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Ken Pepiton May 28
The old days, the old ways, those are in the winds of been;
with all the worries
worth worrying lost with the reasons why

today was to have been

Self-evident, right, the prophets were right and
the liars
are with us, as sure as the poor.

Today, we live and die, planning to do it again,
after a nap, making clear

this peace past understanding, so you can see
through it to the

glimpse of a happiness you know, it's right, no evil
dripping acidic
into hopes, we held locked in catechismical caves.

So long ago. The old days were not good.
Only the stories with happy ever after this

You see it done, old son, you take the role.
No missed takes, no second guess,
single-mind me, my self, I say may the game begin

en joy, they say, as if verbishment en into en trance
nothing to this, in our own life's history,
verified, examined and, be hold,

not found wanting anything. Off the scale,
onto the state or stage of becoming,

not there, not here, be
soon, always soon, soon, now

big bang, right. be

hell, you lie, and you know it, but why?
Liars prosper.
That's the key, if you give a buck. I'm a pro,

you don't get where reality is this slippery and
guided by me, y'follow? you don't get here, and blame me.

Blame me, shame me, oughta take rope,
'n' hang me.

What if, still, in effect. Reality at gut level, synaptic axion dents, right,
waves of peristalsis moving shichewswallowed,

minus that action,
you are dead,

but your biome, the raw info, ideas that moved you, through the years,
we adapt, we modify our center of gravity,

we ellipsilate our sphere of influence into

fratical fractal real ification practices prospering in 2019.

Nonshite. Dear reader, we must pause, please, hold this thought...

The cultivator must be first, no lie. Seedtime gap harvest. Eat me.

sign on the bottle,
it was a clue, don't you want somebody to love?
You better,
find somebody to love, oh yeah, that left a mark. Funny,

It's okeh to smile, I said to Imogene Coca.
She stared into my eye, no Bette Davis eye,

Imogene Coca eye, no smile, no word mime meme bent
to a pixelation
degree, you pretend to see, AI can see the thread
you trust the legend,

scarlet thread or golden?
Which do we cut?

She is silent
Musing in the final days of may
William Troup Apr 19
England mourns for her fading eyes,
   a gateway to fields the soul did dream!
England cries for her dulling might,
   a hardened picture is all but a scream!
England hopes for her futures born,
   a nurtured fallacy begets their start!
England tries for her August dream ...
   a fighter still clings from years apart!

   A solemn drum of thrills,
      an immortal heart so still!
   A modest staunch to the end,
      a waning soul aglow to bend
      a future afar ... dust from the rain
      may linger still,
         but not in her grain!

England bores our comrades faith,
   an innermost thought that comes to be!
England frees our wondrous remains,
   an echo may sing ... but the birds are free!
Next time,
                    next time.
Just keep in
that next time,
there might not be a
next time.
Words escape
A voice is shut
A pen is out
A page is flipped
Ink is smeared
And tears have dropped
A poet has spoken
with eyes to hear
And mind to see
His broken poetry
And heart of bravery
Craves within
His written legacy
Mighty is he
Fearing no one
Against the judges of poor artistry
He strives to write his own poetry
JP Goss Dec 2018
What would happen
If we read “X over X”
As the calculation
It deserves
Instead of so much
Self-serving banter?
We’d find what goes in what
And in quantities unforeseen
As conversing crowds
Among the qualities:
How about this?
“Mind over matter.”
How much matter is within mind,
What pieces of the world
For ideals left behind—
Perhaps what memories
In nutrients we disregard
And the patchwork politics
Between chocolate and hearts
Of artichoke.
What of “ballots over bullets?”
When blood spells the words
We’ve yet to choke
How many shots will be fired
Before we like band-aids
To wounds apply?
How much violence endures
Till democracy is blest,
How many protests cut down
Before we can lay down the sword?
What of the adage “brains over brawn?”
The well-known oath of courts and kratocrats
With force harp upon?
The strength which one must possess
To prove intelligence
Proves unattained
Yet so many beatings
Are reasoned as recompense—
What sense must be made of pain
To convince us the path of enlightened men
We must avoid
To stay in line.
Thus, submission over freedom
Is where true freedom stems.
What's in what?
Abby M Dec 2018
I read a story once
About a bug that crawls into people's ears and lays eggs in their brains
Ever since then I have to cover my ears to fall asleep
It's funny that people think that way
That they matter
That a story WILL happen to them
Because at the end of the day
It might
underestimated Nov 2018
My options are limited
And my time is way too long
It's quite unfortunate
I don't know what I'm doing wrong
I know the problem
I just don't know the solution
I've hit rock bottom
Now I welcome prosecution
They see me as a burden
I shouldn't be here
I open up the curtain
And let the sun sear
Now we're all on fire
I let in the heat
They fight against desire
I'm the the one to mistreat
I must make a decision
I'm just too naive
One thing they always mention
I must change or leave
girl gonzo Oct 2018
morning dew drops on your collar
impressing me with the zealous way the seasons drastically measure the moment it takes me
to reach forwards and brush it off
liquid winter falling onto a ***** cement
the initials 'F T' written jaggedly into the cold stone of asphalt
i wait for it to disappear, for the flicker of everything gone to fade from my vision
but it passes too quickly
i look back up and there's no one around
the street is empty and the capricious wind has ceased
a sucker for patterns i walk into a fabric store and feel my hand linger on the erratic linens
fingers paused on the peach organza sprawled like a pink bubblegum sea
and i am swept into the manic fantasies of wearing the sheer tissue-like textile into
the abdomen of your sweaty palm and sinking like a sticky sweet stripe
until you put your hand in your pocket and i spend a year inside melting
into the every thread and curve of your jean until it is nothing but disgusting sugar
everything i could be when i am hidden from sight in the dark caverns of denim pants
who knew the tongue in cheek joke would be nothing but my tongue in your mouth
touching all the way up your gums  
find me sweltering beneath the uvula wondering if i could go back
to the time i found that girl with the mountain logo sweatshirt who whistled between her teeth and hummed all the reasons i should skin my knee and kiss the salty wound because there's no greater pleasure than knowing you don't have to wait for that morning dew drop to fall from their ******* collar
i need to right
what i did
wrong to you.

but i'm afraid
of what might

i broke your
heart (and mine
too) on accident.
i didn't mean to.
i swear.

if i could go back
and change it-
i'd do it in a
Rizna M Rameez Aug 2018
la hawla wala quwwatha illa Billah
there is no power nor might except in Allah

the trees, Who caused, them, from the earth to sprout and grow?
water, Who caused, from the skies, to fall and by the torrents, pour?
the planets, Who caused, to align by the ellipse, by sheer gravity?
the heavens, Who adorned, with stars, of utmost clarity?

which of the blessings of your Lord will you deny?

the sun, Who caused, to shine, to set and rise at appointed times?
the poet, Who caused, the words to flow in deliberate rhymes?
the human, Who caused, to electrify the messages of time?
the offspring, Who caused, to arise from a mix, minuscule?
oh, to men of ancient times, did all this be of ridicule.

indeed, man is flawed.

science is merely an implemented plan.
how can we believe there is a plan, with no Planner?
how can we expect, the gears to turn on their own, with no Turner?

the workings of the universe is defined by science,
but certainly, there must be a Definer?

do you not see the workings of your Lord, now unfurled?
surely, if even then, man does not believe, he has erred.
I haven't capitalized the words at the beginning of the sentences to show that compared to His superiority, they are minors.
The trees, the rain, the planets, the stars, the sun all have a methodical system which nearly all of us know so I won't explain it here.
By the actions of the poet, I am referring to the activity of the brain involved in all of that, linguistic and whatnot.
By the human, I am referring to mainly the brain and heart, and the nervous system, (which work by neuron signals/ electrochemical reactions) as well as the intelligence He gave us to be able to discover all the electronic advancements of today's technology.
And further. All of these have very deep meanings and loads of references.
I have used the word Allah, because it is the name God chose for Himself and which He prefers to be called by, and that it is free of all blemishes. The word God, is flawed, for it can be made plural (Gods), and be assigned gender (God, Goddess).
The name Allah, is neither male or female, and is singular, and is very divine since Allah, Creator and Owner of all Knowledge and Power, chose it for Himself.
(I use pronouns like He, Himself because there are no pronouns in the English language that are gender neutral and singular)
Mix refers to Nutfah, the Arabic word for mixed ****** discharge, the ***** and ****, which anyone who has access to the Qur'an (which is everyone [Internet], can look up as it appears countless times in the Qur'an.
The only source that proposed these ideas, 1400 years ago, was Islam and the Qur'an. So to disbelieving folk of those days, who did not believe in their Lord, all this, science, was ridiculous. They did not believe Allah when clearly, He sent down the revelation. Except for the believers.
To all those who didn't know, yes, there is SCIENCE in Islam, a RELIGION, which many argue don't go together.
Science as we know it, is what man has found out of the truth, with Guidance from His Lord.  Islam, is the truth, which includes all of science. The Truth that Allah revealed very clearly.
I did say the workings of our Lord unfurled as in we've discovered Allah's Plan. But that doesn't mean we can implement it ourselves. Which people argue on today.
But yet, we've only unfurled a fraction of what He has done. Barely a fraction. Indeed, man is a creation. He can only comprehend so much. So it is up to us to be smart enough to listen when it comes knocking at our door.

I am only human. I can only portray what is within my ability with the permission of my Lord. For those who want to read an astoundingly better version of this, look up Chapter 55, Surah Rahman in The Qur'an.
(WARNING: This is not only based on Surah Rahman, it also includes references from many other parts of the Qur'an)
We, as speakers of English can only understand the translation of the original poem. And as anyone knows, to get the complete amazingness of a poem, you need to read it in the language it was written in, especially in this case, since the original Arabic is by Allah, and the translation by humans.
But it still maintains certain literary techniques.
In Surah Rahman, Allah asks the same question, over and over again.  It is because humans are forgetful and we need to be reminded. Repetition instills remembrance and then we think deeply about it.
Plus, we need to be told something countless times, until we understand it.
Thank You for taking the time to read all of this. I hope it helped and opened up a better understanding of this world in your minds.
We are the creation most loved by Allah, and indeed, we can do AMAZING things! Inshaallah (If Allah Wills)

If you have anything you want to ask, you can always message me, and I will try my best to answer. But you can ask any others who are knowledgeable on this topic (I must admit I am not as knowledgeable as most).
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