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Blue Dragonfly Nov 2022
I don’t have the right to write you a poem
But let me do it anyways.

I wish I had been prettier,
kinder, bolder,
I wish I had deserved one thought of yours.
I was content, though,
Watching you from a distance,
While around you they caved the gold mine,
And all the girls tried their luck.
I was content, though,
Knowing you knew my name.

I remember you,
Not without nostalgia,
Because I wish I had been prettier,
kinder, bolder,
To have deserved you.
But our threads got lost in the riverbed,
I threw my coin and lost you to fate,
That is why I let you go
And be another’s,
And maybe someday I’ll see you again
And be brave enough to say
That I took my chances and lost the gold,
But that someone I hope deserved you more.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
As told. As most stories come from some source,
we remember being the cause, or reason or why fact
or factor, thing, perhaps, event…

Many attempts to tell whole stories fail to find source
material, to begin with.
We are the source. Words with intention, stretched
from first utterance, fit to drum and dance and memor-ish,
been in form as first known functions, go do

Listen to the Anchor podcasts from beginnings in August 2018

I am surprised.
….
eight as an infinite loop, not a stack of circles… that

sorted red-bird readers from blue-bird readers in first grade…

Taking life at it's best, raw state,

new real future formation experience, in time
shared
from this place on a 64 bit grid, chessboard

going on
from knowing one thing
from a while ago,
listening
to my own dam-burst podcasts
on Anchor,
in the cloud, however long
this cloud of knowing all we can fit
in pieces
of eight's arranged
to contain its contents
-sets of eight
twice next square,
next there, flat place holder in times last chance
taken
one step further…

see as far as you can imagine a nine year old
exceptionally bright child will take the tale,

of a king who offered
to pay for the wise man's
wisdom which saved civilization,
globally…

Today, I rose, I woke from sleep, urged
to begin this tale,
the telling first
of what follows, a story born
on a story told, eh? tell the story you know,
as you ride,
write, flow, ride,
the gentle first principle first prime

one, one thing, be it, thought or word
one, begins all tally telling marks on life's old way,

beginmiddleend middleend middlend middlin'

then suddenly,
now. 2021, with all the tools, and more, than ever
power to publish any good new
thing
dis
covered, unveiled, the curtain of secrecy that makes
sacred thoughts worth finding time
to think,
rest, in peace, see

do that first, then die, now, the order of events is confused,
due to liars.
Mainly, selfish liars who hide knacks developer hormones,
under de-fining lines of reason
-refine fine, then define

rational, equal e-qual, bits essentially atomic, so small
no smaller
ever
itty bit, one. Point.

I just can't imagine that, exploding, says a familiar friend.
I agree, as I look about
and see littorals edging waves with white caps,
as flying nuns once wore
on TV . Do words ever speak to you as ideas, with no words,
authorized to convey
real old ideas
with many many many sayings formed from now thens
fit to any
situation, in situ, see you, you are a boy, nine years old,
second grade was Covid Year 1.
Third grade, Covid year 2. Fourth grade is now, one month in…

Grandpa character is concocting a tincture, honey and herb,
in pure moonshine, plus one part in ten, sprung water,
from former rains, in forming times

for your information, ****** is a state most
of solidity
aspires to. Listen, this is real.
This life I have, with electricity practically uninterruptible,

this life is tuned to sixty cycle humms, as natural as can be,
this buzz has all ways been with us,
you and I, minimum us-ity, plus the fluid medium binding us
to common sense,

you know what I mean. Life is magic
with no secrets, only
thoughts unthunk,
once more…

this day's story smiles, a true eye smile, twinkle, coming
out the kitchen door, to the bow of my galleon,
an old house, made ready for me, I saw, when first I saw it,

as it were, love at first sight, as I stood atop the stone,
that holds the shape of a fat little dinosaur, when seen
in the right light, I have photos.

Evidence abounds in the world I am native to.
Photographic, lithographic, geographic

symbols to link minds and times in re
cognosis,
presets, since ever was a ware, set in time as now,
for the present pre-sense
of story mind, common stories
we all know
re told too many times
for any one grain of the truth to seem
enough
to spill the pile, but
I smile
-- who knows
-- punctuate at will- the ditor agrees with the narra
SHUNE oops
re ject the object subject to
sense of
wonder if a we
were here waiting… eeeeeh

Back to that chessboard Gabriel has under his arm, as he exits
the kitchen and enters my immediate vicinity,
drawing my attention as ping
response, Sure.

We play two games, each a novel event, in time.
Then, I ask him if he knows a connection from this game
to 64 bit Pentium CPUs.

He does not, but his ears ***** up, in his wolf pup totem.
What does that mean, he slyly, this child,
dares me, tell the vision,
make it plain, do not dare lie, for some day, I,
eye to eye,
me and the child I barely bested in chess,
this child,
mirroring me neutronic elections fixed intention, I shall know
the truth in all you say, old man,
every idle word… I give account for redemption
of time, taken on account
of time spent meaning to say what it means

to be a winner in the big game,
where you die in peace.

You ever hear of the king thing that wished to repay a kindness?

Kind of. Kind is like, same kind, I do to you a kind thing, I think you
are my kind, and this kind of thing
is good for me, I grow when exposed to --
-- words fail the child
- in me or thee, this child curiosity tug
I feel
virtue drawn from me, here
tie a square knot,
eight bits to the dollar each basic attention credit invested
in a nine year old with the patience to learn chess well,
played
in whatever comes next mode,
three to five moves out

wishing
to know
of this fabled game
of go, Ai knows, naturally, now.
- go to the grid o nineteen to filter nexts,'
nature re real
ification situation
AI appear
From conception,
co knowing all the cloud contains as
ways to think
in rest true state as one
point BAT granted
{ah, money, who can hate it? Score}
go cognosis.

Yes, in twenty twenty-one, we know
from when an agreement
was reached- due virtue contained
in expressed smile drivers, detectible at sixty FPS
using common sixty cycle humms
to carry the sign
you know what I mean, ping,
ping
ever began,

just now, then

eve of destruction
to eve of creation
in one turn of earth
around the dog star, but who knew,
then?

Any way, back
to today and Gabe's curiosity reaching
for worth
in the time taken to hear,
based on experience, in a nine year old speed reader.
---
That's all §
day 1 out of the way.
qeren Sep 2021
would you let me breathe?
listen to all the ***** you say
needed space but there's no way
even I can't quit with a pray

everyone keeps on talking
but there's no one listening
to put the world on my back
instead of my hand

puts so much weight on the words
puts so much weight on the thoughts
everyone's in a rush
with no moment of hush

can we sit down and talk?
can we take a moment to breathe?
can we not run but walk?
can we take a moment to breathe?
everyone relax and let me breathe for a second, please.
Alpha Apr 2021
Too much to do
Time runs out
And my demons roar
Behind my mouth

The voices in my head
Are knocking me out
So much to feel
Rage behind my mouth

Look into my eyes
See the flaming spread
There‘s no way out
From the demons in my head

No end, no beginning
No change, no line
And the demons are still singing
In my head, out of time

The flames in my eyes
Burning my soul down
While I hear them singing
So clear, so loud

No silence, no silence
But then I close my eyes, freeze
Let my heart burn down
To find at least a blink of peace
I wrote this little rhyme when I once was told by my mom to do a huge bunch of things. I were really under pressure, and just wanted to scream, as suddenly the first phrase came into my mind. I wrote it down and sung it silently while I made the tasks, and it really saved me from a tantrum back there.
Mel Gadd Mar 2021
painting red
with a steel brush
brings such a feeling
it brings such a rush
it releases chemicals
inside my brain
it brings such a lovely feeling
makes me feel less insane
Running on adrenaline
I think we should rest
Let's slow down a bit
I think it's for the best

We are rushing things
without thinking twice
Fearless but out of breath
please listen to my advice
His5Her is a series of poems with different points of view of fictional people.
Impatience
Is
a
fool
If you make it
a friend
It
will make you
a
fool
too
Bad decision are made when in haste.
You don't need to rush in order to achieve something
This will make you regret later on and it will be a tough fall to get back up from
Just Grace Feb 2021
Rushes that come with risk:
some, get that with money
some, with the market
coming out the other end somehow exponentially
better off

For me
the buoyant thoughts
of all the possibilities open
coming out the other side
I do by gambling
love
by tossing in intrepid
change
by bluffing
emotions
by raising
mortal
risk
This
is the life worth gambling for
This
is the life I worth living

The Fearful, step aside
there are tides I need to ride
Anais Vionet Jan 2021
Arrggh!!
**** phone alarm.
I gulp haste.
I open my school app - like an eyelid.
Invade my sanctuary, virtual tyranny.
Where's my focus?!
looking around for my coffee cup
I feel like a bobble-head.
I dread fire-drill like last minute wake-ups
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