I've thought deep and true for an idea,
Of a topic I can center my poem on.
There was none that surfaced,
So none shall it be.

No weight of subject to anchor us down,
No limits to hinder, no thoughts to drown.
In the vast expanse where stillness is known,
The heart of nothingness is brightly shown.

Akin to the sound of one hand clapping,
Like raging winds in the eye of the storm,
Let us contemplate on nothing,
Let us define the absence of form.

A blank canvas for something to exist,
The absence for the heart to grow fond,
It is a silence so deep, where echoes are drawn,
The root of the void where all things are gone.

Without, none, nothing, doesn't exist,
Synonyms, or a sentence wrongly punctuated.
One thing is for certain: this poem's been fun.
A topic to discuss, indeed I have... none.

prank callers and Internet trolls
are much sought-after
and decently paid jobs
amid failing everything

antimatter
is flowing freely

suspended sentence mode activated

testing tacky technologies
on the attendees

a long way
from bright ideas
to floral tributes

Existing unrest exacerbated or
change in climate lowering the cloud cover
surrounding the mountain peaks For once
visible the centuries of suffering
now leading us into violence The
tables upturned by an invention spreading
like wildfire across dry meadows
or storm rivers under the seas
Bewildering Frankenstein monster
a stage for
the flowers of the brains to radiate
in strands of light above the lands
Connecting
discoveries and creations
Shared
passion and truth and
kindness valued in
a world in transit An echo
of upheavals from ninety five theses
when the rolling waves of knowledge open
for children to follow their drive
where it takes them
A transfer to learn
without belonging pains while
we downsize our upkeep
and upsize our bonds
our unfettered feet buried in the sand and our
heads held where the wind blows and the
sun shines We dance
We sing to a tune freed
on our way to be and to become
and together
in time
maybe
save what can be
                                     or end with beauty

Roses are red
Violets are blue
And you are you
The less the better
The more the clutter
But then again the more the better

Where do we create that gentle balance?
Who wins the ballot?
A smaller perimeter with pockets of silence?
Every soul needs it.

Or a much larger one with lots of nuisance?
You'll find your heart bleeding.

Happiness is when your needs are way less than your wants.

Don't paint up your wants into needs,
and you'll feel lighter.

A greater form of happiness is when you fix someone their necessities.

We're mostly counting up to 65 or so, let's not spend most of the journey in tears.

But in hardwork, minimalism, kindness, hope and happiness.

we talked
about?
um
all our
fathers
questions
raised but
never
answered