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Bullet 6d
I’ve been backstabbed
I’ve been backhanded
I’ve been backflipping money
I've been backtracking destiny
I’ve been backed into a corner
I’ve been brought back
I’ve been traveling backroads
I’ve been treated with the backlash
I’ve been left alone with no backups

They’ve told me to backdown
I’m back on the ground
Dugout deep in their backyard
But I learn from the backwards
See me now in my new backdrop
I’m working harder then ever, I can’t feel the backache
They want me to backup but my moves don’t backtrack
So they now pull out a gun out of their backpack
They’re here to take me out back
But this time I’m standing up, I now have a backbone
So I fire back
Ken Pepiton Sep 11
Realized liberty, bike lanes,
okeh, Bret Weinstein is right, they do measure liberty

all my roads have double yellow lines, as a measure of safety
in a two-way world.
{which is partly why the code in DNA runs one way}

measuring minding
trips my trigger, to what I was thinking of writing
while watching a whispy-white haired man-my-age,
measuring the edge of a two-story house,

which a good man is building for his daughter,
down the hill, from where I sit.
That old man is bowed, in a compressed spine
kinda way,
bam bam men walked that way, in China, before the dams.

Tote that bail, tug that rope, nuthadayowe-der wise,
otherwise, aliens versus everything
pop knowns
you had locked away, in those gated intellectual troughs.
Yes, yes, troughs,
Pigs eat from troughs, cows eat from cribs,
chickens eat from dirt and sheep *** all the grass for wool
to pull over our eyes
filtering lies
like sunlight under big old Pines shading little old
Rosemary patches that feed bees,
wooly eyes, wise
meander, would you say away from world's wisest men discussing
what may be done, we set a spell, make peace with
having nothing else to do.

-- that sorta ran through my mind as I watched the elderly carpenter.
He was careful, but not afraid, aware.
He stepped from joist to joist,
at the very edge of the second story peak edge
perpendicular to the foundation square,

eye-ball-level to me
slow and steady he takes a tape, {such a witty invention}
a tape attached to a spring,
whereas once such things were actual hinged wands that unfolded
at the flick of an old wizards wrist,

then out came the soapstone, to lay down the line,
make the mark.
Here is where we cut, measure twice,
cut once,

he is sayin' in his mind, to me, I think, I imagine being told
this is how we learn what is right.
we learn to measure what works by what is.

If the distance between two points is beyond the reach, oopshit
I got distracted and he fell.
Things we imagine catching attention, good enough to step...
Zack Ripley Aug 13
Take your time.
Take someone's hand.
Take control.
Take a stand.
Take a bow.
Take a breath.
Then, when you're ready, take that first step.
abecedarian Jul 4
for all who understand perfectly why perfection can never be,
                            and Adriana Barreiros~**

Todays new millionth sunrise bids me stand,
observe the river traffic from my kitchen window,
accept that my takings are debts,
a few, even paid back,
yet, most still owed,
for the origins of all my poems,
are oddly and oddity old,
unoriginal, second, third handed
as I look through the eyes of the dead,
and yours too,
this my unoriginal,
original sin....
(pretending  I am a poet)

neglect and respect do not rhyme,

{will grant you one,
will give you none.

will demand one,
will send you some.

you poets,
always thinking
you can get away
with murdering
the English language.

***** of assonance,
you do not fool me,
I’ve killed a thousand
men’s “original”rhymes,
while you’ve been
fast sleeping,
they’ve been
fast seeping.

I’ll give you no quarter,
won’t spare a lousy dime,
my spare change,
is poet-unaffordable,
cheap suited hucksters.

work and ****
do rhyme.  
you can be one,
if you do not
put in some.

work by day,
slave by night.

awake to the sun’s
inquiry, what have
you done for me


all you have to show is this
scribbilus miscellaneous,
tear up your lice-ence,
poetic and DMV, you
ain’t going nowhere.

was branded by hot iron,
early on,
brandy channing.

your best nightmare,
guidance counselor,
great big fairie,
poseur, exposer,
m u r d e r e r
of awful poetry}

what do you stand for?
neglect and respect
you stand
thispanman Jun 7
Through pain
Through glory
Through gain
Through boring
We stand

Though cracked
Though hated
Though sacked
Though berated
We stand

With smiles
With laughs
With trials
With riff-raffs
We stand

Stand before
Stand above
Stand the gore
Stand the lore
We stand

As one
Battle done

We stand
I didn't intend to have this written insight of recent events but instead was just supposed to be for Pride Month. You may interpret it as you will, stay strong, and keep standing.
Zack Ripley Jun 4
"I wish I wasn't so different
from everyone."
"You've got more in common
With people than you think."
"Oh yeah? Like what?"
"Well, once upon a time, we were smaller.
Then, we grew taller. Or rounder.
Maybe more than we'd like, but we all grew stronger."
"Well, I don't feel very strong right now."
"And that's okay. We all fall. Sometimes like a sack of bricks.
Sometimes with the grace of a sunset.
But at some point, we all get up.
And when you're ready to stand, I think you'll find
There's fight left in you yet."
Gracie Knoll Jun 3
Here I stand
Wondering when my mind
Was shaped by all these lies
That carried me this far

Here I stand
How did I get here?
It wasn’t my own feet
That carried me this far

But it’s my hand
Can reach out,
Its my voice,
Can speak up,
It’s my feet
That can stand

Here I stand
Prejudice in hand
Ready to let go
And walk into this fire

Here I stand
Humbly armed with love
Can you forgive us?
We’re walking into fire

Here I stand
Swathed in all your tears
Appalled by all these years
Let’s walk into the fire

I will never
I could never
But I stand
with you
Crego Jun 1
Bleed my mind out
Onto paper again
It’s in a cage
I’m full of rage
Things can’t be the same.
**** a phase, this is a chapter
Turn the page, streets in flames
Things can’t be the same.
I feel the pain when I see their eyes
And I can **** near taste it
They wanna rewrite history
But the noise too loud
So they can’t erase it
Things can’t be the same
Light it
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