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Isaace Oct 2022
We shall echo the points that scrape the skies
Above the streams of Wonder City
As, on the streets below, men shift through time,
Watched on by climbing concrete.
And in the steaming sewers strewn beneath
The streets of Wonder City,
Rats will run the labyrinth of the tunnels
To find the traces of a world
Before the streets of Wonder City.
A big part of who we are,
A major ingredient of our life,
Without, ideas, we would always be the same,
Something needs to be adjusted, in our life
Only ideas, with plans, and the right resources,
Can create, positive change, we never know,
The value of our ideas, until we release them,
Take action, play with them, like a game,
As we examine a situation, with an
Attitude, to rearrange.

                                                               The Original: Tom Maxwell ©
                                                               10/21/2021 AD 4:20 am
I had an idea, wrote about it..
Everyone has times, when they think their cool,
Other moments, they feel like a fool.
After years of time, has passed by,
Which days, are you proud of, which ones make you cry?
We create our future, every day, do you want respect,
Are, a name, that just, fades away.
Some of the things, we enjoyed, in our past,
Should just be left, as memories, that will last.
Our bodies, what we think is fun, will often change,
If we ignore the signs, our life, could be rearranged.
To change anything, in our life, during this stay,
We need another plan, how to spend those days.
You have to want, make new goals every day,
Nothing in your life will forever stay.

                                                                   Tom Maxwell® 10/21/05 AD
Nikkie Jan 2021
A watched *** never boils.
But when the heat is too high, the *** boils over.
Then again, when the *** is empty and sitting on
a burner, cold to the touch, it serves little to no
purpose. Why don’t you add something to the ***?
Why is it just sitting there? What are you planning to
do with it? Are you planning on adding your own
special recipe to the ***? Are you adding a unique
sauce to it? Are you going to add water to the *** and
allow it to simmer? Or you going to add a secret ingredient
to the *** that you don’t want anybody to know about?
Is the *** going to yield a hearty meal? Is it going to be food
for my soul? Only you know what you want in this empty
***. I can’t add to, or take away from your *** Because it
doesn’t belong to me. I feel like you want to add a piece of
me to your ***. but a part of you is afraid of how the finished
recipe will turn out. How can you be afraid of an empty ***?
Why aren’t you adding your favorite foods to it?
The *** can’t produce empty contents.
Kelsey Banerjee Jun 2020
so many yesterdays
sacrificed calendars,
penciled dates
and whimsies called
Lake Sep 2019
i need to find some strength
to get through today
cause the more that i wait
i might make a mistake

cause everything happens for a reason
and flowers never bloom out of season
it never goes according to plan
with my feet still stuck in the sand

it's all just target practice
i miss and miss till i got it
i never really aimed correctly
but once in awhile i get lucky

most of the time i'm tired
of all these shots i've fired
and i don't have what's required
and the date has now expired
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