Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ken Pepiton Jul 2023
In my shop I have many unused tools,
and many useless things if electricty fails,

if crafts were to prosper, self sufficiency,
enticements might be as messengers,
in light, show-wers of the way, in story,
as once all knowing was made sacred, set
up right, perpindicular to the axial age last

rotation of the guards. How long this mad
mad mad mad made up and fed us, realm
stuttered into our commonsensed dance
where reason claims war is economical,
eventually, we assume we are all pawns,
so we do what pawns do,
get through
to the otherside, dude,
do you imagine,
chess players today less adept than AI
the prime ministerial idea, taken at init,

correspond
dance, what was it Foulcault's said
to have said? How can one discern,

5wpm quill to scribble, letter forms
sounds fit to, to say How can one discern,
a mad happenstance revealing an edge,
just in time, to stop, and think it over,
one more time, why am I alive, for good?

Eternal question all one trick ponies ask.
Animalistic nature of the rural breeds used
to be used to feed the cities, now they breed.

As the plow horses freed by machines, bask
in what looks like wild horse freedom, to a child.
Flank straps induce a buck up response, influid
flowing response,
to clover in bloom and bees, a buffalo
and then, some men,
on horses, olden days, three generations back.

The after math of war is a societie's honored dead.
Should the logical out come
of a point to point
message transmitted in the clear out
of the blue,
direct to you
as love, not of the Freudian mindsets sexuality
fact or realized co-related, lately piled on,
happenstance and dammed good luck, free

really, humans do these displays, and reflect,
scheizkunst riddle art with holes in the empty
Universal soldier modeled on all boys hero's,

drama sells glory, even to the losers,
look at Custer, and the medals for Wounded Knee.

So, what must one account for, idle word wise,
I burned each one redeemed, as raw aha, mere
words to the wise, each enough to titiosis curiosis

in volk, ah, dem Milchmadchen boo on u uumlaut

whoa, go slow, madness and mayhem, tears
in the flat felt seaming, inner thigh, sore

flat black and white yen to yank reality into my time,
I offer you this investment
of your otherwise used time,

which goes on forever in six differing ways.
In the middle of every thing I find a self expressed here as nowhere else, so far.
I S A A C Dec 2022
stomach aches, anxious daze
body anxiety ruining the day
candles burn, ravens sing
the feeling of death is sinking in
acceptance, repentance
anger comes in waves
transcendent, independence
refining my old ways
AE Oct 2022
Words were left behind
    on top of the soil
    where they buried
    yesterday's bones

2. suddenly, this cold chill
    that has befriended my spine
    is now a sense of comfort
    that I am still alive

3. Grief, it is love, it is every form of love
    From every story I have ever read
    it is hope and despair
    it is the shadow
    of this rain
    that follows me
    home

4. I hope you see
    that this running clock
    moves in circles
    just like we do
                             the beginning of your journey
                             is closer to the end
                             than you could ever imagine

5. If you are looking for me
    I am searching for that old shadow
    we left with the sun for safekeeping
    thinking about burying old love
Zoe Mae Aug 2021
The Earth is scarred
Branded
by our constant digging
The moon likens her blemishes to cheap tattoos, but he'd never tell her so
She's still spectacular, even swathed in gray
We may have robbed her of her innocence, but she's still the jewel of the Milky Way
Offensive and beautiful
Losing you may be my fault,
but having you forever is not one of the ways to treat wounds.
Indonesia, 2nd February 2021
Arif Aditya Abyan Nugroho
Jameson Blackmay Dec 2020
We hope for peace and immortality
but we continually invent new ways
to destroy each other
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
You aggravate an array of ways
Not listening to anyone
Have to correct everyone always
To you fight is never done
My mother is always on my *** about EVERYTHING
Àŧùl Oct 2020
Anterograde amnesia bothers,
But my old memories are fresh.

The old ones are as fresh as hours ago,
And the cold ones are as sharp as thrush.

In my previous life,
I used to be a musician.

Guitaring and fluting my everyday,
Life seemed to sweetly fade away.

My 6th sense failed me on a sunny day,
Collided and off I fell from my bike.

I fell, and I fell even deeper,
Into a comatose state on a sleeper.

A 23-day long coma existed in my story,
The 42 days in the hospital changed my life.

I remember nothing from that stay,
But I carry the vestiges of a battle.

The food-peg on my tummy,
It was incised inches above the navel.

Now even the extra navel,
It becomes smaller as it fades away.

I have no regrets,
Just the memories refuse to fade away.

With her, I am creating beautiful memories,
And the old memories will be overwritten.

Old songs are sweet,
But new ones are perfumed.

Scented with the new romance,
They will thrive and be forever bloomed.

I am happy with her,
And I can only be happier.

Not that I am immortal,
But through my memories,
And through my contribution
To science, to love, literature & poetry,
I Shall Always Survive.
For my Mïŧālī.

My HP Poem #1893
©Atul Kaushal
Nylee Aug 2020
it was always this
a routine
it could have been different
but it is in line
going out of line
the usual unusual design
the impending death of routine
the beginning of the changing times.

some days you start
with a want of change,
but the change
changes you in so many ways,
it has its consequences,
constantly changing,
no matter what
and you are stuck in the routine
resist it even if it is a good thing
but mostly it is bad
rarely it never is.

known problems
follows a routine
but unknown
it is a pandora's box
you never know
the enlisted
routine to follow ahead
tweaks and tricks
and, back to the road.

it challenges you
changing your views
doesn't listen to you
you don't know
who to turn to
it is so out of
discomforting
comfort zone.

I know it is imminent
the make and break of routine
I am rarely going to pass my years
just like this
inside my bedroom
with the closed doors.

It is happening
I cannot follow my previous year routine,
talking to same five people I have known
you have replaced me from your routine,
It is changing, I am changing
so are you
You don't need me the way I do.
Next page