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Like a dead poem
who must be reborn
on the same night again
with all the endless silence,
words back to learn
to string his sentence.

"Everything that has been exhausted now it's between love and hate."

And a long road engraved
back to make a new face
along with each space.
We try to say the word go,
say the word again.
Everything that looks new
never forget the past.
And for all that is finished,
waiting for another story to the last.
Indonesia, 17th May 2022
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
maria Dec 2021
your love lasted less
than my favorite lighter

Written on December 15, 2021
© ,Maria
My Dear Poet Nov 2021
The last meal I will eat
The last of fears I’ll defeat

The last bottle I will drink
The last loop I will link

The last chance I will take
The last speech I will make

The last invite I’ll attend
The last message I will send

The last call I will accept
The last part I’ll dissect

The last path I will pave
The last coin I will save

The last option I will choose
The last friend I will lose

The last wrong I will right
The last battle I will fight

The last confession I’ll admit
The last piece I will fit

The last shoe I will shine
The last letter I will sign

The last song I will sing
The last bell I will ring

The last line I will draw
The last grain I will store

The last claim I will stake
The last breath I will take

The last of love I will give
The last of life I will live

The last of dust I will bite
The last of words I will write
Zack Ripley Oct 2021
I may not be going anywhere fast.
But you can bet wherever I go, I won't be last. Because life is not a race; There's no shame with living life at your own pace.
It doesn't matter if you don't move out,
get married, or have a kid until you're 32.
You still have time to make the most of the time you have with the people you love
who love you too.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
Heal the earth… kinda crazy, but it makes good sense
the message on the label in tiny type,
and the smell is heaven on earth,
peppermint after rain

A nod to Dr. Bonner, shouting in the distance
with the thunder over Laguna {no name}
high above long valley mountain
south of the valley we occupy,
we thunder resonaters, making me think you

know how we think
we mortal messengers are doers of evil
of natural resourceful sources wrath,
and bitter life worth attacks, dis-easing the peace
--acts of God the English insurers of ships said.
-- Real life.

Ida known, seen on the weather channel,
I asked for some of her water,
as a twist in the spin of the eye
of the storm,
in the per-ifery
of rich and learned influencers
twisters of eddies
in thought named
nought or ought points,
in the long game
of spirits riding winds, with heirs
of the times
when answers changed from wind to words

Ghost Riders in the Sky, I swear
the song made something of me, when I danced
this dance - this after the rain
smell and feel
in love
of the slightest touch
of Ida thunder resonating, ring of re
cognition, ignition, be ware heir
of wind, re allowed tall tales,
Pecos Bill, if y'will, re
son-ate, wait, set arope ona tornado,
with a gentle, look-up,cauughtcha houlihan.
{ hey hedgehog, were you looking for a horse?}
Gentle, think the stupid metaphor holds more hints…

and let goodness and truth tame y' tongue.
Ida reached out and kissed me.
phugginay-ee ha
say see
cloud dancers come to make me believe
I asked for this.

Thunder, echoes, no lie, as I imagine
you laughing, felt it too, just
then high up,

see, the thunderbird
from my story,
I told you, wait and see, many things that seem
good are,
always far better than the lack - after
grip loss on con science use
of their wisdom--
imagine that
would become, as a festering sore,
should we not resonate the joy
of rain in
thunder peace, no anger-making-fear
declaration sound,

crack of
thunder is the world working
right, on time,
like attention, pay now, play later.

Hey wind talker, can you send some to Dakota?
We could
think so.
I think
it takes time,
but soon we shall agree we know the way
of riders on the storm,

the ice will finally melt, the waters shall rise,
wetter us better, deserts agree,

Rain and wind in Baja in August,
cold truth laughing back at me, think
what you wish were true were true then

do what you do.
Laugh with the singing pines.
Laugh with the whistling pine's cones sailing
trailing soggy webbing with cargoes
of peace from my valley, washing
over me, as I laugh at the madness,
this appears to be,
were any mortal
to see.
It flows, this river of no return==It took an artist to set the type on the label
of Dr. Bonner's Castile hemp peppermint soap,
prior to Adobe's Venus on a halfshell Postscript patent
allowed the letters to be kerned and set as code,
vector lines to frame each symbol of sense

-- trippy hard to read teeny tiny type, but

with these tools, hypertext linkt:
- expand your horizon read a blogger
nitelite Aug 2021
dimming violet
and orange edges upon
slanted sidewalks
for an uphill walk home,

tonight's "lastness" is violent,
it's all I that I know,
replaying the sole sound of
a front door slowly being closed.

as the light between the night
and the horizon ebbs,
what's left becomes outer space,
the milky way flowing in.

I could drink the sight,
but with a shot of spite,
or bittersweetness, or some other
Way to rephrase our immense distance.

mourning is not quite the word,
as the odds between
me and the earth
felt like they were evening.

This world had given
But it's unclear if it takes
For I didn't lose the present,
I just put memories away.

Last night
Simply means the night before now
Even if it's our last night
We'll last through it somehow
Saying goodbye to a couple friends made me feel a way I never quite have before, and so I wrote in a way I never quite have before.
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