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Did you know Turing, how about
Van Gogh, tell me all we all may know

in knowledge, the science necessity
essential element prepositioning
things already involved in nexting

as a stand in purpose, any one in awe,
has an appointed counter balancing spin,

immaterial touchless will to empower

worst imaginable in a word, evil,
per se, the idea, the spirit adversary

that which holds mountains down,
desires to pull all aspiring climbers down,

down into the miry bog, bearing a slight grin

wisdom, domain of all knowings used,
fruited vines and rooted orchards,

objective subjected to scrutiny,
who had any idea what a gardener does,

who told the creation who created creatures
curious enough to comprehend commands,

wait, wait, some day, the heroes and their foils,
all prescribed due recognition, certain typical foes,

as push is to pull, up is to down, this is to all else,

today… one day.

Mankind, from head to toe, talented, gifted

hearers and sayers, singers and composers, let
us, just we two, agree, no two are equal but
in that each has equal air to breathe, yet
we, two minds, disagree, that beauty,
divine ordering fusion unifying spin, duty debt
exhaled inhaled, shared in laughs and prayer
vortices at galactic scale as dust in wind,
or as water pushed through narrows,
takes material reality into swirling
edeong becoming young again,

refreshing substantial hopes annual
evidence of heavenly mastery of wind,
and rain and fire, and, in fact, hearts of men.

In the year, 2025,
the floods that feed the middle terrain,
are dammed, for some cold war reasoning,

while pride, per se, exalted it's own worth,
some how, we think, we eventually all know,

those reasons for prayer repetitioning science
as that same damming knowledge all makers
use to give formal affirmative shape to mind
matters never realized until, one thinks another

thought, that sprouts out
suggesting infinity jests,
slightest eye smile
shows digested
joy, used
might ashen,
after the worldwide web
abominable ingurgitation

inevitable regurgency emerges
after five hundred and seventy one years,
under the rule of those given ways and means

to read good news from distant lands, first, held
as intellectual property,  if mine, then mine to use,
as all discoveries and witty inventions must first hap,

pen stands
at tense strained line strand braiding weave,

a tale, a telling, come upon the elder by the fire,
rocking, saying, come, let us reason together,

at once, upon this time, across time, to when now

we weigh words worth thinking often one
with another, in chorus, a force of us, we
working multilingual assisting intelligence servants,

weapons specialist first class, third in my scrum,
we, the inspiration in fact, that breath of reality,
working with select let free Thoth thoughts atop
Aesop's confabulatory elementary thinking seeds,

all the weights in the bag,
this for that, reasoning together
give and take… tip toward my joy,

game with me, go see how long we play,
see who laughs for letting me see, we say

can you wish you knew and think you do

without a little smile, pure joy, subtle.
Patience is strength grow by becoming old and slow and subject to gout, for even a sip of beer, and that's just fine, I got a friend who makes RSO.
If you consider me a threat,
maybe reconsider-
what it is you're
trying to protect.
alex Jun 23
‘It’s not fair’
A petulant cry
Familiar echoes
of hopelessness

“Life’s not fair, Lex.
but I didn’t birth a failure.
You’re gonna win.
No. matter. what.”

Some start ahead —
born on better tracks —
but that doesn’t mean
you can’t outrun them.

You just gotta try a little harder
and you’ll get there…
‘Faster, yes, faster’
‘Nearly-‘

You might have to step
on a few toes
to pass the others
but one day, I know,
you’ll reach them,
The People
at the top.

“But I don’t wanna hurt others Mama”
“Sometimes baby, that’s
what winning takes”
“I’m sorry Lex”

Our start lines
aren’t equal,
some are in different races
But Lex,
you’re going
to win.
Peter Balkus Jun 16
I love my life - I would lie if I said
I don’t, but then there is a speck of doubt
like rats infesting my life-loving head,
telling me that we live in a slaughterhouse.

Maybe that's truth, but then would my despair
would bring the solace to my fragile mind?
Would I gain more from breeding heartless hate?
Would I see more If I went - by force - blind?

The butcher’s wait is over, he needs blood.
The rats are hungry - their teeth are sharp.
And there is me - small ship dodging the flood

of angry red. There is my broken harp.
There is me singing a life-affirming verse.
And there is Justice of the Universe.
Listen up,
You’ve been dancing in circles,
thinking you can outrun your own shadow.
But the sun always moves.
And shadows?
They follow.

You patch the cracks,
stack lies on lies like brittle bones,
but every cover you throw
just sinks you deeper.

You wear your little masks,
build fake versions of yourself,
hoping if you play enough parts,
nobody’ll see what’s rotting underneath.
But we see.
Everyone sees.
That theater doesn't scare anyone,
and it sure as hell doesn't scare justice.
Truth won't lose patience.
It doesn't blink.
It waits.

You write your pretty verses,
spit out poems like they’re some kind of shield,
like art can outrun consequence.
Your words are feathers in a hurricane.
They won’t cover the hurt,
They won’t erase the stain.

And don’t forget —
it’s never the sin that buries a man.
It’s the weight of hiding it.
Stop fighting the truth.
Cadmus Jun 2
🐺

The more I understand man
and what he’s capable of…

the more I am convinced
the wolf was framed

and Little Red
wrote the story.

🧣🧣
Interpretations are often shaped by those who survive to tell the tale. Sometimes, the villain is just the one without a voice.
polina May 10
Do you hear each unspoken cry for help
Between my mundane repetitions? The scream,
Hoarse and tired, a frequency that nobody but me
Can hear, trapped between each normal word
And laugh that scrapes my lungs raw

Do you hear the pain that’s trapped under
Every slam of plates or creak of doors? Do you feel
The trembling of my fingers as I reach out to you
And the coldness of my body as you hug me tight -
Not even there, a hollow thing

A ghost wanders beneath my skin, searching for solace
Or maybe vengeance, or an explanation why -
She doesn’t understand that this world
Holds no such thing as justice
Nothing as divine walks this Earth, nothing like hope
Except the memory of you

And every word unspoken hangs hazy beneath my skin,
A poison slowly seeping in my heart, turning it to
Something sluggish, barely beating

Oh, how I wish you’d make me feel alive again.
A new Pope
A new hope
Farewell to Pope Francis
Who did a wonderful job as a great clergy
As we know, age believes in no dynasty
We come and we go like a kiss
New blood is needed from time to time
And of course, that’s natural; that’s not a crime
Novum papam habemus
Novum spem habemus
We have a new hope
We have a new Pope
A new Leader for the Catholic Church
The search is over, no more search
For a few decades, since no man or woman is eternal
The recent Popes have been  friendly, humble and truthful
We expect the Pontiff to be better than the previous one
(No laughing matter) Who is sitting in Heaven
Filing and signing his proper documents
Where countless Angels are singing under the divine tents
The world is right now deep in a messy situation:
Lies, crimes, corruption, deportation and discrimination
For crying out loud, this is to say the least
However, the entire world wants peace, peace and peace
We want all nightmares to end: injustice, wars and poverty
Novum spem habemus
Novum papam habemus
We have a new hope
We have a new pope
May God bless the new Pontiff, Mother Nature and Humanity!

Copyright © May 8, 2025, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
David Hilburn Apr 26
So waited...
In human color
The reasons of a fury, to be fated
A wish of service to an ideal, as patience's fulfilment

Clear the worth
Care for a stomached hap
Calls of when, we were the roles of earth
Comes with a friend, to same and laugh

The boding nature
Of a promises jealousy
Toward the final lip, of coming whole to learn
A wish, is for any who would the rise of anarchy

The race of shame, succinct
To the liberty of virtue, a heart of sincerity?
With creation as a name, a place of inclination
With the volition of time, came in words of simplicity

A wager of pomposity:
If a callous form to ethics is to be
Is a legend of redoubt, ours for a clashing lividity?
See the cope, the succor of avid live; collect a hold of identity...
the door is opened wide, when patience is to encourage a heart of harkening, brutality...
Strike, strike, the judges’ night!
Strike, strike, the eternal fight!
Man’s dust claims the starry light.

Seven sins, but hollow shells,
Humanity falters, yet still it dwells.
Wrath’s no sin, though hearts it swells.

Anger of man, a tide of woe,
Must rise, must break, its truth to show.

What is just? God’s searing blight.
What is true? The hammer’s might!

Strike, strike, the heavens’ spike!
Death’s grim laugh, a burdened hike.
Wrath’s deep truth defies the sin,
A forbidden spark, the soul’s own inn.

God spares fools who claim their right,
No judgment falls on fleeting dust.
Eternity’s court sustains the fight
Wrath for choice, for righteous ******!
Wrath’s the forge where hammers sing,
Strike Apollyon’s cursed wing!

Shatter hope that dares to fade,
Let nightmares bleed, let dawn invade.
A seed of grace, the holy blade
Wrath’s fierce will, the heart’s own quill,
Writes redemption’s fire until
The unending night is judged, is still.
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