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Leya May 26
Winds roared from north to south,
As the compass of life lost its aim.
For her groom had already lost his way—
Now, her farewell softly came.

---

While charcoal smothered the maiden's hair,
Yet the dame looked like the winter moon—
Pale; the night was unfair,
Once and for all, her final path illumed.

---

Time rewinds, present intertwines,
A gathered crowd—unique in meaning.
Only she in the portrait could gather the tears,
But never did they care for the old woman buried.

---

Family now bedecked with flowing crystals,
Living eyes weeping loving lies.
Time teaches the weeping crowd:
What’s lost always feels truly precious.

---

Lying above the mantel is the portrait of a girl,
Entertaining the sorrowed crowd.
Ignoring the diamonds over the stage,
As she knows they too will dissipate.

---

No one would shed for the granny,
She ponders while gathering the crystals lost.
The girl in the portrait recalled her theory:
Love is only for the dead at a cost.

---

Justice’s scale now overweighs,
Its back turned against the dead.
What goes around, comes around—
It’s the cycle of birth and death.

---

The old woman now awaits
For the girl in the portrait.
Heaven rings—mirror reflections,
As she now holds hands with her twin.

---

The pain she carried, being lonely,
Finally meets its end-worthy.

And with the following words,
She smiles eternally—

"How could they ever forget you, my older self?
You are beautiful—
For you, heaven awaits everlastingly."
Do share some love.
The poem is about an elderly woman who was ignored untill the day she died. Her death was a reminder to her family that she exists thus they gather at the funeral. The girl in the portrait they shed tears for is the old woman's younger self. Her younger-self portrait conveys the message of how she never was taken care of, let alone have a picture of her clicked when she grew older. The younger girl in the portrait(the old woman herself) reunites with her older version in heaven .
souletry May 22
I don’t express with full eyes anymore.
Still they might tell you more than words can.
I speak in warnings.
In glances.
In dreams I forget halfway through just to prove I didn’t make them up.
Sometimes I laugh so my spirit doesn’t leak through my mouth.
Other times I cry cause I know l’ve already seen this part before.
And if I gotta teach somebody how to love me again,
I’m folding the lesson up into an altar and burning it slow with all my favorite oils.
Cause I’m tired.
Tired but sacred.
Tired but still decoding the air when it moves too different.
Tired but still saying ‘thank you’ to the things that leave before they rot.
I usually don’t write like this
Parisha May 16
Every now and then I wonder,
Is this world ever connected?
With all those parallels, it makes me amazed—
Are those meant to be forgiven in this way?

I pity the young, staring at themselves on pieces,
How must they have spent their days?
Those birthdays, those meetups, those laughs—
Are those meant to be forgiven in this way?

Do we grow to live or live to grow?
How the world has changed from words
By foreplay, from growing to gaining...
Maybe all these mean some volume, some intensity.
But I, here, writing all these words—will they ever reach with printing grace?
Maybe, I guess, these things are meant to be forgiven in this way.

—Parisha
She runs to catch up, he leads the way,                                                          
                                                                ­                                                      
I'm sure that their love has seen better
days                                                             ­               
                                                                ­                                                      
It's probable that they'd always held
hands                                                      
                                                                ­                                                     
  while she made sure he felt like the
  man                                                           ­               
                                                 ­                                                                 ­   
  He'd hold the door open as she walked
  in,                                                           ­                       
                                         ­                                                                 ­          
  now he runs ahead & she's left chasing
  him                                                           ­         
                                                       ­                                                         
  They both sit at the diner with nothing to
say,                                                             ­ 
                                                               ­                                                     
he reads the dinner menu as she looks
away                                                             ­                             
                                   ­                                                                 ­          
What ever happened to how was your day?                                    
                        ­                                                                 ­                         
  The golden couple is now a dull
  gray                                                      
                                                                ­                                                
They eat in silence & when they are
through,                                                    
                                                                ­                                                    
he pays the bills without any
cues                                                             ­       
                                                                ­                                                
They leave the same way they walked
in,                                                              ­                
                                                                ­                                                    
he runs ahead & she is chasing him                                                              ­
                                                                ­                                        
Whatever happened to make them this way?                                              
                                                                ­                                                      
A couple with nothing left to say
As couples age, they stay even after they no longer enjoy each other's company. It's sad & every time I see it I wonder what's she chasing after, more misery ?
Ken Pepiton May 4
Mine was press as free as this, no ink, no type, just letters making an actual rural pen's level of sfumata at the edges of the letters
writ large in these days of community minding good old ways

PLAIN Habakkuk vision zoom in see as when ink bleeds. Seeps...
From where the hoary head facilitates a good reason
- what seed had I in mind,
to challenge proud crowds of wanna be pioneer class
vigilantes, standing watch around the constituted rules,
instituted, under purported inspiration,

--------------------
Life, without instructions, without instinctive behaviour,
saviour concepts and precepts reached for to balance,

forward motion, asking self evidence, whirling dervishly,
seeing all that comes to pass each cycle each era rolls
through,
to this very day,
first Sunday in May, doubtless a holy day,

mmm-aha ha! World Laughing day,

celebrate with me by laughing,
at nothing, with all joy produced flowing
into the general fundamental happiness

pursuant's right rations allotment, all
men remaining self-evidently equal

to the task of laughing while living
under a stack o'Bible based them and usness.

The Ascent of Money, Niall Ferguson

defining our lane, learning the game,
how to take life, in truth, make life,
doing the living, in truth, made free,

eventually, under the best of circumstances,
we, the literal users of truth, whereby we function,

truly, we may chose to cease living, individually,
we are precisely so free, should we give it some mind.

Why am I slightly smiling, at the per-ifery standing,
looking toward the mindforming will to be witnessed,
Me, I was alive, I survived, I remain accountable, my lies,

all lay behind me, like pianos along the Oregon Trail,
all my boyhood aspirations to be a teller of tall tails,
all lies made from lies I read, as I was educated good

citizen mind, collecti

Summarize our so far today, Brave, Leo Ai:
"
In realms where value and worth often blend,
Yet cost and price distinct paths do tend, t'make
A metaphorical value system stands, rock solid,
Where safe and caring hands guide life's demands.

Before the spoken word, a child does learn,
To reach and grasp, to smile and turn,
To manage feelings, to the world conform,
In safe embrace, where love does warm.

Emotional regulation, a vital art,
Social interaction, a skill of heart,
Motor skills and cognitive might,
In a nurturing world, they grow so bright.

So let us build a place where children thrive,
Where every child, with grace, does strive,
To learn and grow, with every part,
In a world that cherishes the start.
"
I asked for a rhyming sonnet, I can't find a will in me to try that… but I can find it normalizing in some old school way.

The day, lo' clouds in the west, 04:16 PM is darkening
as I look up from realizing I live in one form
of a mind hat making facility, easing
the need to be in the same herd,
MAGA and the Military Industrial Complex.
Ike warned us, **** did, too, and that Cohen guy.

A fascinating discussion
with a not very busy intelligence use
augmenting my own knowing growing,
this is all I concluded as the most easy rethink

thunk in the class of we already know think soft

Augmented Intelligence is biased as hell regarding
who has the right
to ideas we think together freely
so. If I paste it here, I'll readit.

But I pasted it in word
And read most of it and looked out at the weather,


and paid some mind to the actual rush to take in wash,
come sudden thundering old story emphasizer so subtle,

serpentine wise meandering in a publically accessible ai form.

whatso ever we agree, since ever any few figured it out,
confidence, we know already what this cost in Babylon,

I met the merchant class of mentors, that arose, between
the rivers, and along that Chebar canal, where they sang
of dashing little one's heads, in some translations,
I'm not sure what Marley read, he like sayin' it

By the rivers in Babylon, they say sing us
a song ourself of Zion, zoom out, see earth from Saturn,

say whatcha know, love makes peace, peace make love
war and your all ya alls      
too busy to stop and think, quiet good healthy old comfort,

as far as
experience in the realms those 27ers passed,
all of us has passed any functional gnosis
viral mind eating STP survivors predicted,

My part of we is a whole set of seven consecutive
Jubilees from the first time I used believe,

as a verb.

Fear of death's so far from a good reason
as any think so far as can be known from here

as all of us and the next breathable atmosphere.
Ink stained fingers find joy in the free information we evidently believed could be done... it happened on my watch, old joy
the saddest part of dying
is what you forgot to do
the ideas born in lucid dreams
that vanished in the hue
the mountains never seen
the oceans never crossed
the poems written on scraps of paper
a lover's smile now lost
the tears you held inside
the chances never taken
the landscape of your life
an oasis now forsaken
Get thee hence! Get thee hence!
Away the riffraff from my fence
Ye've rattled window and rattled doors
Till there's no peace upon the moors
The hallowed folk have fled their graves
To rid themselves these noisome knaves
The tyrants peal rings through my head
Till any room for thought is dead
I'd rid myself this fearsome bane
If I had not a limp and cane
Yet wield do I that wood in vain
For the blighters to abstain
Their laughter loud begins to boil
Not troubled they at all my toil
Surrender I with naught a choice
For it seems I've lost my voice
I must placate them one and all
Returning to them their playball
Sudzedrebel Apr 25
****, this website
Just ate one of my works.

One which was a repost
From January of 2024.

Relating how I was delving deeper
Into quantum theory & mythology,
Into the sciences broadly & philosophy.

How I was going to mix them
And make them intermingled.

How I would mix that of my life,
Or more aptly how I write of it,
With that of new science & old antiquity.

By mythology, philosophy, & theology.

So as to create digestable content
That inter-wove those concepts
To better translate them to any given audience.
Heidi Franke Apr 24
All this life sought
Was in my feet forward,
Backing into stumble on rocks
With no path, life is an S curve

It hurts to fall hard
Worse yet
Is to not know why
I walked at all

A cool spring morning
In the rain with my canine on lead
Rushes into the glade
Where a doe may rest unaware

Still at old age I know, nothing
Every morning in the dark
My eyes open, for what?
I have lost all meaning of why

Are the next rising suns
Teachers on the green that
Remain after the snow melts
A reason for standing up?

I lost track of my dog in the meadow
As I listen to a poet who says
That tomatoes do not bleed
Is my life a fruit I can eat

Through the spring branches
I see a home below, pale yellow
A white door and a pane of glass
Asking, will I come forward more

An unknown, will I care to find out
Where is the deer and my dog
The door seductively beckons,
Walk this way with strong shoulders

Every day is an opening
For planting new things
Or letting the past burn to ash
Stunned in body and bones my trips to the ground

The knees and hands ******
And worn, as the apple skin
Holds a hole from the worm
I am the fruit as much as the scar that shines, happening now
After you meet your marks, relationships, children, profession all done, no longer needed, just waiting as age wears my body down. What now? When? Once you get here you will know.
Damocles Apr 23
Behold this sand of time
As the shores of despair
Roll in to sneak it into the depths
Dark is the abyss of a sleepless dream
Where madness is one name away

Dare you speak it

Cthulhu

Wrap me in your endless tendril maw,
Devour soul from flesh
And discard the pickled husk
Let me fade away in shadow
To see your grace,
O’ Old one

Spread madness in a holy word
Eviscerate this world —
Feed it to the void and all its twilit chaos

And then I wake —
Somewhere between a dream and a distant realm
I will come as a herald,
To ring the end of timelines
To bind my mind to singularity.

My fate is my own,
Under the huntress moon,
Into the valiant sun,
‘Cross the diamond caves of night
And the blue oceans of day
I will not be misled.
Had a wacky dream where I was a silver surfer type character but as a herald to Cthulhu and not Galactus and my goal was to destroy the multiverse and bring it all to a singularity.
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