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#edition
Enough's enough to share, sips, shallow but good fresh breaths, sighing out, pulling in tensions, tau-t we taught ourselves, remember because we could we just did think wonder if today is me at my best, and I accept that this is it, my day, I may give leave to be used myself as we have been used to think linearly, upto a previous peak, thence to hear the morning wind, howl, and know… Ginsberg got here first, and plopped zazen right, full lotus- second thinking thought wise, as ways, wise other, sister winks, thinks, U'll make us rich neurons activated upon gut awakening, burps, breathes, feels thinking literally, just feels good, free from forms, abstract constant instance in care filled con-sidereality verified- will you - won't you re-collection, really actful re always al ready on if, verily, we may take photon rides with far older selfs assurances, taken grace works with the weather, godspeed, old sun It is, where I live, six miles below eastbound contrails, it is a bright, sunny day, slight high mare's tail curling up against these old solid granite curlers as the San Andreas fault, is about to trigger a quake, some think, we, forty miles west of the fissure, figure we be fine, see, from here, with our common sense extensions, this medium we have our being in, as behaviors, and distinctions, behavior's, mine'n'ours predetermination, so beatifichaviour have at it chochmah spittin'image ain'eejeslikem if you are reader one, I'll be reader, too. Two is a we, so we gwan becoming more than we might once have known to expect in this respect -back acted after ever's been bein' real as its, kin folk, spooky fanaigirling phenalgin goodness sakes gumption, umph - look it up, it's for sneezes sigh, since we were originally grace, wise facet of wisdom jewels {Yes, on second thought} Platonic formality geomancy fantasy Jung laughed at our profundity, too steep fundamentally, Watson, in my phone, real… today we happen to have dodecahedrons on our minds, just do so what, well, reader one is lost, so verified heirs to the wayward winds, says the westward leaning aspirations to inspire peace, sighing, saying may be so, leaving ****** bits of our hulls behind, still thinking may be so leavens, given a while in the sun. This ends Can-too one. QEF
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Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 12:47 PM UTC
Half A Cup, can-too one of five
Enough's enough to share, sips, shallow but good fresh breaths, sighing out, pulling in tensions, tau-t we taught ourselves, remember because we could we just did think wonder if today is me at my best, and I accept that this is it, my day, I may give leave to be used myself as we have been used to think linearly, upto a previous peak, thence to hear the morning wind, howl, and know… Ginsberg got here first, and plopped zazen right, full lotus- second thinking thought wise, as ways, wise other, sister winks, thinks, U'll make us rich neurons activated upon gut awakening, burps, breathes, feels thinking literally, just feels good, free from forms, abstract constant instance in care filled con-sidereality verified- will you - won't you re-collection, really actful re always al ready on if, verily, we may take photon rides with far older selfs assurances, taken grace works with the weather, godspeed, old sun It is, where I live, six miles below eastbound contrails, it is a bright, sunny day, slight high mare's tail curling up against these old solid granite curlers as the San Andreas fault, is about to trigger a quake, some think, we, forty miles west of the fissure, figure we be fine, see, from here, with our common sense extensions, this medium we have our being in, as behaviors, and distinctions, behavior's, mine'n'ours predetermination, so beatifichaviour have at it chochmah spittin'image ain'eejeslikem if you are reader one, I'll be reader, too. Two is a we, so we gwan becoming more than we might once have known to expect in this respect -back acted after ever's been bein' real as its, kin folk, spooky fanaigirling phenalgin goodness sakes gumption, umph - look it up, it's for sneezes sigh, since we were originally grace, wise facet of wisdom jewels {Yes, on second thought} Platonic formality geomancy fantasy Jung laughed at our profundity, too steep fundamentally, Watson, in my phone, real… today we happen to have dodecahedrons on our minds, just do so what, well, reader one is lost, so verified heirs to the wayward winds, says the westward leaning aspirations to inspire peace, sighing, saying may be so, leaving ****** bits of our hulls behind, still thinking may be so leavens, given a while in the sun. This ends Can-too one. QEF
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73
Read all about it of poets in the limelight of quills bleeding ink
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Oct 30, 2025
Oct 30, 2025 at 8:45 PM UTC
The early edition Haiku/Senryu
How many wishes Can a star hold Before it falls from the sky And you land on earth?
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Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 10:32 PM UTC
Wish
The colours to illustrate you don’t exist, and even if they did I still would miss, a single shade or hue that fully captures you. Better than a Mona Lisa smile, and Starry Starry Night eyes, I tried for a mosaic but there was no perfect tile, nothing could do justice, blasphemy to anyone that tries. You’re a living, breathing masterpiece; every gallery should be honoured to have you on their walls. Too complex for graffiti on the streets, too heavenly for concert halls. I can write you; rainbow and tornado, orbs of faint blue, and a grin of sweet day glow. Oceanic waves and erupting volcano, the sun’s ray that came on through, and the embrace within the wind’s blow. There isn’t a single brush head I could find, that could stroke each corner of your mind, it’s too complex and deep, it’d be so stunning, it would make all weep. Putting shame to an Impression, Sunrise and casting shadows on Lady with an Ermine, as just a simple picture of your eyes would last eternally through time. You’re a living, breathing masterpiece; not meant for a mere mortal to possess. Completely perfect personality, traits and feats, every other human design was just a test. I can write you, style and rhyme, blindly bright, natural sunshine. Digging only at surface to fit into each line, but there’s no describing what connects it all or the bind. I know the answer but if you said, that your favourite colour was red, I’d let myself bleed out to provide you some paint. Non acrylic and totally free of lead, I’d wish for you to illustrate the picture  within my head, even if the proportions are wrong, and the lines are blurred and faint. You’re a living, breathing masterpiece; completely impossible to duplicate. Though unfinished you’re still complete, amazingly flawless in this state. I can write you; every day till I die, until the pages and filled and my pens run dry. Deep like the ocean, but bright like the sky, and you’ll steal the hearts and breath of all passing by.
0
Oct 9, 2019
Oct 9, 2019 at 3:22 AM UTC
First Edition
The colours to illustrate you don’t exist, and even if they did I still would miss, a single shade or hue that fully captures you. Better than a Mona Lisa smile, and Starry Starry Night eyes, I tried for a mosaic but there was no perfect tile, nothing could do justice, blasphemy to anyone that tries. You’re a living, breathing masterpiece; every gallery should be honoured to have you on their walls. Too complex for graffiti on the streets, too heavenly for concert halls. I can write you; rainbow and tornado, orbs of faint blue, and a grin of sweet day glow. Oceanic waves and erupting volcano, the sun’s ray that came on through, and the embrace within the wind’s blow. There isn’t a single brush head I could find, that could stroke each corner of your mind, it’s too complex and deep, it’d be so stunning, it would make all weep. Putting shame to an Impression, Sunrise and casting shadows on Lady with an Ermine, as just a simple picture of your eyes would last eternally through time. You’re a living, breathing masterpiece; not meant for a mere mortal to possess. Completely perfect personality, traits and feats, every other human design was just a test. I can write you, style and rhyme, blindly bright, natural sunshine. Digging only at surface to fit into each line, but there’s no describing what connects it all or the bind. I know the answer but if you said, that your favourite colour was red, I’d let myself bleed out to provide you some paint. Non acrylic and totally free of lead, I’d wish for you to illustrate the picture  within my head, even if the proportions are wrong, and the lines are blurred and faint. You’re a living, breathing masterpiece; completely impossible to duplicate. Though unfinished you’re still complete, amazingly flawless in this state. I can write you; every day till I die, until the pages and filled and my pens run dry. Deep like the ocean, but bright like the sky, and you’ll steal the hearts and breath of all passing by.
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48
She shines like a rainbow in the night a light, unbounded and free Her warmth is a welcome respite thawing the deepest freeze Her lips a red velvet chorus I can't help but overhear She glows with the translucent aura of a picturesque sunset sea Buttercups turn to greet her smile she'll lift your head with ease Trees send their leaves for thousands of miles just to be in her breeze Her eyes are an ocean of opalescent truths inviting the bold to dive in and swim to a world of untold hues one night inside a diamond In her violet dress and violent heels The Devil would bare his soul for free and so might I, for just a taste the chance to lay her light to waste
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Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 5:05 AM UTC
Tally Marks II
The cold snow fell upon the memories and whited out the pain The hungry wolf looks out across the frozen tundra and forgets his pain Dreaming of a warm summer rain only to go out and **** again Knowing inside is trapped the lamb in wolf clothing
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Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
The Lamb