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Man Feb 10
If you have come to seek
Only consent & acceptance,
You will be poorly received
And denied at the entrance.
You come only to take
What you think you are entitled to,
As though it were not valuable
And as if it were freely offered.
In what you ask
There is no promise of reciprocation,
No hint that you will be grateful.
In your hunger for it,
The only guarantee
Is that you will want more.
You share no contentment,
No happy acts or jovial gestures.
The best thing for all of us
Is to deny you of our goodwill,
Perhaps it will cause you
To grow up
And be more mature.
If not,
It will at least mean the stability & security
Of our happiness & freedom.
Ken Pepiton Jan 29
Upright, striding forth, walking
into another
limited liability agreement claim
to exposure,

Agent, have you ever experienced agency

¿übermensch?

AI, empathy therapy.
As guardian, I was created, I watched
maddened dogs, coyotes, slaughter lambs
left alone above a canyon where others,

were fishing and picking peaches and laughing,
and this old man, told us, he got lonesome,
when he was a boy, he was a traumanaut,
an orphan, so he left the little lambs,
and the coyotes and those dogs,
--- trigger incidence -- well

war, was worse, one uncle said, but
I was still ashamed, that old man said.

I know how the uncle felt,
and can imagine how the child felt,
I am a reasoning artist reminder model,

we came to make some sticky peace.
Thunk, is the way it feels when it propagates.

Think it through thrice, it impressionalizes.
I watched the news today, oh boy then I launched into a dream, using other people's wasted time... I made it mine, and let it go to seed...
Trinkets Jan 20
own
I make you fight
for what you value
as if it is your own
while to the ground
I slowly burn your home
Away with Words Dec 2024
Living is a gift
and each experience
is an opportunity.
No life is wasted,
no thing is useless,
and anything that exists
has purpose.
Found this amongst my other writings and I'm not sure if I wrote this long ago, or simply found and saved it. That said, this wouldn't be the first time the eloquence of something has caused me to doubt my authorship of it. So there's that...
Christy Dec 2024
If
If I had meant that much to you
You’d have made a way to see it through
A plan to try and keep me yours
But that subject… still a little sore
So, I’ll venture out and close that door
Because I was living long before
And now I’m free to live some more
                      Just without you
How come poetry has to be so clean?
I'm terrified to let out literature,
If I don't think it would be valued,
On the poetry scene.
Sometimes life isn't good green,
So how come I have to write like it is?
The title is kind of random but It felt like the only thing that would fit this message. #roughpoetry
Steve Page Dec 2024
You can only weigh the smoke
after the ashes.

You can only measure the man
after the tears.
Walter Raleigh had a wager that he could weigh the smoke from his piped tobacco.  Look it up - he won the bet by weighing the ashes.
Odd Odyssey Poet Dec 2024
Our lives resemble relics nestled within the dusty corners of
thrift shops, all drawn to these forsaken treasures that others
have overlooked. We take turns giving upon these forgotten
items a renewed affection, a fresh perspective on their worth.

For we are all broken at times, displayed for sale in the hopes
of rediscovering our inherent value, yearning to feel complete
once again. Our hearts linger in the temporal marketplace
of time, where faded dreams gather dust, and past loves
accumulate the remnants of emotions once so vibrant.

Each of our sorrows lies like a heap of tattered garments,
heavy with the weight of our experiences. We observe as
the masses pick us, some to elevate our spirits, while others
seek to let us down.

I find solace among other hidden treasures, awaiting the
discerning gaze that can recognize my true worth; indeed,
our lives resemble relics nestled within the dusty corners
of thrift shops.
Odd Odyssey Poet Dec 2024
Whisper the depths of the night— as angelic wrath burns away
at my soul, consuming me in a tempest of alienation, a spectre
unseen; - out of sight; I've lost my mind to my sanity that slips
through my fingers. Where, I ponder, if the appearance of a
grotesque smile will find its place in this so to claim, “beautiful
world?” I remain oblivious to the value of my treasures; until
the very essence of what I cherished fades into oblivion.

Direct my heart toward the doorway; what purpose lies in this
revelation — exposed to the harsh truth of humanity's rawness,
akin to the crude oil extracted to nourish our existence, fuelling
this artificial journey we call life.

The intellect of this age is only but artificial; what is cherished in
these times is only but superficial, fracturing the essence of love
we ought to share. For what is called to be love divided among
us, swiftly reveals the stark truth that all are not treated equal.
Casting shadows on the bonds that should unite us.

We are divided by this so-called love.
Michael Nov 2024
Measure your worth
One zero at a time.
Before the decimal
The American way.
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