#advance
And how would you live your life?
When no rules exist, how could you be
Where would you check your views
To whom would you run for clues?
You lay rules for all life; to live
A grid line on what and how to be
Not an inch your ideals bend
And no broader your wits extend.
But I don't just mean that you're strange
Every reach in history builds your range
But break your limits for once,
Let your instincts run amok; advance.
Jun 7, 2025
Jun 7, 2025 at 11:22 AM UTC
Tyranny of the status quo -
Of fiat money’s theft and shame
But we escape - the way we know
For Bitcoin changes the game
Short term thinking - everywhere
No discipline can we claim
But now our vision we can share
For Bitcoin changes the game
Inflation draining what we save
Pointing wildly for who to blame
We find respite - no more a slave
For Bitcoin changes the game
Yes, we can vote, but see no gain
We just get more of the same
Now we can see the true campaign
For Bitcoin changes the game
We see our freedoms ebbing low
How can we rise to fan the flame?
We can help adoption grow
For Bitcoin changes the game
Act firm and stalwart in your stance
Keep force and focus on your aim
Join in and help this tech advance
For Bitcoin changes the game
Aug 6, 2023
Aug 6, 2023 at 10:54 AM UTC
as the clock of life
ticks away its years advance
unto a dotage
Sep 20, 2020
Sep 20, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
Some things don’t necessarily happen just by chance
but come about with actions we do or not in advance.
_________________
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 2:48 AM UTC
On a road, I don't know where it leads
I don't care that I am lost
Feet are burning but I continue on
Determined to escape at all costs
I will keep going until my knees buckle
Regret following with steady pace
Broken dreams viewed in my periphreals
Cannot be fixed, salvaged, or replaced
Mile by mile, distancing myself
Unable to fully outrun lurking past
Almost is as good as I get
Have the lead for a moment but always come in last
I travel at a safer pace
I'm already immersed in danger
Desperation grows as I lift legs
Lengthy journey stretches riling anger
There is no detour to avoid my confusing thoughts
Maps behind eyes I'm striving to chart
I stumble but I still advance
I'll always follow my heart
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 10:47 PM UTC
In arrow form storks,
Wing towards the mountain at dawn;
It’s one at the tip!
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 1:39 AM UTC
Do ,do ,do
The baby says "Do"
The cats do, they do
The dogs bark do
The wolves howl do
The lions roar do
The play means do
The all creatures do
The God advices "do"
You must also do
Don't ever stop it
Do not say "that is bad
Comes ever with my luck"
You may do your luck
You do your chance
Look to the baby look!
When he tries to walk
He fails times so that
One feel that he can't walk
He may cry from hurt
Or feeling of frustrate
He tries times and times
As seeing the hope in eyes
Of all around as he tries
Do you see the ants?
They may fail for times
Of transport foods to lands
But they try many times
They can't get frustrate
Or can't ever stop that
They do their hard
To get what they want
Do you see that bird?
When he is gotten from egg
And the feather covers him
He tries to fly over spray
He may fail downword
That he might be killed
The viewer said he can't
Till he could do it
Do you see the calf?
After born, he tries to stand
His mother helps with that
Pity appears over her face
He gets happy and a hand
To be power fear all world
By his scream all are dithered
Do your best
Work very hard
See all around
Read all about
New of science
News that causes
You will be in eyes
You may get hard
You may hear worst
You must not stop
When you do your dream
When you get your wants
All point to you
All want to you
To learn them the do
How to be as you
How to advance their know
All will make you
As the star over the all
Aug 24, 2018
Aug 24, 2018 at 1:32 PM UTC
i'm a hard worker
sensible
persistent
i've been a hard worker
almost all my life
i get good grades
and i get rewarded
but i feel as i advance
my hard work
will not pay off
and my hard work
will not be enough
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 1:42 PM UTC
To Whom It May Concern:
I have been an artist since birth
but clearly not genetically.
My mother was a dentist’s apprentice,
while I was in the womb.
My father was a quirky astrophysicist
and still amidst the devils,
he is yet to find himself.
I on the other hand make sandwiches.
I make sandwiches,
I take photos,
and I write the things that I sense
or that I think I know.
Very simple.
I have never been one to understand the American dream, but I do respect my need for it.
I knew the idealistic trend of the Internet very well,
as I was raised in Silicon Valley,
but the phrase “From rags to riches”
never really penetrated my questioning soul.
--------------
Instead,
I found that the world was my oyster
and I gregariously lived my life in the pursuit
of one-dollar oysters.
I have watched the seasons change.
I have known the plight of love
and I’m even wise enough
to lead my heart by it.
Elisa would tell you.
--------------
I have gawked at knobby shadows
falling on a wall traced out by a winter tree
and then been entranced by the odds
that I might be the one
who sought out that beauty
having been there to see it too.
But more so,
I have seen births.
I have seen the vibrancy from which life unfolds.
And I have seen the clenches of deaths fingers
wrap around the neck
of my most honored and beloved people.
I’ve seen beautiful cities fall prey to oversaturation,
I’ve watched the crashing waves
of the Pacific Ocean **** in pollution,
I’ve seen fires blaze through
the mountain sides of Santa Barbara,
and I’ve watched the shoals bats that fly
at the twilight summons from underneath bowels
of South Congress Bridge,
which is never bad.
I’ve made friends,
and I have made enemies
both of which I love.
I have been sick
then been healthy
and respect the values of their lessons.
Some of the other things I’ve seen
I’ll admit are unimportant.
--------------
But I still watch the trickling patterns of rainfall
and ponder at their stories.
I still squint at the gleam of the ocean
and beg it to tell me its origins.
I will always gaze at the sky
and I ask for a gust that might make the hairs
of my arm tingle with delight,
or nostalgic sorrow,
or anything at all.
I’ve questioned everything but what my mother told me.
Not until I turned eighteen, did I start that.
I’ve built batteries out of vinegar, aspirin, pennies
and copper wire.
I charge the insight of my peers
by poking and prodding.
I can braid hair,
I can hop scotch,
I can play the juice harp.
I fight for the underdog.
I fight for the tormented.
I speak for the scolded,
the hated,
the sad,
the abused,
the forgotten,
the forsaken,
the foolish,
the sinning,
the begging,
the beaten,
the overworked,
the shy,
the lost,
the hungry,
the bilious,
the old,
the gruesome
and the dead.
I feast on alcohol
where there is no other sustenance.
The rhythm of chagrin bounces in my chest,
as a drum would beat
in a symphony of regret.
But I strive on
as if it was a sacrifice to the holy aliens
that made the Maya sacrifice too.
This is my blood.
It gushes from my blue veins
as I apperceive the meaning of that throbbing pulse.
I know the consequence
of the truth behind our movement.
A world founded on humanity,
imperfect and failing at all.
Life in this universe must be special.
It’s the stardust in our physical,
human elements that makes this magic true.
We ooze with the likeness of nothing else.
Our ancestors welled up with stardust
and DNA from somewhere else.
Our sweat, made up of passing galaxies,
dripping tears of organic thought
into the trickling river of time.
That alone must be something
to capture an imagination.
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 2:26 AM UTC
Something really great doesn’t ever come about just by chance
but is vouchsafed by divine decree for humankind to advance.
____________________________________
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 11:28 AM UTC
It's simplistically the most painful baring ever,
the world is rotating slowly alongside that time, we grow.
I sit here not amused with myself, in every form of way,
I honestly want to be grateful for everything,
but it is never enough for me.
I look at the clock going off in my mind,
ticking every single second away.
I stare at the walls which slowly decorate themselves,
but realistically always look the same.
I feel myself slowly urging to advance yet never seem to do so.
I see myself crying inside,
I want to let out yells and I don't know why.
A woman can paint her life away, staring at the same objects happily,
yet I am here sitting here writing the same **** things over and over until they satisfy me.
Why do I stress out on being so perfect to the eyes of others?
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC