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#planning
the jaw that broke the mammal's back I've been holding on to this tension Now, for more than a year In my mind In my bones In my jaws— that keep preparing for the next shoe to Stomp, Drop— the next bomb aimed at those who can resist it the least. Middle East— while the rest rehearse their middling ease beside the biggest fire to ever be mistaken for policy How much can a civilization take Take and take from the world before it's enough. It's this vile embalmed lie Being told, sold, over and over Never quite proven But acted upon— pawns in a game those reviled men play. An entire country roasts in decay. So... While you are planning your next excursion your next camping trip your next big purchase I have been counting. Accounting for how many dead kids how many burnt schools how many razed bridges What else will need to be erased For you to see the raised flag of Fascism. So... when I say how can you keep making plans And you reply— 'What do I do Stop living' No. But be glad That you had the choice. TiB
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7d ago
May 26, 2026 at 10:21 PM UTC
the jaw that broke the mammal's back
the jaw that broke the mammal's back I've been holding on to this tension Now, for more than a year In my mind In my bones In my jaws— that keep preparing for the next shoe to Stomp, Drop— the next bomb aimed at those who can resist it the least. Middle East— while the rest rehearse their middling ease beside the biggest fire to ever be mistaken for policy How much can a civilization take Take and take from the world before it's enough. It's this vile embalmed lie Being told, sold, over and over Never quite proven But acted upon— pawns in a game those reviled men play. An entire country roasts in decay. So... While you are planning your next excursion your next camping trip your next big purchase I have been counting. Accounting for how many dead kids how many burnt schools how many razed bridges What else will need to be erased For you to see the raised flag of Fascism. So... when I say how can you keep making plans And you reply— 'What do I do Stop living' No. But be glad That you had the choice. TiB
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7d ago
May 26, 2026 at 10:20 PM UTC
'
I had to arrive first to welcome you to the world, and I always will. I don’t know how to stop doing that. I think I will always love you; it’ll just look different. Less hand-holding, more haunting. If you died and had your dream concert lineup, which ten songs are you choosing? Be honest. Do you want an encore, or do we leave on a strong closer? Do you want a headstone somewhere, or would you prefer to be a tree? I’d visit either, but one requires less crying and more shade. I’d find you eventually. I always have. Does this mean we should kiss, or is that inappropriate for pre-grief? Do you think it’s all white, or Vantablack? I need to know how much light to expect. Movie suggestion? Something short. Something I can watch alone and still feel like I’m not.
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Dec 16, 2025
Dec 16, 2025 at 1:08 PM UTC
Questions and things I say casually to my friends
and what then when it's all slipped me by chances to right generational wrongs diagonal in my bed when my companions have left to meet their cousins and uncles and that ornery aunt when I am faced with my humanity and the longevity of the night feels unending warm streams etching into the creases of my facade I know what medicine cures this but what then when I have been robbed of my only glimpse when it's all slipped me by
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Oct 27, 2025
Oct 27, 2025 at 11:33 PM UTC
Decade
as i clambered over the stile and into the field guiding the dogs through a gap in the fence on an evening walk i braced myself as the anticipated rain-softened ground gave a little more than expected beneath my boots it was dark and it was foggy the kind that feels like blindness might and i realised too late that i had forgotten any means of illumination i would not know whether my slip was upon saturated soil or an unwelcome step into fresh manure
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Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 8:58 AM UTC
a stile over a substance
At dinner, in bed, and on holiday, always -- Planning & Control.
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Aug 6, 2025
Aug 6, 2025 at 3:38 AM UTC
[ At dinner, in bed ]
i have been promoting my new video on youtube. taking a break. needed a break. taking a break. writing songs seems so hard. will youtube how to write a song. i will do that later, babe. you're bae. i didn’t eat any food. wait—i had a piece of ginger. i would want to be famous if i became a musician. very well known. songs in karaoke books globally. i wouldn’t sell my soul or anything like that. i need a vocal coach, daddy. dear santa, christmas was great for 2019. make 2020 even better. god is in control. don’t forget that.
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Mar 22, 2025
Mar 22, 2025 at 3:49 AM UTC
november 17, 2020
Is thinking ahead ..a Pleasure Dome ..in which you know that ..he will take a shower and then ..you know by the smell of his musk ..what awaits you? ....the art of stumbling in such a way ....that a competitor comes to your aid ....and moving along with your apparent fall ....is crushed by an inconspicuous push ....after which you whine ....about his undeserved end? ......depleting the earth ......by colonizing mineral ......resources and that everyone ......puts together a survival kit ......for all conceivable disasters? ........the Dark Palace of the question ........of how you want to die, not now ........but later with you or rather ........alone with a black pill ........against unbearable suffering ........or a hopeless existence? Or is it too tiring?
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Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 3:17 AM UTC
Topspot
Prometheus thinks ahead. I too work according to plan. I think: I consider the possibilities. I am critical of my own plans. I have patience in executing a plan.
0
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 3:15 AM UTC
Thinking ahead
Some day, We'll meet. And that day, You'll tell me, "Wish we didn't break apart." Even today, I search for true love, But it's elusive like the golden swan. Even today, I look for it under the trees, I look for it on the roads and in the parks, "Wish we didn't grow apart." It was just an instance of rudeness, They tell me that I should've been mature. Maturity, is it gained when you lose your identity, Or when you stop reacting and start responding? "Wish you hadn't left such scorny remarks." I have braved hellish fires, In you, I sought some balm. You could've applied it soothingly, But you left remarks so disparagingly, "Wish I still could've been mature, and not reacted." Someday, we might meet again, You'll finally mature enough... That day, you’ll understand my pain, Yes, I hope you'll not be so rough, "Wish that day comes soon enough." Babe, I felt warm things for you, But your remarks—me they burned. Babe, I had plans for the future, But you, typical Y2K generation, "Wish future existed for you too." The future can be changed, It can be accurately predicted. Everyone was happy—everyone but you, Babe, you should've told your mom beforehand, "I don't want to waste my youth on the middle-aged man." This is the futility of my feelings, They don't matter, because I'm a man. All my successes, they are insignificant, They are engulfed in the quality of being effervescent, "For there are many more younger timely successful men." Nobody reads any of my novels, I may have went through a lot. But I'm turning 34 in 36 days, I've missed the bus, I'm late. "And nothing else matters." ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
0
Nov 16, 2024
Nov 16, 2024 at 8:17 PM UTC
And Nothing Else Matters
Some day, We'll meet. And that day, You'll tell me, "Wish we didn't break apart." Even today, I search for true love, But it's elusive like the golden swan. Even today, I look for it under the trees, I look for it on the roads and in the parks, "Wish we didn't grow apart." It was just an instance of rudeness, They tell me that I should've been mature. Maturity, is it gained when you lose your identity, Or when you stop reacting and start responding? "Wish you hadn't left such scorny remarks." I have braved hellish fires, In you, I sought some balm. You could've applied it soothingly, But you left remarks so disparagingly, "Wish I still could've been mature, and not reacted." Someday, we might meet again, You'll finally mature enough... That day, you’ll understand my pain, Yes, I hope you'll not be so rough, "Wish that day comes soon enough." Babe, I felt warm things for you, But your remarks—me they burned. Babe, I had plans for the future, But you, typical Y2K generation, "Wish future existed for you too." The future can be changed, It can be accurately predicted. Everyone was happy—everyone but you, Babe, you should've told your mom beforehand, "I don't want to waste my youth on the middle-aged man." This is the futility of my feelings, They don't matter, because I'm a man. All my successes, they are insignificant, They are engulfed in the quality of being effervescent, "For there are many more younger timely successful men." Nobody reads any of my novels, I may have went through a lot. But I'm turning 34 in 36 days, I've missed the bus, I'm late. "And nothing else matters." ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
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46
Staves and rings to make a keg, pots full o'piss, and patience aplenty, we ain't makin' whiskey, we preparin' black powder, the old boom behind now, previous to this Nitro Oxy reaction as we breathe and think Dynamite, and steel, and germs and Jesus, as depicted after Gutenberg and Aldus Manutius, and Kabir, first among sages found by Brave AI, at my request… "Hermit, that yogi is my guru who can untie this song. A tree stands without root, without flowers bears fruit, praises sung without tongue, the true teacher reveals. Seek the bird’s, the fish’s path. Kabir says, both are hard. The being beyond boundaries and beyond beyond." And again I quote Saul Bellows, "there is just too much to think about." So we explode. Imagining finishing, still, pile all we ever learn, all our hows and all our whys, and still stand here staring off in space, with no idea how long it takes to make the sense we needed, ever so long ago, almost a thousand years, almost so long ago that nobody really knows, so the clowns are sent in, as children gain ad- vantage, as happens, on winning sides of wars, and as that has happened, we, those children, we are old and used up sorts of men made thus, precept upon precept, how do we live together, how can I learn to wish to give away my surplus, and live within my means, by chance, no plan, justice, made believable, that it does play fair, the game of growing old while holding haps, pursued while first discerned, as good to know, it is the right of all mankind to pursue happiness, and break it down for storage and future reconstruction.
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Aug 28, 2024
Aug 28, 2024 at 2:03 PM UTC
Thinking Past Terroir
Staves and rings to make a keg, pots full o'piss, and patience aplenty, we ain't makin' whiskey, we preparin' black powder, the old boom behind now, previous to this Nitro Oxy reaction as we breathe and think Dynamite, and steel, and germs and Jesus, as depicted after Gutenberg and Aldus Manutius, and Kabir, first among sages found by Brave AI, at my request… "Hermit, that yogi is my guru who can untie this song. A tree stands without root, without flowers bears fruit, praises sung without tongue, the true teacher reveals. Seek the bird’s, the fish’s path. Kabir says, both are hard. The being beyond boundaries and beyond beyond." And again I quote Saul Bellows, "there is just too much to think about." So we explode. Imagining finishing, still, pile all we ever learn, all our hows and all our whys, and still stand here staring off in space, with no idea how long it takes to make the sense we needed, ever so long ago, almost a thousand years, almost so long ago that nobody really knows, so the clowns are sent in, as children gain ad- vantage, as happens, on winning sides of wars, and as that has happened, we, those children, we are old and used up sorts of men made thus, precept upon precept, how do we live together, how can I learn to wish to give away my surplus, and live within my means, by chance, no plan, justice, made believable, that it does play fair, the game of growing old while holding haps, pursued while first discerned, as good to know, it is the right of all mankind to pursue happiness, and break it down for storage and future reconstruction.
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46
I’m just twirling in the center of my room. I’ve got way too much to do. Has that ever happened to you? I’m assailed, derailed and impaled by indecision. I can’t find my lucky pencil and I have a final in 90 minutes I have lab results to qualify and a term paper to finish. I have two problem-sets due and I must arrange movers. Despite my burn-out, I should start packing for move-out. In order to get our reservations and tickets in hand, we’ve got to finalize our summer plans. On my theoretical schedule - I’m behind - oh, and there’s a mountain of laundry to climb. In finals week everything is ratcheted up. and there’s the weighty and unavoidable demands of sleep. I’m just a girl about to pass out in her room, over-caffeineed, from chugging a large, iced coffee after 3 hours of sleep. I’ve read that stress can affect valuations. I think it’s true. I twirl. . . Down In the Seine by The Style Council I Want You Back by Trijntje Oosterhuis Make a Rainbow by Benny Sings Let Her Go Into The Darkness by Johnathan Richman
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May 3, 2024
May 3, 2024 at 10:15 AM UTC
twirling
Fiat money loses value over time People know this and this influences Their thinking towards the short term. Short term thinking bleeds into many Areas of life leading to inferiority in so Many areas of our life and our world Therefore We need a money that increases in Value leading to long term planning And greater VISION in goals, family, Business, architecture, and nutrition. Imagine nations and people planning For generations. Bitcoin gives vision
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Mar 14, 2024
Mar 14, 2024 at 1:45 PM UTC
Vision - Bitcoin Poem 090 (Problems/Solutions 22)
Found and lost at once, immediate inbetweenity, here, not there in a way, in the air, expired whoosh, shush and remember the wonder lost, when the boy who wished never to grow old with this now to remain the time of our lives, when not knowing keeps us safe, and our guides into ever on go, ever be holding, ever eyewise-touching the face of God, big g. Time and Joy, Edwardian Gay repressed as zeitgeist calling for "lovely, wonderful thoughts" infantile omnipotence, 700 million light geotimed timid old ideas The author imagines the same vision one way, plain, unencoded white wolves in a walnut tree freud interpretted the unconscious wish source ah, it was the witnessing of *** enacted, eh? I think we may have granted Herr Freud more credence than guesses are often allowed. Is this not the same social act as when any knowledge is claimed by faith in the answer accepted inner being, outer shown, reflective seeing the world we see, we agree to see, this is that, you see, I say, literally living in word alone, a nobody founding one fair-made tale, of favors owned, shrinking death in the brothers wish, where lay the dead man I recall as always handsome, though I never knew him. I was such a liar, so ready to say true a not-ever-true Having no success that makes history, hold no certain truth that certainly made me choose to wish to be an author of the faith I pour out clap your hands if you believe in fair ways found oddly marked in the peace found in old "better to have had less ambition" Thinking as a child, not as the old man, watching slight smile forming the setting for the scene, making much of being a little boy, once, as a story sifted from another, seeping into solution. Yes the spirit of my time has been my friend, for, most of the ways I wished to learn, now are in my grasp, well within my reach, mine and that of my Artistical Intuitive Muse, ever aiming my morning at the mercy on the edge of one day alone with you, lost in youth's untutored virginity or something, impatient, yes, I'd wait… perfect moments are rare, but do occur, if your aim is close..
0
Dec 3, 2023
Dec 3, 2023 at 6:22 PM UTC
Perfect moments in untold odds
Found and lost at once, immediate inbetweenity, here, not there in a way, in the air, expired whoosh, shush and remember the wonder lost, when the boy who wished never to grow old with this now to remain the time of our lives, when not knowing keeps us safe, and our guides into ever on go, ever be holding, ever eyewise-touching the face of God, big g. Time and Joy, Edwardian Gay repressed as zeitgeist calling for "lovely, wonderful thoughts" infantile omnipotence, 700 million light geotimed timid old ideas The author imagines the same vision one way, plain, unencoded white wolves in a walnut tree freud interpretted the unconscious wish source ah, it was the witnessing of *** enacted, eh? I think we may have granted Herr Freud more credence than guesses are often allowed. Is this not the same social act as when any knowledge is claimed by faith in the answer accepted inner being, outer shown, reflective seeing the world we see, we agree to see, this is that, you see, I say, literally living in word alone, a nobody founding one fair-made tale, of favors owned, shrinking death in the brothers wish, where lay the dead man I recall as always handsome, though I never knew him. I was such a liar, so ready to say true a not-ever-true Having no success that makes history, hold no certain truth that certainly made me choose to wish to be an author of the faith I pour out clap your hands if you believe in fair ways found oddly marked in the peace found in old "better to have had less ambition" Thinking as a child, not as the old man, watching slight smile forming the setting for the scene, making much of being a little boy, once, as a story sifted from another, seeping into solution. Yes the spirit of my time has been my friend, for, most of the ways I wished to learn, now are in my grasp, well within my reach, mine and that of my Artistical Intuitive Muse, ever aiming my morning at the mercy on the edge of one day alone with you, lost in youth's untutored virginity or something, impatient, yes, I'd wait… perfect moments are rare, but do occur, if your aim is close..
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65
We shall echo the points that scrape the skies Above the streams of Wonder City. On the streets below, men shift through time, Watched on by soaring concrete. In the steaming sewers strewn beneath These streets— O Wonder City!— Rats shall run the labyrinth of the sewers To find the traces of a world Before the steam of Wonder City.
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Oct 13, 2022
Oct 13, 2022 at 11:02 AM UTC
Wonder City
A big part of who we are, A major ingredient of our life, Without, ideas, we would always be the same, Something needs to be adjusted, in our life Only ideas, with plans, and the right resources, Can create, positive change, we never know, The value of our ideas, until we release them, Take action, play with them, like a game, As we examine a situation, with an Attitude, to rearrange. The Original: Tom Maxwell © 10/21/2021 AD 4:20 am
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Oct 21, 2021
Oct 21, 2021 at 7:27 AM UTC
Ideas, Ideas
Everyone has times, when they think their cool, Other moments, they feel like a fool. After years of time, has passed by, Which days, are you proud of, which ones make you cry? We create our future, every day, do you want respect, Are, a name, that just, fades away. Some of the things, we enjoyed, in our past, Should just be left, as memories, that will last. Our bodies, what we think is fun, will often change, If we ignore the signs, our life, could be rearranged. To change anything, in our life, during this stay, We need another plan, how to spend those days. You have to want, make new goals every day, Nothing in your life will forever stay. Tom Maxwell® 10/21/05 AD
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Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 11:10 PM UTC
We create our Future Every day!
A watched *** never boils. But when the heat is too high, the *** boils over. Then again, when the *** is empty and sitting on a burner, cold to the touch, it serves little to no purpose. Why don’t you add something to the *** Why is it just sitting there? What are you planning to do with it? Are you planning on adding your own special recipe to the *** Are you adding a unique sauce to it? Are you going to add water to the *** and allow it to simmer? Or you going to add a secret ingredient to the *** that you don’t want anybody to know about? Is the *** going to yield a hearty meal? Is it going to be food for my soul? Only you know what you want in this empty *** I can’t add to, or take away from your *** Because it doesn’t belong to me. I feel like you want to add a piece of me to your *** but a part of you is afraid of how the finished recipe will turn out. How can you be afraid of an empty *** Why aren’t you adding your favorite foods to it? The *** can’t produce empty contents.
0
Jan 29, 2021
Jan 29, 2021 at 10:49 PM UTC
When Love Is Involved
so many yesterdays sacrificed calendars, penciled dates and whimsies called dreams
0
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 7:33 AM UTC
planning
i need to find some strength to get through today cause the more that i wait i might make a mistake cause everything happens for a reason and flowers never bloom out of season it never goes according to plan with my feet still stuck in the sand it's all just target practice i miss and miss till i got it i never really aimed correctly but once in awhile i get lucky most of the time i'm tired of all these shots i've fired and i don't have what's required and the date has now expired
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Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 10:42 AM UTC
target practice
"Be All You Can Be," says the television. "1800-USA-ARMY." I almost chose it, the life the TV tells me. I almost went away, To be a brother-in-arms. Now, I'm thinking about being a brother-in-a-frat-house, it hardly compares, but here I am searching So I can be happy. An 8 year plan for self-actualization. Maslow would laugh; at the Army ad, at me, and at everyone who follows a path they didn't carve into rock with a spoon.
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Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 2:20 PM UTC
Maslow