Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I am the sun, I energize your day.
I speak expressly to the humid air;
'dry up for a day that is bright and fair.'
I command moisture to dry the lush hay
for non-ruminants to be well nourished.
I am ageless, and I am distinguished.
My golden rays have living things enriched,
my yellow rays induce the labourer's sleep,
having toiled so hard for his family's upkeep.
The flower smiles at my usual advances,
and with her fixed gaze, she makes no glances.
My loving rays speak with no utterances.

The day flourishes with my assistance,
as I serve from my celestial distance.
My service to you, none else can replicate.
Without me, life-form will from the earth vacate.
A poem about the sun
neth jones Apr 2022
at a glimpse i clock the sky
a curtain's been draped
     and we are all shaded
all of nature shares one direction
     narrowing on the horror :
a munking and blotted violation
     the sun has filled with dark ink
an embolism out of the order of life
     voiding over us
                     over the city
                     the world described beyond
                       all voided over

i fall
         and shucked
the people around me go simple
dumb and bound with crimple gawps
     we are mugged by the sight

i feel like a farmed over minefield
              furrows being turned
trotted out
             anointed fears climb my throat
it is a show sung ill
       darker sunk
     than its surrounding leadened soak
yet ringed tightly with an annihilating halo

practical thought becomes clotted
   and my primal processor is tinkered with
evil witterings squirrel about in my thinker
my being is topped up with depravity

i must surely **** someone ?
but who..
(that kid with drool ? /
that business suit with brand name trainers ?)
   and for what reason ?

i madly stare about
look at them ; so human and null
potential victims all
                   raking in snapshots of this ecliptic venom
                     adding to the vat collective online
Prune The Brutes !
it is The Eighth Day and I know my role
Ha !
        such livid thoughts scheme

i shall wait out this exposure looked down upon
take some pics with the others
perpetrate goodly behaviour
mimic the tossers
pass through the ordeal
        with communal protection
                    and live another day
             happy slapped
                       with fresh mad
We know that money is power
And has been all along
But now in Bitcoin’s hour
Our money is fully strong

No inflation from dilution
All value it retains
A useful grand solution
To safely grow our gains

Birthed by light from solar waves
Encrypted crystal backing
True ownership - its ledger saves
Every detail tracking

Bitcoin builds a “cross world” trust
Forming firm foundations
For making, trading, holding wealth
For people, groups, and nations
This is Bitcoin Poem 001 at and you can see it displayed on a background when you (copy and paste the link below).
Inspired by Michael Saylor.

Michael Saylor is the CEO of MicroStrategy (MSTR) and one of the most active proponents of Bitcoin.  He says Bitcoin is Monetary Integrity.  He is also the author of “The Mobile Wave” and started Saylor Academy - a non profit providing free education to over 1 million students.
Crucifix Oct 2021
Bloated solar systems draw sharp ships aloft its great celestial sea. I am battered and broken by the shift the storm sends my body adrift. But I seek to float and be rebuilt by constellations consolidating soulful songs so sight full that a bright star might sink into my orbit and maybe I could catch some light and absorb it.
I feel like I’ll never find the love I’m looking for
ranveer joshua Aug 2021
oceanic feeling echoing throughout my house
while tripping over my plaid pajama pants
and the soles of my feet rejuvenated by the hot concrete
of recent days
the solar panels
and wind turbines
couldn't ALLEVIATE
the cold indoor climes

thereby causing the folks
of Texas to freeze
under the many inches
of thick snow

how they all hankered
for that old fashioned
coal generated
which would ALLEVIATE
the boreal conditions
Jordan Gee Oct 2020
Breathe Steady 10.29.20
go forth then, unto God and his Glory, abounding and rejoicing in the power and peace of that holy dwelling place.
abide, therefore, forever in the Love and in the Light.
-sayeth  the channelings, sayeth the distorted mask,
sayeth that through which sound passes.-

sons and daughters of the Earth who bathe in the waters
drawn of love/light/wisdom in the bathhouse of
the higher densities and inner planes.
Bath waters of golden white light, brilliant in a
radial pouring forth of tangible understanding and freewill.
scarcely can such energy be described in so
cumbersome a language, charming as it endeavors to be.
underwhelming must the emotions evoked be
in comparison with the All Glory of experience of
that which is spoken of.
the death ****** of the fire-bird serves as its own
inoculum and womb; two ends of a terminus
in polarity.

I activate in order to combine,
dwindling dread.
I seal the upswing of trans-dimensional laughter,
with the everyday tone of exodus.
I am guided by the advent of thermals.
-I am a solar riptide, surf me-

and then time slowed way down.
the semi trucks were like great sea mammals with
their whale calls and slow passage by the flanks.
“Who are you?”
“I am the Kalachakra.”
“Did you hear that?” (hushed tones, hands cover the phone.)
I was quite close to the illusion of Death.
The opaque specter, shaking and rumbling the very
fabric of the matrix about me.
wavering not within the sinkhole of indifference lest my terror turn manifest.
I’ve risen from a pillar of salt,
I’ll rise from the embers next.
post bufo alvaris
Moonchild Aug 2020
The face of tomorrow
might be
the last of my sight
for the world;
and when my pain
ends today
then how could I ever feel
the love of one's presence
who might save me
from the eclipse that is passing,
from a story of lachrymose?
Next page