A fruit finds
a home in my heart.
It grows without concern;
its stems branch out
into my lungs.
It seeps away
the breath that lay within,
it curses my throat
and opens my tongue.

I weep and tear away at it,
hoping to free my being
from this Eve manifest.
I sound the drums in my chest
and wake the roar that sleeps.

I shall not feel you again…

Why do i write?
To help me through the sleepless nights?
What do i gain?
A way to verbally share the pain.
How does it help?
Gives me a way to express myself.
Poetry gives me a way to share my many thoughts
and the many battles that I've fought.
Why do I write?
Just because it feels so right.

Μέσα σε όνειρα και σε εφιάλτες
Τόσες ευκαιρίες και πρόσωπα σβησμένα
Βήματα που έγιναν με βάρος και με τόλμη
Και τελικά πήγαν χαμένα

Μέσα στη ζούγκλα ένα άγριο ζώο
Που δε ζητάει ποτέ αυτό που θέλει
Βρες το κάτω από το δέρμα
Σκάψε εντός, κοίτα στον καθρέφτη

Είναι ένα παζλ που του λείπουν κομμάτια
Είναι ένα αίνιγμα που του λείπουν στοιχεία
Μια πόλη στον θόρυβο πνιγμένη
Και ποιος ο λόγος μου να μείνω;

Όπου κι αν δείχνουν τα σημάδια
Όποια κατεύθυνση κι αν δίνουν
Εκείνη─      μισεί εμένα
Και εγώ─    νιώθω το ίδιο

There once was a munchkin from Oz
Named Phineas Entwhistle Boz:
     The Lollipop Guild
     Had Phineas killed:
Their reason, they said, was becoz.

though i abide to reason,
for it answers my confusion.
but at times it’s an oblivion,
in some worlds unexplained.

the man with unexplained hunger
for that feeling is devastatingly ******
the owner said just eat the bread
but the men insisted to be a threat
so for bread and an overture was dealt

weirdly, He referenced the hollow,
with an underwater volcano.
whilst intellects tried to argue and reason,
He simply said it’s no symbol,
wickedly leaving everyone dumbfounded.

or about the girl falling down
into a deep but surreal void
cakes devoured and hot tea spilled
a place where roses are smeared
gladly she came back polished

masses of reading were conducted,
ideas that were intriguing but conflicting,
yet amidst all assumption and reason,
we may have been blinded,
there may be no secret to hide.

though inexplicable through reason,
i can still explain it with one reason,
for it is the art of nonsensical whimsicality!

Saturday, May 31, 2025
7:48 AM
Extra terrestrial mote in a sunbeam

curious particle thunk to death still
jiggling Brownianly, when adsorbed on my eye

“Three quarks for Muster Mork!”

Kworking out Complex Adaptive Systems.
In noumenon perceived, perhaps,
a whisp of wish we knew, perchance…
A noumenal flash,
and all the ever is, was,
at fundamental centrality
apparently expanding until

some initial torque inserts
curveball science allowing
bits to bang into bits and stick,
or carom off in predictable ways

like, as not, in theory.

Then, should one think onward still,

noumenal nominal notions
make letters let nonsense emanate
natural schemata muses index using

creative compulsion classically causing

an instant to cease.

I always carry a question, with me inside,
What is my purpose, why am I still alive,
I know there is a reason, that’s why I always try.

I was the youngest in my family, of five,
My parents, two siblings, and the lady I married,
Their souls moved on, when they died,
One thing I have learned, how to wipe tears from my eyes.

I personally don’t know anyone,
Living in the situation, I’m in,
Everyone, may not always agree, they still have family,
That they can call kin, I would have a hard time,
Explaining, the emotions & feelings, I carry within.

No one to make plans with, in any way,
Only thoughts in my mind, if I have a good or bad day,
I do know one thing, I am next in line,
To be placed, in a grave.
The End

                                   The Original: Tom Maxwell © 5/05/2025 AD