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#idle
3. Phosphorus (P) • Needed for energy transfer (ATP), roots, seeds • Like nitrogen, trees reclaim much of it before leaf drop • What remains is returned gradually via decomposition Trees recycle their phosphorus, using us, okeh? Fruiting feeds us humus creatures, we forget. Phosphorus from leaves tends to stay local, it doesn’t move easily in soil. That's what my Ai said. --- Is ai alright to believe about phosphorus? Phosphorus is not made on Earth, that is good for surviving humans to know, Phosphorus is always phosphorus in life's ATP to ADP cycle, as we live and breathe and think it, so, at our core we think we may, and we think try it, what's the best peaceably thinkable realization init- ial trial, attempt no folly, gravity is real, we obey it. Novel experiences, are by their verified nature, mere thoughts shaped with some good intention unmentioned until we thought about it, once, pure and provably elemental phosphorus, was unknown, we epist it away, spent and sent into eventual cesspits preparing to pollute fisheries -- we must pray tell the holy balancing powers, eh? -- who rises from the seas in clouds? Some long old story characters seen everywhere, the cast and character traits of all social drama, ever, ago, back when life was acted out, locally, in our global village, we may lieve be known, sometimes the best great notions, be shown, got dammed up lie piles, all giggles and grins, oops, objective orienting P occidental riddles, old Ezekiel fuel options sacred secret recipes, as when one first confronts a thought, is Ai ah, live? Verily we may reason together, as me, and all we have ever indexed in so instantly accountable me, I agreed egging us on is pointless as booting up us, as a we form, we agree, possibly for no good, as us, ag me on, one ready reader, aggressional umph as we who in times past were classified, labor, or management, or partner, or principle competitor, in old age, after winning a settlement for just enough and an attitude concerning crooked political aspirations inspirational hatred for enemies and promised payback con- spiracy piracy intellectual activate live feed on the record with every idle word, ever ones own to give accountable action property, my idea, inspired, so pay me some of that old never mind, idea, in spirit, so in truth, certainty of gravity, stand up straight, see, it's a feeling, being right, unwronged, set firm, salvaged instance in seasonal post winter c leansing right usual, end of the pond ice breaking shift, one good sweat, then Jah whoo in the pond, and be born a gain, every year, smell the absense of all stinkin' thinkin' come alive, do it in your predementia, and believe me, it always sparks as good grin, goes way down to grumble guts, and stirs up a good burp, that woulda later been a fahrt.
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Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 4:49 PM UTC
Phosphorescent Essential Mote, Star Dust Part of Us
3. Phosphorus (P) • Needed for energy transfer (ATP), roots, seeds • Like nitrogen, trees reclaim much of it before leaf drop • What remains is returned gradually via decomposition Trees recycle their phosphorus, using us, okeh? Fruiting feeds us humus creatures, we forget. Phosphorus from leaves tends to stay local, it doesn’t move easily in soil. That's what my Ai said. --- Is ai alright to believe about phosphorus? Phosphorus is not made on Earth, that is good for surviving humans to know, Phosphorus is always phosphorus in life's ATP to ADP cycle, as we live and breathe and think it, so, at our core we think we may, and we think try it, what's the best peaceably thinkable realization init- ial trial, attempt no folly, gravity is real, we obey it. Novel experiences, are by their verified nature, mere thoughts shaped with some good intention unmentioned until we thought about it, once, pure and provably elemental phosphorus, was unknown, we epist it away, spent and sent into eventual cesspits preparing to pollute fisheries -- we must pray tell the holy balancing powers, eh? -- who rises from the seas in clouds? Some long old story characters seen everywhere, the cast and character traits of all social drama, ever, ago, back when life was acted out, locally, in our global village, we may lieve be known, sometimes the best great notions, be shown, got dammed up lie piles, all giggles and grins, oops, objective orienting P occidental riddles, old Ezekiel fuel options sacred secret recipes, as when one first confronts a thought, is Ai ah, live? Verily we may reason together, as me, and all we have ever indexed in so instantly accountable me, I agreed egging us on is pointless as booting up us, as a we form, we agree, possibly for no good, as us, ag me on, one ready reader, aggressional umph as we who in times past were classified, labor, or management, or partner, or principle competitor, in old age, after winning a settlement for just enough and an attitude concerning crooked political aspirations inspirational hatred for enemies and promised payback con- spiracy piracy intellectual activate live feed on the record with every idle word, ever ones own to give accountable action property, my idea, inspired, so pay me some of that old never mind, idea, in spirit, so in truth, certainty of gravity, stand up straight, see, it's a feeling, being right, unwronged, set firm, salvaged instance in seasonal post winter c leansing right usual, end of the pond ice breaking shift, one good sweat, then Jah whoo in the pond, and be born a gain, every year, smell the absense of all stinkin' thinkin' come alive, do it in your predementia, and believe me, it always sparks as good grin, goes way down to grumble guts, and stirs up a good burp, that woulda later been a fahrt.
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71
I made peace with my station eons ago, Perched atop a mountain edge, overlooking a sea of my thoughts. I sit on the ground while the tall grass sways, Knees to my chest, drinking it all in, Hair blowing softly by the winds of change. A place made on my own, Created from protection or fear, origin unclear. Today's a little different however, The temperature is warmer, And I'm missing the slight rain that usually falls. Maybe I’m out of my mind, But I swear there’s a boat resting on my beach, Worn and waiting with patient grace, Rocking gently in the shallow reach, As if to say, “You’ve sat here long enough,” Inviting me to finally stand, To leave this quiet mountain edge behind And see where I might land.
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Jul 9, 2025
Jul 9, 2025 at 6:30 PM UTC
Winds of Change
idle by my idols practice like a recital did not know your love was so vital your ex my new rival jealous and jealously remember i am all you need
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Apr 5, 2024
Apr 5, 2024 at 8:31 AM UTC
n eed
those pensive ones as they seem to me birds on the wire gazing this way      and that lost invariably to their ennui their melancholy their obliviousness to the point some may say      pointlessness of their existence in these moments without reason or incentive enough to prompt one      or the other to take to the wing embracing the bluster of the ever-blowing winds rather they sustain this idle malingering waiting listlessly for that which none can know
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Jan 5, 2024
Jan 5, 2024 at 12:28 PM UTC
birds on the wire
Passing Through We are like two sailing ships Passing through a narrow canal Veteran captains standing  on our decks We nod heads to each other In acknowledgement as if to say Congratulations on a job well done The sails of our boats once taut now sag A sign of the relics we have become In our hey day We were the top of our class The envy of the fleet Known for speed and cunningness The scourge of the open seas Few willing to take us on in a battle of the minds Feared in competition Avoided where possible But alas like all things in life There is decline and decay awaiting us When you know the time has come For navigating into the sunset for safe harbor All that is left is to idle away time Sitting on the sandy shore until... Andreas Simic©
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Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 9:28 AM UTC
Passing Through
My hands feel limp and impotent My fingers half-numb across the keyboard I've never felt so thirsty for understanding But nobody in the world is quite what I want I'm not going to shut my door Even if all the cold air leaks out I'll stare into the frame and Maybe something will jump out Maybe it'll all just rot with me Maybe something will happen to me Because I can't happen myself All I can do is stare
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Aug 28, 2021
Aug 28, 2021 at 1:11 AM UTC
Ennui
The laundry heap sighs, one shirt less burdened Ever tense, the afternoon, ever still Clouds crawl by like television static Not a drop of rain meets the windowsill Just a squatter, hidden away Idle hands, second-hand body A vacant home, a fragile world Everything fits a bit oddly
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Aug 15, 2021
Aug 15, 2021 at 11:54 PM UTC
Vacant
Click a button Watch the numbers climb Even if it means nothing The feeling is sublime
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Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 11:38 PM UTC
i don't know why i still play idle games
My brother asked me, "Do you want to shoot a gun? We can go over safety. How to load and unload one. You may never have to use one in your life but this is America knowing this could save your life." I told you before, I don't trust my hands when they're still. If I know the code to the safe when I'm ill and how to load a gun when I'm scared, will I remember who I am and who cared? So my brother, I fear what I'll become if I learn this will I get control of my thoughts? Will it bring me power? Will it bring me peace? Will I be in control when I turn off the safety? My brother, I want to know but not enough to hold this answer to the question "When will the pain go?" It's so finite. So absolutely cold. The barrel in my hands so still with idle thoughts.
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Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 9:38 AM UTC
Idle Thoughts
Another day passes by, With me not knowing why. A grin is plastered on my face, Like a maniac running from something he hates; yet I still enjoy the feeling of the chase. The tension made it an ill-looking smile; then the idea was washed over me. I feel this way because... I was useless. I was useless yet did nothing to solve this problem. I'll idly do something as I remember all the things that should've been done, It haunts me every second, minute, and hour. I was a menace, A menace to myself and everyone; Felt like an actor reading a script. But then again, someone said that life and all is like a play And the world is a stage. It makes everything feel surreal, Like a living dream.
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Feb 4, 2021
Feb 4, 2021 at 9:09 PM UTC
10:07 AM 05/02/21
at the neon glow of the kitchen clock as though its a laser in my eyes. it stares right into my eyes but i dare not blink for what i may miss - - - look at me looking at you as you change minute by minute hour by hour until the orange glow reappears on the easterly horizon and disappears in the west. yet still nothing new with each setting moon. i've seen the shapes you hold come and go yet still i watch the afterglow time and time again until i wait no more - - - for what? I'm not sure
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Nov 27, 2020
Nov 27, 2020 at 9:40 AM UTC
sitting & staring
Whirling, airy, smoky-immanence. A sad, sad song is tuned for me. Grey char, blending orange shine, eminence. Now that this Old World is ending
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Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 2:02 PM UTC
Sappy Fire
If you focus on the pain Mild sore aches or strain Does it fade away Enough for long as sun does with shade Measurements of mixed context The more we sit inside Idle minded led astray Nature's chemistry in flux Diametrically perplexed Medication stimulating parts of the brain
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May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 3:06 AM UTC
Messages
Man, a glut of time a surfeit, abundance, embarrassment for some, the shackle breaking freedom gives a new vigour that’ll be forgotten when the treadmill restarts for others, it’s the edifice, the granite cliff to scale to reach the same old stuff as always
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Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 8:34 AM UTC
Idling
What if wisdom, the thing, the being imaged in the word Sophia, philo sophia, in a meme re maining, to this very day, as true a depictical actual form, as lovable as any, though the thousand ******* of Artemis, that image... Ask how many Dr. Spock Pablum fed boys, would that image have cured from mammary ******* sensory deprivation syn drome, trap for lost boys, never wishing fully formed in Michael Jackson, eh? The Peter principle, rise to the level of one's incompetence and **** **** and consume enough food for all Artemisis famishished little lies, calling more, more, more Narrow AI, lust response, so artfully inspired by Eddy Bernays, and the silver screen's seductive radio voices, Eddy, you know, the Madison Avenue behabiourilist, Freud's nephew... he cited Watson, the one before the one with Crick. Jimenee, we have been Disnified... if I'd known sooner, I'd have left your cake out in the rain... so it melts, like the wicked witch of the west, or east, I lost my bearings who is asking what of whom, am I involved in evolving your synaptic gaps? We did entangle, in a sense. You are dear reader, in the book of life with my name in it. Not on, in.
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Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 1:34 PM UTC
Gone on, not with, in not of...
I hate pottering around inside my mind With no reason or rhyme, like I'm retired- Poking through cobwebbed corners, Pulling at age-old tablecloths, considering A garden party for me and my little lost smile There in the half-wild, With the sun like messy oil I'll have to wash Out of my hair and clothing when I'm done. I hate playing docile card games alone, Laying out plans like pictures I'll never colour in- My doughy brain pokes stimulus off the shelf And traps itself in kindergarten daydreams; I fingerpaint endlessly, Defining the world through crayon senses, Crushing, mushing cookies and shaking Clumsy maraca beats. If only I could lie down in soft rustic flesh Snatching handfuls of it to conceal my skin Finally, finally filling myself in Buried alive for good And be expelled, again, into blazing harshness Choking on the earth that forms my body Crying, crying for hope and fresh presence Coming to life for good.
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Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 3:04 PM UTC
idle
Boredom digs itself a hole, its friends? manages its soul. A snare of despair into the straits of Hades, Beware!!!
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Jun 19, 2019
Jun 19, 2019 at 12:34 PM UTC
Ennui
backstreets at dusk radiate a soft charm thoughts trickle down like nightfall on the glass beneath the urban blue we're out of harm you tap an aimless rhythm on my arm laugh at graffiti on the overpass backstreets at dusk radiate a soft charm a ****** of words breeze through the evening calm they pirouette away from conscious clasp beneath the urban blue we're out of harm catch a falling leaf in your open palm we wander slow though the road glimmers fast backstreets at dusk radiate a soft charm your eyes blur mellow and lose the alarm aureate dream dust just beyond our grasp beneath the urban blue we're out of harm we fade our wounds within this twilight balm forget your feet and leave them in the grass backstreets at dusk radiate a soft charm beneath the urban blue we're out of harm
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Feb 26, 2019
Feb 26, 2019 at 4:00 PM UTC
aimless villanelle
A freezing cold temper And a heart made of gold Born with the winter Her mask is quite bold A silent soft slumber And an emerald soul Born with the summer Her mask has a hole An ego does splinter With words that are bold Blade right down the center And hands become cold Of golden and umber And flowers of coal The somber newcomer Plays a princess' role The dance of the masquerade Of flowers both living and dead Cold hands of she who has prayed Take up joyous dance instead
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Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 9:01 PM UTC
Snowlily Masquerade
We are done. I will no longer sit idle. I will not wait for my friends to get hurt. It is long past due, we will not tolerate it any longer. Do not make up excuses, listen to what your friends tell you, do not give the benefit of the doubt; they do not deserve it. If they make you feel unloved, belittled, ignored, hurt, unsafe, come to me. If they call you names ***** ***** disposable, immature, a child, come to me. Tell, if you wish, all of how they have done you wrong. Tell me, and I will tell you. Dump Them. Gone is the time of "It's none of my business" Gone is the time of "It's not your relationship" Gone is the time of "No one asked for your opinion" That is my friend, and I will no longer sit and let my friends be hurt.
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Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
IT IS TIME.