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getting our bearings straight for ye olde bear-cat day holding a soft likeness of a black and white bear wondering to call the bear an "orc" or "bee-wolf" asking a wild frog who calls them "the brown ones" bursting into the house asking for a dark beer wanting only the beer / not wanting to wear green holding a pound of gold bought many years ago (?) finding that luck in life calls for some speed as well packing away the things from the shared house today seeking to have less clutter in the newer house driving away quickly from the rough old boroughs choosing no longer to live in these crowded hubs showing up at midnight to a dark shady room lining the loud ones up against the gray stone wall getting ready to shoot them all with some quick shots taking them out and burying them underground having taken some snapshots we set the seeds down letting the old things fall so that we can spring fresh making this a do-over for a brand old year cleaning the house up before cleaning the world up springing too quickly into a new shape of things drawing a landsheet to show all those spots and hubs tinkering with the landsheets and now the spreadsheets having a deeply rooted wrath for those big rings keeping all the wealth locked up away from the crowds weaving around the networks like a drunk knitter looking high and low for the things we might have missed fishing around the seas for a new line of thought picking up on the breakdown of the old network finding that things leave without ever coming back knowing that the "lorehouse" no longer teaches things seeking ways to get back into the living world getting an inkling for something new and helpful seeing the light at the end of the tongue shifting looking at the now through a looking glass backwards walking backwards into what will become of us choosing not to hold on to the old ways of yore seeing time as a twisted spring that shrinks each year seeing trends ring around in five (not twenty) years smelling the slow shift from one time to another seeing time now not as split-up chunks but long flows splitting time up only for the look and feel now smelling time only happens when the time lies near smelling much less of the time when it lies further writing a thing many times by setting blocks down letting these new tools make men want to wander off letting these new tools make new groups and ways of life laughing at those who wield the new tools like the old having the drawn strips let us fill in the meanings going from the heights of meaning to none thereof choosing not to spell things out for those reading this melting stones into flat pools which line up to here walking into the dark woods of the deep meshwork sharpening up the "raven flint" to make it shine shifting back to the days of the early network shifting but with the sharper tools that we have now making the new tools house the old writings at first taking them from the old to the new we go up becoming one group again? seems like not at first! having yet our minds raised to even newer heights becoming lighter so we can become harder choosing not to be one but become another world spreading half-truths online can seem so "fake and fey" letting out steam which becomes water on flat leaves
0
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 3:49 PM UTC
jonchius
2026-03 (b)
getting our bearings straight for ye olde bear-cat day holding a soft likeness of a black and white bear wondering to call the bear an "orc" or "bee-wolf" asking a wild frog who calls them "the brown ones" bursting into the house asking for a dark beer wanting only the beer / not wanting to wear green holding a pound of gold bought many years ago (?) finding that luck in life calls for some speed as well packing away the things from the shared house today seeking to have less clutter in the newer house driving away quickly from the rough old boroughs choosing no longer to live in these crowded hubs showing up at midnight to a dark shady room lining the loud ones up against the gray stone wall getting ready to shoot them all with some quick shots taking them out and burying them underground having taken some snapshots we set the seeds down letting the old things fall so that we can spring fresh making this a do-over for a brand old year cleaning the house up before cleaning the world up springing too quickly into a new shape of things drawing a landsheet to show all those spots and hubs tinkering with the landsheets and now the spreadsheets having a deeply rooted wrath for those big rings keeping all the wealth locked up away from the crowds weaving around the networks like a drunk knitter looking high and low for the things we might have missed fishing around the seas for a new line of thought picking up on the breakdown of the old network finding that things leave without ever coming back knowing that the "lorehouse" no longer teaches things seeking ways to get back into the living world getting an inkling for something new and helpful seeing the light at the end of the tongue shifting looking at the now through a looking glass backwards walking backwards into what will become of us choosing not to hold on to the old ways of yore seeing time as a twisted spring that shrinks each year seeing trends ring around in five (not twenty) years smelling the slow shift from one time to another seeing time now not as split-up chunks but long flows splitting time up only for the look and feel now smelling time only happens when the time lies near smelling much less of the time when it lies further writing a thing many times by setting blocks down letting these new tools make men want to wander off letting these new tools make new groups and ways of life laughing at those who wield the new tools like the old having the drawn strips let us fill in the meanings going from the heights of meaning to none thereof choosing not to spell things out for those reading this melting stones into flat pools which line up to here walking into the dark woods of the deep meshwork sharpening up the "raven flint" to make it shine shifting back to the days of the early network shifting but with the sharper tools that we have now making the new tools house the old writings at first taking them from the old to the new we go up becoming one group again? seems like not at first! having yet our minds raised to even newer heights becoming lighter so we can become harder choosing not to be one but become another world spreading half-truths online can seem so "fake and fey" letting out steam which becomes water on flat leaves
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64
starting the ring of the moon with a hidden shout knowing that leaders high up care little for us finding all folk groups have a cringy thing in them thinking whether we need to get rid of it all finding evil in books that say things too slowly hearing old put-down words as new uplifting calls knowing full well that groups cannot have sundry kinds choosing to go nowhere when our home feels the best giving it to things to which most others don't give calling the other a threat to our leadership "letting them all in" while also keeping some out wanting the newer rather than the most liked things liking new names only when they line up with us choosing not to lift up the house of the groupthink guessing truths right while the midfolk shove them aside choosing not to take heed in those who don't take heed seeing ownership as theft yet wanting to own? looking forward to the days to come with sound minds bringing up three kinds of knowledge (rooted in time) sneering at shrieks of "fully uneven settings" shifting away from the old ways not all at once mashing up yet another clean build of software thinking of shifting further west one of these days making small steps towards a much better end-game tweaking the staff row in the many weeks to come making the world even smaller to keep things big thwarting the copper-tin swindler from here on in knowing that a law won't always make things better caring too much can lead to things not working out gnorning on about the goods that they did not take (?) seeing one side stand up with the others seated hiding the golden meanings inside a sound house sending the ghost to haunt the evil blue network choosing not to belong to any binding group stepping away from the need for the other's likes playing the game as it lies for what can we do ********* the mindless inwardly linked networks taking heed of the two sides of the rotten meat showing them the nothing that they have rightly earned taking it all in only to get drawn away laughing loudly behind the one-way glass window fighting nobody and yet with everybody shouting once again that too much leads to the end seeing left and right as shadows of bygone times knowing anything could have more than one meaning having the freedom to stay weird in dark rooms becoming a wasted island in the blue sky jamming it all up with waves of hidden beacons calling "craftwork" as something "one gets away with" seeing a fifth day on a thirteenth of the month getting led astray from the watery stone things needing no more of those to come in to our lands working hard to tweak the world in a some such way choosing not to wait for them all to acknowledge leaving the locked house to build a new land of one bringing back depth to an emptied out flattened world splintering ourselves into many other names bringing all the angst of yore into this craftwork holding a looking glass made only of raw words trimming the list of friends to make things tidier
0
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 1:36 PM UTC
jonchius
2026-03 (a)
starting the ring of the moon with a hidden shout knowing that leaders high up care little for us finding all folk groups have a cringy thing in them thinking whether we need to get rid of it all finding evil in books that say things too slowly hearing old put-down words as new uplifting calls knowing full well that groups cannot have sundry kinds choosing to go nowhere when our home feels the best giving it to things to which most others don't give calling the other a threat to our leadership "letting them all in" while also keeping some out wanting the newer rather than the most liked things liking new names only when they line up with us choosing not to lift up the house of the groupthink guessing truths right while the midfolk shove them aside choosing not to take heed in those who don't take heed seeing ownership as theft yet wanting to own? looking forward to the days to come with sound minds bringing up three kinds of knowledge (rooted in time) sneering at shrieks of "fully uneven settings" shifting away from the old ways not all at once mashing up yet another clean build of software thinking of shifting further west one of these days making small steps towards a much better end-game tweaking the staff row in the many weeks to come making the world even smaller to keep things big thwarting the copper-tin swindler from here on in knowing that a law won't always make things better caring too much can lead to things not working out gnorning on about the goods that they did not take (?) seeing one side stand up with the others seated hiding the golden meanings inside a sound house sending the ghost to haunt the evil blue network choosing not to belong to any binding group stepping away from the need for the other's likes playing the game as it lies for what can we do ********* the mindless inwardly linked networks taking heed of the two sides of the rotten meat showing them the nothing that they have rightly earned taking it all in only to get drawn away laughing loudly behind the one-way glass window fighting nobody and yet with everybody shouting once again that too much leads to the end seeing left and right as shadows of bygone times knowing anything could have more than one meaning having the freedom to stay weird in dark rooms becoming a wasted island in the blue sky jamming it all up with waves of hidden beacons calling "craftwork" as something "one gets away with" seeing a fifth day on a thirteenth of the month getting led astray from the watery stone things needing no more of those to come in to our lands working hard to tweak the world in a some such way choosing not to wait for them all to acknowledge leaving the locked house to build a new land of one bringing back depth to an emptied out flattened world splintering ourselves into many other names bringing all the angst of yore into this craftwork holding a looking glass made only of raw words trimming the list of friends to make things tidier
Continue reading...
60
starting yet another month after the first month shifting all the in-words to keep things in good hands hissing rather softly on the day of the snake writing about the outlook of undergoing laying out the groundwork of the grounded groundhog seeing the shadow for six more weeks of winter going back into the hollow to sleep some more writing this short line for the one who made me shrug hanging out in outlets and networks that mean well calling to mind that their word for "death" sounds like "smart" having great fun working with the "great word frameworks" bearing down quickly on the rare spare time given setting up shop away from the midstream networks handling the word log these days with more willingness putting through more givens into the great framework bringing into play a few works of craft today making groundwork for the late summer eastbound drive setting forth today with newfound means to do work steering away from a messed-up leader this week having no hurdles when it comes to spending time watching the ill words falling and feeling nothing playing hooky now from a mainstream livelihood taking forever but doing things with good care forgetting the next line but putting it in here breaking hard things down into more straightforward things spending the forthcoming week with a will to strength falling asleep in a wagon bound for the stead climbing out soon after to head for the highlands dreaming of a day when we can learn more smoothly picking up patchwork sheets to make something more whole knowing how so much can go so wrong so quickly taking time to think and go through things with great care putting in, putting through, putting out and stocking going for the gold but yet not that kind of gold turning a blind eye towards the mess in the games thwarting way too many scams from the farspeaker dragging this further into the dark and unknown working straight without anything flowing inwards holding the floods off while we work in the shelter reading a handy way-finder to right this ship looking up to the elder men for ways to live swinging the watchful eyes from the new to the old needing to make the old better, not shinier shifting lines of sight from abroad to the inland looking into the moods of all kinds of writings taking a liking to being away from crowds holding steadfast with this mindset of strength through craft nesting lines with a hard meaning of rank and row seeing things from another edge so as to build finding "worth" in things that others might find "worthless" knowing that their minds have become mashed earth apples laughing and smiling as we ride into the night brushing off this kind of day as an irksome drag making a snapshot of all the snow and cold ice finding worth in spots where others do not find worth looking at the mindsets of the young from afar
0
Mar 20
Mar 20, 2026 at 9:38 PM UTC
jonchius
2026-02 (a)
starting yet another month after the first month shifting all the in-words to keep things in good hands hissing rather softly on the day of the snake writing about the outlook of undergoing laying out the groundwork of the grounded groundhog seeing the shadow for six more weeks of winter going back into the hollow to sleep some more writing this short line for the one who made me shrug hanging out in outlets and networks that mean well calling to mind that their word for "death" sounds like "smart" having great fun working with the "great word frameworks" bearing down quickly on the rare spare time given setting up shop away from the midstream networks handling the word log these days with more willingness putting through more givens into the great framework bringing into play a few works of craft today making groundwork for the late summer eastbound drive setting forth today with newfound means to do work steering away from a messed-up leader this week having no hurdles when it comes to spending time watching the ill words falling and feeling nothing playing hooky now from a mainstream livelihood taking forever but doing things with good care forgetting the next line but putting it in here breaking hard things down into more straightforward things spending the forthcoming week with a will to strength falling asleep in a wagon bound for the stead climbing out soon after to head for the highlands dreaming of a day when we can learn more smoothly picking up patchwork sheets to make something more whole knowing how so much can go so wrong so quickly taking time to think and go through things with great care putting in, putting through, putting out and stocking going for the gold but yet not that kind of gold turning a blind eye towards the mess in the games thwarting way too many scams from the farspeaker dragging this further into the dark and unknown working straight without anything flowing inwards holding the floods off while we work in the shelter reading a handy way-finder to right this ship looking up to the elder men for ways to live swinging the watchful eyes from the new to the old needing to make the old better, not shinier shifting lines of sight from abroad to the inland looking into the moods of all kinds of writings taking a liking to being away from crowds holding steadfast with this mindset of strength through craft nesting lines with a hard meaning of rank and row seeing things from another edge so as to build finding "worth" in things that others might find "worthless" knowing that their minds have become mashed earth apples laughing and smiling as we ride into the night brushing off this kind of day as an irksome drag making a snapshot of all the snow and cold ice finding worth in spots where others do not find worth looking at the mindsets of the young from afar
Continue reading...
56
carrying across some outlandish words for fun learning that "tulip" and "turban" come from "cheesecloth" praising the ice nowadays for that cool hardness laying out the groundwork for all of the outlets giving away old books that we no longer read keeping in mind to take heed of our old holdings handing out and selling off more of our spare stuff letting anyone take the things that take up room thinking twice about going to the southern lands writing these lines while waiting in line for things setting up the first new reckoner in five years having lots to do without having to go out having restful days after a week of hacking peeking into the networks and seeing no one taking a year and still more to end the fighting sharing meaningful stuff and getting no answer hoping always that things will become more well-kept watching time get eaten away by happenings taking heed in the dry wit of "one-liners day" hunting for happiness on a week like this one wanting you to take time to see the time we take having much less angst nowadays as a shut-in making the mistake of not getting enough sleep waking up and nodding off into a dreamland staying in the loop with the flood of happenings patching up the fingery writs of the networks timing this for high noon when the fat old sun shines taking forever to write this short string of words ghosting around in the murky night after drinks having a thing for waking up before the dawn writing this a week ago to keep the timing riming up: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight riming down: eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one hearing songs from the eighties while tapping on keys holding the gold for now and then dumping it quick shoving the fingered writ up to the old *** hub making a call not to go to the southern lands wanting more to stay in the homeland for this year undoing past setbacks and getting myself up seeing how no one learned from a few years ago noting this day to set out for a later trip fleeing from the rush of the days and weeks and months hearing the brisk cold wind howl with its lust for might seeing light sticks rise from films of up-helly-aa! putting together small bricks that can melt by fire hearing someone speak in a way no one else can carving out some words in the snow for this cold week raising the heat some more while winter tries to win turning off all the needless tidings that make wrath finding some everyday things to be lost in time making bucks with the new rise in the worth of gold wondering from which far land the word "puzzle" comes telling myself to bear down and hone in on it feeling less steadfast about things now than before drawing bad green deer on "draw a bad green deer" day dragging the dead horse down the highways of the web welcoming you to "hell is freezing over day" backing many things up today on "backwards day" wondering what happened to the warmer winters grasping the end of the month as it dwindles fast
0
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 9:53 PM UTC
jonchius
2026-01 (b)
carrying across some outlandish words for fun learning that "tulip" and "turban" come from "cheesecloth" praising the ice nowadays for that cool hardness laying out the groundwork for all of the outlets giving away old books that we no longer read keeping in mind to take heed of our old holdings handing out and selling off more of our spare stuff letting anyone take the things that take up room thinking twice about going to the southern lands writing these lines while waiting in line for things setting up the first new reckoner in five years having lots to do without having to go out having restful days after a week of hacking peeking into the networks and seeing no one taking a year and still more to end the fighting sharing meaningful stuff and getting no answer hoping always that things will become more well-kept watching time get eaten away by happenings taking heed in the dry wit of "one-liners day" hunting for happiness on a week like this one wanting you to take time to see the time we take having much less angst nowadays as a shut-in making the mistake of not getting enough sleep waking up and nodding off into a dreamland staying in the loop with the flood of happenings patching up the fingery writs of the networks timing this for high noon when the fat old sun shines taking forever to write this short string of words ghosting around in the murky night after drinks having a thing for waking up before the dawn writing this a week ago to keep the timing riming up: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight riming down: eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one hearing songs from the eighties while tapping on keys holding the gold for now and then dumping it quick shoving the fingered writ up to the old *** hub making a call not to go to the southern lands wanting more to stay in the homeland for this year undoing past setbacks and getting myself up seeing how no one learned from a few years ago noting this day to set out for a later trip fleeing from the rush of the days and weeks and months hearing the brisk cold wind howl with its lust for might seeing light sticks rise from films of up-helly-aa! putting together small bricks that can melt by fire hearing someone speak in a way no one else can carving out some words in the snow for this cold week raising the heat some more while winter tries to win turning off all the needless tidings that make wrath finding some everyday things to be lost in time making bucks with the new rise in the worth of gold wondering from which far land the word "puzzle" comes telling myself to bear down and hone in on it feeling less steadfast about things now than before drawing bad green deer on "draw a bad green deer" day dragging the dead horse down the highways of the web welcoming you to "hell is freezing over day" backing many things up today on "backwards day" wondering what happened to the warmer winters grasping the end of the month as it dwindles fast
Continue reading...
60
holding the line by not writing this with workers having mixed feelings about the day of the flag thinking that we may have one more week of stillness wondering if something will strike later this month finding a missing line earlier on this month making a quick fix to spare the later cringes blazing a path and not caring who walks on it riding out this rough time by making things with it shifting into yet another year of the horse blinking to find all those days and months and years gone thinking back to the days of the red sheet holders dreading the warmer weather when the bugs come out making the best of the deep freeze to get things done staying inside for most of the winter yeartide becoming even more "fremd" as the tides flow on marking time while having only the sun and moon needing less time to make fully working software giving myself more time to make things look better seeing self-made software as a kind of framework thinking of it as a shared commons for us all shifting into the last days of the winter games wondering about all this fuss about green men nodding off into the noon at the end of week getting another wind and staying wide awake watching the metals stack up for some far-flung lands wondering what will come after these winter games seeing how a new set of games begins today watching the ebb and flow of foreseen happenings giving this a new way of writing some time soon (?) letting all this slide slowly into the new path making sense of it when we win and when we lose finding unsung ways to have fun with much less inlaying a kind of hidden inward knowledge jamming up the cool networks with line after line keying in our words to understand them better logging rows of truth on spreadsheets for webbed layouts mixing some software into meaningful bundles needing the daily news in a more restful way outlaying the free and open wares of the world wishing happy days with a wild "upbearing" pal loathing something not out of fear but out of cringe knowing full well that "they hate it since they ain't it" finding that the smallest of hats come in big flasks finding the house of groupthink filled with broken words feeling the end coming with things getting flattened marking how the new truths won't shift their minds a bit knowing that a house of groupthink will become hell letting ill clout hunters fall flat on their on-sights worrying when they dare tell us not to worry shifting through the stormy landscape of big word tools lessening the will to put gold in anything splitting belief in oneself into six layers twisting the truth to make own truths a bit more true having ways of thinking to keep out of harm's way letting the frozen waters do their rightful work ending this short frozen month with a wide eye smirk
0
Mar 16
Mar 16, 2026 at 9:59 PM UTC
jonchius
2026-02 (b)
holding the line by not writing this with workers having mixed feelings about the day of the flag thinking that we may have one more week of stillness wondering if something will strike later this month finding a missing line earlier on this month making a quick fix to spare the later cringes blazing a path and not caring who walks on it riding out this rough time by making things with it shifting into yet another year of the horse blinking to find all those days and months and years gone thinking back to the days of the red sheet holders dreading the warmer weather when the bugs come out making the best of the deep freeze to get things done staying inside for most of the winter yeartide becoming even more "fremd" as the tides flow on marking time while having only the sun and moon needing less time to make fully working software giving myself more time to make things look better seeing self-made software as a kind of framework thinking of it as a shared commons for us all shifting into the last days of the winter games wondering about all this fuss about green men nodding off into the noon at the end of week getting another wind and staying wide awake watching the metals stack up for some far-flung lands wondering what will come after these winter games seeing how a new set of games begins today watching the ebb and flow of foreseen happenings giving this a new way of writing some time soon (?) letting all this slide slowly into the new path making sense of it when we win and when we lose finding unsung ways to have fun with much less inlaying a kind of hidden inward knowledge jamming up the cool networks with line after line keying in our words to understand them better logging rows of truth on spreadsheets for webbed layouts mixing some software into meaningful bundles needing the daily news in a more restful way outlaying the free and open wares of the world wishing happy days with a wild "upbearing" pal loathing something not out of fear but out of cringe knowing full well that "they hate it since they ain't it" finding that the smallest of hats come in big flasks finding the house of groupthink filled with broken words feeling the end coming with things getting flattened marking how the new truths won't shift their minds a bit knowing that a house of groupthink will become hell letting ill clout hunters fall flat on their on-sights worrying when they dare tell us not to worry shifting through the stormy landscape of big word tools lessening the will to put gold in anything splitting belief in oneself into six layers twisting the truth to make own truths a bit more true having ways of thinking to keep out of harm's way letting the frozen waters do their rightful work ending this short frozen month with a wide eye smirk
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56
greeting the new year happily but worriedly hoping this ring around the sun ends with a win staying good lengths away from the mainstream networks trying not to have needless scuffles with the dumb moving past the first day of the year too quickly sparing these lines in the hopes that they go somewhere hoping our undertakings will grow past this year settling on a daily flow of things to get done wondering if the world will one day see these lines feeling rushed into the third day without much done spending time looking inward rather than outward knowing no such thing as showing up there "early" keeping with the end to read twelve full books this year learning how new looms learn and run forward with words writing these on-the-go and sharing them later seeming like the time has to keep us pulled under stirring forth into the first full week of the year dealing with business freely truly takes a lot spending time on idle games feels like time misspent choosing to keep these lines mostly unseen for now riding into the midnight of another day waxing once meant growing but no one says that now hearing "nothing happened five years ago today" seeing the words "nothing ever happens" again staying in awe at those who can write tens of books finding ways to handle ongoing upheavals trying to get it together and not give up stringing words together into many lines hoping to trade time again for gold and silver finding songs both new and old ever so hackneyed wanting more outlined than reckless name-dropped writings getting a kick out of the open emptiness reaching for the yarn like an over-happy cat riding onwards quickly into the great unknown making room for more as the world spins out of whack writing this a week ago when the year was new writing five hundred thousand lines will not happen writing at a speed of a thousand lines a year wishing folks would hurry when they need to come quick wanting folks to slow down when they make me hurry bearing words from the middle kingdom into this getting lost among the things to read and then write holding to that need to keep the words straightforward reading lately too much into the southern lands missing almost a few lines but made it up fast killing time means killing a small bit of myself fighting with time only means fighting with myself needing to find a way to end this tough long rut getting weary of all the ill wills on the web quickening the run towards the end of this set settling into a steadfast and daily work path shopping for a trip to take in a few short weeks making this the year of my quickening (or else) making this also the day of taking the stairs knowing a thing or two about the old new year having not much spare time to get this line ready wearing a hat on the head today for hat day eating a dough-filled bagel on this bagel day rushing to look up stuff in the book of knowledge raising the heat of the hearth stones in this cold spell working with big speechcraft likenesses at this time taking heed in the nothing that is nothing day wishing an old friend a happy birthday today liking the hotter foods more than the colder cuts
0
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 11:23 AM UTC
jonchius
2026-01 (a)
greeting the new year happily but worriedly hoping this ring around the sun ends with a win staying good lengths away from the mainstream networks trying not to have needless scuffles with the dumb moving past the first day of the year too quickly sparing these lines in the hopes that they go somewhere hoping our undertakings will grow past this year settling on a daily flow of things to get done wondering if the world will one day see these lines feeling rushed into the third day without much done spending time looking inward rather than outward knowing no such thing as showing up there "early" keeping with the end to read twelve full books this year learning how new looms learn and run forward with words writing these on-the-go and sharing them later seeming like the time has to keep us pulled under stirring forth into the first full week of the year dealing with business freely truly takes a lot spending time on idle games feels like time misspent choosing to keep these lines mostly unseen for now riding into the midnight of another day waxing once meant growing but no one says that now hearing "nothing happened five years ago today" seeing the words "nothing ever happens" again staying in awe at those who can write tens of books finding ways to handle ongoing upheavals trying to get it together and not give up stringing words together into many lines hoping to trade time again for gold and silver finding songs both new and old ever so hackneyed wanting more outlined than reckless name-dropped writings getting a kick out of the open emptiness reaching for the yarn like an over-happy cat riding onwards quickly into the great unknown making room for more as the world spins out of whack writing this a week ago when the year was new writing five hundred thousand lines will not happen writing at a speed of a thousand lines a year wishing folks would hurry when they need to come quick wanting folks to slow down when they make me hurry bearing words from the middle kingdom into this getting lost among the things to read and then write holding to that need to keep the words straightforward reading lately too much into the southern lands missing almost a few lines but made it up fast killing time means killing a small bit of myself fighting with time only means fighting with myself needing to find a way to end this tough long rut getting weary of all the ill wills on the web quickening the run towards the end of this set settling into a steadfast and daily work path shopping for a trip to take in a few short weeks making this the year of my quickening (or else) making this also the day of taking the stairs knowing a thing or two about the old new year having not much spare time to get this line ready wearing a hat on the head today for hat day eating a dough-filled bagel on this bagel day rushing to look up stuff in the book of knowledge raising the heat of the hearth stones in this cold spell working with big speechcraft likenesses at this time taking heed in the nothing that is nothing day wishing an old friend a happy birthday today liking the hotter foods more than the colder cuts
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64
having made all the days feel all one and the same having only myself and none others to blame needing rest from all these things coming forth at me wrapping something up but not the gifts of yuletide melting away the clocks like in those weird craftworks running away with time but with nowhere to hide needing time not only to stop but to run back hoping we can get away with it all someday finding days shorter and not because of winter seeing the morning as birth and the night as death working so hard at this with yet no end in sight making these lines hark back to younger days of yore handling the darker times by not throwing away time setting out each day to make each deed with meaning spending long days without work yet still not angry having pulled back into a dark hollow somewhere hoping to write more than ten thousand more lines trading our old twitters for our new far-scratchers glossing over some new things about deep learning setting out to overcome the big glums and blahs starting something new at the end of this long year dodging any calls to myself to slow down now eating butter cookies from our eastern neighbour writing this in truth almost a fortnight ago spending the holidays like any other days thinking back to days when things worked more like clockwork living in a world where time melts and sometimes boils meeting kinfolk tonight after almost a year coming back home after all the loud clang and fuss spoiling myself with all the snacks and spiked-up drinks watching films that have stacked up on the to-do list looking suddenly at the last week of the year watching another yuletide run past once again feeling nothing but nothingness on this dark day thinking of the big wave twenty-one years ago resting up before the big waves of work come by getting to the last days of the month and year overlooking whatever that "winner" wanted uttering "winner" instead of another word dishing out darker overtones in these short lines thinking about putting an end to this writing coming back again to keep these short lines going getting things set for the new year with no time left rounding up all the untied knots to get them done having the past strike and weigh me down with old hurts trying to walk on without making it hurt more holding together the best innards of the past storming forward always into the long unknown winding down this quick but long year with some still songs writing more lines with the uplifting from others looking to them to keep words flowing and going making this the year when most things got "put away" coming to the last day of the year with few qualms having little to no time left before year's end wishing those in the east now a happy new year wrapping up this year with one last line for the win
0
Mar 12
Mar 12, 2026 at 8:21 AM UTC
jonchius
2025-12 (b)
having made all the days feel all one and the same having only myself and none others to blame needing rest from all these things coming forth at me wrapping something up but not the gifts of yuletide melting away the clocks like in those weird craftworks running away with time but with nowhere to hide needing time not only to stop but to run back hoping we can get away with it all someday finding days shorter and not because of winter seeing the morning as birth and the night as death working so hard at this with yet no end in sight making these lines hark back to younger days of yore handling the darker times by not throwing away time setting out each day to make each deed with meaning spending long days without work yet still not angry having pulled back into a dark hollow somewhere hoping to write more than ten thousand more lines trading our old twitters for our new far-scratchers glossing over some new things about deep learning setting out to overcome the big glums and blahs starting something new at the end of this long year dodging any calls to myself to slow down now eating butter cookies from our eastern neighbour writing this in truth almost a fortnight ago spending the holidays like any other days thinking back to days when things worked more like clockwork living in a world where time melts and sometimes boils meeting kinfolk tonight after almost a year coming back home after all the loud clang and fuss spoiling myself with all the snacks and spiked-up drinks watching films that have stacked up on the to-do list looking suddenly at the last week of the year watching another yuletide run past once again feeling nothing but nothingness on this dark day thinking of the big wave twenty-one years ago resting up before the big waves of work come by getting to the last days of the month and year overlooking whatever that "winner" wanted uttering "winner" instead of another word dishing out darker overtones in these short lines thinking about putting an end to this writing coming back again to keep these short lines going getting things set for the new year with no time left rounding up all the untied knots to get them done having the past strike and weigh me down with old hurts trying to walk on without making it hurt more holding together the best innards of the past storming forward always into the long unknown winding down this quick but long year with some still songs writing more lines with the uplifting from others looking to them to keep words flowing and going making this the year when most things got "put away" coming to the last day of the year with few qualms having little to no time left before year's end wishing those in the east now a happy new year wrapping up this year with one last line for the win
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56
starting the year's last month with new pathways to run heading towards the big town this time for a tree playing songs from the eighties now more than ever harking back to days when you had to think ahead reckoning up old snapshots from an older world reading up as always on the folk-made know-how trying to unriddle a light that can't turn on looking at some rhymes and finding a common shape hiding less meaning with see-through words in these rhymes wanting not to spell things further for the midstream shoving a great sum into a golden groundwork shunning some well-liked but long-winded online films noting words from the east to make these words lighter writing only with old roots from the angled tongues binding together words for new inklings and things taking more than ten years to settle on this shape buying gold instead of buying scats made from bits wanting no longer the high life but a still life trading laugh-worthy keepsake tokens for hard gold leaving the floor of play for the soft and the still drowning always and ever with fun things to do reading about a man who wrote a thousand songs teeming with a will to live even beyond life having limits draws one into finding ways out hoping to sail again on ships in years ahead bringing back these snapshots of the old world waters taking some time to look back at the world's wonders posting snapshots of the trips along with these words misspending lengthy times on twitter in years past saving myself now from the timed frittered away trying to make things that have shape and sharp meaning hoping to leave behind something for the beyond warning those who keep doing things without thinking giving the sun the year and then the moon the month giving the sun also the day and the hours finding out that the week has no grounds from the sky telling myself that this year had a lot to show showing how the best things stay so truly unseen taking part in a restlessness that does not end flowing past red roofed houses under crisp blue skies thinking about frogs in the slowly heating *** rising early and napping in the afternoons reading about an old building with tree-wooled stone taking a liking to the hand-laid limestone roads hoping the long fifth line can open in good time seeing how many these days make the worst gumshoes having answers right there yet they still can't see them looking over spreadsheets to see if all looks well looking up and wondering how the year flew by calling it the "driving forward of wild speakings" seeing more now as a cost rather than a room making these lines for myself and only myself putting out another line for the years to come settling on a daily beat to get all things done backing these lines up on a spreadsheet far away ending this day with a still film about a "scrooge" knowing that this year will not yield anything big taking time to look in awe at the stone of lime having less of a drive to see more landmasses wondering still about a trip to southern lands setting out to do something and then it falls short dealing with harsh unforeseen setbacks yet again drowning out the setbacks by thinking of good times only so much drowning out one can do right now seeing that green stars on those red flags by some trees wondering when we will go abroad yet again homing in on the tough tiring errands at hand knowing that some others can and do let us down
0
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 11:21 AM UTC
jonchius
2025-12 (a)
starting the year's last month with new pathways to run heading towards the big town this time for a tree playing songs from the eighties now more than ever harking back to days when you had to think ahead reckoning up old snapshots from an older world reading up as always on the folk-made know-how trying to unriddle a light that can't turn on looking at some rhymes and finding a common shape hiding less meaning with see-through words in these rhymes wanting not to spell things further for the midstream shoving a great sum into a golden groundwork shunning some well-liked but long-winded online films noting words from the east to make these words lighter writing only with old roots from the angled tongues binding together words for new inklings and things taking more than ten years to settle on this shape buying gold instead of buying scats made from bits wanting no longer the high life but a still life trading laugh-worthy keepsake tokens for hard gold leaving the floor of play for the soft and the still drowning always and ever with fun things to do reading about a man who wrote a thousand songs teeming with a will to live even beyond life having limits draws one into finding ways out hoping to sail again on ships in years ahead bringing back these snapshots of the old world waters taking some time to look back at the world's wonders posting snapshots of the trips along with these words misspending lengthy times on twitter in years past saving myself now from the timed frittered away trying to make things that have shape and sharp meaning hoping to leave behind something for the beyond warning those who keep doing things without thinking giving the sun the year and then the moon the month giving the sun also the day and the hours finding out that the week has no grounds from the sky telling myself that this year had a lot to show showing how the best things stay so truly unseen taking part in a restlessness that does not end flowing past red roofed houses under crisp blue skies thinking about frogs in the slowly heating *** rising early and napping in the afternoons reading about an old building with tree-wooled stone taking a liking to the hand-laid limestone roads hoping the long fifth line can open in good time seeing how many these days make the worst gumshoes having answers right there yet they still can't see them looking over spreadsheets to see if all looks well looking up and wondering how the year flew by calling it the "driving forward of wild speakings" seeing more now as a cost rather than a room making these lines for myself and only myself putting out another line for the years to come settling on a daily beat to get all things done backing these lines up on a spreadsheet far away ending this day with a still film about a "scrooge" knowing that this year will not yield anything big taking time to look in awe at the stone of lime having less of a drive to see more landmasses wondering still about a trip to southern lands setting out to do something and then it falls short dealing with harsh unforeseen setbacks yet again drowning out the setbacks by thinking of good times only so much drowning out one can do right now seeing that green stars on those red flags by some trees wondering when we will go abroad yet again homing in on the tough tiring errands at hand knowing that some others can and do let us down
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68
thwarting fast flows of time when the bells strike midnight waking up to the sound of glee from church singers harking back to the days when things meant more than none writing without overly long words from the south blinking into the sleep of the wintry season waking once again to the sound of the hardware hearing howling north winds begging to come inside starting this and that yet seldom getting things done noting that things could have taken a much worse turn coming back to the deep-rooted tally-inklings beholding a day for my last living forebear settling down with some more workouts in tallying looking at the windows frosted with ice once more turning on the ambered hearthstead once more for heat reading more about the manmade wisecraft of yore bearing down on one of the year's sleepiest nights needing to write more of these short lines once again keeping up with the deadlines and keeping with them keeping with time by doing these ahead of time taking back old namesake with "letters from afar" noting that these words come from the oldest of roots writing a lot of lines that often do not rhyme crafting the software and wayfaring the wide world wondering what to do with all these written lines having enough else to do but still making time waking up early again for the learning set withholding yet another thought from the commons helping myself to some food from my old folk roots lighting up the room with self-switching vats of light hoping for a shortcut out of this quagmire writng this line even when not much has happened feeling dizzy with all the endless likelihoods walking forward so softly into the year's end making insights about the outside while inside keeping with this framework with a strained written flow noting this other weekday of lowered prices coming along well noting only old word stocks staying at home for too long and getting weird trending towards not going back to a workhouse linking a side to another side on the web getting near to the day when shops lower prices thinking about what thanksgiving down south feels like wondering if anyone knows the word "sundry" having that longing feeling of those bygone days liking the stillness before the holiday storm stuffing no fowl on this day but looking for deals tightening up the hard earned bags of gold instead looking now to buy nothing on buy nothing day making the best of this monk-like setting these days having little to no followers makes me free letting helpful self-driven things work well for me raising the worth of the self-driven things so high sailing away from the old lands that made me sad looking again for any deals on the deep web glossing over some snapshots made a while ago finding a snapshot of a rather weird tree making new snapshots before looking at the old looking out the window and seeing all the blah coming to another end of the month so soon ending the month with a thought about that harsh loss
0
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 8:57 AM UTC
jonchius
2025-11 (b)
thwarting fast flows of time when the bells strike midnight waking up to the sound of glee from church singers harking back to the days when things meant more than none writing without overly long words from the south blinking into the sleep of the wintry season waking once again to the sound of the hardware hearing howling north winds begging to come inside starting this and that yet seldom getting things done noting that things could have taken a much worse turn coming back to the deep-rooted tally-inklings beholding a day for my last living forebear settling down with some more workouts in tallying looking at the windows frosted with ice once more turning on the ambered hearthstead once more for heat reading more about the manmade wisecraft of yore bearing down on one of the year's sleepiest nights needing to write more of these short lines once again keeping up with the deadlines and keeping with them keeping with time by doing these ahead of time taking back old namesake with "letters from afar" noting that these words come from the oldest of roots writing a lot of lines that often do not rhyme crafting the software and wayfaring the wide world wondering what to do with all these written lines having enough else to do but still making time waking up early again for the learning set withholding yet another thought from the commons helping myself to some food from my old folk roots lighting up the room with self-switching vats of light hoping for a shortcut out of this quagmire writng this line even when not much has happened feeling dizzy with all the endless likelihoods walking forward so softly into the year's end making insights about the outside while inside keeping with this framework with a strained written flow noting this other weekday of lowered prices coming along well noting only old word stocks staying at home for too long and getting weird trending towards not going back to a workhouse linking a side to another side on the web getting near to the day when shops lower prices thinking about what thanksgiving down south feels like wondering if anyone knows the word "sundry" having that longing feeling of those bygone days liking the stillness before the holiday storm stuffing no fowl on this day but looking for deals tightening up the hard earned bags of gold instead looking now to buy nothing on buy nothing day making the best of this monk-like setting these days having little to no followers makes me free letting helpful self-driven things work well for me raising the worth of the self-driven things so high sailing away from the old lands that made me sad looking again for any deals on the deep web glossing over some snapshots made a while ago finding a snapshot of a rather weird tree making new snapshots before looking at the old looking out the window and seeing all the blah coming to another end of the month so soon ending the month with a thought about that harsh loss
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60
beginning a new month with new knots to untie driving forward away from the reddened sunrise setting up shop on a still elbow of the web hoping for a happier night and days ahead taking it all in with a grain of salt and sand going back to sleep long after the roar and blah reading things with stillness before the new soft week keeping up with the tidbits about tomorrow dithering at the thought of the new week ahead writing this line again to hide outworn nods wanting it all does not mean one will get it all coming back home to soothe with the mind all quenched up sitting still after the wild and fulsome weekend freeing up room in the mind for more helpful things getting ready for new year-end undertakings giving unto a new run towards the network undoing the last few years of deep nothingness hoping tomorrow will begin a sense of drive bringing back to mind what happened this time last year softening the songs and getting set for "the books" sleeping already for some thicker days ahead arising early to start a new path with life having a short and sweet first set of new learnings teeming with a newfound will to find new earnings writing more lines of reckoning with the snake tongue listening for some rare liveliness at daybreak hurrying to get this work done for the weekend ending this long week with a yeartidely dark brew hacking away for a way out of this hot mess waking early for a first true set of learning righting the ship after some falls takes time and grit boiling the givens down to a meaningful line shining afar a glimmer of some long lost hope seeing that hope might only be knacks of the light bringing back to mind this day of the happening strumming the old stringed song tool as the wall came down seeing snow fall down soon after that summer game trying hard to make up for a lot of lost time cutting out all the needless online blathering hoping that we all do not die of heart illness looking at the small twigs and at the big landscape winning the world cup would heal the loss of that ring bowing more at a low-flake or no-flake friendship knowing when to note the manifold of a word not let down by something way beyond my firm grasp knowing the full weight of taking in the tidings overcoming a deep upheaval after years making a blog as one's own all-around truth-book running back (calling itself) with nested build-crafts steering away from any scuffles among brands feeling like there's always thousands of things to do needing to drain the swamp in my own life as well having nowhere far to look forward to going killing the feeling of still wanting to do more trying still to learn all the things about it all clicking on the mouse and hearing it squeak loudly taking it one day at a time until the end slowing down and speaking with few words as lost crafts dishing out keys to go into the big town flat withdrawing to the cellar for the warm hearthstead
0
Mar 6
Mar 6, 2026 at 9:11 PM UTC
jonchius
2025-11 (a)
beginning a new month with new knots to untie driving forward away from the reddened sunrise setting up shop on a still elbow of the web hoping for a happier night and days ahead taking it all in with a grain of salt and sand going back to sleep long after the roar and blah reading things with stillness before the new soft week keeping up with the tidbits about tomorrow dithering at the thought of the new week ahead writing this line again to hide outworn nods wanting it all does not mean one will get it all coming back home to soothe with the mind all quenched up sitting still after the wild and fulsome weekend freeing up room in the mind for more helpful things getting ready for new year-end undertakings giving unto a new run towards the network undoing the last few years of deep nothingness hoping tomorrow will begin a sense of drive bringing back to mind what happened this time last year softening the songs and getting set for "the books" sleeping already for some thicker days ahead arising early to start a new path with life having a short and sweet first set of new learnings teeming with a newfound will to find new earnings writing more lines of reckoning with the snake tongue listening for some rare liveliness at daybreak hurrying to get this work done for the weekend ending this long week with a yeartidely dark brew hacking away for a way out of this hot mess waking early for a first true set of learning righting the ship after some falls takes time and grit boiling the givens down to a meaningful line shining afar a glimmer of some long lost hope seeing that hope might only be knacks of the light bringing back to mind this day of the happening strumming the old stringed song tool as the wall came down seeing snow fall down soon after that summer game trying hard to make up for a lot of lost time cutting out all the needless online blathering hoping that we all do not die of heart illness looking at the small twigs and at the big landscape winning the world cup would heal the loss of that ring bowing more at a low-flake or no-flake friendship knowing when to note the manifold of a word not let down by something way beyond my firm grasp knowing the full weight of taking in the tidings overcoming a deep upheaval after years making a blog as one's own all-around truth-book running back (calling itself) with nested build-crafts steering away from any scuffles among brands feeling like there's always thousands of things to do needing to drain the swamp in my own life as well having nowhere far to look forward to going killing the feeling of still wanting to do more trying still to learn all the things about it all clicking on the mouse and hearing it squeak loudly taking it one day at a time until the end slowing down and speaking with few words as lost crafts dishing out keys to go into the big town flat withdrawing to the cellar for the warm hearthstead
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60
folding away by living a more uncouth life calling this midstream a means for the old keepsakes thrusting twenty-four-bell clocks on the masses making all day-marks have a year-month-day layout reckoning another shift back to the big town becoming milder after finding stiller paths crafting a new but still-understood way of speech shifting away from new "strange" words from "strange" backgrounds having nothing ready for today save for this wanting a seventh game to happen tomorrow heaving a set of drawers down the cellar stairs getting set for what might make up the year's last match going off to dream about the upcoming year taking a leaf from the book of the happy one having a stab at setting up a new screencast wishing that the home group takes it to the world set riding out the days with fresh online works like this making steady headway with these said online works chugging the black coffee as the dark noon hangs on resting tonight after the game from yesterday fleeing from the need to go under the limelight finding no time even when owing none to others stepping away from the keyboard for a short while letting the tides take me to wherever they crash reaping the windfalls as they come not so often jamming folkways by staying far away from them seeing the win thirty-two years ago today bringing back to mind the home run that won it all writing this down a week before the halloween gearing up for tonight's first game of the world set finding the weeks going by so quickly these days waiting two more hours before the start of game one feeling alright and not seeking more from this team wielding things and time together as they go fast taking a trip to the big town for some big thrills getting ready for another big game tonight wanting it all but then losing some of it all strapping up yet again to go back up north buying some sundries for the long fall week ahead napping with the shorter days and earlier nights starting a new week with a sense of hopefulness needing not only time but for time to move back missing the days when the networks were more heartfelt making fast plots should this happen or that happen hoping to know how this week should go by tonight making things happen has become so unwieldly striking up a plot for the best of likelihoods taking some time to brush up on the online works needing to do what-ifs for a whole slew of things seeing what paths to take for coming weekend noting "telding" as an old word for pitching tents borrowing time and faulting with it by a lot glimmering on the eve of the hallowed evening looking up and noting how the leaves fell quickly driving back to the big town for some more new thrills letting go of bad bloods from past online crossings letting the hallowed evening day begin softly breaking dawn of the new days of a great wonder looking over the fastness of the evening's plots hoping for a win tonight to make this town roar
0
Mar 4
Mar 4, 2026 at 9:15 AM UTC
jonchius
2025-10 (b)
folding away by living a more uncouth life calling this midstream a means for the old keepsakes thrusting twenty-four-bell clocks on the masses making all day-marks have a year-month-day layout reckoning another shift back to the big town becoming milder after finding stiller paths crafting a new but still-understood way of speech shifting away from new "strange" words from "strange" backgrounds having nothing ready for today save for this wanting a seventh game to happen tomorrow heaving a set of drawers down the cellar stairs getting set for what might make up the year's last match going off to dream about the upcoming year taking a leaf from the book of the happy one having a stab at setting up a new screencast wishing that the home group takes it to the world set riding out the days with fresh online works like this making steady headway with these said online works chugging the black coffee as the dark noon hangs on resting tonight after the game from yesterday fleeing from the need to go under the limelight finding no time even when owing none to others stepping away from the keyboard for a short while letting the tides take me to wherever they crash reaping the windfalls as they come not so often jamming folkways by staying far away from them seeing the win thirty-two years ago today bringing back to mind the home run that won it all writing this down a week before the halloween gearing up for tonight's first game of the world set finding the weeks going by so quickly these days waiting two more hours before the start of game one feeling alright and not seeking more from this team wielding things and time together as they go fast taking a trip to the big town for some big thrills getting ready for another big game tonight wanting it all but then losing some of it all strapping up yet again to go back up north buying some sundries for the long fall week ahead napping with the shorter days and earlier nights starting a new week with a sense of hopefulness needing not only time but for time to move back missing the days when the networks were more heartfelt making fast plots should this happen or that happen hoping to know how this week should go by tonight making things happen has become so unwieldly striking up a plot for the best of likelihoods taking some time to brush up on the online works needing to do what-ifs for a whole slew of things seeing what paths to take for coming weekend noting "telding" as an old word for pitching tents borrowing time and faulting with it by a lot glimmering on the eve of the hallowed evening looking up and noting how the leaves fell quickly driving back to the big town for some more new thrills letting go of bad bloods from past online crossings letting the hallowed evening day begin softly breaking dawn of the new days of a great wonder looking over the fastness of the evening's plots hoping for a win tonight to make this town roar
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60
the apartment rearranges itself while I make coffee mugs migrate like small countries with fragile borders I find a receipt folded into the shape of a promise and it smells faintly of winter there is a moth on the lampshade with a passport and a stubborn itinerary my tongue keeps rehearsing sentences that never learn to land a thermostat argues with the sun and both of them are wrong about comfort I press my ear to the radiator to hear what heat remembers a stray sock has become a monument to decisions I postponed I count the minutes between breaths as if they were loose coins the hallway light blinks Morse code for impatience I imagine a ledger where small betrayals are tallied in pencil the pencil keeps breaking and I keep sharpening the same regret a neighbor's laugh ricochets like a coin down a stairwell and I follow it out of habit my reflection in the kettle looks like someone who has been practicing being careful there is a bruise on my calendar where a day used to be I try to staple time back together and the stapler refuses to cooperate a playlist plays songs that have never been written, only remembered I fold my hands into the shape of a question and they refuse to be polite the window holds a map of rain that never quite decides to arrive I tuck a thought into my pocket and it grows impatient the city hums under its breath a machine learning how to forgive I misplace the word that would make this honest and find instead a crooked compass it points toward a grocery store and a childhood memory I did not order I practice saying small truths until they stop sounding like rehearsals the lamp blinks once like an apology and then keeps working I set down a cup and the table remembers the weight of other hands there is a quiet negotiation between my ribs and the idea of moving on I do not promise anything grand only that I will keep noticing the way light learns to be patient and that tonight I will let the moth keep its passport and the receipts keep their winter
0
Jan 24
Jan 24, 2026 at 11:17 AM UTC
mauricio
my tongue
the apartment rearranges itself while I make coffee mugs migrate like small countries with fragile borders I find a receipt folded into the shape of a promise and it smells faintly of winter there is a moth on the lampshade with a passport and a stubborn itinerary my tongue keeps rehearsing sentences that never learn to land a thermostat argues with the sun and both of them are wrong about comfort I press my ear to the radiator to hear what heat remembers a stray sock has become a monument to decisions I postponed I count the minutes between breaths as if they were loose coins the hallway light blinks Morse code for impatience I imagine a ledger where small betrayals are tallied in pencil the pencil keeps breaking and I keep sharpening the same regret a neighbor's laugh ricochets like a coin down a stairwell and I follow it out of habit my reflection in the kettle looks like someone who has been practicing being careful there is a bruise on my calendar where a day used to be I try to staple time back together and the stapler refuses to cooperate a playlist plays songs that have never been written, only remembered I fold my hands into the shape of a question and they refuse to be polite the window holds a map of rain that never quite decides to arrive I tuck a thought into my pocket and it grows impatient the city hums under its breath a machine learning how to forgive I misplace the word that would make this honest and find instead a crooked compass it points toward a grocery store and a childhood memory I did not order I practice saying small truths until they stop sounding like rehearsals the lamp blinks once like an apology and then keeps working I set down a cup and the table remembers the weight of other hands there is a quiet negotiation between my ribs and the idea of moving on I do not promise anything grand only that I will keep noticing the way light learns to be patient and that tonight I will let the moth keep its passport and the receipts keep their winter
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69
january…february… fear shutters through my body march…april… don’t be ridiculous, it’s in your head may…june… getting older, getting…wiser? july…august… the winds change once more september…october… I CAN’T do this again november…december… did you hear me?? I said STOP IT january…february…
0
Nov 20, 2025
Nov 20, 2025 at 11:02 AM UTC
leyalied
calendar πŸ–€
january…february… fear shutters through my body march…april… don’t be ridiculous, it’s in your head may…june… getting older, getting…wiser? july…august… the winds change once more september…october… I CAN’T do this again november…december… did you hear me?? I said STOP IT january…february…
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13
"if it is not on the calendar, it cannot be, it exists not!" nml yes, my words, oft recited, in my defense, when issues and extants of importance, evade, go unremarked, alas, uncelebrated this man~made device, now an essence of essentials, an app, before apps were ubiquitous, mundane, quotidian, prosaic, and banal, no longer a diary, a journal more a scarf capable of being wrapped about multiple necks, a device of connectivity and the unwelcome public isolation, (why was I not invited to that event?) it can be a savory, used sparingly for the dates that must never be forgot, anniversaries of birth &Β Β deaths, of events assumed to be unforgettable (where & when was I, upon giving birth to this poem particular), the why of the words well recalled, the triggering, less so, perhaps, deliberately so... or it can be a chronology of the mundane, The hour I awoke, the timeline of my perfunctoriness, those things that extend life! but are somehow so oft overlooked, (did I take my meds?) the stuff of life, or the stuffing of living, and the desired time to enter into the critical state of restful sleep, which is provided and reminded solely for your ownΒ  amusement due. dates, to do assignations & assassinations, in date order, even motivational ticklers to breathe, to be mindful of thyself it will not record the precise time a fly, buzzed me as I scripted this, what emotes I spoke when he predeceased me, if any, so I give my calendar a salutation most impressive, My Imperial Calendar, the only, most royale, "personage" we know who never forgets! who cannot be denied, and when it tickles me gently at 6:08aM, with a daily perennial. 'Got any new poem abrewing?" it cannot be ignored, for imperial is rooted in the non~impishness of the !i m p e r a t i v e!
0
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 7:00 AM UTC
nat-lipstadt
The Imperial Imperatives of The Calendar
"if it is not on the calendar, it cannot be, it exists not!" nml yes, my words, oft recited, in my defense, when issues and extants of importance, evade, go unremarked, alas, uncelebrated this man~made device, now an essence of essentials, an app, before apps were ubiquitous, mundane, quotidian, prosaic, and banal, no longer a diary, a journal more a scarf capable of being wrapped about multiple necks, a device of connectivity and the unwelcome public isolation, (why was I not invited to that event?) it can be a savory, used sparingly for the dates that must never be forgot, anniversaries of birth &Β Β deaths, of events assumed to be unforgettable (where & when was I, upon giving birth to this poem particular), the why of the words well recalled, the triggering, less so, perhaps, deliberately so... or it can be a chronology of the mundane, The hour I awoke, the timeline of my perfunctoriness, those things that extend life! but are somehow so oft overlooked, (did I take my meds?) the stuff of life, or the stuffing of living, and the desired time to enter into the critical state of restful sleep, which is provided and reminded solely for your ownΒ  amusement due. dates, to do assignations & assassinations, in date order, even motivational ticklers to breathe, to be mindful of thyself it will not record the precise time a fly, buzzed me as I scripted this, what emotes I spoke when he predeceased me, if any, so I give my calendar a salutation most impressive, My Imperial Calendar, the only, most royale, "personage" we know who never forgets! who cannot be denied, and when it tickles me gently at 6:08aM, with a daily perennial. 'Got any new poem abrewing?" it cannot be ignored, for imperial is rooted in the non~impishness of the !i m p e r a t i v e!
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60
Half asleep, barely able to feel the coffee cup in my hands, I wander morning searching for a destination my calendar has not yet mapped.
0
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 9:48 AM UTC
SusieClevenger
Coordinates of a Calendar
Half asleep, barely able to feel the coffee cup in my hands, I wander morning searching for a destination my calendar has not yet mapped.
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10
November arrives on schedule Comes in to visit each year Whispers goodnight with stillness Rustling one can hardly hear I only see her four weeks In heart time is of no concern World to her is a routine on repeat Myself know I have just a turn
0
Jul 19, 2023
Jul 19, 2023 at 3:05 AM UTC
AmandaKayBurke
November
November arrives on schedule Comes in to visit each year Whispers goodnight with stillness Rustling one can hardly hear I only see her four weeks In heart time is of no concern World to her is a routine on repeat Myself know I have just a turn
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8
I was like 13 years old when I realized that a square shape didn't ever exist, until someone made it up to confuse people. I could name a lot of other things that they tried to make me do in school and I refused. They wanted to keep us stupid because they thought we couldn't handle knowing the truth. So they made up fake shapes that don't exist in nature, and fake Gods that that have the generic "god" name. lol
0
Apr 7, 2022
Apr 7, 2022 at 1:53 AM UTC
GaryL
Just a Square
I was like 13 years old when I realized that a square shape didn't ever exist, until someone made it up to confuse people. I could name a lot of other things that they tried to make me do in school and I refused. They wanted to keep us stupid because they thought we couldn't handle knowing the truth. So they made up fake shapes that don't exist in nature, and fake Gods that that have the generic "god" name. lol
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1
Repeat Every Year! No End Date a birthday reminder created; lapsing memory necessitates a firm calendar entry; a reminder, with a proffered choice every year without end is a stark choice for the body messages rapidly a modest daily deterioration; that sunrises will cease, while sunsets not; the smell of everything fresh is familiar and therefore stale in its own way the five senses announce: lazy man what did you expect? why, my just desserts, which is my tears behind rueful laughter nearer my god than thee
0
Oct 24, 2021
Oct 24, 2021 at 10:34 AM UTC
nat-lipstadt
Repeat Every Year! (No End Date)
Repeat Every Year! No End Date a birthday reminder created; lapsing memory necessitates a firm calendar entry; a reminder, with a proffered choice every year without end is a stark choice for the body messages rapidly a modest daily deterioration; that sunrises will cease, while sunsets not; the smell of everything fresh is familiar and therefore stale in its own way the five senses announce: lazy man what did you expect? why, my just desserts, which is my tears behind rueful laughter nearer my god than thee
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19
_πš‚πš˜πš–πš‹πš›πšŽ πš™πšŽπš›πšŒπšžπšœπšœπš’πš˜πš— πš›πšŽπšπšžπšŒπšŽπšœ πšŒπšŠπš•πšŽπš—πšπšŠπš› 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚜 πšƒπš˜ πš™πšŽπš•πšπš’πš—πš πš›πšŠπš’πš— πšŠπš—πš πš πš’πšœπš‘πšπšžπš• πšπš‘πš’πš—πš”πš’πš—πš, π™°πšœ πšœπš’πš–πš™πš‘πš˜πš—πš’πšŒ πšπš›πšŠπš’πš•πšπš’πšŽπšœ πšŒπš•πšŠπšœπš‘ πšπš‘πšŽπš— πš™πšŽπšŠπšŒπšŽπšŠπš‹πš•πš’ πšœπšžπš‹πšœπš’πšπšŽ; π™Έπš—πšπš’πš–πšŠπšπšŽπš•πš’ πš πš˜πšŸπšŽπš— πšπš›πš˜πš– πšπšžπšœπš”πš’ πšœπš’πš•πšŽπš—πšŒπšŽ, π™΄πš–πšŽπš›πšπš’πš—πš πšœπš˜πšπšπš•πš’ πš’πš—πšπš˜ πš™πš’πšŒπšŒπš˜πš•πš˜-πšπšŠπš™πš™πš•πšŽπš πšœπšžπš—πš•πš’πšπš‘πš, π™ΌπšŽπš•πš•πš˜πš  π™°πšžπšπšžπš–πš— πšœπš’πšπš‘πšœ πšŠπš—πš πš†πš’πš—πšπšŽπš›'𝚜 πš›πš’πšπš˜πšžπš› πšœπš—πšŠπš™πšœ; πšƒπš‘πšŽ πšπš’πš›πšœπš 𝚝𝚘 πšπšŠπš•πš•, . . . 𝙰 πšœπš’πš—πšπš•πšŽ __πš—πš˜πšπšŽ__ . . . πš‚πšπšžπšπšπšŽπš›πš’πš—πš πšπšŽπš—πšπš•πš’._
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Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 1:52 AM UTC
annh
NO STRINGS ATTACHED
_πš‚πš˜πš–πš‹πš›πšŽ πš™πšŽπš›πšŒπšžπšœπšœπš’πš˜πš— πš›πšŽπšπšžπšŒπšŽπšœ πšŒπšŠπš•πšŽπš—πšπšŠπš› 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚜 πšƒπš˜ πš™πšŽπš•πšπš’πš—πš πš›πšŠπš’πš— πšŠπš—πš πš πš’πšœπš‘πšπšžπš• πšπš‘πš’πš—πš”πš’πš—πš, π™°πšœ πšœπš’πš–πš™πš‘πš˜πš—πš’πšŒ πšπš›πšŠπš’πš•πšπš’πšŽπšœ πšŒπš•πšŠπšœπš‘ πšπš‘πšŽπš— πš™πšŽπšŠπšŒπšŽπšŠπš‹πš•πš’ πšœπšžπš‹πšœπš’πšπšŽ; π™Έπš—πšπš’πš–πšŠπšπšŽπš•πš’ πš πš˜πšŸπšŽπš— πšπš›πš˜πš– πšπšžπšœπš”πš’ πšœπš’πš•πšŽπš—πšŒπšŽ, π™΄πš–πšŽπš›πšπš’πš—πš πšœπš˜πšπšπš•πš’ πš’πš—πšπš˜ πš™πš’πšŒπšŒπš˜πš•πš˜-πšπšŠπš™πš™πš•πšŽπš πšœπšžπš—πš•πš’πšπš‘πš, π™ΌπšŽπš•πš•πš˜πš  π™°πšžπšπšžπš–πš— πšœπš’πšπš‘πšœ πšŠπš—πš πš†πš’πš—πšπšŽπš›'𝚜 πš›πš’πšπš˜πšžπš› πšœπš—πšŠπš™πšœ; πšƒπš‘πšŽ πšπš’πš›πšœπš 𝚝𝚘 πšπšŠπš•πš•, . . . 𝙰 πšœπš’πš—πšπš•πšŽ __πš—πš˜πšπšŽ__ . . . πš‚πšπšžπšπšπšŽπš›πš’πš—πš πšπšŽπš—πšπš•πš’._
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As you sit to look at your calendar, Something once overflowing, Is now becoming more and more Tauntingly blank. In a place between the end of something And the start of the next thing Stuck in what feels like a hiatus As you sit to look at your calendar, Something once overflowing, Is now becoming more and more Tauntingly blank. In a place between the end of something And the start of the next thing Stuck in what feels like a hiatus Bit by bit, Your calendar starts to fill again This time it fills with things for you You and only you Your calendar, It has more white than before But now the white looks like snow Instead of the ice from before.
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Apr 25, 2021
Apr 25, 2021 at 8:07 AM UTC
observeabsorbwrite
Blank Calendar
As you sit to look at your calendar, Something once overflowing, Is now becoming more and more Tauntingly blank. In a place between the end of something And the start of the next thing Stuck in what feels like a hiatus As you sit to look at your calendar, Something once overflowing, Is now becoming more and more Tauntingly blank. In a place between the end of something And the start of the next thing Stuck in what feels like a hiatus Bit by bit, Your calendar starts to fill again This time it fills with things for you You and only you Your calendar, It has more white than before But now the white looks like snow Instead of the ice from before.
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22
Lately, it has been difficult to share our time together. At times, it even feels as if the universe is holding a grudge against us. Either you are asleep and I am awake, the daytime calls for us to be in a different place, or it is just not that calendar day. Whatever the case may be, the day will come. We will have our solar eclipse, and the World will discover the beauty of our love.
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Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 5:41 AM UTC
Cyrus
Lately, it has been difficult
Lately, it has been difficult to share our time together. At times, it even feels as if the universe is holding a grudge against us. Either you are asleep and I am awake, the daytime calls for us to be in a different place, or it is just not that calendar day. Whatever the case may be, the day will come. We will have our solar eclipse, and the World will discover the beauty of our love.
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1
I met you in September When the leaves were just tempted to change I met you in September When the earth felt like autumn in the rain I met you in September 3 months shy of my birthday I met you in September apart from headache or drama I met you in September listening to Frank, Kendrick and Lana. I met you in September and so I say it clear I only met you in September because it's my favourite month of the year.
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Aug 15, 2020
Aug 15, 2020 at 4:48 PM UTC
biyoekii
I met you in September
I met you in September When the leaves were just tempted to change I met you in September When the earth felt like autumn in the rain I met you in September 3 months shy of my birthday I met you in September apart from headache or drama I met you in September listening to Frank, Kendrick and Lana. I met you in September and so I say it clear I only met you in September because it's my favourite month of the year.
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14
the 31st of every month is meant to give you one more chance to cease the moment and enjoy every breath before the cycle ends, the 31st of every month, is a time to finish your to do-list, even to start writing one and to prepare before the calendar folds its pages again, the 31st of every month, is a reminder that you don't have to stop counting at 10, 20, or 30, the 31st of every month, is a good citizen, because it gives more than it takes, just ask February where its 30th has gone, and it will tell you how it retired and took off with the 31st.
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Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 4:30 PM UTC
deemz
There is love, even if it's in the end.
the 31st of every month is meant to give you one more chance to cease the moment and enjoy every breath before the cycle ends, the 31st of every month, is a time to finish your to do-list, even to start writing one and to prepare before the calendar folds its pages again, the 31st of every month, is a reminder that you don't have to stop counting at 10, 20, or 30, the 31st of every month, is a good citizen, because it gives more than it takes, just ask February where its 30th has gone, and it will tell you how it retired and took off with the 31st.
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25
"The ineluctable approach of time has ensnared me into it's captivity." Only if the Calendar shows the consequences instead of numbers, Only if the actions of futurity are unconnected with the present, Only if I could hold time, I would have captured exquisite moments into my soul. But raising above this dream, there is a ground reality. The stale leaves, the eroded river bed & the wrinkles on the face aptly depicts the wrath of time which spares nothing. So the best possible state is to flow with the time & Let's get submerged into it's essence.
0
Feb 25, 2020
Feb 25, 2020 at 12:18 AM UTC
archana-biswal
The Inevitable Time
"The ineluctable approach of time has ensnared me into it's captivity." Only if the Calendar shows the consequences instead of numbers, Only if the actions of futurity are unconnected with the present, Only if I could hold time, I would have captured exquisite moments into my soul. But raising above this dream, there is a ground reality. The stale leaves, the eroded river bed & the wrinkles on the face aptly depicts the wrath of time which spares nothing. So the best possible state is to flow with the time & Let's get submerged into it's essence.
Continue reading...
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