#judged
-------------------------
Der Schauspieldirektor (The Impresario)
The Producers,
the real makers of goods we exchange, you
all realizing we were imaginably real to you.
Forsake not the flocking together,
as the manner of some is.
We hang together or most assuredly alone.
Commas can let us breathe or make us pause
without breathe-ing out, holding whole a time.
Demonstrable weformed all at once turning,
on Earth, in the span of three minutes
retuning time and chance crosswind
Darwin considered the ability
to produce musical notes
without direct use
the most mysterious endowment of mankind,
you all, listening beyond the pallisade, humin
y'all comin' one day to be judged by--- whom?
Have ye never read, we must judge angels?
Try the spirits, we were told, listen, be wary
wares wielded wisely, yes, knowing needing
knowers with some serpentine drive belts,
calling for clutches letting wheels spin free.
Making sense somewhere whence freedom
from stranger danger is nullified, impossible
nothing hellish lingers at death's door, true,
you may become wise as a serpent, perhaps
dragon expresses wisdom better, same idea,
your lizard brain cognition system piezo spark.
Under pressure to perform, laughing at that
knowledge.
Piezo sparked fire, the tongue no man tames,
the tiller telling the pilot to pay heed, indeed
we make our own way home work wonders,
while we share our unencumbered liberty,
wishing
evidence exchanged for faith shell midden
mound of traditional values used to entertain
Narration, rationalize pitch and sequence,
pay attention to the plumber tapping out
grout to remove ceramic tile, nextdoor,
all really ancient handiwork,
can we still make fire by hand? I wonder,
we can watch a youtube and get the idea,
- but not if all hell breaks loose, right?
Who can say, ah
me, I can say
amen,
but can we leisure class old ne'er do wells,
classified disabled for productive employment
truly pierce the last breath reality forming awe
mental suffixiation permanent mental looping
fractalling arrhythmic patterns minds perceive
receivable on all active cognitive lexigraphics
Kababble Chebar canal coilition, make it so
Caballic logic linked
kerplunk thunk
reimagine learning
after learning how fire
was kept alive, lucky lightning strike, may be,
coincidental summertime event, when we
**** sapiens innocents were on our own,
dystopia eutopian chittering fowl, our own
breath finding its fit in the local noises of life.
Are we historically fixed right now, or do we
redeem time
telling,
once
when I was told to bring the keynote, to us,
congregated to consume poetic driftwood,
cold snap in May, northern climes.
Fire kept fresh all winter long, long ago,
when king's museums were sunlit or not lit.
Who has the time reasonably
to peruse Vitruvius man,
and feel religiously,
under holy lust as described
in scripture, letters holding truth, as said,
Nothing hidden, nothing not made known,
the law is the law, we live under rule of law,
say those who serve the labor class essentials.
Compromise dominion -- bring on home.
In my father's house, on our mother's world,
we live and learn to be mankind, wombed
and un, awe learn to use man kindly as me,
I am my brother's keeper, I understand,
the very first kid did not understand, and
as happens with male pattern baldness,
what seed is sown is the whole truth grown
kinds of mongrels and kinds of pure breeds,
kinda consciousness that forms actual
knacks, flavors of ways being is done.
Intuited first impression at scale,
you know you know and do
as you enjoy imagining doing
in ever, in spirit, in mind, enjoyment,
mere use being, in spirit in mindspace
thinkable at speeds passing light
setting up a day's worth
of pure wisdom finding elemental fits
repurposed
to inspire ****** reproduction
to become proletarian next time.
Seeing flaccid Vitruvius man,
knowledge stretches to expand
-- it's true, we have yeast in us
condemnation deserved
smiling at the notion…
gaseous we, what a piece of work,
¿á?
if the law allows lying
to save an advantage,
is the law just
after we survive and meet life
face to face, as promised, this is that day.
So… poetic license revocation, volunteer
to enforce the promise to discern the whole
truth, regarding air share on Earth,
after realizing Earth is as ever must be.
Or we are dead already and just messin' witcha
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:45 PM UTC
You’ll always be judged,
Bare face, full glam,
Trans, woman, cisman.
Christian, muslim, jewish,
Smart, lazy, foolish.
Homeless or a surgeon,
It doesn’t matter cause you’re still a person.
A human being with feelings, thoughts and opinions,
Others will try to bring you down,
No matter the conditions,
Don’t let yourself drown.
Drown in your thoughts and tears,
The world will always be full of fears.
Apr 14
Apr 14, 2026 at 10:50 AM UTC
Encorporations, Liebling --
Weforms, y bubbles in being buvvles.
Ancient knowing, long sacred, hidden,
as with the legend of confused names,
Epimythiums accosting promethean bets,
day and night, eat your heart out, free
from regrets, satisfied mind, okeh, free
to act as agent
for lady liberty, here post feudal self,
as discovered in a canyon, much the same
as Sha'gri La from story, Havasu Canyon,
as home of a boy I knew, whose grandfather
had made peace, with good intention,
to remain in Supai until the end of time,
then, there come the missionaries, guessing
Victory in Jesus would rouse the innocents
to repent for never having imagined Hell,
as sure as can be made believe,
by **** sapien innocents,
never led by setters free,
into known uses
of old Eber clan ever words,
otherwise, still, small, breather thinking ideas,
whims like what if this is that, and we ready,
readers like think as fast as we can write,
as if we have been taught to dance
as when we drum along and dance
in mindful memorizational motivational wills,
to live the story we form as our weform agrees,
these are the realms of spirits, these are words
enough for the wise in any situation, sent, willing
to breathe, and feel, the whole wind working bit,
the smoke you may use, indeed, see believing
work out a salve for that itching ear, feeling
we form on-demand, at hand, at touche', indeed,
doing done, done did get done, this away from that,
back to the future,
through common senses used,
globally translatable
with Google Translate, using
copy and paste
of encoded letting out of dogmen,
from another mindform mingled
with mine, shall we
imagine Ancestory.com as a technology needing a lie,
to make believers
in what DNA can prove today,
if we go back far enough,
we were masters or slaves, and masters knew,
what slaves were not at liberty
to know,
without former knowers telling, so
dystopia ontological negative hope,
the princess and the pea, and me,
the wildass idea,
in the vineyard,
as the a sunbeam purpled
in a cluster
carried me
in a reverie
of poetic grandeur
indeed, into the afterward, ward after last.
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 5:07 PM UTC
- get in line. What's your excuse?
Ignorance and lack of spiritual insight (ghaflah)
true understanding and illumination (ma’rifa)
just plain ignorance (jahiliyya)
==================
Today, we answer, for before;
today, we answer, for after.
The ideas of limits.
Enclosing mind, holding time
Professing to know what cannot be ignored,
every speaker, each in turn, accounts
today idle time, free in turn to use
redeeming idle words, meaningful
for cursing, and promising hell
you pay mere attention,
to detail, unbelievable
for all willing not
to lie after knowing God cannot lie.
Truth known frees those who use it.
Is there any possible faith that ignors this lie?
1948 Anno Mundi - Abram Kaballah
World year 2000 Abraham teaching oral Torah,
Let this mind be in you, this new mind, after
all that has called war God's soul correcting plan.
Cultural agricults, first the blade, then the ear…
"For without culture or holiness,
which are always the gift
of a very few,
a man may renounce wealth
or any other external thing,
but he cannot renounce
hatred, envy, jealousy, revenge.
Culture is the sanctity
of the intellect. "
[William Butler Yeats, journal, 7 March, 1909]
And poetic arrogance arises asking if,
one could envision war, as war occurs,
as anyone may, make a reason up for it,
since we all have seen now at a distance,
we all are aware of the destruction, none,
of us are aware of the holiness used,
the catechistical exercise in faith,
think only of the offense to Allah,
by calling all the invincibly ignorant poets
fools who bet mercy won.
------------
The poor man suffered, as a lad
to come unto Jesus, as a he was,
allowing what is true, his state reported,
as with any child suffered so, Is one angel's job.
As true as anything taken to heart for testing,
a child born into a long line of poor folk,
never in seven generations too poor
to offer travelers succor in need,
in deed, training up the lad,
to know, for certain, it is
better to give than take.
Time, the whole, none can hold,
aging, becoming wholy finished
by faith emitting substance of hope…
epiousion - plenty enough to share,
enough for the approaching need,
in deed, as Wisdom comes to lighten
one side's reason, with a touch of joy,
all children are made commonly good,
all children are formed in familiar wedom,
inside knowing's chosen fold, all blessed
with truths that balance years gone by
experienced against today,
perhaps the final chance to measure worth,
what good did you do, once, if once is enough,
what harm did you do, if once is not enough?
---------------
If we can measure a parsa walk,
while sitting still before a lit window,
looking in on all that's on the world minds,
many, many made up minds, truly granted
privileged exclusive inclusion in those good,
by grace of faith shaping conserved why tales,
reproved by wars… one side must be known
good for nothing but labor, twisted into duty,
as one must relate the military minds powers
and authority to deceive in righteous order,
rank and file, about
face, forward, at the double, march.
----------------
Run to the rock,
run through the ligation
split wide the healing wound
reach out,
feel the piercing point make
a way where no way was, made
plain as one when there was none,
now is our time to tell the mindless
to re think re stitching,
let flow the sacrificial blood of youth,
burn the idolatrous haters of religious
authority trading in holy terrors, free,
in exchange for single minded order,
accepted places, accepted tasks, duty
to truth only revealed to true believers/
good, beautiful, make it stick.
**** any thinker of otherwise.
------------------
Tension, taut, twanged to pitch,
strum a conceptual whole note,
humm along, one string, once
struck
pinging step by step, past then to now.
What cost each step, past when to ever?
Was an hour made from a day,
a day made from a string of second thought?
Was an instant made the cause of death?
Walking life's last competed parsa, a scenario.
-----------------
Knock, it opens,
ask it answers, think once
knocking heard, a door, appears,
closed on my side, I hear the knock,
and, lo', thinking no danger nigh me,
I open wide, welcoming any near
enough, to have knocked.
-----------------
In spirit form, a mind imagines
everything ever named in times past,
duty, classes of deed, when done, indeed
can never even once become undone, alone,
there are knots and there are stings…
and after all that was before, here is now,
when each ready reader asks what good
is done when knowledgelessness
causes the liars confidence to perish.
Contend for contentment, proud warrior
mind, let this mind be in you, eh,
be not afraid, thinking your self,
spirit in formed.
-------------------
Rule, point to point, draw
the line, we plan to follow,
or cross, this time, we have, Ai
be it measured in ancient times,
in minutes of arc as measured
from noon, until now, our while
in mindform thinking we an entity
in a message, pointing at an end
as in a point made for being
a thought, if nothing more.
We won a right to appeal,
perhaps we rethink times best used
produce second chances.
Oct 15, 2024
Oct 15, 2024 at 9:41 PM UTC
Burnt olive trees, to provide nutrients
For soil's hunger;
For the insatiable appetite
Of the wandering, lost souls.
Out in the desert, praying for a bloom of
Blue lotus;
The river thumps on,
The streams flow
No more dates, no more plums-
Just sick puns;
This is how you worship omnipotence?
Through war & the ****** of innocents?
Second class citizenship, not even recognized at all;
Prison states and dehumanization.
Extremism fostered on either side,
Each side refusing responsibility
All in the name of Allah
All in the name of G-d
Jun 6, 2024
Jun 6, 2024 at 1:38 PM UTC
Start with self.
The others can wait.
Thoughts are just passing clouds for which to meditate.
Observe the world as the observer, not the taker or receiver.
Judges are for benches. Do not sit alone.
Stand and walk into the songs of birds.
Free within your self called home.
Apr 5, 2023
Apr 5, 2023 at 11:06 AM UTC
Pages of instructions, arrive,
With almost everything,
Except the most important thing,
Human life, Our lives,
Some are honest,
Always honest, trying to keep things right,
Others, like snakes,
Waiting in the dark, to advance with a strike.
Some people will help,
A stranger, bleeding in need,
Then after their scars heal,
They will take advantage of the one who cared,
With acts of personal greed.
We are just creating memories,
As we travel, towards the end, in our own way,
How do you want to be judge?
At the end, on that final day?
Tom Maxwell ©
4/30/2020 / 10:45 AM
Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 7:19 AM UTC
I could just break down and cry.
But I could also get over it
in the fear of being judged.
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 12:54 PM UTC
In the court chamber,
a love and the
law are
judged
and cases
are filed and
sealed
Then, are placed in a
Brilliant suitcase, and
No more law
For love
⚖️
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
Why are you teaching them
We hate each other
Why are you teaching them
Their country doesn’t care about their health or education
Why are you teaching them
Their worth is judged by how much they produce
Teach children to feel
Teach children to love
Teach children to forgive
Teach children to learn
Teach children that they can tell
How truly alive they are
By the state of their heart
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 9:41 PM UTC
I’m used to feeling stared at
Even when there’s no eyes upon me
I’m used to feeling judged
When no one is thinking about me
It’s just life, I’m fine.
Even when I’m alone
And there’s no way someone can see me
I do things as if I am being watched
So that whoever can see me isn’t thinking negatively
It’s just life, I’m fine.
There’s no point to it
And sometimes I seem a bit paranoid
Or maybe anxious
But hey
It’s just life, I’m fine
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 10:40 PM UTC
#
*Sorry, about....
how much I
completely come-- a l l
over myself;
the ceiling, the window-blinds..
the neighbor's cat..
walking across the street
every single night, my love.
(true story)*
#
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
What is normal?
Is it even real?
Why can't we just be ourselves
Not be judged
By strangers
People who know nothing about us
They don't know the uncomfortable feelings
The hate already being thrown our way
Inhumane words
Hitting our shields
They're breaking now
Being smashed
I know mine is almost done for
It might as well be gone
Yet the knives are still being thrown
Heading right for me
Hitting the target
Trying to hit us
Right where it hurts
Will there ever be a day
When we are no longer judged for us
No longer tossed away like expired food
Kicked out of our own home
Seeking shelter
But then being abused
For just being who we are
When are we going to stop being the target
Stop being the abused
Can we not be humiliated and judged
Why can't we just be?
Just be who we are without being hated
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC
I made mistakes
Then people call me fake
I do things to make them happy
In the end they'll laugh behind my back
They call me many things
But, there's one thing that keeps ringing
I am a nobody
Just an invisible person
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 1:13 AM UTC
Without the label of a teacher
Nonetheless things are pointed out
With care and diligence
Comments meticulously exacting
As though there is a sixth sense
About what is detailed
More than busy, attention is thorough
Rigor seeps from every statement
Oozing inside the listeners skull
How much perseverance can
Be understood while feeling
Crushed beneath a microscope’s slide
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC
I was just bolts with a jar of mortality
sitting on top of a conscience frame.
Were they just following programs to
fulfil a outdated programme.
Like watching black & white programs
on an old 4K television screen.
Incompatible to even comprehend that
the actions & consequences
were known when the switch
was no longer, like a god everything was preordained.
But for one to know everything, one must know
the intricate nuance's of action and consequence.
They had no emotion, no feeling. Not knowing that
what was forgivable, to give one a second chance.
Instead they just hollow pointed there intention across.
A full stop in the heart,
and a silence of thought in the head.
For when the genie was released every action was a
ripple of what could become.
And they thought to stop crime was to see the actions,
of one and all. So a child,
was read on mannerisms
Psyche profiles where constructed and without a moment
cries where silenced.
The protector of all who now judged,
Tears of infants fell silent.
I was the machine with a heart,
beating to the reality that all where guilty till
charged.
We were few, but we judged the machines before us,
unworthy were those that took a life.
For an algorithm that was corrupt of humanity.
Serving with the strength of conviction,
but we would see deep within and see the seed that
could grow not clip it blossom before it could grow.
Machines were once the morals of mans sentences,
now there are those who see morality.
But have the steel to back up on the convictions.
Morals are mans strength not a weakness,
I'm just bolts with a jar of mortality.
but before all were guilty...
Slabs now hold the misjudgement of so many.
we see beyond 000,s & 11111's
were not numbers were more than that now.
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 11:15 AM UTC
We live in a judgemental society
Where the real you is only abstract.
From a young age we are taught to believe
That only society can define how you act.
From the moment we enter the world
We are forced to sign a contact.
Torn away from freedom of opinion
We begin our journey with no way back.
Beauty overrules personality
Money defines your future
Being intelligent is a crime
And standing out makes you a loser.
The paths you choose to follow
Always end the same.
There is no way to escape society
Because we all have been chained.
People are ridiculed for being happy
But called weak when sad.
We dare not share our views
For we’d be labelled as mad.
We live in a judgemental society
Where no one seems to win.
Forced to be someone society defines,
The real you fades within.
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 10:23 AM UTC
I found my autobiography on the fiction shelves in the town library!?
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC
I thought l would use their judgements
As inspiration
But it's not enough motivation
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
Many of the rumors about me are true
My insecurities reflect the past
Cards that I discarded weren't all that bad
Metaphorically folded too fast
You can assume whatever you want
Could imagine a million possibilities
In a lot of them you are probably right
I just feel I am viewed as a person diseased
It's only natural to judge in haste
I try to change their impression
I struggle with tired stereotypes
Hope those I love can see my intentions
My eyes betray sad stories
Vaguely told in shades of brown
And all throughout mistakes are woven
Punctuated by tears leaking down
I was a loser for awhile
A burden who offered less than nothing
Let my issues get the best of me
Friends have tried to give guidance
Wasn't ready to accept advice, kept ducking
Immature approach to solving problems
***** a wall to guard my heart
Let my issues get the best of
Embrace sin when life falls apart
Find it amusing when hypocrites whisper
With each passing day grow stronger
It was difficult at recovery's start
To be judged a person I wasn't any longer
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 3:00 AM UTC
I will forever and always be known as the 'quiet girl',
the one that does not talk,
is too quiet for her own good,
and is considered weird.
"why don't you talk?" they ask,
"you're so emotionless, talk more."
"smile more."
your words hurt me, over and over again.
why will no one accept me for the way I am?
your very own words make me hate myself.
hate how quiet I am,
hate how I enjoy being in my own thoughts,
hate who I am as a person.
even when I try to talk more, you knock me down with your -
"wow, she's actually talking."
because being 'quiet' isn't cute nor hot to others.
I will forever and always be known as the "quiet girl"
and I f e a r that I will always hate myself for being quiet.
Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC