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You are the task
that would overwhelmingly
identify my voice range.

You are the response
that would screen
and leverage my multiple inputs.

I’m the header and footer
that would automatically work
across devices.

I’m are the hub
that would impact
all your on-the-go moves.

Considering this,
all I say is you are my E2E.

((E2E: Extended Experience trying to make Integrative))

© Feelings Coated
Mr Siri trying to make with Ms Alexa E2E2I: Extended Experience trying to make Integrative
Quinn Adaire Aug 28
One step at a time
One task at a time
One day at a time
One second at a time
Maybe I won’t break down this time.
One step.. two step.. three step...
Jon Thenes Mar 23
I create the floor
Through the act of sweeping
I unsleeve  my shelves of their volume
Of their heavings and will
I now welcome an unskilling
To the task of a swept floor
I unmake myself
Thorough  point
And attention
V liv Dec 2018
What do you do
When something you once loved
Becomes a tedious task
Nothing’s burning. What went wrong?
No one desires the simple song
you croak out for crumb suppers, ‘cos
it doesn’t make them think of feasts.
Release the guise of competition -
like you’d ever win these heats.

Behold who placed: staid mottoes
wearing proper faces wrapped
in proper chains.
Observe their seats in proper chairs:
the owners of their stake
never relinquishing the bloodline’s hold,
impenetrable walls between the well-born
and the cold.

Who likes us? Weakness does:
tremblers demanding ones like you
to save their damsel hide. The saved abide
all laws convenient to them;
for the rest, they cut a deal,
and you’re not in it.
Be afraid of that. They ratchet up
that fire finesse and do
damage control: what dare we salvage?
Wayward cities? Idle souls?

Compress them in a tank of rigid steel
mixed by the craven powers.
I’ve got mine - don’t call it ours
(although I speak for all of you.)
We’re through if you don’t show up
at my dinners, check in hand
in sleeve in shirt in suit
on fire -
when I’m done, sweep up your soot.
Now that you’ve been sold, what thing
will bring you back to us?
Arches of waver-lust, departuregrams
inform those on the freeway lam
and send us crashing gates and exit maps
as transit days dump rain
and what we know we’re in for gets too big.

Hurry to racing pits,
a bit of shelter huddled under heatlamps
pecked with pigeon dust & and odd late chills
that cracked the April. Plucky in
the clothing bone, we shiver, bide,
relent from marking make-up time
on coldwire sheets

We fold
and put work in our purse all wrong.
Some smarmy song New Yorks us, whinging on
where rent wars rage. Code-shifting blocks
of solace to the kept while crushing
others under debt - a glacial chill,
a respite, magnet phones left smartless,
calling on our wits
to ride those twists
through money-makers’ gauntlet.

Out of harm’s way, donning gowns
and Never’s hand-me-downs from
Stalling Leisure, Merry Ways - cinch up
and see what stays, what juice
the cosmic strain can free
when anger walls re-tighten down
to shape, or ****, without a sound.
A M Ryder Aug 2018
Find the blue bird of happiness
Find it, and be cured
A simple task he says, one of three
I'm not sure what the next will be
But he'll tell me
He'll tell me..
Danial John Jun 2018
Who would have though that the happiest days of my life would also be the worst.
Deep down inside my chest something has been growing... and soon I'll burst.
I do not understand why it's here, but I do know that it hurts.
What at first seemed a blessing turned out to be a curse.

This insidious beast, talks to me in my sleep.
It tells me lies, until nothing but false hope fills my eyes.
At first I tried to feed it, and when that didn't work I tried to free it.
Why won't it just let me be?

Still, there it stayed, in my chest... growing bigger and stronger day by day.
Even now, I can still feel it's foul poison lingering in my veins.
What once brought me joy now only brings me  pain.
I can't even remember when it infested my soul, but still I curse that day.

God please make it go away.
I am a man, yet I am only human, and I now see my problem has but one solution.
I must **** the love in my heart before it kills me.
I must relieve some of this woeful misery, it's the only way.

It hurts me to say, but I have my reasons.
The most important of which is simply self defense.

I must **** it before it kills me
**** it before it kills me
**** it, **** me
Self defense
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
You’re impenetrable my little
Nemean lion
You have cauterized your skin my brittle
Lernaean hydra
Forever I'll chase my crippled
Ceryneian hind
Where ever you lay waste my graceful
Erymanthian boar

Even if you never come clean my *****
Augean stable
No matter how many you eat my hungry
Stymphalian bird
No matter your myth my covetous
Cretan bull
No matter how many you’ve ate my cannibalistic
Mare of Diomedes

Even if blood has to shed my bellicose
Belt of Hippolyta
I built this field for us to grow my starving
Cow of Geryon
I will hold your world up my poisoned
Golden apple of the Hesperides
I will travel to the depths of hell for you my frightening
I don't think this works so well, may need to expand on it.
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