Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ken Pepiton Nov 2020
We hold these truths,
there is a Zebra tree on a tiny island
in Lake Wanaka on the relatively large island
called New Zealand.

Nation is not a valid variable to sort on.

So here, we sort worth on agreeing
we are equally
Natives of Earth. First yes.

More yeses follow.

Learn what you have done.
Know what you are doing.
Be good,
let the bruised flesh not rise in hot pride,

see we all are involved in evolving into ever
better,

so we think, perhaps,
others aboard my ark also think.

We are equal in this realm, each mind joined

junction branch root, not from
billions and billions of
Jahre zuvor,
წლების წინ
ts’lebis ts’in { Georgian script looks magic, eh}

Secrets in tongues died with the last word,
spoken toward unhearing ears,

… is it reality interrupting or
knocking needs gumming up the works…

--------


Field-wide signal, crisp and clear, some fell on idle minds,

that's fine  , signal how are you.

You say, responsibly, My side is winning.
No one ever asks what that means.

The field the world,
war is the only story, Walt imagined,
he was infected, Whitman,
with a known' opinion
-- some wise and well-known
-- being arisen from behind the ivied walls
- I heard this in passing,
- anonymous did not say this:
the function for the sublime is to free us from the slavery
of pleasure
- on another vector, I heard this:
the need to heal violence, forces life into idle words
used maliciously, in tests of conscience-useness.

Poverty never hears the highest minded reasons
for the states of mind attempted by the
most curious among us

--- empty of the wy. ha… I don' know I glanced away
stat tic… what's missing?
--- its like any other day, it ends with me entranced
by the play of winds with dust and smoke and water
droplets too light to fall,

I take instant HDR images as the time passes and the art
appears, as if for me alone,
I am the only mental
being seeing this,
I have proof,
I'll show you, someday, maybe…
but today,
I got took t' school, behind the gated mental institution,

geni-used magi-like instinct-gut spirit-vapor
-- rumor has it, I went mad
caused
by you or me, I can't say.

But just the other day, I was thinking, you may remember
my sunsets,
you would have noticed them
when you stole my weedeater.

--------

No school of the prophets foresaw my death,
so far as I may know,
I am by chance, bon chance,
living in lines of consequential events.
And my birth was a quirk of circumstances.

As special as any multi cellular creature,
if the statisticians are aiming at
the proper means of measuring.

There remain professors who teach man is the measure
of all things, wrong, in my opinion.

Ha. I said that. Like to Cambridge, it's image in my immaterial
realm where all things men agreed to use for ever after,

are similar in effect to the Ghostbusters Marshmallow role.

My fingerprint is less than nine points similar
to your fingerprint, no matter who you are.
We are equals in that regard,
our self is commonly unique, as we are.
Our kind.
We, the people of Earth. The native species,
Whumo Sapient Sapiens is us.
Knowers that know.
Thinkers that think we know. There is no
they
behind the curtain
knowing anything that  you may not know
as much
as you can swallow,
a bit per quantasec, after chewing fifty years.

In this medium,
it's me and you, object, subject, reject defect
if then or else
find that more perfect
union,
that knot that binds our minds in agreement,
this is that
which has no religious name, save good and plenty…

not the candy, but that's cool, I thought that, too.

We, me and you, since we think alike,
we could make up a mind and invite others

to take parts in grand epic dramas of ever
learning,
war never has arisen on a reason that reasons
rationally valanced toward life,
and that,
more abundantly…

Now, see those greedy folks,
look real
close,
see. You never see such a one, with a satisfied mind,
ever learning, never knowing everything,
happy as hell from a Sisyphean POV
_ Changed my entire environment, by movin' three rods north.
Astrea Aug 2020
The snow collapses on top of each other,
the crystalline flakes stacking up prettily;
winter is the season when
beauty falls in disarray
Coleen Mzarriz May 2020
You are the snowflake
in the buoyant afternoon
where you fade away still,
when I look at you,
pure like a waterfall.

It crashes and I can grapple the sound,
the continuous wave where
the titanic lies down with its
thousand sweet ghosts dancing into waltz
and where the water's steep falls
deep down and deep
and beneath.

You are the snowflake
in the crisp of December
where you turn into a delicate sixfold symmetry.

Where you were as remarkable as white
and bright like the bustling car rides and bus stops
where even the coldness can be someone's warmth.

In every season there's you,
different from time to time
still, when I look at you,
you are as graceful, majestic
for the weather to cast its rain.
Forecast, bluer than the usual;

And when I look at you,
you will always be
the snowflake that melts
in the sunny afternoon
and a delicate sixfold symmetry
in the winter of December.
...and when I look at you, you will always be the snowflake that melts, that transforms, as white, as clearest among the rest.
ryn Apr 2020
I’ve had this snowflake.

Something so delicate,
pure and unique,
resting upon my open palm.

Such preciousness,
I’d never want
to lose it to the passing gale
or the spiteful sun.

So I held it in a clench.
And I’ve held it like that
ever since.

In my fist,
forever it will live.

Never again
will I hold it
in an open hand.

Because I’m afraid.
I’m afraid if I did,
then I would know,
for sure that it had gone.

That it had melted
by the warmth
of my grip
and slipped away quietly
through my fingers,
and into the night.
Em Glass Mar 2020
I am melting.
There is me and us and the air between us.
The falling is the best part.
Will I ever start again?
See me crystalline, and marvel
at all of us different but packed, whispering across space.
The best thing I ever did was grow
into the shape I am.
I slicked the roads.
I slicked the roads
but in the morning I refract the light.
I am for growing, then falling, then rising.
For children not knowing how I came to be.
For curiosity.
Saige Mar 2020
snow
          f
             a
                l
                   l
                      s
    (silently)
relahxe Feb 2020
One day I shall see a snowflake
and identify with its purity

One day I shall smell a candle
and let it fully fill my lungs

One day I shall listen to the rain
and feel it pouring down my soul

One day I shall sip my tea
and enjoy every gulp of it

One day I shall watch the stars
and see myself running with them

One day I shall look in the mirror
and recognise a beauty previously covert

One day I shall inhale deeply
and exhale as if for the last time

One day I shall close my eyes
happy with the person I've become

One day I'll love myself
just as much as I deserve to

One day.
Today.
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
Humble
Snowflake
Lonely little
Snowflake
Melting in my hand
A moment
So sate
So sweet
You remember
Nowt
Of dying
To simply be

How I envy thee
Rupert Pip Oct 2019
These pumped up kids with
their sugar coated noses?
Minds supplied with
hand guns and prickeled roses?
-
Eating mushroom caps?
Raising tax? Running away
from office FAX
and paper stacks?
-
It’s a lie! We aren’t the
lazy generation of non-believers!
A drug ridden nation
of gamer streamers.
-
Who the **** said we don’t stand
for ****? We’re fighting
those that think that
climate heat is just a myth.
-
We ache for peace
in a world of
racist schemes
and broken dreams.
-
We’re out here aiming
so. much. higher.
When your mind is wired
by a narcissistic liar.
-
...And you say we ****?
Take a look around.
This world is changed
by those like us
that make a sound.
Next page