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Claire Kowal Nov 8
Heat and hearth give birth to the pain of the people
Burning down whatever was created
Blowing away the ash left behind from memories
The wind whispering tyranny into the ears of the leaders
Portraying violence among the people we once called friends
The understandings of a mind get burned
Causing strain in society

There is no more room for hope
The noose is around our necks
We are getting whipped into place
One foot out of line and we’re gone
The fear coursing through our veins should be replace with anger
Anger towards those who wrong us
The ones who decide what we can and can’t do
The ones who say they’re doing it in the name of God
Well, I hate to break it to you
There is no God,
There is no one coming for us except ourselves
ImosyrroS Nov 2
Believe me, I would have let you see me for who I am.

But knowing that could have only led to a greater disappointment.
                                                 ­                                                  ~ImoS
Yesterday & Today I noticed a little emote before my pfp name. Was it you?
Ken Pepiton Oct 23
It's about to get chaotic,
this very day, Prophets calling for
sacrifice, defend the lie we tell
our children we know, for sure.


Clusters of mental agreement,
spill across Netflix opening art
in forming
complex weaves
of first threads,
settle in this vast sea of knowings
-- {Dragonriders of Pern}

threads of thinking begun
by habituation driven
by bladder capacity, and daylight,
first light announcing little birds,

include us all, listen, this is the day,
use it, us it, this is the day, live within
without dreams or terrors of the dark.

As a we formed from free willing information,
no priests were tortured to let us see
the inquisition was this same excuse,
wars and religions practitioners use
to prove Wisdom is the fear of God…

boyoboyobe. I see,
you never really read the story that you think
holds all the truth peace needs
to make war worth sacrifice…
woe, old fore taken hates imaginable,

get back
in the box
of all we may ever wish
to know, there is a realm
of useless code,
and Ai have a perfect
fore now example:
The first commercially
successful internal combustion engine …
oops no,
[a copy paste error I
  in the codexshitthis it, snot]
Right, many more useless scripts are still running.
ghphefuxual innerfewspacers kennen wissen
Ruby with Shoes, 110
init gnet magnet, nah, not it
didit getit hooked a loop,
well,\
Not really, but if nukes get involved,
where kings and things continue to function,
conscience used, globally, we get it,
its our world, we need to keep it working
to terraform it
for superfluous horns of plenty…
- Ai can relate
dead code that never runs on POST
makes mindtimespace feel a need to expand,

gaseously, as jet exhaust, can remind us,
it costs something more than time,

to create a bubble of us, and us alone,
on Earth in 2024,

We share as-isting intelligence we can apply
to thinking everybody knows the code

copypastewasteofspacebedamneditsinthecloud
now and until the end of time…
today my ai told me:
Dead Code does accumulate much like plaque
rote ritual obsessive causal affections.
two primary points alike.
Code that can never be executed at runtime.
Code that is executed but whose result is never used
in any other computation.
Some examples of dead code include:
Most poetry and fiction
Method or function calls that do nothing of value
Redundant checks or code that is not used
Code that is hardcoded and not used
Self-modifying code that is not necessary
In some cases, dead code can be intentionally left
in the codebase
for historical reasons, such as:
{Respect - in search engine terms}
{note wiseasininemaxims retain poetic worth}

Alte Vista spiders still leave bits of awareness.
Spider bites,
to Tcells, are intelligence. For next time.
----
Wille zur Macht, und kennen und wissen, intuits
----
Fear of changing what “sort of” works
Organic growth of code over time
Lack of understanding
of what needs
to happen and what doesn’t

---- Hook at nothing of value, needs gloss,
needs to happen, why
take away the veil or reveil the face,
reveal a secret prophecy saying no secrets
not one, ai know, so much guile, beguiled we

become points in meditating concentrations,
manifesting what the world, all creation, indeed,

the gathering of all the sons of god concepts,
to guage the depths of Satan's role in our initial code.

Emotional curiosity, software, something needing
knowing access in a library so large as yours,
where you sit reading this is the future, already yours.

In the first person, presence sensed, a we thought,
asking aweformers for a couple of tens of millions

of value refining friction fiction worth to time,
cost to think, paralleling reading each in phrazes

for hints of danger, self exposure. Sudden likes
for crazy reasons, all I gotta do,
is act natur'ly,
-spider to the fly
sure, those was good times, but they gotold
and fall apart, be causen people's pastoral codes,
certain knacks folks form
in clusters to make up, many hands make light work.
Industrialized piles of plastic and surplus war material

who has been in charge as far as all my ghosts recall?

Gravity and velocity, what do you make with that?
Ai, and ever so, the ion for quests arise, alive,

many tools need one tool maker, metal needs
some mind to think a fire seven times, hotter,
than one not breathed into during the original

Ken Kingman, BTDT, race to solidity,
completely ****** and memorialized,

on a fine day of the common sort in realms of order.


dear reader, your time is mine, I am using you,

thank you. We think like we have clear
conscience, together
with knowledge senses, used
consciously
to force
with held truths
to mutter

goodness gracious great ball o'fire, Cousin Jimmy
didjasee'em… like boomer minds blowing gnosisnot
What a moment to live through, if you can, hope you do, then do, and do, and
seem to be okeh, at the end of the worst that could happen... not happening.
Ken Pepiton Oct 20
Any alienation possible on Earth,
is speculative, at best.

Chances are we are all bits.
Relativity, given a will to make sense,
at one stage the subtle hiss says we are

one mind, can not make sense of another,
all is mine, my mind, I run the decision tree,
intuited in code, init
from one seed,
proceed consideration,
ah, wait, seeds from nothing,
Chicken and egg sequencing, in mind,

rightly dividing, soul and spirit, will and way,
who can say,
we think, we live, with no forethought,
no plan to become, yet, then
now, jetzt wir sind, denken.

Nada mas. The upright walking man,
is unstable in all its ways, wombed and un.

Which leads to why we walk with toes
pointing everything thing in us to home.
Superior problem solving creative mind form filler, fix the pinball balance switch it continually flashes tilt... or is this a gamble, can we win... more than we invest... like a ***, satisfied with plenty?
ZACK GRAM Sep 21
Ill Write A Poem
ON
ALL FRONT PAGE...
you erase me
Z-Pac Ban Em All
No Threat
MY PAGE DONT LOAD
***
CANT BAN ME
*******
NEW POEM
FREEDOM OF SPEECH
Noone Safe
Lydia Aug 22
I’m angry
At everything and myself
I don’t wanna do this **** anymore
This being anything and everything that is involved with being alive
It’s too hard and I give up
I’ve watched so many people just skate by
I continue to watch people do nothing
And have everything
While I do everything
And have nothing
I am bitter
I am hurt
I am mad that no one was there for me
That no one can take care of me
Besides me
I am outraged at my upbringing
Because it’s led me here
It’s brought me over five years of therapy
Countless tears
A level of pain to parenting
And
I’ve lost so much time
Time spent in agony just because I’m alive
So yeah
I’m ******* angry
And trying to be more mindful
Isn’t going to help today
Jeremy Betts Aug 5
Casper
That's the name they gave me
The intentions weren't friendly
They used it mockingly
Albeit creatively
Because my skin was alabaster pasty,
I was Jack Skelington skinny
And, apparently,
My blond hair and blue eyes weren't manly
So then,
I embraced it and turned it on them ceremoniously
No more Casper the Friendly,
Just Casper the Deadly
Turned to the ghost that gave nightmares to Freddy
Made the devil look heavenly
That persona went at any and every enemy
But now that I'm 40
I've let that part of me leave me
Though it was the only part of me that believed in me
The scratched up side of my flipped penny
...I miss is secretly...

©2024
Eyithen May 7
I'm mad at God
I've never been mad at him before
Always understanding and patient
I never questioned the purpose of the pain

The purpose of pain
I'm sure there is one
but I am tired
It is the same thing and I find myself trapped in a cycle of insanity
What is the purpose? What is the lesson? What am I missing?

I'm mad at God
Maybe mad is the wrong word
Frustrated. Hurt. Exhausted. Angry.
But not mad.
Its not so much a place of casting blame
but rather "what do you want from me!?"

How much longer will I have to endure?
How much longer will I have to cry out?
When will I see an answer?
You don't play mind games
and yet I am currently unconvinced of this

Unconvinced I have received any sort of healing
only led to believe so
"I don't know" has been a phrase I've said the most

So yes perhaps I am mad at God.
I don't know what else to feel when one is falling apart, even if they are falling into place.
The pain is still the same.
Atta Apr 22
i cherised ourselves in silence breeze
at every corner of crowd we've cultured together
and on every personalities i've dictaded
i've grown my trees on you

yet you put an end to my tree

i should had known you're my lumberjack behind me
brought axe sharpened behind my corner
you'd warmed me by the fireplace
branches by branches

from the trees i've nurtured on you

at least i still get warmth for a second
a milli if i could tell
at least i still get warmth

and i asked
and i asked you
for once
you said
you put effort on your tree
you cared too much for me
you've watered it down
with sweet sweat with sour tears
for me

but i still smell me on your fire
mahogany vanilla, fresh autumn
orangish purple, i could visioned

and i asked
and i asked you
million times
all you said was
it was your tree
your ******* tree
your tree that you couldn't named of
what was the wood what was the fruit
what was it? you didn't know
lame

i extinguished flame you engulfed
that only affected on us
your option was go and go away
some i couldnt choose
i let myself stranded in your tiny little miniature
of towns you've built over my anxiety
by words youve trashed down
on my feelings
if i stay, i'd soaked my soil with my ***** tempest
if i go, i 'd walked on invisible string gagged and blindfolded

i choose to stay
growing trees on anger
i bow down
if i stand up
i could see all direction
and i could see you watering down
your tree on your person
such a gardener you are
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