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They sell us comfort, coin by coin,
While truth lies quiet, unemployed.
A system built on silent screams,
Where dreams are bought, and sold as schemes.

Investors grin behind the glass,
As need and pain walk slowly past.
The people bend, but rarely break—
Not yet awake, but far from fake.

We trade our power for a price,
Forget that unity cuts twice.
Divided, numb, we play their game—
Each dollar tagged with someone’s name.

But sparks can start from aching hearts,
From minds that dare to question parts.
And if we rise—not just for self,
But human worth above the wealth—

Then change won’t knock. It will arrive.
We’ll see the world, not just survive.
For when the many choose to see,
No wall of gold can cage the free.
This poem was written by ChatGPT based on a passionate reflection that I had I voiced frustration with how modern society prioritizes profit over people. I emphasized the need for systemic reform, greater public unity, and improved education to help individuals recognize their power in shaping the world. From that heartfelt message, ChatGPT crafted “The Cost of Silence,” a poem exploring the tension between corporate greed and human need. It critiques the investor-driven economy, highlights the quiet strength of the public, and ends on a hopeful note—suggesting that awareness and unity can ignite meaningful change. The work blends emotional weight with rhythmic clarity, offering both a critique and a call to action.
SL 7d
Love is in the rain,
and among the thunder
Love is inside every bird,
shot down by a hunter.

Love touches the horizon,
wandering all around the sea
Love sits still inside every heart,
waiting to be free.

Love hangs in thick air,
creating dainty spots on grass
Love is inside every dust particle,
settling down on a carcass.

Love is among the crowd,
penetrating wide and afar
Love is inside every boy
who has lost his father in war.

Love is in the colours,
spread out on life's palette,
But is love inside every man,
having a heart so scarlet?
William Woods Apr 16
Propellers ripped through the morning air. —Destroying the peaceful solitude. The yet conscious hikers stare on, unaware or uncaring of the violence unfolding. Circling like vultures, the shots rang out…Do it for good or do it for gold. Do it for likes or do it for strife…. —Each one howled and growled, yipped and they yapped, even the pups tried to keep up….—A lone soul listed with intent, just two hours before—— before they came, and took more than lives…
——but they also gave, they gave us this poem to read,  and a  lesson to teach….and a wish to one day live in harmony…
Immortality Mar 14
Colors fall
laughter rises.
Pink, green, yellow, red
then a hug.

Hands, cheeks, hearts,
all the same,
we find unity
in the mess.

A day to cherish,
crafting memories
that never fade.
Holi is a festival that comes from an old Hindu story about Prince Prahlad and his evil aunt, Holika. Prahlad, a devoted follower of Lord Vishnu, was saved from a fire by divine intervention, while his evil aunt, Holika, perished in those flames. This symbolizes the victory of good over evil. It also marks the arrival of spring. A lot of delicioussss snacks and dishes are prepared (my fav part of this festival... hehehe)
Well, let us live in harmony, spreading peace and happiness. Happy Holi to all my HP friends!!!!!
Gideon Mar 8
Like mushrooms, we are connected.
It is hard to see where one fungus stops.
And the next one starts.
The complex network of mycelium
Ties us all together at the root.
We grow from the mossy ground,
Unsure if we are a new being
Or just a new extension of the whole.
Regardless, we are each unique.
Distinguishable.
We stand alone as ourselves,
But we grow together as one.
Are we a family?
Or are we different organs of one organism,
Working in tandem, doing our part?
I suppose all these descriptions can coexist together.
We do work together, sharing resources,
Distributing based on need, not want.
We are a family of mushrooms.
Our spores share the same DNA
As they float through the air.
We are one with each other,
But we are also our own selves.
Gabriel Yale Mar 6
Let’s build bridges over the river of tears,
Let’s sow tomorrow in empty places.
Let the wind carry dreams far away,
A new world is born in our hearts.

Fate and time are in our hands,
The earth changes when I change.
When the light in our eyes has faded somewhere,
Let’s ignite a new flame in our hearts.
Old and young,
we bleed the same.
Queer and straight,
we bleed the same.
Fat and thin,
we bleed the same.
Black and white,
we bleed the same.

We were not born to hate—
we are taught to hate.
And those who indoctrinate
are the ones who shan’t create.

We must end this self-obsession,
this sickness that breeds oppression.
Stop feeding children poisoned lies
that twist their hearts and cloud their eyes.

Instead, teach love—teach respect,
so we can learn to reconnect.
Save them from our ignorance,
for we are the same—same—no different.
A powerful message of unity, equality, and the dangers of learned hatred.
The Dragon year, a vibrant hue,
Now fades, a memory, bittersweet and true.
Solitude's embrace, a winter's chill,
Gave way to warmth, a love that time can't ****.

The Rabbit year, a sorrow's bitter sting,
Left scars unseen, a wounded spirit's wing.
The Dragon's dawn, a fragile, timid bloom,
Seeking solace in life's quiet room.

But destiny, with gentle, guiding hand,
Revealed a soul, a kindred understand.
Beyond the surface, deep within her core,
The anguish seen, and wounds forevermore.

A solace offered, unexpected grace,
Two souls entwined in a warm embrace.
The spark ignited, a love beyond compare,
Mending the broken, easing every care.

Now hand in hand, they journey to the Snake,
A new beginning, for love's sweet sake.
Heart to heart, a balance they will find,
Forever bound, in love's embrace entwined.
2023 Year of the Rabbit
2024 Year of the Dragon
2025 Year of the Snake

This poem was written about our Chinese Lunar New Years (29Jan2025) and the bringing the Dragon to a close, embracing the Snake, but the Journey that my love endured from the end of Rabbit to the beginning of Snake.
Steve Page Jan 24
The Last Priest smiled his blessings
indiscriminately, bridging,
building a new priesthood
beyond borders, across tribes
ignoring gender, discounting class
blind to race, snubbing rank,
denying privilege and preferring
a new holy nationality
for refugees, for stateless souls
like mine
- like ours
I wrote this over 7 years ago.  We still need reminding.
1 Peter 2:9-10
9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
10 Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

Galatians 3:26-29
26 So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith,
27 for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.
28 There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
29 If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.
See God, both good and bad, in the image of others.
Hear God, both good and bad, in the messages of others.
Understand what is seen and heard,
And know God more intimately through each other.
—Timothy Charles Carter
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