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Nat Lipstadt Apr 25
perfect summary, of pre-times, the ex-diurnal regularly raggedy,
lyric line, of lunar linear days, wave to it hi/bye crooked jaggedly

foretelling, of a first time, when world was self-imprisoned, wondering,   a sin of commission, an omission from a shut-up confession

guilty of laxity, no perspicacity, our fortune telling, loved our ignorance,
lazy greediness let sickness rule, everyone pointing no, not me, fooled

heroes dying in saving, rich in New Zealand hiding, while poets
march in punctilious timing, mourning lost freedom to be unafraid

all thinking, now disbelieving, we’ve lived so well so long,
but the fault-lines cracking showing all of us were emperors naked

from now on, we’ll live so long, not so well, suspecting each other,
the masks we will wear forevermore, dual purposed, protect and

hide our ashamed faces, gowned to disguise, finger pointing
not my fault, but the curve of life and death, proclaiming good bye:

so long so well, so long glass houses, so long, age of so swell, we too, sophisticates, above the fray, impervious innocence, so well we dead

gutless guiltless


<>
_________________
^ ”And I don't know a soul who's not been battered
I don't have a friend who feels at ease
I don't know a dream that's not been shattered
or driven to its knees
But it's all right, it's all right

We've lived so well so long
Still, when I think of the road
we're traveling on
I wonder what went wrong
I can't help it, I wonder what went wrong



“American Tune” by Paul Simon
Sat April 25 twenty twenty
5:06am fifty thousand dead
Steve Page May 5
Afterwards I started feeling
like I am a human
being again.

That's what this place did to me
it brought back my human
in the reflection of the hills,
the lakes, the trees,

but doing nothing to fade the ink.
No one told me that I had been liberated,
I had lost my knowledge.

So I ran free to find my voice last heard
before the years lived with the lasting dead,
the years sat with the lasting hunger,

but I had everything, I had paradise. So I ran -
taking my time to reclaim my body for the hungry,
taking my time to reclaim my voice for the silent.

I stopped living through and started living slowly.
I slept and ate and grew into our new normality,
together again alone.

Running not marching
Breathing not moaning
Swimming not dying
Living not surviving

and my voice lived to tell.
This is where I belong - not alone.
For the child holocaust survivors transported to Windermere. I recommend the documentary
Ken Pepiton Feb 1
king of all the children of prride,

a challenge

simulate the mind of christ,
imagine that,

but before that mind there were others,
fully contained

in the godhead,
******

the reference points we are mortal at or on or in or of or
whatever

withknown mitgnostic mag-I-artful-intuition ifity

springing, post clockwork world,
post atomic force augmention focus visuals translated

in virtual 2-d

a word. is. wide or long but never short and long and high or low,

without a very sophia isticated way of folding

re
ality into now, with you finding yourself beyond the Disney-ifiers

set with cubic ziconia tiaras holding mantilla veils

covering the window in the top of you head.

--- great message, I got a lot out o' that.
--- especially the worthship

seamanship **** preventer, look up, y' re

demption station draweth nigh,
we all *** rrecycle by and by,

jest, decide not to lie,

ye get by. And y'kids do, too.
Rope and release
Seanathon Jan 30
I trick myself
More often than most
That the time before me will feel better
(somehow)
Than the air which I now breathe most close

It won't

Time is time
Just as a perception is a vision of the mortal mind
Most unknown
Heck, I
Need to learn how to live for the moment of most

It's time
This is one of the ways my mind works. Even if I do mimic a bit of EE in my speech.
Seanathon Dec 2019
Fragile as a city streetlight
Quiet as the flickering night
And falling like the pale moonlight

My love will breathe its final breath
With an exaltative hale
And hiss

My words a mist
Will die with me
In a bed that's not my own perhaps

This layered earth my pillow rest
And with a quiet mind
Lay me down to be

For I am no longer here you see
And these words once left
Remark so little of me  

To my fathers' house
Go the most perfect and unexplainable sounds
The voice I found is free
And breathe anew. Written to the sounds of this tune.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeYO46jDqZI
Nova Nov 2019
We were the lucky ones;
The people who lived.
But take it for granted
Was all that we did.
Äŧül Nov 2019
Massage it,
Shake it,
Think about her.
Massage it more,
Shake it till you blast,
Experience the ephermal joy.
Avoid premarital pregnancy.
My HP Poem #1796
©Atul Kaushal
Michael A Duff Sep 2019
No more beautiful a soul could I touch, no better woman would find, whenever she is not near she is on my mind. She is my match, my equal, my partner for life, so short lived, so completely, she will complete me.
In the time you have which is unknown find something share yourself, dont hide away waiting gathering regrets
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