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Brett 1d
What can I say? Another one dead and gone away.
Lost to ignorance, or
Possibly blind to addictions hooked grip.
One day your dangling a toe
Just over the edge. The next,
Your staring up wondering
How you lost your footing. I could say he’s a ******, but
Lord knows the elixirs I have invented
To dispel the dark heart of my depression.

Though I stand stoic, life has taught me
To never shame a smile. The sun rises for the living, and
Dead men fall short of tomorrow.
The amorphous soul slips through the seams
Of hands grasping to hold. So, when death discards its cloak and
Swirls its specters all around me
I’ll raise up life like a guiding lantern
Step through existence with my convictions.
Rest peacefully to all I have lost to the chase for a high. To all those running towards death to escape life, may you find some solemn quiet in the next life.
𝄆   suffer  |  survive  |  sing   𝄇
1-2-1-2-When you have pollen allergies,
Your first reaction when you sneeze isn't to chop down all the trees;
it's to move out of the breeze,
you see.
A mental mic check for when you feel like burning the Forrest
Brett 6d
Oil painted red sky summer
Blue moon June, and tailor-made memories
Skimming the surface like a skipped stone
Riding the ripples
Of an early summer’s amplitude
Like a light ray runaway,
Dancing with darkness anxiously on the edge of the abyss
A lone wanderer,
Searching the soil for some semblance of a soul, but
Our bound hands were meant to dig
Never to hold
Skip a stone and watch the ripples underneath a gray beard mountain.
Maelynn 7d
Fire crackles as I take my tea
–2 creams 3 sugars
The heavy drops of summer rain
Fall to the parched earth out the window,
A symphony on aged tin roofs

I let out a contented sigh
My movement inspiring a small chitter
My furry companion curls tighter
To The the alabaster skin of my hip
At peace once more.
Brett 7d
Are we just sitting around counting down the clock to doomsday?
Casual watchers of the apocalypse
Like another piece of news to gossip with
“On the tube today, all the free worlds have up and gone the way
   Of every other empire too resigned to say….”
Maybe today,
Is the day we change

Beggar, sir, please, come and play
Your empty tin can tunes
                    Politician, sir, please, preach me your wants
                    And masquerade them as my needs
Hurt me, so you can wipe my dying tears away
Enslave me, so you can break the chains and whisper I’m free
Be all you have ever been. Seemingly, all that you can be.
Why can we never seem to get it right. What does it even mean to be human anymore. Is there any purpose in the world outside our own selfish desires?
Estel Jun 9
Some say love lasts forever
And others say love is a waste…
Some fall in love with haste
And some wait

I would always think
Don’t fall in love
It’s always so rough
And never worth enough
Just act tough

But now when you say bye
I can see why
People fall in love

We fit together like a glove
You’re everything I adore and more.
Ken Pepiton Jun 8
We all are shown the oak in the acorn.
If , we wished to imagine time as a tree,
we may need to die,
as I comprehend
the process of mortality now active in me.

- but prior to my death.

Did we ever finish seeing trees
and any rooting thing,
really whole?
Below the surface of rhyme and song,
have we ever finished seeing the forest?

Chthonic intertwined mushroom goodness at the root,
breathing fruiting branches forming next in seeds,
orantic posed, uplifted branches,
asking daily bread and dew,
offering feed for men and birds,
and in my mind,
peace is overall a kind of comforting,
a kind of knowing recognitive
when sparked with mere
cast out words to wish with in time, windcast
as spore when puff ***** burst, or
as fire works, in the current
metaphor for knowing
exploding in all who
a feeling,
wait and see, as if
time lapse photography
my own grandmother lived to see.
Our children learn.
And I am not the last
to let that gleam seem magic,
that gleam I saw that one time, in my grandma's eye.
During a cool summer day as grandfather to five children, all but me screen free,
until sunset and perhaps, first star.
Start now knowing joy,
that’s an order,
overcome a deepening solitude.

Like a bee at a bugle
or me at the deli
on Third Avenue.

I said to Joe when do you think this weather will break?
He jokes, April.
That’s no joke. Weak creatures die and the strong barely survive.

Half a year goes by
another cancer checkup.
Cheer up. Any weather’s

better than no weather at all
and there’s always governance
even when there is no government.

My candidate drops out
after Iowa. Why do I always lose
at politics and poker?

Peace at last!
No lawnmowers, no leafblowers.
Big comfy couch.

Meditate on this: Do what has to be done.
Find your lover gazing at the moon
and take your garbage to the dump.

Your web site evaporates
and your possessions are thrown in the dumpster
except your trumpet which finds its way to a future trumpeter.
Brett Jun 8
A one-eyed sun peaks at me
Through the silver lining of thunder clouds
The coming storm is predicted
By the tightening of my weathered bones
My odyssey for eternity has led me to the precipice of our world
Where gluttons feast on famine, and
The rabble have hourglasses for eyes

Each grain of sand slips through their idle hands
And falls lifeless at my feet
Poor souls charged interest for borrowed time
My research only serves to carry me on a current
Closer to an unwanted conclusion
That death is the escape hatch from life’s grand illusion
How many submit to suffering to hold on to something
They are destined to lose
No, this will not do.
The Good Doctor's journey continues.
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