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#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
0
May 5
May 5, 2026 at 3:45 PM UTC
Local Judgement Day,
------------------------- 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
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121
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.
0
Apr 14
Apr 14, 2026 at 10:50 AM UTC
Judged
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.
0
Nov 23, 2024
Nov 23, 2024 at 5:07 PM UTC
Ra' Weformations Hap as artful information
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.
Continue reading...
62
- 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.
0
Oct 15, 2024
Oct 15, 2024 at 9:41 PM UTC
Day of Judgment (Qiyamah)
- 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.
Continue reading...
150
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
0
Jun 6, 2024
Jun 6, 2024 at 1:38 PM UTC
The Roses Of Jericho
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.
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Apr 5, 2023
Apr 5, 2023 at 11:06 AM UTC
Don't Relent
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
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Feb 22, 2021
Feb 22, 2021 at 7:19 AM UTC
Our life, that Final Day
I could just break down and cry. But I could also get over it in the fear of being judged.
0
Dec 4, 2020
Dec 4, 2020 at 12:54 PM UTC
Break Down.
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 ⚖️
0
Jul 21, 2020
Jul 21, 2020 at 10:50 AM UTC
No law for love♥️
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
0
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 9:41 PM UTC
Team Them
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
0
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 10:40 PM UTC
That's Life
# *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)* #
0
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 10:40 PM UTC
on glory.. and a sin, unto death
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
0
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 11:30 AM UTC
Their Target By: Sunset
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
0
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 1:13 AM UTC
Invisible Person
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
0
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 8:49 PM UTC
Assiduous *
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.
0
Apr 29, 2019
Apr 29, 2019 at 11:15 AM UTC
When The Many Were Judged
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.
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44
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.
0
Apr 4, 2019
Apr 4, 2019 at 10:23 AM UTC
A Judgemental Society
I found my autobiography on the fiction shelves in the town library!?
0
Apr 1, 2019
Apr 1, 2019 at 11:15 PM UTC
Judgement
I thought l would use their judgements As inspiration But it's not enough motivation
0
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
Judged
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
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Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 3:00 AM UTC
Trumors
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.
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Jul 13, 2018
Jul 13, 2018 at 7:31 AM UTC
The 'Quiet Girl'