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Man 1d
Another night,
Where I feel completely alone
Surrounded by people I care about.
What's the point?
Love coming at the price
Of self- sacrifice,
Break my body
Take control,
But what do you know?
Nat Lipstadt Sep 2022
Shelter Island,
Sat Sep10

on the south west edge of the isle,
the slowrise sunrise just behind the trees,
so early day yet, no full frontal of a sun
bathing to wake up woman, babes asleeping, but the
animals know exactly this hours early

indeed, the crazy squirrels are random
hither and dithering in spurts of energy,
only stopping to observe a viewing of the humans
nest~resting through the glass doors with their
inquisitive, self-possessed, bedside reckless manner,

the suns pealing gleaming gleanings picks
out any shiny reflective surface that enhances
its low-rise greeting, with a chorale of living objects
singing “Hallelujah orb, what’s in store for us today,”
river~bay, wake-less, its becalming, marbling surface, again,


I’m mugged by the perfection intersection of
my eyes-scape, first coffee, the holy quietude, only
the regular soft breaths beside, lend a counterpoint
to these thoughts and the litany of chores the iCal happily, annoyingly,  prematurely but with certainty lists, resistance (Walk!)
perfectly ok.

ok not to move an inch, watching this daily movie rerun,
that energizes hope, a contemporary localized contented without the
humdrum of blaring headlines, talking heads, and the
infiltration of the guilty unfulfilled responsibilities demanding a due,
then heavens signal me, Donovan, earbud singing Colors, confirmed
perfectly ok!

Yellow is the color of my true love's hair
In the mornin', when we rise
In the mornin', when we rise
That's the time, that's the time
I love the best

Glazel Salundro Aug 2022
"... and we were like parallel lines. We were not destined for each other and will never be."

"It depends on what type of geometry you're referring to. In hyperbolic geometry, parallel lines meet at an ideal point - a point at infinity. I don't mind living in hyperbolic space. Would you?"
Andrew Rueter Jun 2022
There’s an online article with a bullet point of cities
• to which the bullet pointed
underneath those cities is a bullet point of schools
• to which the bullet pointed
underneath those schools is a bullet point of names
• to which the bullet pointed.

Underneath that article is a bullet point of comments
• from which bullets point
underneath those comments are bullet points of discourse
• from which bullets point
underneath that discourse lies our nature
• from which bullets point.
No single point of failure
In the worldwide Bitcoin net
No access for the hacker
To see what they can get

No single point to regulate
When governments oppress
No governmental overreach
No thank you - we’ll take less

No single point for dominance
For a group to change the plan
The core code is immutable
Set in place when it began

No single point of weakness
No inflating to gain power
Like Ulysses - we plan ahead
To stay safe in the siren’s hour

No point where we discriminate
Or allow the “favored few”
To gain the wealth of Bitcoin
It’s for all - including YOU

“No single point” brings benefits
And freedoms - in its wake
So let’s promote “no single point”
For us, and our children’s sake
This is Bitcoin Poem 014 at and you can see it displayed on a background when you (copy and paste the link below).
My Dear Poet Mar 2022
Trying to get my  .                                across
It then comes to a point where in there are no more tears left to be shed
GaryFairy Oct 2021
Maybe someday people will speak of a great group of logical poets. It will be a group though. Maybe a help group for the more fragile ones. Not the type of fragile you are...the type that breaks. Carry on army, and tend to your fellow army members' wounds. Maybe someday you will see that you have fake bullets. Fully automatic, with hollow points and full metal jackets

You like my poem, then i'll like yours
we don't have to call it reading
even if yours could heal my sores
mine would be all i'm needing

i like your whole style of no style
nothing to do with form or function
you say it's not a one way street
when i see you at every junction

to be honest, it fills me with fear
hitting like becoming my being
then i will get roped into even more
when less is all i'm seeing

because this group is the real world, on a page, in cyberspace. My mind isn't real, because you can't see it, and it can't hit the like button for me. I must be as insane as you think i am.

It tickles my pickle to see the same poets that pointed at me years ago writing the same exact poem over and over. Talking about writers block like it's real. I stick to my guns and my guns are automatic. If you have a block, you're not a writer. You are still used for building though. Building what you hate, building what i love. I know some are blocks of ****, but they fertilize, at least. Thank you truly. If you hadn't kept putting me to sleep, i wouldn't have had so many awakenings. I do see the good, in blocks. One thing about a big block is that it gets cut into pieces, to make smaller blocks. Then you get mixed in with other blocks that you want no part of. I guess then, you and the other blocks just stand for that one building. You know...the 1 million square foot ranch. It has a basement, but no upstairs.
The best thing is, seeing the same poets contradict themselves with real life. Copycats. As far as form and function goes...deformity and disfunction is fine with me. After all, my favorite poet wasn't even a poet. Just some blind guy tripping on acid.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
The connecting notion is "blindly, without foreseeing."

From <>

Sad, you, city child, silly old man says.
Sad, you, city child, saying so hateful a thing,
saying you would hate being a bird,

saying you cannot imagine having nothing to do,
but fly around heaven all day, scrounging
for scraps, ah
see those crows, hear their song,
are they laughing/
yes, at you.
I believe all black birds laugh, coo,
if you care, is common to doves, coo
to caw,
as a bird, these are common sense,
saying, I am here, now, if you care,
let me know,
this is my rest of the moment, time to feast.
I come to
eat the bugs that eat the dead,
caws, never any famine
until fire, or

catastrophic reordering of earthly things.
As when men lost sight of time signs,
trains of thought, fought all natural
signs of times too long for one
generation to know alone,
but watch,
hide, and watch.

Isotropic radiation field
pressure moulding matter
from raw mater, really
immaterial substances accruing
to act as a force in field, from
out to in
becoming one in time and nothing

Or drifting into sleep as sound
silence imposed enwraptured wait/

A mighty rushing wind…

Eight billion voices
counting cadence, 30 per,
once intuned as day to night,
global steps through ever empty
time continuance field-set-frames
expanding as we imagine unbelieving
in a structure so big,
us, no mortal takes so many breaths.
We listen, loosening tight why-knots in
wish reports so oft negated in time today,
I am in this wind passing as gas
of eight billion breathers, but
between the exspelled hex
human 'spiration, so soon
seeming freebird familiar
with the bass line,
my toe taps a happy dittydahdit dah didah.
- haps as happened,
- may haps per se
sent into the wind every minute or so.

keep looking, soon we see, you, there
suddenly blue shifting seeing me seem
no longer red and running away,
but we both are like fairy floss,
pale blue dot convergent
gentle minds, fitted with tamed tongues,

hearing laughter welcome the transformation.
Today I learned hygge {n.} and that temerity is not timidity de-ified.
Fenixx Menefee Apr 2021
Honestly. I'm tired of hearing it. Who are you? What are you going to do in life? How will you make your mark? What will you amount to?
That's not a real career. Have you thought about something else as a more practical career? You won't succeed.

How can I think freely if all my thoughts are full of holes? Everyone nitpicking them until they no longer exist, what's the point of even trying?
How can I succeed if everyone pushes me back into my bubble? What am I supposed to do if I can't even leave? No one expects me to leave, either.

How am I supposed to get anywhere if I'm surrounded by high expectations? What am I supposed to accomplish? I can't get anywhere today. The bar's too high. All I can do is complain. Is this really all I can do? It's so... awful. It's a bother. It's a nuisance. I hate it. What am I meant to be?
I'm tired. Of everything. Honestly.
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