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Shiv Pratap Pal Jun 2020
They are so much cunning and cruel
Yet they possess, intelligence and smartness
Yes, they are filled with over confidence
They are absolutely shameless too

Don’t you feel my dear?
They don't have any sort of fear
They are beating us, hitting us
And we are helplessly watching them

They are neither allowing us to weep
Not they are letting us to cry loud
They are snatching our source of livelihood
They are looting our meagre savings too

They are boring bigger holes in our pockets
By their powerful invisible technological drills
Selling all sorts of stuff they use to produce
Drugs, sanitizers, hand washes and what not

They are asking to keep our ugly mouth fully shut
By putting beautiful, colourful and fancier masks
They are not letting us to meet our friends
They are not letting us to share our meals

They are not allowing us to share our views
They are not allowing us to share our thoughts
With any of our friend, relatives and fellow citizens
They are just telling us to follow whatever they say

They are throwing ******* and garbage on us
In the name of science, health and hygiene
There appears to be not much science
In their so call science and modern science

Shamelessly they proclaim to be our saviours
Saving us from the army of an invisible enemy
Although existence of any such army is doubtful
But their intentions are doubtful and doubtful

If any such invisible army of enemy really exists?
It may have been raised and owned by them only
To **** the lives of all the other fellow humans on earth
And to fulfil their greed and lust for power and money

They are planning to inject in our bodies
Some drugs, chemical or any such thing
They will even charge money for that
And try to fill their everlasting greed

I wonder, who they are?
God, Demi Gods or the Devils
Or they are just a band of inhuman
Resembling a band of nasty humans

Do they really have some superpower?
Or they are just a bunch of ugly parasites?
Trying to draw everything from our lives
Just to feed himself and to recreate his own life
A poem from the point of view of  conspiracy theorists.
blushing prince Jun 2020
de facto fabrication just after the fact
the king mackeral always
dealing the blade to the sword fish
in a hasty attempt at drawing blanks
all confusion no feeling
the cowboys from those western films would have hated you
you could never tell who the good guy was
there's no duality only extreme alienation
and the tenuous fabric that exists between
man and everything else
something is always measured by the difference
it has in relation to another
the charisma from the hero
turned out only to be a severe drinking problem
Vera City May 2020
How they ridicule Jim,
The neighbourhood loner:
"wears a tinfoil hat" and
"turns his wifi off at night"

They all brand him a kook:
"well, you know he's a stoner,
funny coincidence though,
his forecasts have proved right!"
Carlo C Gomez Apr 2020
Chaos Theory is nobody's friend.

It will do the sensitive math on just about anyone; in constant loops, patterns, fractals, and repetitions.

This can lead to the butterfly effect:

A butterfly flapping its wings in China can cause a hurricane in Texas (or NYC, for that matter).

It's simply when the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.

To what does this measure?

That perhaps the present is already the future...
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2020
Shell casings strewn
On a rooftop
A grassy knoll
An underground garage
This is what ensues
When you hate the man
In front of you in line
And he happens
To step into Texas
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2017
Forest inquires:

How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise,
give it a face, surrender to the poem's own
vanity,
        and choose the poem's alignment?


                                                  an­ answer forms:

this alignment idea,
you think it simple,
everybody understands
what your inquiry means

alignment -  the appropriate relative position

we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer
                                                                ­                        from the Theory of Poetic Relativity

                                                   ­             i love your question;                              hold it to my nostrils,          
                                             ­             smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;
                                                                ­      
 kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple   soulfulness essential arousal;
for you see sir you have found
the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;

                                 answer no good, wholly insufficient?
                                        perfect.
                          as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note

                              
                            ­                        the earth has moved
                                our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times
                                    time and space have appropriated our prior
                                          
relativity

when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading  

and what was


**right before has left and the center has moved again
Nat,

This is probably just an insane thing of mine, but I cannot stand the center aligned formatted poetry. I want to read the poetry, but why center? I want to know why it is center aligned? If it is a metaphor for how poetry could/should serve as a balancing point, a countervailing force for a point, perhaps I could understand...but so many poems center aligned, I don't know, I am probably missing something.

A right aligned poem? Perhaps I could understand, if the content was asking me to revolt, to revolutionize, to counter the status quo. But a centered poem? What does the alignment mean?

anyway, it has been a long time since I've been around, keep writing, hope you are well.

-forest
Pepper Dove Mar 2020
A ghost is said to be a form of energy;
and we now know that energy can physically move objects.
Which would make sense when someone witnesses an object move independently,
they would immediately assume “ghost”.
But what if it wasn’t actually a ghost moving the object at all,
but really the person themselves?
We are starting to understand, more today than ever, that when we breakdown a humans molecules
to the tiniest points, known as “subatomic particles”,
that all that is left is light,
and that in fact, light is a form of energy,
therefore we humans are essentially energy.
Now knowing this,
and with practice…
why wouldn’t a human be able to harness their energy,
and use it to quite literally
move physical objects themselves??
Going further into this concept, where we are talking humans,
then we can’t ignore our biggest human quality: emotions,
which we are also now finally understanding to be a type of energy in itself,
and that it can also be felt…
such as when someone is sad near you, you are able to sense it
and feel bad for them...
So who’s to say that when a human has a panic attack, is outraged or even terrified,
wouldn’t be able to form a supercharge of energy from a build-up of emotions
and unconsciously move an object?
Therefore, confusing the incident with what seemed to have been
a ghost…
I wrote this 2 years ago and just now rediscovered it in my notes on my laptop... thought it was an interesting thought I had hahaha and figured I would share.
Carlo C Gomez Mar 2020
When I close my eyes
sleep does not come cheap,
today's cost
is inevitably tomorrow's loss.

Invisible connections,
in entropic waters,
burn out,
demanding to be re-soldered,

hardwired,
in the hopes
they will once again all fire
in the correct order,
at the right time,

(whenever the need may be).

And it's now here,
as I reach for you
across this memory bridge,
to find you safe and sound
tucked right under my chin.

I will learn to keep
my eyes shut tight,
allowing dreams to bend, loop,
and faithfully overwrite.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2020
king of all the children of prride,

a challenge

simulate the mind of christ,
imagine that,

but before that mind there were others,
fully contained

in the godhead,
******

the reference points we are mortal at or on or in or of or
whatever

withknown mitgnostic mag-I-artful-intuition ifity

springing, post clockwork world,
post atomic force augmention focus visuals translated

in virtual 2-d

a word. is. wide or long but never short and long and high or low,

without a very sophia isticated way of folding

re
ality into now, with you finding yourself beyond the Disney-ifiers

set with cubic ziconia tiaras holding mantilla veils

covering the window in the top of you head.

--- great message, I got a lot out o' that.
--- especially the worthship

seamanship **** preventer, look up, y' re

demption station draweth nigh,
we all *** rrecycle by and by,

jest, decide not to lie,

ye get by. And y'kids do, too.
Rope and release
CC Jan 2020
Where?...
What's happening.
No, no, something is wrong. Very, very wrong.
Why can't I see?
Where, am, am I the only one here?
...
...
It's cold here..
And I think I'm lonely.
I'll make something
And it will be beautiful
Bright
It will explode
With life
No more darkness
I can rest easy
Humanity, I’ll call it
They shall be perfect
And I can go back to sleep.
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