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One, one-hundredth of a century, one tenth of a decade,
Eight thousand, seven hundred, and sixty hours,
Five hundred twenty five thousand, six hundred minutes,
Thirty one million, four hundred forty nine thousand,
Six hundred seconds, three hundred sixty five days,
You just traveled through, in the year, twenty, twenty three!
Everyone has their own ways to slice it, dice it, cut it up,
In any size or shape. We only are served a limited amount,
In this life, use it to be productive, do not waste any, clean your plate,
You can cut it like a pie, so much to think in quiet alone,
To find, and meet your soul, another piece, to discover,
Your hidden talents, God sent you to this life with, for this short stay,
Everyone’s, is a little different, every day, plan, a piece for fun,
Time outside, connecting with nature, for we are a part of everyday,
Stay away from, the modern mind controlling devices, that give,
More power and control, over your short life to strangers, making,
You tell, real people in your life, you do not have enough time, in a day.
As you open your door, and welcome in, twenty, twenty four,
Think positive, associate with those who do the same, do not listen,
To negative stories, or repeat the weather report, many times a day,
The times have changed, take charge of your life, before, your mind,
Is totally under control, to others, as many actions already are today.
How often, do you only look for messages, or phone calls, twice a day,
Then let the phone lay, or schedule, one hour of television, turn it off, a
Walk away … take your life back, on new year’s day, life is a very short stay!

The Original: Tom Maxwell c 12/17/2023 A.D.
Happy New Year to all of the wonderful poets on here!
ladies change during the Christmas season You can walk up to a lady and say ** *** ** and they smile.....try that on a hot July day...
Mark Wanless Nov 2023
i think therefore i
am no i am therefore i
am yes am think now
Lawrence Hall Oct 2023
Lawrence Hall, HSG
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                   But Mom, All the Cool Kids are into Genocide!

                       “Students! Be the Fuhrer’s Propagandists!”

          **** poster ca. 1933, per Library of Congress: [Studenten seid
          Propagandisten des Führers Hoch-u. Fachschulen bekennen
          sich am 29. März zur Deutschen Freiheitsbewegung /
          (loc.gov)]

All the cool kids are into genocide
Slogans and posters and bullhorns and cries
Abandoning their studies to march outside
And scream the same 2,000-year-old lies

The InterGossip commands, and they obey
Blocking the streets and clenching each fist
Waving misspelt signs and yelling all day
Never pausing to ask if there’s something they’ve missed

Am I a hollow echo for some sycophant’s squall?
Will I fail to think for myself at all?
Think. Don't obey. Think.
Mark Wanless Sep 2023
i think therefore i
am wrong in the present and
i walk among stars
leeaaun Aug 2023
love make sense
when you think it
doesn't
ky Jul 2023
I think about us sometimes.
But we don't get to me
like we used to.

Don't get me wrong—
I still feel the same as I did before.
But all those feelings are
distant now.
They're fading.

Whenever I try to remember us,
all the good and the bad
blend in my mind.

The individual memories can't be separated
because they're so far away from their inception.

I don't know you.
I barely know myself
anymore.
Sean Achilleos Jul 2023
It was an ordinary nothingness day
I slipped on my clogs and went for a walk
The ones that smell like suede
It was cold, but sunny... winter sun
Very very still outside
The occasional motorist passing by
Where are they all going I wondered
The sound of my shoes
Like a horse galloping on a paved road
The trees looked particularly picturesque
As the sun hung still in the sky
I didn't feel sad this time
I didn't miss anyone
For a short moment I thought of things that could've been
But that was a fleeting thought that I shrugged off and left on the pavement
You have a reason to be here said a voice inside
Here... right now... in this specific space
In this place in time
You are simply somewhere on the planet
Breathing and living
Getting on with what is referred to as life
Breathe and live
Just simply breathe and live
sean achilleos
12 July '23
Mark Wanless Jul 2023
so show me again
what is in your mind i think
i choose to listen
Sean Achilleos Jun 2023
I saw an old farmhouse

It reminded me more of a home than just a house

I pictured myself living there

I pictured having the windows shut and the curtains drawn closed

I imagined silence

Behind this house there was a big mountain

Snow white clouds spilling over the peak like pouring milk

There was that silent sound again

Back inside I pictured an old black bakelite telephone in the passage

Only I knew the number

I could phone out

But there would be no incoming calls

I've chosen it this way

The kitchen is cozy and modest

A *** plant in the windowsill

The television and radio have been stacked inside the ceiling

They have become dust collectors

The only sound is the ticking of the clock

It doesn't matter if it runs down

Time is not important here

Not in this space

I eat  

I think

I go for a walk

I return

I drink a cup of tea

It's late afternoon and the sun wants to retire

I read

I think some more

I turn out the light

I go to sleep and forget
sean achilleos
19-06-23
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