poem too far,
man digresses, the past is ever present, in every word

writ and forgot.
Andrew Rueter Apr 13
For a company, an economy, our species to succeed
everyone must work together
but not literally everyone
just enough to perpetuate sustainability
so some feel free to burn bridges to clear their own road.
Professional wrestlers use the phrase
“Going into business for themself”
when someone has to get all their **** in to display their move set
or no-sells their opponent’s moves to make themselves look tough
like in improv comedy
when one of the performers doesn’t go along with any of the jokes
it can be very funny, just not in a collectively beneficial manner
the audience laughs recognizing the performer as the standout
while the performer steps on their colleagues’ jokes
going into business for themself.
Capitalism indoctrinates us
to go into business for ourselves
like Bill Gates
driving companies out of business through economic hostility
then buying back his soul through economic charity
a tribute to those fallen—it’s a fractional penance
the apex predator keeps the lion’s share
adhering to the jungle mentality ingrained in us
telling us to go into business for ourselves.
Like a rose I bloomed
Like an Echinopsis
I was gone in a day
Too weak to stay
im getting pretty tired lol I havent felt right for day
Maybe it cause i never say what on my mind
EmperorMoth Aug 2019
Sometimes I peek into Etheria,
Because I ponder where my soul lives,
Casually gliding in the ethereal area,
Trembling cascading chaotic abyss,
Casual sensations indulging in the journey sought.

It's overwhelming, what the power of thought can do;
Place you in realities broad and new,
A contented choke up on surprises, unexpected,
Setting a foundation for limitation is rejected.

What I found in the realm of wonder, Etheria,
From the glimpse, the journey, into an endless inside,
A song, sung so deeply and profoundly,
That only when I touched my face from hysteria,
Had I discovered my very soul, and from that, I cried.
Another anniversary

Of my coming into this world.

Thoughts of the road I’ve traveled

Where I have yet to roam

Fill my heart with a song unfurled.

Sounding not just the cheers of my survival of life

However, the need to conquer the emptiness of lacking others you need

Successes you seek

And needed support to be given there.

It’s a weight in which we carry but warnings we never heed

To the usage of time

Past and present

I celebrate not just this anniversary of my coming into this world..

I celebrate those who stuck with me

Those we just stood and wished to be part of

The road with me that is life






Hands held strongly onto your comrades

It’s a blessing of a needed mixture

To share

Until growing older

Holding our glasses to cheer our union

When the future brings a wife


Unseen unless youth

Survival of the harshest of burdens

Relief of the pains of judgement

And growing with life….

Such is a never challenged

Or forgotten truth.
Elizabeth Zenk Jul 2019
bony branches reach,
fingers point to wisps
bottomless sky trembles,
finches tread the clouds;
a question.

chilly breath rattles,
nature's coo darkens
waves of grey grow infinite,
deep grumbles follow;
an answer.

deciduous skeletons sway
dry leaves cackle
winds hum indifferently,
sinister growls emanate;
a warning.

bitter air swirls,
dark hatred billows,
rolling mistrust encroaches,
blanketing the stillness;
a threat.

viscous jaws snap,
energy laps at dry bark,
brief clarity,
deadly faze;
a strike.

woods slits into flame,
smoke oozes from its shelter
fire coughs sparks west,
destruction on its way
a battle.

droplets of forgiveness,
ashes sizzle into ink
soot dissolves away
war's footprint revealed;
a recession.
a gentle nod to 7/4/17
the damage renewed beneath unearthed soil.
OpenWorldView Jul 2019
plain written words
bloom within the readers mind
gate into their souls
read, thought and felt
a thousandfold
rgz Jul 2019
Maybe I should be blunt
as a blood-stained club

but I've never been so strong,
I doubt I could lift it up

let alone swing it
at least,
not hard enough

Maybe I should write a note
a sonnet, or a song

show you the view from my boat,
have the sea sing along

still, I doubt the sea would,
she sees I'm no prince,
my words aren't wet enough

Maybe I should painstakingly, purposefully and adamantly drown
each torpid, tactless, lurid verse, each vile, venomous, lustful line

in a soup of sumptuous, superfluous superlatives
designed to move you as intervention from divine

bleed an inky parade of adoration
from vein, to pen, to page.
I could never shed enough.
The promise of maybe is one I hold dear
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