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#et
E.T. had a little Lamb. It's fleece was red and blue. Carl Sagan took a look and said You aren't from Earth, are you?
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Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 8:14 PM UTC
E.T.'S LAMB
"I'll be right here" my dear friend said to me a tap of his finger set my mangled heart free He never came back Because he never left -The boy in the red sweater
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Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 7:47 PM UTC
I'll Be Right Here
Yellow stars, blue stars, brown Looking through the window Are you looking up at me or are you looking down? Smiling? Or with a frown? Are you a distant memory? Or am I new in town? Many questions from my end I will wait for the answers If it means I can be your friend
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Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 4:36 PM UTC
E.T.
In my magic library I find old Carl Jung, read by voice I may imagine my own, reading in a polished Oxford accent, with the or made an uh at every opportunity, and no e ever unspoken {save after lone stretched vowles stretching} each word forming as from a bubble of thought, with one tangentle anchor point, stretching down from that thought cloud emerging from the bubbles bubbling in your magmatic earthly being, at the heart of you where your fire burns piercing. I speak, with authority, I hear me say, I shall know I know as much or more of such thoughts as these Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Old man visions loosed into ever, like the preacher making many books, vain, but enjoyable, all the same, after mediating between me and the others, out there, free in the sea of opinions, bound only by fear of death, to lives of quiet desparation, to ti esti in separation from secret knowledge unearnible, in one mortal life's longest state of steady concentration on the point of being. at all or having any part in this production, blooming, ****** beat of my heart, oh, hell no, hello world... we come with words formed in defeat, defeat repeats the message as follows d'toes knows ken yond some kinda ying yang warworths lisp ship cult prize thang. Shib-o-let slow belly lethargy, feel it in your big toe, touch a stone and turn the cool side up A papal bullishit bell curve clang, gong.... wrong... good guess, give'er another go ****** right, too right, mate, take th'prize sur reality position superimposed over life as imagined before the internet, but after TV... the inbetween time seedtime, not harvest. Seed sown, unknown seed sown, for better living, through science. Side track: Bayer is famous for... Xyclon B. Right. The game of knowing going on as we wander, wondering waht subtle subtility what keen sence of sharpness, pointing a way, see... that pixel, upper left quadrant, in the per ifery edgy bit out of focus, can you blink? Give us a clue, are we ludicrous by nature? Are we only here to play, to enjoy the grace of knowing God shat on all our filthy rags and laughed as we danced around the fire, lost in re very very ify verity of varieties un en visioned until the release The Alamogordo bit of my myth with you in it. Initial response of any heroic application is denial. No real hero wishes to be a real hero, the day to day existence in a virtual eden, is fine. When we get down to where jewels form latices far funner than the jungle gym or monkey bars of my youth, a prewar preparation, proven to myself, I can do this, grip and swing, and reach and grip and swing, command the callouses to form, command the cells to signal, more blood, more O, too. Oh, you, wisdom coos, in that sweet way she does when we leave those sure bonds of earth and take a stake in heaven's will being done in wisdom's main domain. --- whole heart or no heart, the hero code, probabble babble babble on and on an in fun item left to fuggetchewwitcher doubus ****** haecceity point. Score. Thats the point of anything piercing everything. It looks different from out here.
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Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 3:47 PM UTC
Peace of mind in shaky reality
In my magic library I find old Carl Jung, read by voice I may imagine my own, reading in a polished Oxford accent, with the or made an uh at every opportunity, and no e ever unspoken {save after lone stretched vowles stretching} each word forming as from a bubble of thought, with one tangentle anchor point, stretching down from that thought cloud emerging from the bubbles bubbling in your magmatic earthly being, at the heart of you where your fire burns piercing. I speak, with authority, I hear me say, I shall know I know as much or more of such thoughts as these Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Old man visions loosed into ever, like the preacher making many books, vain, but enjoyable, all the same, after mediating between me and the others, out there, free in the sea of opinions, bound only by fear of death, to lives of quiet desparation, to ti esti in separation from secret knowledge unearnible, in one mortal life's longest state of steady concentration on the point of being. at all or having any part in this production, blooming, ****** beat of my heart, oh, hell no, hello world... we come with words formed in defeat, defeat repeats the message as follows d'toes knows ken yond some kinda ying yang warworths lisp ship cult prize thang. Shib-o-let slow belly lethargy, feel it in your big toe, touch a stone and turn the cool side up A papal bullishit bell curve clang, gong.... wrong... good guess, give'er another go ****** right, too right, mate, take th'prize sur reality position superimposed over life as imagined before the internet, but after TV... the inbetween time seedtime, not harvest. Seed sown, unknown seed sown, for better living, through science. Side track: Bayer is famous for... Xyclon B. Right. The game of knowing going on as we wander, wondering waht subtle subtility what keen sence of sharpness, pointing a way, see... that pixel, upper left quadrant, in the per ifery edgy bit out of focus, can you blink? Give us a clue, are we ludicrous by nature? Are we only here to play, to enjoy the grace of knowing God shat on all our filthy rags and laughed as we danced around the fire, lost in re very very ify verity of varieties un en visioned until the release The Alamogordo bit of my myth with you in it. Initial response of any heroic application is denial. No real hero wishes to be a real hero, the day to day existence in a virtual eden, is fine. When we get down to where jewels form latices far funner than the jungle gym or monkey bars of my youth, a prewar preparation, proven to myself, I can do this, grip and swing, and reach and grip and swing, command the callouses to form, command the cells to signal, more blood, more O, too. Oh, you, wisdom coos, in that sweet way she does when we leave those sure bonds of earth and take a stake in heaven's will being done in wisdom's main domain. --- whole heart or no heart, the hero code, probabble babble babble on and on an in fun item left to fuggetchewwitcher doubus ****** haecceity point. Score. Thats the point of anything piercing everything. It looks different from out here.
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93
the hand that took a hold on the shape to stimulate the other’s growth is more able to cherish than the one that took a hold on the shape to keep the fleshly desires in place realization like E.T. phone home thank you woman of God to **** the alienation within space and bring us back to sense you loved best you allowed me and us to grow
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Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 6:07 AM UTC
sister shug
i look to the night sky for answers i am so far removed from where i stand detached from this time and place i don't belong i send a thought a message to anyone that may be passing by this galaxy on their way home take me with you
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Oct 11, 2019
Oct 11, 2019 at 6:20 PM UTC
a plea to ET
Remember the name they'll be considered the same. Two centuries apart but both just as smart at playing the poetry game
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Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 4:15 AM UTC
Poe (et) ANu
I am ANu poet the poem is me. I may not be Poe but I'll be et alli.
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Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 8:57 PM UTC
Not Poe
/ picked an iris from the garden / took a hacksaw to the petals / when i could have just picked them apart / \ which garden? \ only one of its kind \ a blemish in the desert, a stubborn breakout of petulant colour \ under schrodinger's sun \ model's smiles so ugly betwixt the natural verdure \ i tell them this \ to save myself from perceived slights \ and she does, indeed, look slight \ / the word "help" drawn in the sand / the rusting handle of the shovel burning hands / as i hack at stems swaying nonchalant / in the stinging wind / \ from left \ to right / then left \ then right / before bleeding out on the flat palm of the tool - \ a wren \ tar-black \ perches on a nearby tree \ shakes the dust off a wing \ and casts a shadow across our little oasis \ before opening its beak to song \ dragging more people into the dark will not help you find the light switch \ and other assorted platitudes \ / so the model walks out into the desert / i follow / dragging her garden along / it's wrapped around my ankles / oh the irony in losing blood to the vines tightening / dragging across hot sand / and eventually it's all too heavy / so i collapse / breathing in the arid ground / skin turns as red as a bull's nightmare landscape / yet she continues to walk / as if nothing happened / is it the heat that leaves me melting away? / or the guilt? / in any case / i got caught in the trap i set for her / eyes close / and she is leaving...                                                                                    leaving...                                                                                       leaving...                                                                                                               left.
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May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 12:07 PM UTC
yesterday i was born and today i am jaded
/ picked an iris from the garden / took a hacksaw to the petals / when i could have just picked them apart / \ which garden? \ only one of its kind \ a blemish in the desert, a stubborn breakout of petulant colour \ under schrodinger's sun \ model's smiles so ugly betwixt the natural verdure \ i tell them this \ to save myself from perceived slights \ and she does, indeed, look slight \ / the word "help" drawn in the sand / the rusting handle of the shovel burning hands / as i hack at stems swaying nonchalant / in the stinging wind / \ from left \ to right / then left \ then right / before bleeding out on the flat palm of the tool - \ a wren \ tar-black \ perches on a nearby tree \ shakes the dust off a wing \ and casts a shadow across our little oasis \ before opening its beak to song \ dragging more people into the dark will not help you find the light switch \ and other assorted platitudes \ / so the model walks out into the desert / i follow / dragging her garden along / it's wrapped around my ankles / oh the irony in losing blood to the vines tightening / dragging across hot sand / and eventually it's all too heavy / so i collapse / breathing in the arid ground / skin turns as red as a bull's nightmare landscape / yet she continues to walk / as if nothing happened / is it the heat that leaves me melting away? / or the guilt? / in any case / i got caught in the trap i set for her / eyes close / and she is leaving...                                                                                    leaving...                                                                                       leaving...                                                                                                               left.
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9
In the silent cold of the desert night cacti share a lonely trance they stretch their stubby, prickly arms the glow incites this awkward dance they rest their ship on a vacant dune shield their eyes from brilliant glare the light that burns from distant moon is more than they can bear they have come to plant their rabid seed that will race across the desert plane to hunt the sleepers on which they feed the seed now sewn, they await the rain
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Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 11:57 AM UTC
while we sleep
I believe that fire was still a mystery when the hunt was interrupted by the visitors knowing that the creatures were startled by their presence these visitors could passively drop the gold dust into the creek from which they drank and as expected, the dumbfounded four with mouths agape watched in disbelief without twitching a muscle though it is not ascertained that disbelief was a function of the thought process that they were at this time capable it was not lost on these creatures however, our forefathers that these odd newcomers were far superior than the mastodon they were tracking with rocks the 3 visitors gave a glance to their soon-to-be hybrid offspring and were off the ability to convey their experience when they returned to their caves fell futile there were as yet no grunts to properly describe what they had witnessed the DNA structure leading to the ceiling of the evolutionary scale was no longer a towering, folding beast but rather a mere stepladder fire was discovered tools, arrows, weaponry and monuments that we have yet to explain how were constructed while the last true human but a young child when the visitors came who had observed from afar drank only from a pond that they had not touched he passed like a story from the ancients forgotten in time
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Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 4:08 PM UTC
gold dust
Thirty-six hours passed with no rest but I am now deep within a dream of strange substance and color my emotions strained and stretched my body turned inside-out by floating lights this is the price paid when one denies sleep I blink from a nightmare of glistening silver probes to see in my awakened state the blank stare of almond sized black eyes a gray silhoetted against the vanilla ice cream colored shades of my living room window the contrast visible even in this monicum of light he leans a bit to my right as I jump into consciousness and I know he is surprised before sending me back When the morning Sun brings me around my body head to toe feels worn with fever my daily aches routine with age are maximized and accentuated the gray is fresh in my mind the first clear thought the clarity of his presence undeniable A quick check testicles intact coffee to chase the headache a shower to wash away the abuse
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Mar 24, 2018
Mar 24, 2018 at 1:11 PM UTC
Mr Ali N Gray
Oh, my Medusa That piercing, seductive stare Gets me so rock hard. "braullw nevae falls" That's 'braille never fails', Spelled by a blind man. Matsuo Basho Turns in his grave: first, five times then seven, then five. The dankest of **** Floats slowly into my lungs Oh wait...Asbestos. hahaha ye boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii yeyeyeyeye ye boiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii hehe wyd
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Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 10:30 AM UTC
A Collection of Dumb Haikus, Thanks
my excuse is that i was raised by wolves, my dear and i had my teeth filed into pinpoints and i had my back hunched over until my spine was a golden arc. but did you ever run with a pack, my dear? your food came to you, cooked, prepared, served by a gloved hand. and everything could be solved with a 'please' and a 'thank you'. but our differences don't stop there, my dear there is a distinction between school grounds and hunting grounds between daisy chains and food chains. or, if you please, packed lunch and slain lunch better still: between praying and preying between what one hears and what one herds. yet here we are, my deer and for all notions of civilized behaviour you are the one baring animal teeth.
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Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC
role models and role reversals
The candle is almost at its end.. A once bouncing flame atop its mountain. Now sputters for life. Grasping at anything to just remain. It seemed the more hands that would come to shield. The faster the wax walls would cascade down. Its sad.. To watch something so beautiful. Turn grotesque. Monsterous. Feeding on the life force of anything it came into contact with. Justifying the actions to build such an elaborate facade. The creator is held by its deception. Cultivating flaws as if it needed some appraisal. But in the end it just lacked approval. Washing hands in the same water the idea was brought to drown in. Whispering sweet nothings to sooth a hemoraging mind. But when it was the same hand that inflicted the wound. Will this game truly turn rampant. So long as there is a die to be cast. The possibility of loaded questions commemorate the stacked odds. For when the turn comes. And the die are no longer an option. Will the board glide away. game over.
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Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 2:59 AM UTC
Not Enough
Surrealistic lover meet me at the danger zone In space ships where we simulate As you shape shift, I stay fascinated A reptilian, an arcturian, pleiadian The vega, a lyra, light years away Supersonic lover kiss me at the signal house In cellular automaton advance my grid of DNA As we diffuse in megastructures, callibrate my power A sirian, grays, draconian,anunnaki The human, indigo, crystal, the rainbow Take me to the fantasy, at the star line of illusion Where my body glows and your DNA burrows Take me and show me the laser in the magic cosmic Open my heart, inject your poison,kiss my toes as you do Disconnect my body and spirit to another dimension Distort the optic nerve so that the reality seems normal Transverse the solar bodies and celestial systems Fight the hypotonic regression to recall the delusions Climb the mountain as the peaceful dwellers wear googles Awaiting for a UFO float and disappear from the bare land
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May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 1:59 PM UTC
Traced Alien ft a DNA Trance
One feverishly feigned embrace And struck with hand, dagger graced Though the votive venial It precipitated the coup de grace Ignorant stood captivated, Discourse evaporated As conspirators followed suit Silence serenaded the orchestrated, Symphony of treachery accentuated by sovereignty's strikes, resolute Although he knew the fate awaited And pain he could not substitute The fight he would not forsake, and so suffered mute Until his soul was devastated by the visage venerated... The coda extricated, "Et tu, Brute?"
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Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 9:36 PM UTC
Snakes
You’ve landed in my mind, Meteor crashing into plain Sight without any given Warning - little did I expect To find a crater in my heart And a drive to fill the aching Void Your voice soft and dreamy, Immortalized by memory: The way words and truths Roll off your tongue, Cryptic creature, where Are you from? Where is your world, What’s it like? I Want to know, But cannot go - Why’s it that you Captivate me so?
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Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
Visitation
Farewell Sickness You left me! Invaluable was the darkness cherished the beloved heart body, mind and half of my age all of it devoted to your love only and secretly You crowned me to your queen of darkness I grew up slowly in our palace where I could hide and Stay if I wanted to always with you Our home the holy eidolon … but a shelter for me as long as you were there There was where we honored  shadows by becoming shadows The Black Mountain of your teaching was made of the absolute Color of our eternal love but Love You forgot one thing or didn't you know me well? Dedicated by desire I climbed that mountain Kept my promise To see  the irrefutable To be the unconditional No You weren't there You haven't made it that far? or was your share to have me ebb There was Black as absolute as you said Stroke my face apart and I fell at once for another at an opposite end One I became with the luminous cilia of a man a plain man made of brightest light All of a sudden he came All of a sudden he left Seeing all of me was possessed That loss slowly turned me to a sheer pain covering my home with an opposite color of white I got petrified by an equal fever to your love and A battlefield were my heart lodging the war of the tantamount of identical charge repulsion of the supreme dematerialized matter cracked the eye and I died Colors of all wavelengths between black and white fill that deserted heart now Yet there is a new spirit sleeping inside Soon she will wake up and sing an ancient lullaby of life not remembering but with a knowing: *I am of dark and of light not necessarily of good or of bad whatever you make me I will be which matches to which by any color of absolute   you’ll be bewitched but virtuous make a difference by your poetry let me be your one magic word until truth is met in heavens*
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 5:55 PM UTC
Noire et Blanche
Farewell Sickness You left me! Invaluable was the darkness cherished the beloved heart body, mind and half of my age all of it devoted to your love only and secretly You crowned me to your queen of darkness I grew up slowly in our palace where I could hide and Stay if I wanted to always with you Our home the holy eidolon … but a shelter for me as long as you were there There was where we honored  shadows by becoming shadows The Black Mountain of your teaching was made of the absolute Color of our eternal love but Love You forgot one thing or didn't you know me well? Dedicated by desire I climbed that mountain Kept my promise To see  the irrefutable To be the unconditional No You weren't there You haven't made it that far? or was your share to have me ebb There was Black as absolute as you said Stroke my face apart and I fell at once for another at an opposite end One I became with the luminous cilia of a man a plain man made of brightest light All of a sudden he came All of a sudden he left Seeing all of me was possessed That loss slowly turned me to a sheer pain covering my home with an opposite color of white I got petrified by an equal fever to your love and A battlefield were my heart lodging the war of the tantamount of identical charge repulsion of the supreme dematerialized matter cracked the eye and I died Colors of all wavelengths between black and white fill that deserted heart now Yet there is a new spirit sleeping inside Soon she will wake up and sing an ancient lullaby of life not remembering but with a knowing: *I am of dark and of light not necessarily of good or of bad whatever you make me I will be which matches to which by any color of absolute   you’ll be bewitched but virtuous make a difference by your poetry let me be your one magic word until truth is met in heavens*
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94
I Spent an Evening With a Couple of Friends. That for a simple night out Had a passionate End. He, Lean with a Beard And, She lithe and Long Haired. As they Blindfolded me and, Gently Lay Me on the Bed. I soon felt two lips to please, Two tongues to tease. Four Hands to Caress, My Fevered Flesh. Then she moans softly, To my Tongue's Manipulation. I feel the heat of His deep Penetertion As we seek out the Rythnm Of our Excitation. And Explode in a Torrent Of Sweat and Flesh from the collection "POETIC STALKINGS'
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Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
AN EVENING WITH FRIENDS