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#backwards
pickleball plans upended played out on a world stage a first lady refuses to hold hands in the name of romance but comes to the rescue as the old **** goes down steps
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May 7
May 7, 2026 at 7:18 AM UTC
pickleball plans
modern is determined by the ability to look backwards and forwards at the same time but write it now! this day, this epoch, this moment, these few heartbeats expiring get thee to a nunnery, a park, a silent room with soothing hardest rock blaring now, be. a. moderne. after the silence of composition, make much noise, albeit with a minor modicum of decorous modern aw shucks modesty
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Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 10:04 AM UTC
No. 2291 what is (the hard rock of) modern writing?
serious, workmanlike poetry that’s “they” telling me I oughta be a being, doing, mesmerizing my soul mantra, honoring my guiding light, focusing on Ars Poetica, first principles yada yada yada; put aside, wit, wisdom, the social & the philo-sophical, write of beauty, of nature, become a love devotee, un passionné! my reply? yada yada yada and I ask the universe, What will become of the backward poem? the one that twists your head full around, leaves you breathlessly gasping for oxy-regeneration, your eyes, a failure to focus, the body shakes rattles and rolls, a full mirrored examination reveals, an exorcised head, turned 360 around, backwardation,** the price of a poem is far greater today, now, than in one year, today is the very first Day of Primacy it’s nearing 7:00am, anthem time, star spangled bannering of another morning, a soulful full~inquiry, a tribunal of supreme~beings discovering probing - needy for knowing, de-of-man-ding: Do You Know Where Your (new) Poem Is? what defines you, decides you, recreates you, each daily, a newish you-ish, a face that will exist for but twenty four, gone thereafter, no more, a new meaning for a sunrising beginning, an outlook for the uprising month of Avril! this my soul examination, graded only by a Pass/Fail sliding greased continuum, do you even cognize what I am asking, tasking you to do? yada yada yada wholly insufficient, holy water maybe, whatever it takes to tear oneself wide open, and write a new poem, a new justification, giveaway your latest possession, when you look backwards in dissatisfaction your Postbiotic guts screaming for a makeover, how will you reply, redeploy, speak with a singular finality? Here, Here is my new poem this day, backwardly now front facing, my soul to keep, my blood to re~anew the old sinews of my mind, a rousing defense of I am, and this is my proof! of existence. now, come kiss me. alas, alack, too few of you will read, comprehend and begin again… 7:00am Tuesday a Ki tov Twice Tuesday! Martius 31 2026 <nml>
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Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 2:38 PM UTC
What will become of the backward poem?
serious, workmanlike poetry that’s “they” telling me I oughta be a being, doing, mesmerizing my soul mantra, honoring my guiding light, focusing on Ars Poetica, first principles yada yada yada; put aside, wit, wisdom, the social & the philo-sophical, write of beauty, of nature, become a love devotee, un passionné! my reply? yada yada yada and I ask the universe, What will become of the backward poem? the one that twists your head full around, leaves you breathlessly gasping for oxy-regeneration, your eyes, a failure to focus, the body shakes rattles and rolls, a full mirrored examination reveals, an exorcised head, turned 360 around, backwardation,** the price of a poem is far greater today, now, than in one year, today is the very first Day of Primacy it’s nearing 7:00am, anthem time, star spangled bannering of another morning, a soulful full~inquiry, a tribunal of supreme~beings discovering probing - needy for knowing, de-of-man-ding: Do You Know Where Your (new) Poem Is? what defines you, decides you, recreates you, each daily, a newish you-ish, a face that will exist for but twenty four, gone thereafter, no more, a new meaning for a sunrising beginning, an outlook for the uprising month of Avril! this my soul examination, graded only by a Pass/Fail sliding greased continuum, do you even cognize what I am asking, tasking you to do? yada yada yada wholly insufficient, holy water maybe, whatever it takes to tear oneself wide open, and write a new poem, a new justification, giveaway your latest possession, when you look backwards in dissatisfaction your Postbiotic guts screaming for a makeover, how will you reply, redeploy, speak with a singular finality? Here, Here is my new poem this day, backwardly now front facing, my soul to keep, my blood to re~anew the old sinews of my mind, a rousing defense of I am, and this is my proof! of existence. now, come kiss me. alas, alack, too few of you will read, comprehend and begin again… 7:00am Tuesday a Ki tov Twice Tuesday! Martius 31 2026 <nml>
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(i) rising off the table ether fumes mute yesterday's voice giving birth to the future's tongue rejoice rejoice for a poetic *********** king is born in bedlam. southern cross hanging above the cradle of mankind shining brighter than pit of kimberlite mines hollow space inflated breathing life into language's diaphragm. preaching poetic alchemy & fashioning blood into ink pound for pound no illusionist would dare take on the wordsmith with butterfly fused bee sting verse. (ii) smoke rises, seeping through scattered torn limbs among rubble, shards of glass and melting plastic dolls. under the waning crescent moon the closing chapter opened a new book. Begorrah! Deborah, the queen honey bee has flown off leaving behind her hive, ditching the colony death to her family! (iii) in a field of sunflowers engulfed by flames a blazing tower of hellfire fanned higher by the chemical rain. asteroids crashed into volcanoes as magma shot exploding a sea of lava rose bubbling burning through the landing. Icelandic clouds of ash soaked into the sky blanketing & blacking out sunlight casting a shadow of suffocating night over the field unyielding to morning. curtain curtail darkness dulls bright we wait for a dragon to fight the dying of night.
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Feb 1
Feb 1, 2026 at 12:43 PM UTC
notepad poems (i regrettably, probably wrote)
I was bought in the wrong epoch The world is running backwards History repeats with Better technology And worse intentions I want to scream with no lungs A soundless howl that Tears the air apart Something wakes in my chest When I see How broken everything is How backwards How cruel How deliberate The earth indiscernible From hell some days Borders made of blood and concrete People in power who should Never have been given power At all Ever I scroll through infinite Proof of human failure Share what I can When I can My small rebellion of forwarding The suffering of strangers Because silence is complicity And action feels like Throwing stones at tides But it’s never enough Is it? I don’t want this epoch of cruelty Masquerading as civilisation When kindness is weakness And greed is called ambition When children beg for water While men negotiate for land When history rhymes With its worst verses When the same monsters Wear different faces I was meant for a time that Hasn’t arrived yet A century ahead maybe more When progress means something When we’ve learned what we’re Obviously not learning now When we've stopped being Afraid of each other And started being afraid For each other Instead I’m here Watching the slow motion car crash Of humanity driving itself Off the same cliffs It drove off before
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Jan 27
Jan 27, 2026 at 4:00 PM UTC
Wrong
We know the Script backwards Plastic words Are painted in gold And nostalgia kicks in As we fall for a myriad Of 'what ifs' Too bad it never lasts
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Dec 4, 2025
Dec 4, 2025 at 7:27 AM UTC
Backwards
I am incapable of writing So don't try to convince me that I possess countless poetic ideas. Because at the end of the day, I see only failures in every attempt. And I'm not about to lie by saying that each setback helps me along. Because no matter what, I feel trapped in a cycle of mediocrity. And I am in no position to believe that true inspiration dwells within me. For even in my darkest musings, Am I as uninspired as my doubts proclaim?
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Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 10:26 PM UTC
Writer's Block (Read Backwards)
Grey curl of smoke leaves my mouth, Ashes scrape my throat. I won´t play it wrong- Trying to appear strong. There´s no fire- Just the path to end this. Gladly, I´d be your player, Between us, fire burns. Smoke would hiss. It started- With lit cigarette.
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May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 5:56 PM UTC
Smoke & Fire- Two Way Flame
Never — not ever! — do we not have NO MELON, NO LEMON At the Palindrome Emporium! WAS IT A CAR OR A CAT I SAW? WAS IT ELIOT’S TOILET I SAW? Only at the Palindrome Emporium! Prices are NEVER ODD, OR EVEN At the Palindrome Emporium! EVIL I DID DWELL, LEWD DID I LIVE At the Palindrome Emporium! YO, BANANA BOY Come save a bunch! And say hello to BOB, HANNAH, OTTO, and ANNA! Your friends at the Palindrome Emporium!
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Apr 19, 2025
Apr 19, 2025 at 10:59 AM UTC
YO, BANANA BOY
I am unworthy of your affection. So don't try to convince me that I feel at home in your embrace                                       Because at the end of every arduous day, I am overwhelmed by loneliness and doubt. And I'm not going to say that every shared moment lights up my soul. So rest assured, I will remind myself that our conversations echo with emptiness And nothing you say makes me believe, I am the one you deeply cherish Because no matter the trials we face, I struggle with the fear of distance between us. And I am in no position to accept that our connection defies time and space. Because whenever I ponder our union, Am I destined to be embraced by love?
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Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 11:35 AM UTC
Perspective (Read Backwards)
I am incapable of writing So don't try to convince me that I possess countless poetic ideas. Because at the end of the day, I see only failures in every attempt. And I'm not about to lie by saying that each setback helps me along. Because no matter what, I feel trapped in a cycle of mediocrity. And I am in no position to believe that true inspiration dwells within me. For even in my darkest musings, Am I as uninspired as my doubts proclaim?
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Apr 17, 2025
Apr 17, 2025 at 10:02 AM UTC
Writer's Block (Read Backwards)
If I chose to search for joy I'd find nothing And I don't believe In happy endings I'll keep trusting There is no fun found Anywhere on the planet I'd be lying if I said that You can find happiness On Earth
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Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 1:02 PM UTC
On Earth (Read Backwards)
After October I'm so ready to start over. I'm so glad we found each other I'd be lying if I said That our love was never true I always knew Every time I looked at you I would need no proof Cause' I saw the truth.
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Nov 1, 2024
Nov 1, 2024 at 10:01 AM UTC
After October (Read Backwards)
i don’t know how to get ahold of you. i know i love you but i’m still afraid to open up to you. i just feel so lost while trying not to hurt you. thought i was ready to receive, this prayer when i asked for a man like you. tonight- i think we need to be more patient tonight- i just want to be in your presence tonight- coming to a realization love can’t be this dangerous this love can’t be this dangerous this not good for you this is not good for you i can’t take your heart for granted hope you understand where i stand and this not good for you this is not good for you i can’t take your heart for granted hope you understand where i stand on this
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Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 11:51 PM UTC
Not good for (pt.2)
So today is another normal day, I just want my feelings to wash away. Why does everything always die? Why do people always lie? I’ve been hurt so many times, I’m tired of these stupid lines. Can’t things just be bland, I’m stuck on this poetic land. I’ve gotten good at this play, You’ll never know if I go away. Look at this lovely smile, Look it may have been awhile. I am happy forever and always, I am stuck in endless hallways. Life is like I’m failing, I’m just constantly waiting.
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Jan 6, 2022
Jan 6, 2022 at 11:08 AM UTC
No Change, No Better
Read it forwards but it's all the same. Read it backwards, give it a name, Just go away. They don't want to stay, How could you believe they care? Don't think that life is fair, I'm tired of living in the past. Turn the time, make life last This isn't goodbye, I wish it was. I want to be floating in the stars, But life tends to be mean. I want desperately to be seen.
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Nov 3, 2021
Nov 3, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
The Same
The seasons shift Fade away Gets a bit colder each bitter day Moment after moment slips from my hand Stuck here struggling to understand You moved on but I'm paralyzed Guess by now I should have realized Start walking forward Turn around To past it seems I am hopelessly bound Loving you making me lose my mind Still I am unable to leave memories behind You lost yourself somewhere along the way Why am I still addicted to who you are today? Is it because I have forfeited so much for you? Because you're familiar? Have no clue When will soul finally know serenity? Life plunges me deeper into insanity Why is the universe unfair? World so cold I had it all Now nothing to hold Begins wearing heart's patience thin I start to bleed and am left with no skin Falling backwards into pit of insecurity Every minute without you feels like eternity
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Oct 18, 2021
Oct 18, 2021 at 10:16 AM UTC
The Seasons Shift
An apple a day keeps the doctor away, unless he owns the orchard. Either way you have to pay to keep the doctor away, or in a bushel basket. A signal from your own mind keeps the doctor away. That's free though...and we don't want nothing free! Not even our neighbor! Not even our dom. Or is it dum? No handouts buddy! Until we figure out a way to tax your mind, no handouts. Get it yet Waldo? Medical Industry - You Work For Us, and YOU Pay Yourself By Paying Us To Make You Think You're Not Doing The Labor. If this isn't true, we have a pill for you. We know having no pill is hard to swallow. AMA
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Oct 12, 2021
Oct 12, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
The Fruit of Labor vs The Fruit of the Medical Industry
It's apples and oranges. They are both fruit, and variety is the salt of the earth. We love dividing people like fruit though. We are rotten. At least fruit ferments. We decay You are the apple of my eye. I will watch you rot, then i will throw the core away. What do I need seeds for? A bad apple in my eye now. ******* Orange you gonna hit like? I accept good apples too.
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Oct 12, 2021
Oct 12, 2021 at 1:24 PM UTC
Bad Apples and Oranges - Tasty Tidbits
women are from venus and men from mars and i thought women only come from bars without the moon we get no light from stars ****** tonk ba donka donk rear ending cars if it weren't for love we wouldn't need hate without relativity, we can still relate without time, we wouldn't wait without fire we'd have no fate without google, we would live no lies without google we would have no eyes without death, no one dies without agreeing, there's no compromise with our friends we hate on other friends with no means there would be no ends without pain, the heart never mends with no mind, no one comprehends
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Sep 16, 2021
Sep 16, 2021 at 9:57 PM UTC
The People Without A People - part 8 of 1
He cannot hear I just now realized He's deaf to it, it's all disguised Everything, all of it, is crystal unclear What's up is down and what's far is near The radio boils The microwave sings The telephone listens, while his ear rings But he hasn't noticed, his ignorance is loyal To his strange world of backwards turmoil His eyes tear up At the toasters dull ding Oblivious though, to orchestral strings Crescendoing, divinus, in joyous buildup An Ode only heard as a course hiccup Puts books to his ear But hears no voice Thumbs through jibberish, but his hands hold Joyce The steak tastes like spam and the wine of beer He's deaf to it, all of it, everything I fear He runs in squares And lounges in circles Tears down hopes, and builds up hurdles Will flail in shallow water and fall up stairs Then write love letters to hate-affairs Has two left feet And no right moves His rhythm and soul have lost their groove It's tragic, greek, a heart that offbeat Might mistake victory and chance for fate and defeat. He's wrong. What's more? He's oxymoronic His light-hearted prose are mostly sardonic Wouldn't know an apple from an adonic core Or discordant beats from euphonic score. He's deaf to it, Yes ears and all. Despite what words I might here scrawl. It will never get through to that dumb misfit He's deaf and blind and full of ****
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Apr 6, 2021
Apr 6, 2021 at 1:06 AM UTC
Messed Up
He cannot hear I just now realized He's deaf to it, it's all disguised Everything, all of it, is crystal unclear What's up is down and what's far is near The radio boils The microwave sings The telephone listens, while his ear rings But he hasn't noticed, his ignorance is loyal To his strange world of backwards turmoil His eyes tear up At the toasters dull ding Oblivious though, to orchestral strings Crescendoing, divinus, in joyous buildup An ode only heard as a course hiccup Puts books to his ear But hears no voice Thumbs through jibberish, but his hands hold Joyce The steak tastes like spam and the wine of beer He's deaf to it, all of it, everything I fear He runs in circles And sits in squares Drowns in shallow waters and falls upstairs Nothings left of romance when passion dulls But crippled hopes and shattered hulls He cannot hear He just now realized He's deaf to it, it's all disguised Everything, all of it, is crystal clear What's up is down and what's far is near
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Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 2:36 PM UTC
Shallow Waters
Look nowhere but within, for your spiritual highs, forgiveness and sin. The saddest truth there is, your a commodity. You're a consumer to the holy man who put a price on his wisdom. And the teachings of the earth are so lost That we pay for courses in the innate. To know what we thought we never needed. And become who we thought we'd never be. Isn't that ironic? We're lost. This human being.
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Mar 9, 2021
Mar 9, 2021 at 7:46 AM UTC
It's all sdrawkcab
THESE GADGETS I DESPISE TOLD I NEED THEM TO SURVIVE AS THEY ARE GETTING FLATTER SO IS OUR MOOD WHERE IS THE INSPIRATION NATURE EFFORTLESSLY SHARES YET DEVICES MUST HAVE ONE MILLION FEATURES TO CAPTURE OUR ATTENTION! FOR ONE SECOND A CHARGE OF LIGHTNING WOULD CAUSE ME LESS PAIN YET WHERE IS MY APOLOGY? SORE FROM THIS TECHNOLOGY IN AWE OF THIS ENVIRONMENT STILL, IT'D BE AN HONOUR TO BE STRUCK BY YOU. MOTHER GAIA
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Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 1:47 AM UTC
ATTENTION!