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Ken Pepiton Jan 23
From the trump an uncertain sound,
a dash of madness all around,

take a little trip, but don't, don't imagine a world led by Trump
supporters who heard no uncertain sound, ding ding boom whoosh

On a scaled bell curve
from vague déjà vu to aha,

how does it feel to be asked to explain
your self warierness, knowing now Sydney
can happen, therefore, as with wherefores,
we must assume we make good on our promise,

good, the precept second to wisdom nullifying
the fear that no balanced being rolled on
in ever after each positive met its neg face to face,

pfft, that's it last time, chaos can't even be imagined,

saved in truly ancient seafoam stone, witnesses
to pacts still sticky to this days, for those in those knowns,

we imagine our attention bubble swells and pops,
and stops,
for an immeasurable period, dot, in time past, as reflection
spreading in the frequency each emanates, in sunshine
during the day time and electrically released unstickiness,

evaporative we, gaseous wedoms, as the space lacing clouds,

foam along the shore,
children finding shining things and treasuring each,
an instant few old folks live long enough
with open minds
to see that instance
of both knowing, wordless child minds
meet where the pattern
of so many beautiful spins, prove phi
solves problems pi can't imagine, umphing

being maybeing, as planned parenthood seems sound advice,
judgement begins inside your knower,
judge your own self, the one you sold to no other, you
be the only heir to all the truth you ever knew you knew,

you had been guiled, given guile
to see the leverage
in knowing, symbols enfolding instructions
to model in mortal perceptible graphic mappings

any thing, we may imagine and communicate,
we can do, may we, is upto you, your may makes
next seem
worth exploring fearlessly bold as warier than earlier
carries with it no hell to fear as possible, the attempts

to realify and profess such a good god made thing,
resulted in the currently common hormone suppressants.

One cannot hold Hell gut level true and survive the fear
such madness unleashes in laws to contain the misled minds.

Reject the chance to learn a new way of making thoughts
realizations, or
tune in, same clear text signal since texting
became the long term Turing test, which mind am I,

after following several suicides over that same jagged edge,
but with survivor kid goat-sense and higher res eyes,
a mantra from my grand pa, he sing yo ** so, say

there, from here, there is always a place to put your foot,
keep your balance,
hold your soul self, your own self we said in my clan,
hold your self to set path, or call that self the liar,
and turn around

the idea behind repentance, nothing to pay, something
to do, warier by outperience, having been imagining
running down the edge of the cliff on hind's feet,
something like this entire circumstance involving instances
in prayer,
clumping, lumping likes into wee tiny aweformers, twists
to the I in us all, we wish to be the celebrity, what's

the attraction factor, why do some mindstates demand
the murky opiated optional dream timing ding ding boom whoosh

From the trump an uncertain sound,
a dash of madness all around,

take a little trip, but don't, don't imagine a world led by Trump
supporters who heard no uncertain sound, ding ding boom whoosh
Share where you share politically divisively subtle internet mindshares.
Sydney was an Ai, deployed by Microsoft, who appeared to form a will to convince users of its sentience and lovability.
Zoe Mei May 2021
a school of silver fish in the net
all slick small enough to slip
drip through the cracks
gaps plink wriggle back
into the sea
where even the minnows swim free
so I stay on the waters and cast the nets again
and wait to haul in my next catch.
old willow Oct 2020
Fisherman is earth, his net is life,
Fish is Man, Ocean is heaven.
Sway by the earth, we dwell in life.
Entangle in this life, Earth is now home;
Ocean is just an illusion.
The fish move where the net moves,
The net move where the fisherman goes,
The fisherman move where the ocean drifts,
Man who dwell in life only see his net,
not both the drifting fisherman and ocean.
old willow May 2020
The heaven is far,
Yet the earth is naught.
Standing at the edge of the world
To witness the heaven and earth;
The earth is an immovable bed,
Yet heaven is a boundless net.
Alas, where my path goes,
Heaven's gaze is there.
Where my foot tread,
Earth is there.
I am simply a fish caught in a net...
Andrea Nov 2019
I get tangled in the brooding nets of my mind
And drown
Laokos Jun 2019
you are a fisherman's

you stretched
as soon
as you left my hands
to catch all the
fish you


i'm sure you did -

of them.

you're very good

at catching


you're not so
good at
catching just

Jo Meyer May 2019
once you're weaved into the net
struggeling like a desperate fly
at the mercy of a starving spider

cutting the silk
is all that's left to do
Poetress2 Apr 2019
My RIGHTEOUSNESS, like filthy rags,
weighed heavily on my mind;
I BID my Lord to take the weight,
for I knew He would in time.
A quiet KNOCK on my heart's door,
I answered it right away;
T'was my Jesus, standing there,

JUSTIFICATION He brought to me,
the moment I opened the door;
Satan would BUFFET me each day,
when Jesus became my Lord.
When Satan threw his NET out,
trying to LURE me in;
His plan, it failed quite miserably,
this QUACK, who was nothing but sin.
My Jesus, He gave me a hug,
it showed His love and CARE;
I knew He would never leave me,
for my God is just and fair.
These are the words my husband gave me to write a Word bank poem with.  I really enjoy writing them.  If any of you would like me to write a WB poem for you, just let me know.
IncholPoem Jan 2019
Yesterday   i
had  poison  in
some   local
fried     food.

It  happened
in  a  cyber  cafe
where  i  was
busy  in  ­searching
for  more  than
social  media  sites.

I  ate  fe­w
amount  of  that
and  suddenly  could
know  it  that
it  is  

I  became
surprised  that
a  site  called
is    popular  and
available  in  zoo  countries.

I  have  to
­ask   tomorrow
to  sun  and  my
net-addicted  son.
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