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Only, Aitia tells us, she who claims
     credit in the annals f'good and ill,
        claim and blame, remaining both
           cause and effect.

Fectual efforting securing hope to evidence,
edification using squared and plumbed walls,
Luther's vision of the mighty fortress, Oral's
Christ 900 feet tall, not knocking
on the U.N. building, but holding
the financially afflicted
threatening to flop

City of Faith Medical Center, vision,
not apparition, Magi distinction, imagined
an image seen where only the imagination
can picture it, whatever it may become if done.

The Media mocked the vision, for being mental.
The Ecclesia mocked not the ancient seer's art.
The Faithful mocked the enemy of such prophecy.
---------------

------------
Uncle Toby spared a fly.
Ben wondered with one resurrected.
Who was the one in Wittgenstein's bottle?
-------------
**** the pesky rotters.
National Myths are sacred.
Allegiance before education, insist.

- peace planted from good seed
- **** to one is mustard to another

The economy of war,
the ecology of psyche maladaption
re developed fundamental certainty,

family safety, reliable local forces, home
feeling, full smile face felt at the recollection,

where the heart is, always, was the saying,
home, is there, at the very centermost pillar
holding all any actual hero stands under, bowed,

as Atlas actually holds up Uranus, the sphere
of heaven, from the inside, one must imagine,
from the old told tale
of how the Greeks agreed,
what to **** for, proudly
about the fickle pride
of contentious gods,

we become an aggregated immovable force.

Boom it's 1995, and Newt is teaching history.

Wall-builders Ministry, believing Ezra, yes,
who struck the deal with the old tale, yes,
we can serve as middle men, Nehemiah,
has a cadre under oath to the city, yes,
Jerusalem, since Melchizidek, we serve
the unspeakable name in which we trade
our hearts and minds for the hope of glory/

And all the money in the world, or else.

Dystopian Peace pass, hard climb,
milk and honey on the other side.

Id-entity
I'd imagin'd e'goes,
we'd say, or coulda said,
suppose we got a super ego

I am.
Being, we all agree, we
are, collectively imagined weforms,

whatsoever we agree to, and reality
confirms, ever where we look we see,
we have at some point past agreed, it's
this state, inner and outer, seening using
mortal impetus and wondering what if it

is perceived as proprioceptive, where is now
at the speed of thought we use to read

at a distance, spooky, single point per-
fection piercing all we ever infect
for war, inflaming the pierced
weform superior I, plural I,

we all respond, and I, and I,
we can take the land, ah,
we have imagined that

just and right, same rights used
to take away the buffalo, and make
the top soil blow away, just a hundred
years ago, many lifetimes, just now, not
yet so dim a product of proclaimed rights,

opposed, by possessors using first claims,
ignoring earlier infectious pride methodology,

to make believe, be sure your story
cannot be denied, be very sure,
your worth, on balance, trial
bit by bit, against the weight,
of a Morgan Silver Dollar,

sure, who could not throw such a dollar
across any river in Arizona, any little leaguer
who made the team, even some who didn't,

so what if George Washington did that, we
all could, but who would?

A silver dollar back then, really, who would
throw a dollar away?

-------------
Take my time, for yours,
use it to think some more

little lies, little foxes, cunning
creations of the collective mind,

loosed on mission, to spoil the vines.

Preventing sour grapes or sweet, suppose,
the nonsense can be seen as animation,
the symbolized reality seen so easy,

we live long after shadow puppet operas,
we live in days of Slime Rancher and D&D,
we live future lives, using literal magic, letters,

as I write, I know, I think cognate thoughts, same
as you, my unseen reader writing at tensest instant
as we converge in gaseous weform, mere words, once

upon just such a time as this, a holy sacred secret got
out and about in the Zeitgeist, via paper based media,
from Pergamum, the library there, where the evidence

was, ah, was, and if we knew now, what we could have
known then, as it ever is, we wistfully acknowledge,
ignorance serves to balance innocense, knowledge,
itself being likely that which your holy book forbids.

----------------------
Tiers,
terraced gardens,
told of to desert children,

first feel the letting, feel ef said,
effing effort letters feel form said,
as my momma read, to me, a story,

about a flat-bottom boat, on a river,
and I imagined that it must have been,

a good winter, for a river to float a boat,
with a good dozen men in it, but, as a boy, 'y
biggest river I ever saw was the Sandy in spring.

Tractors crossed it easy.

Well, dusty old memorabilia, tech too few kept,
100 meg Zip disc Bernoulli multi plane read writes

Holding the work of many days, months, years agone,

decay from inaction all the coherence gets unsticky

at the tensest instant, when the servers were down,
down near the base of the race to these weapons,
of mass construction, messaging face to face,
angelic, in spirit and function, letting letters
form words instantly transmitted and, if
we wish to, instantly translated, and

then, we slow, go into thick thought mode,
sticky wadded up threads of all we thought,

ought to have
known, having been
shown, this is the way…
'e, eh
says the spider to the fly, oh,
no,
Ich bin Wittgenstein, kommen Sie.
My duty to the muse today. No pay, just a pleasant way to roll with happy Sisyphus on the down side.
Cadmus 5d
🤴

Approach, dear dreamer, if you dare,
But know my skies hold thinning air.
My steps are stitched in woven flame,
My name, too sharp for lips of shame.

You came with hands of dust and thread,
A crown of noise upon your head.
No sword, no gift, no golden key,
Yet thought to tame a storm like me.

Did Daedalus forget to warn his son?
Even Icarus soared closer than you’ve done.
You chase the sun but dread the cold,
A heart too timid, a hand too old.

I dance where only giants tread,
I feast where lesser men have fled.
I wear the stars, I breathe the skies,
I kiss the sun where eagles rise.

So take this truth I lay in rhyme:
A throne too high commits no crime.
It’s built for those who carve through air
Not those who knock and gasp for prayer.

🤴
Footnote:
This poem is a declaration of unreachability - a message to those who approach greatness with presumption but without worth. It evokes mythological imagery (Daedalus, Icarus), not to flatter the dreamer, but to caution them: wings of wax and hollow pride won’t carry you where gods walk. The throne is not cruel for being high - it is simply not meant for the unready. This is not arrogance. This is altitude.
Reece Jul 13
Ouroboros lived in a forest,
He could’ve been like anyone before us.
He lived his life filled with pride,
Masking plenty of issues on the inside.
Ouroboros always believed he was in the right,
Despite the many times he was on the wrong side,
He lived his life filled with pride.
A constant cycle,
In the shape of a circle.
He never learned from his mistakes,
He just brushed them off onto another day,
His friends and family wished he would change,
But he remained the same.
Ouroboros lived in a forest,
He convinced himself that it wasn’t due to his poor choices.
He could’ve been like anyone before us,
Poor Ouroboros.
A constant cycle of believing you're constantly in the right,
A never-ending circle consistently spinning because of pride.
Is it worth it to throw everything on the line,
Just because you can’t accept that your side,
Of the issue isn’t the only one on people’s minds?
Poor Ouroboros,
A somber chorus,
And the poor forest can’t ignore his cries.
All this strife due to pride.
One day i will be gone.

Then you will see. All of you.

I can use cryptic messages to hide what they did.

To defend myself more then anything.

I try to help people.

So they don’t have to suffer alone.

But the truth is you never stop suffering.

The volume gets turned down. But the show is still playing.


*******.
You don’t know me.
I will not forgive you.
K
sin
My hero's weathered
forehead
My inflictions
stress  of
wrinkly skin
but the focus
is replaced pain
to  numb-ness
of his eyes.
Whistling of whispers
flowing
white of ancient
hair,
memories  like long
forgotten fleets
I come to realize,
Pride replaced
by shame,
and which is
the greater sin?
Who am I?
or I that became.....
Soul Jun 28
Some might
scream at you
seeing their
worst pest,
A few might
love you as
their favourite
loving pet.—
Your arrogance
roams every
black inch
on earth.
But still,
for some, you
are their the most
delicious snack.—
Pride do fall,
right?
Decided to start with an unexpected topic, to express the nature of pride...
Not something to be proud of
But I hold my chin up high
When no one sees my suffering
When no one sees me cry

Not something to pleased with
But I love how well I lie
I feel weak yet so secure
Selling each fib I sigh

I shouldn’t be so happy
Keeping all this stashed inside
But each time they miss my pain
My chest swells up with pride
Bekah Halle Jun 21
Oh, Mr Darcy,
You truly are
One of my first and longest loves.
Those dark, brooding eyes,
And sparse words did his tongue speak.
I always did hold you up as
My favourite,
But I have come to find out,
not too handsome to tempt me.
vik Jun 14
she dwelt in pith of elder breath,
rusting tongue of loam;
hidden in tulle of former death,
enthroned in nightfall’s home.

the moon bestowed her phantom crown,
the ivy's grasp too deep;
i rose from earth, feathered renown,
in sable wrapped to keep.
Damocles Jun 11
Purple neon on my shoulders,
Blue catching on my knees,
I’m looking for something to cure my craving
And I know that it cannot be me.

Bend me over,
Tell me that you see me,
Know that when it’s over
I’ll want you even when I’m sober.

Purple haze dancing in my mind
Blue skies over the skyline
I’m high with a need for a taste.

Won’t you come and take it,
Won’t you make me beg for more?
I’m trying to feel the warmth
Of someone who can lift me higher
Then I can touch the ceiling
Push me into a corner
Don’t let me forget this feeling.

Purple neon on my shoulders
Blue catching my knees,
Open mouth begging, please
Won’t you show me heaven,
One sinful act at a time?

Tell me do you see me,
Am I still a man to you,
Is this worth the trouble,
Silent my troubled mind
Bathe me in purple and blue,
Tell me I belong,
Are you mine?

Purple haze dancing in my mind
Blue skies over the skyline,
I’m high with a need for a taste.

Bi like cotton candy,
Sweeter than taffy lace
Harder than jawbreaker,
Alive in me I embrace.
i'm unashamed. i am more than masculine. I am Bi and proud. Happy Pride month loves.
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