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#flattenthecurve
Snowflakes drape the violets— a splash of how the human spirit can be, personified. The pale faces and minds dangle on the precipice where the lost begin and end themselves. I sense their impending strokes, aneurysms, Myocarditis, failing immune systems, acquiredautoimmunodeficiencysyndromes, sterilization, and aggressive cancers loom on the horizon of the frozen ground of their minds. I sense the digital serpent coiled in their ribosomes and nuclei. "Which brand did you choose?" Choose? A momentary inner wince is contained in polished discipline. "I don't need to take your shots, I've been selected to slither through the polygon window." Lackluster irises reflect the violets that bounce to hits of heavy, wet snow fall, their petals open to the waning light in defiance. "You rolled over like ******* brag over begging for more." It soars over his head like the dark, pregnant snowclouds roiling above us. Hopefully, only 7 years remain of watching people **** themselves and their loved ones in denatured cowardice and mindless obedience— enough to appease the hyper-capitalist bloodlust for progress and ignorance. I can survive 12—7 years will be enough horror and tragedy to fill lifetimes. Don't speak of that for 14 years, and don't speak of this for 7 years. Don't ever mention OPERATION F, and only mention Project D without disclosing Appendix A & B. In 3 years, that is. Yes, Master. Hopefully, enough of the cowards and mindlessly obedient **** themselves and each other during the next 7 years in order for the poor and the meek to inherit the Earth—push through the snow in defiance, sow the spark and glow of human spirit and nature in the garden once again.
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Nov 14, 2021
Nov 14, 2021 at 3:42 PM UTC
Of Operatives and Violets
Snowflakes drape the violets— a splash of how the human spirit can be, personified. The pale faces and minds dangle on the precipice where the lost begin and end themselves. I sense their impending strokes, aneurysms, Myocarditis, failing immune systems, acquiredautoimmunodeficiencysyndromes, sterilization, and aggressive cancers loom on the horizon of the frozen ground of their minds. I sense the digital serpent coiled in their ribosomes and nuclei. "Which brand did you choose?" Choose? A momentary inner wince is contained in polished discipline. "I don't need to take your shots, I've been selected to slither through the polygon window." Lackluster irises reflect the violets that bounce to hits of heavy, wet snow fall, their petals open to the waning light in defiance. "You rolled over like ******* brag over begging for more." It soars over his head like the dark, pregnant snowclouds roiling above us. Hopefully, only 7 years remain of watching people **** themselves and their loved ones in denatured cowardice and mindless obedience— enough to appease the hyper-capitalist bloodlust for progress and ignorance. I can survive 12—7 years will be enough horror and tragedy to fill lifetimes. Don't speak of that for 14 years, and don't speak of this for 7 years. Don't ever mention OPERATION F, and only mention Project D without disclosing Appendix A & B. In 3 years, that is. Yes, Master. Hopefully, enough of the cowards and mindlessly obedient **** themselves and each other during the next 7 years in order for the poor and the meek to inherit the Earth—push through the snow in defiance, sow the spark and glow of human spirit and nature in the garden once again.
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wasting well water wishes while in waste water wading waiting waist-high wailing weeping, wailing— what a waste! wasting well water wishes while we're waxing waning waning waxing waging waging, waisting— wherewithal! wanting well water wishes while whole world watching watching wishing wanting wanting wishing— worldwide! welcome well water wishes while watching winning wanting wanting watching winning winning, winning— wonderful! whew!! © 2020 Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
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Apr 29, 2020
Apr 29, 2020 at 12:30 PM UTC
flatten the curve
Sit and listen To the clock The ticking The tocking Furnace fan Droning on In chorus To the percussion of The ticking The tocking Snapping off a beat And fan’s low hum A bird outside Throws in a solo A robin calling For a mate While I lay on my couch And start to dream About summer and Not being told to stay inside The ticking The tocking Time passing by the whole world As we wait for the magical day When the curve is flattened And we’ve made it through The ticking The tocking
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Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 7:33 PM UTC
The Clock
Go inside. Not only your home but yourself. You are being beckoned from within. The external world has nothing for you now. It’s time to go inside. To be. To feel. To reflect. To get real. To be vulnerable. To pray. To forgive. To meditate. To listen. To examine who you’ve become. To hurt. To heal. To let go of what’s holding you back. To imagine who you want to be. To be grateful. To be hopeful. To love. To learn. To grow. To dream. Go inside, and stay inside until you are at peace with yourself and our world.
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Mar 21, 2020
Mar 21, 2020 at 9:05 PM UTC
Go Inside