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If you were crowned a Queen one day, and offered me your lands to lay, a kingdom given as a gift so grand, or castles built by your command, with golden shields and treasures bright, and jewrly collections out of sight, I would not reach for any of these things. I only want to live as living goes, to walk the path that no one owns, nothing more than this quiet need that grows inside and will never leave. And so I envy rivers as they go, the way they wander, always flow. I envy bread as it gently bakes, the life it gives, the warmth it makes. I envy fire’s fragrant breath, its smoke that dances so close to death. I envy roses, though I try, their beauty I can’t justify. I envy bees in honeyed lands, and April calling May with hands. I envy clouds of drifting blue, so free to go where winds lead through. I envy couples pasing by, with love that flickers in their eye and this, I know, is not a light desire. But a troubling fire. I envy roads that choose their way, that stretch beyond where feet may stay, I envy trees that line the track, and never once look turning back. I envy meadows in July sun, where summer’s heat and stillness run, I envy mountains, streams that fall, the way they answer nature’s call. I envy violins that sing in silver notes on tremblling string. I envy Oceans, Time and Space, their endless, unconfined embrace. I envy clouds of drifting blue, so free to go where winds lead through. and this, I know, is not a light desire. But a troubling fire.
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Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 1:19 PM UTC
A Troubling Need
If you were crowned a Queen one day, and offered me your lands to lay, a kingdom given as a gift so grand, or castles built by your command, with golden shields and treasures bright, and jewrly collections out of sight, I would not reach for any of these things. I only want to live as living goes, to walk the path that no one owns, nothing more than this quiet need that grows inside and will never leave. And so I envy rivers as they go, the way they wander, always flow. I envy bread as it gently bakes, the life it gives, the warmth it makes. I envy fire’s fragrant breath, its smoke that dances so close to death. I envy roses, though I try, their beauty I can’t justify. I envy bees in honeyed lands, and April calling May with hands. I envy clouds of drifting blue, so free to go where winds lead through. I envy couples pasing by, with love that flickers in their eye and this, I know, is not a light desire. But a troubling fire. I envy roads that choose their way, that stretch beyond where feet may stay, I envy trees that line the track, and never once look turning back. I envy meadows in July sun, where summer’s heat and stillness run, I envy mountains, streams that fall, the way they answer nature’s call. I envy violins that sing in silver notes on tremblling string. I envy Oceans, Time and Space, their endless, unconfined embrace. I envy clouds of drifting blue, so free to go where winds lead through. and this, I know, is not a light desire. But a troubling fire.
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/each line corresponds to a line from the opposite end, moving inward/ They call it a feast. Crowned mouths carve a throne. They measure bodies with unblinking eyes. Teeth learn the taste of skin. Salted breath drips. They season it with hunger. They start with the younger. Red smiles gather at their lips. Knuckles grind under the chin. What’s left is named mercy, written as lies. Even the floor remembers bone. We are left the least.
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Jan 30
Jan 30, 2026 at 10:58 AM UTC
A Civilized Meal
Being Slavic is a living weight, Concrete blocks where pigeons wait. Streets cracked open, puddles wide, A stray dog follows at your side. Celler jars bubble, sour and sweet, Pickled cabbage, fruit compote to eat. Mushrooms hang from beams in dust, Leaves for tea, old wood and rust. Living rooms hold glass and plates, Old lace curtains, fading fates. The tables flowers wilt and lean, Cold sausage waits beside the screen. Gardens bulge with stubborn spuds, Hands in dirt, backs bent in mud. Summer heat makes soil your friend, Each seed a prayer you plant to end. Night comes crawling, streets are rough, Drunks will call you, bluff by bluff. Laughter spills like broken glass, You hope your step is quick to pass. Schools are prisons, walls bare white, Tables scarred from years of fight. Carpets rare, blackboards cracked, Lessons whisper, spirits lacked. Living Slavic is quiet, hard, Smile a luxury, life a guard. Talk with old women on the bus, Hope your country will last for us.
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Jan 19
Jan 19, 2026 at 1:23 PM UTC
A Slavic Life
On the high ridge lives the happy giant, Laughing where the pine trees lean. His shadow keeps the snowfields quiet, His boots know paths I’ve never seen. Happy giant, broad and mild, With moss in baerd and crow at heel, Will you carry off this tired child From rooms too narrow, days too real? Come at dusk when lamps go blind, When light forgets my name. Lift me from the measured din, From bread earned slow and hope kept tame. We will sleep where stone stays warm, Wake when owls begin their call, Drink from springs untouched by form, Hear no clocks, no bells at all. Let the village keep its vows and sums, Its folded hands, its counted breath. Lead me past the alder drums Into a life that smells of death. If freedom asks a body lost, If leaving means Im lost to ground, I’ll pay the price, I’ll take the cost, Carry me where joy is found.
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Jan 17
Jan 17, 2026 at 2:09 PM UTC
Song for a Happy Giant
You burn with pride, a blazing crown, And cast your glory halfway down. You offer me a borrowed gleam, To wear your light, to live your dream. They call it love, that golden gleam, But I am tired of your dream. For what is love if I must be A paler shape that mimics thee? You rise and all the world takes note; They write you songs, they learn by rote. But me? They only praise my face When I am bathed in your embrace. I’ve played that role, taking on your fire, But I am no echo of your bold desire. It’s this, I’d rather not be bright If I must steal another’s light. Let others ache to share your flame, To chase your warmth, to speak your name, But none of them see what is true: That all I am is made from you. So keep your gold. I’ll take the gray. I want to dim, to drift, and to decay. To be myself alone, though small and plain. A hollow stone, without your chain. Let planets spin around your throne, But I would rather be unknown. Do not shine for me, bright one. I want no light that comes from sun.
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Aug 29, 2025
Aug 29, 2025 at 11:01 PM UTC
Letter from the Moon, to the Sun
You must be drunk or high If you think that you're the guy Who's going to change this world With a poetry supply. So why even try? A couple of sly rhymes and a clever word scheme won't mean a thing when you die. So, throw that to the side and allow me to guide you. Back to the carousel, Go ahead, take a ride. Those feelings will subside Once I've got you back inside. You might as well have fun 'cause you can run, but you can't hide. There's not a single space Where I can't find your face And when you try to elevate, I'll put you right back in your place So don't make the mistake Of trying to take a leap of faith Cause we'll be here again But, by then, it's too late You'll wind up a disgrace And make your poor mom sob. You'll lose that one shot at that cozy office job. You'll still feel alone, and you'll still feel worthless And all this disturbance because you think you have a purpose? All this to be a servant for people who don't want service? You must be **** determined to make a fool of yourself, but don't worry It's all cool; that's why I'm here to help So, just follow my directions and stay the planned route 'cause you'll get chopped down If you try to stand out, and your words don't matter So just shut your **** mouth! ...Listen to my voice, and this will all pan out. C'mon, have I ever let you down? You know who I am. I am doubt.
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Jan 12, 2025
Jan 12, 2025 at 5:25 PM UTC
You know who I am
This sleep has sunk to catacombs Where dreams are dreaming of themselves, And where they slump to deeper shelves A dim and voiceless banshee roams.   Interlopers jostle memory, And pressing on his signet ring, Take on the seal of realer things.   Truth’s rejected for hyperbole.   Delusions stack in strata, drowned, Lives never lived, in parallel, That puzzle sleepers who can’t tell Where waking lies, so lies confound.
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Aug 16, 2021
Aug 16, 2021 at 4:33 PM UTC
Somnolent
For ***** to bounce is very rude, Unless they dropped.  Ascendancy Is boldness we don’t like to see.     And roundness really is quite lewd.   For spheres, directions are the same, And favoring the vertical Is impudent in a mere ball.   A proper toy should be more tame.
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Jul 30, 2021
Jul 30, 2021 at 1:42 AM UTC
Blumfeld
Desiccated youth has bones like cork, So porous strong in cells. Lost time perfuses emptiness. And heavy dolor quells.
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Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 12:52 PM UTC
poem #19
Supine, roads sprawl so lazily That they collapse to planes, Not aiding stumbling travelers As knotted sinews strain.
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Jul 15, 2021
Jul 15, 2021 at 10:23 PM UTC
poem #18
The trouble started on the day After the day before.   Youth and hope and love decay, And regret won’t restore. It seems this old and weary world Holds much more bad than good.   I’d have assayed, but I was hurled In this life before I could.   A world of cloud and bitterness, A life of scrape and thorn,   So who would ever acquiesce Ever to be born?   Because briars outnumber flowers By ten to one at least, Weakness humbles mighty powers. Famine goes before the feast.   But feasts are more than fillings ups, And hunger’s just a pinch. And emptiness can’t stopper cups, And straitening can’t cinch.   Bounty and joy are plenitude, And destitution lack, So revel in what’s nice, or lewd, No loss can take it back.   A single flower fortifies To brush away the burs.     Striving wins because it tries.   Forlorn despairing errs.
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Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 1:00 AM UTC
To a Shrophsire Lad Disheartened
Badinage and Persiflage Make such a merry pair, Chatting and bantering all day. No spiteful gossip there.   Each goes without acquaintances. Each has one single friend.   As solitary sprites, they speak Of words, without an end.
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Jul 1, 2021
Jul 1, 2021 at 10:47 PM UTC
Chatter
Some thieves have burgled every house; The rich are sorrowing At sacrilege and heirlooms lost, Spoons, silks and sapphire rings.   The poorer tenants mourn as well; Their losses are their doom.   Without the coin for food or rent, Hunger and eviction loom.   Just down the street, a misanthrope Who lives in an old tub Cackles at their lamentations, And gives his hands a rub.   He used to own a battered cup, That and a bowl for alms, But then he saw an urchin drink Right out of his cupped palms.   He learned that cups were luxury, And threw the thing away.   He’s happier in poverty, And that’s just how he’ll stay.   He boasts to passers-by he’s safe, Since thieves can never steal Knowledge or virtue from the good. Wisdom alone is real.   How better for that mendicant If thieves could somehow take Self-satisfaction from such prigs. Oh mellow him for pity’s sake.
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Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 11:17 PM UTC
Diogenes
A drunkard’s guzzled several days, And staggering outside,   Dull and disoriented, seeks, But cannot find, a guide.   The hour proclaimed is even six, Twice daily otium.   The arrow hangs at bottom rim Like a dead pendulum.   The birth and dying of the light Are symmetry in dim. The day is leaching into night, Or morning’s failing him.
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Jun 18, 2021
Jun 18, 2021 at 12:02 PM UTC
Bottom Rim
Black shadows are all sycophants That mimic every shape.   White shadows seal their bearers up, And bury what they ape.   Black shadows curl off thick sunlight, And launch themselves from dust.   White shadows flake from winter’s breath, Congealed as vapor’s rust.       In two dimensions, or in three, Shade and snow are booleans, Dark in intersection tracing truth. And snow in difference.
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Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 4:57 PM UTC
Booleans
The crystals groan, whenever crushed Under a melting tread. Snow faithfully fulfilled its oath, And did just what it said.   In recompense for stinging cold, This mantle vowed to be Finer than the finest of white sands And never slippery.
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Jun 3, 2021
Jun 3, 2021 at 4:54 PM UTC
Scrunch
The elevator’s sealed its lips. It keeps its secrets well. Inside might hunch a nameless face, I really cannot tell.   To stand, a pair, so silently, Bound in an unvoiced pact, Is sore and heavy awkwardness Light coughing can’t redact.   An almost empty iron box Is crushing loneliness, Better to take on dozens next, Shame smothered in that press.   Anonymity’s a heavy weight To carry between two,   But shrouded multitudes can share Whatever burdens you.
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May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 9:19 PM UTC
Sealed
King David was a righteous king, A shepherd loved by God, And Joab did the ugly work Without a single nod.   A principal can stroll the halls, Grandfatherly and kind. His number two’s the children’s bane,   Reviled in student mind.   The highest of the high can shine, All warmth and lenity, Their trusted second is the sting.   Cursed in synecdoche.   Every Adama needs a Tigh, All discipline and screeds, Since troops can sooner love a chief Untainted by cruel deeds.
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May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 9:18 PM UTC
Joab and Tight
An hour-glass stands up nice and straight On a flat, polished end, While bells suspend like carrion On rods that never bend.   Grains of sand in a transparent bulb, Mustered in a smooth cone,   Slip through a graceful crystal neck To toll in silky tones.   But as bells swing and clang, they gulp From a meridian,   One sideways to the zenith zone, And fill themselves again.     A bell will always know the time, But still politely wait For eager hands to yank their cord, Even when slightly late.   But a depleted hour-glass sits Until impatient hands Can flip it over on its crown And fill its heads with sand.
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May 11, 2021
May 11, 2021 at 5:20 PM UTC
The Hour-glass
The moon is grim and sly, and keeps Pale secrets from her twin.   She hides the darkest of her blushes Behind a slivered grin. Her greater, fertile, sister earth, Greater in girth, not age, Knows a pallid, pock-marked cheek But not a shaded rage.   A barren spinster, gray from birth, Can scarcely bear to see From callous sister such a show Of broad fecundity.
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May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 11:06 PM UTC
Pale Sister
What tempted me to join the queue? It must be some great treat.   Only delight could keep these souls Shuffling on blistered feet.   I turned a corner hours ago, Quite perpendicular, But as I count the corners off I’ve tallied five so far.   The walls are clean, but they’re not bright, Scrubbed to sobriety. I passed a blotch I’d seen before, But it might lie to me.   This line may loop into a square, And no one’s first or last, And all who’ve shuffled patiently Are doomed to lose the past. Did I ascend to this closed floor By staircase or by lift?   Outside must lie some wider world, Denied a precious gift.     The walls are bare of openings, But we need only one.   Quiet can’t be the sole reward For everything we’ve done.
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Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 1:09 PM UTC
Corridors
The sheets and blankets are too big For such a little bed.   They drape their fringes on the floor, And dribble dreams with red. The brain can’t sluice the nightmares out Though a grate stopped with cloth.   Thick curtains collect spiderwebs And flutterings of moths.
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Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 1:07 PM UTC
The Moth and the Grate
The ocean waves are murmuring, And some who walk the shore May pause to hear some wisdom there, And linger more and more.   The seas are older than the old, And jealous of regret. Their murmurs wash out memory, And make a soul forget.
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Apr 9, 2021
Apr 9, 2021 at 12:54 AM UTC
Murmurs
I tell myself there's no shame in silence. After all, it's you sent me away. Why do you appear now, crying after me? Did you want me to stay? Whisper in her ear and paint me like a villain if you need. You've got the harness, pull it out; Keep her suckling at your **** Does it warm your flesh and tickle you to feel her shakes and cries? When she knows your love's the only love, Does that make you crack a silent smile? Does your aging daughter's love fulfil the gaps around your nest? Does it make you feel the abundance of nourishing love inside your breast?
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Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 11:24 AM UTC
Mickey's Breast
Beyond the bounds of vast and stormy seas Surrounded by the tides of shifting sands There showered in the moonlight gently sleeps A gem concealed within uncharted lands Though none could claim its beauty for their own I, fool, had thought it simply must be mine Could not resist the tantalising stone So smitten by its mesmerising shine Beneath its shell a gently warming core With power to fulfil a dreamer's dream An ordinary man, and nothing more Yet to my awe, the jewel's tender heart Forgave the fool who craved the treasured gleam Decided to become my morning star
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Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 6:36 PM UTC
A Fool's Sonnet