#societies - Hello Poetry

Perhaps, once, across vast and prosperous lands of abundance, inhabitants of many great civilizations thrived and cared for the earth they called their own. This was the way. Then, though, cloaked in black and filth, the slim faced invaders emerged from their firm ships, this shifted. The new status quo was to comply with theirs. How dare they punish progress? This would have been preferable had the inhabitants of the land had a choice, at least, but they did not. The foreigners knew this, and strategically sickened their people with disease—how could it have been an accident?—raped them and their land, and plunged their prosperity into the dark. As the years passed, only tales of the past, the former nature of this land, were what remained. Forests fell. The ways and the winds changed. Forts flourished. The foreigners’ descendants believed they needed to form a more perfect union on their land, yet one only they could enjoy. Just like those before, these people reshaped the land they claimed was for community and fueled an empire of capital accumulation and individuality. How could we not? As the centuries counted away from that fateful fall, the agenda of ****** the land and its people and reaping the benefits remained, overtaking that of old. The natives made attempts to stop it, and lessons they were taught. How dare they punish progress? Some listened, realizing the natives deserved rights, so the new status quo was to comply and grant them compensation and rights. Molded by its newest wielders as the seats of the world, it was a model to aspire to. This was the way. Now, across vast and prosperous lands, great civilizations live in abundance with all the things they own. Perhaps.

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Jan 31, 2025

Jan 31, 2025 at 8:49 PM UTC

Ascertivus

A More Perfect Union?, Version 2

Perhaps, once, across vast and prosperous lands of abundance, inhabitants of many great civilizations thrived and cared for the earth they called their own. This was the way. Then, though, cloaked in black and filth, the slim faced invaders emerged from their firm ships, this shifted. The new status quo was to comply with theirs. How dare they punish progress? This would have been preferable had the inhabitants of the land had a choice, at least, but they did not. The foreigners knew this, and strategically sickened their people with disease—how could it have been an accident?—raped them and their land, and plunged their prosperity into the dark. As the years passed, only tales of the past, the former nature of this land, were what remained. Forests fell. The ways and the winds changed. Forts flourished. The foreigners’ descendants believed they needed to form a more perfect union on their land, yet one only they could enjoy. Just like those before, these people reshaped the land they claimed was for community and fueled an empire of capital accumulation and individuality. How could we not? As the centuries counted away from that fateful fall, the agenda of ****** the land and its people and reaping the benefits remained, overtaking that of old. The natives made attempts to stop it, and lessons they were taught. How dare they punish progress? Some listened, realizing the natives deserved rights, so the new status quo was to comply and grant them compensation and rights. Molded by its newest wielders as the seats of the world, it was a model to aspire to. This was the way. Now, across vast and prosperous lands, great civilizations live in abundance with all the things they own. Perhaps.

1

We’re coming up on the spooky pumpkin-latte season, when days suddenly end, while I’m busy in some sterile, fluorescent chemistry-lab and there’s nothing to do but walk down dark science-hill to the dorm. Is that rustling the sound of leaves or footsteps? The most effective horror stories come from spaces of doubt and hover between reality and possibility - but no fears, this isn’t my Halloween story. Apparently, there was a scandal last year, about underage girls being served at bars around Yale - I mean, seriously, who knew? Sunny’s still having fun. She’s out every other night like a hunting cat ‘meeting’ all these new freshie girls. She has the best takes. Her hungover Sunday morning debriefs are not to be missed. I’ve gotten comments that suggested that the party lives of U-girls are seen as dysfunctional, but to me they’re perfectly normal. Everyone seems to want college life to be saccharine and sanitized. I figure most students live highly stressed lives. We’re expected to show up to multiple classes, on time, prepared and be ready to perform at the highest levels academically - then add to these pressures our elaborate social and study demands. Young adulthood is strict in ways you may not remember. Poor us. sigh So we have a little fun. I’ve been bottled-up, by and large, this semester - mostly by my own twisted need to get ahead in every subject and I joined a Yale Society - dumb, I know, like I have the time. But I was tapped and Annick (my sister) said “DO IT!” I bet I quit when the going gets tough. Why did I think senior year would be easier? Fall semester is a time famous for freshmen heartbreak - with everyone newly away from home and old boyfriends. About that... I hate it when boyfriends get old and you have to get rid of them. Not chronologically old - don’t call your lawyer, this isn’t ageism rearing its ugly head. There’s the chafing-like pre-breakup irritation, because you’re suddenly separated by distance and experience. it’s easy to feel out of touch and unable to voice your joy about the new life you’re living. It’s the little things that tend to bother you first, like the sudden strangeness of lingering silence on the once-exciting video calls. Ugg, breakups - the subject freaks me out - I get shivers up my spine and feel nauseous, just thinking about them - I’m not mocking heartbreak. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Adolescence should feature at least one earth-shaking, world-shifting, heartbreaking first love - unless, of course, covid happened. Do I harp back to covid lockdown too much? Well, it happened. It was our Vietnam, and we were unprepared. There’s a guy showing me some persistent interest - something I have no time for - or interest in. He’s a tall, sporty, transfer student from Princeton. Not unattractive, in a sort of eager, and dense, hipster way. “I have a boyfriend,” I told him, hoping he'd lose interest. “He must be invisible,” he observed, several days later. Then, “If you’d give me a chance, you’d soon find out I’m a sparkling conversationalist.” He updogged. “Introverts,” I said, “we should be running the world, but no one listens to us.” “I like a woman with ambition,” he said, encouragingly. “Go away,” I replied, and he did. But he was back in the morning because he’s in my residence and we share a shuttle bus stop. sigh Question: Why are they still calling storms hurricanes? I mean, now that they can have male or female names, shouldn’t they be themicanes? . . A song for this: Alfie by Cilla Black Does Everyone Stare by The Police

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Sep 18, 2024

Sep 18, 2024 at 11:21 PM UTC

anaisvionet

sighs

We’re coming up on the spooky pumpkin-latte season, when days suddenly end, while I’m busy in some sterile, fluorescent chemistry-lab and there’s nothing to do but walk down dark science-hill to the dorm. Is that rustling the sound of leaves or footsteps? The most effective horror stories come from spaces of doubt and hover between reality and possibility - but no fears, this isn’t my Halloween story. Apparently, there was a scandal last year, about underage girls being served at bars around Yale - I mean, seriously, who knew? Sunny’s still having fun. She’s out every other night like a hunting cat ‘meeting’ all these new freshie girls. She has the best takes. Her hungover Sunday morning debriefs are not to be missed. I’ve gotten comments that suggested that the party lives of U-girls are seen as dysfunctional, but to me they’re perfectly normal. Everyone seems to want college life to be saccharine and sanitized. I figure most students live highly stressed lives. We’re expected to show up to multiple classes, on time, prepared and be ready to perform at the highest levels academically - then add to these pressures our elaborate social and study demands. Young adulthood is strict in ways you may not remember. Poor us. sigh So we have a little fun. I’ve been bottled-up, by and large, this semester - mostly by my own twisted need to get ahead in every subject and I joined a Yale Society - dumb, I know, like I have the time. But I was tapped and Annick (my sister) said “DO IT!” I bet I quit when the going gets tough. Why did I think senior year would be easier? Fall semester is a time famous for freshmen heartbreak - with everyone newly away from home and old boyfriends. About that... I hate it when boyfriends get old and you have to get rid of them. Not chronologically old - don’t call your lawyer, this isn’t ageism rearing its ugly head. There’s the chafing-like pre-breakup irritation, because you’re suddenly separated by distance and experience. it’s easy to feel out of touch and unable to voice your joy about the new life you’re living. It’s the little things that tend to bother you first, like the sudden strangeness of lingering silence on the once-exciting video calls. Ugg, breakups - the subject freaks me out - I get shivers up my spine and feel nauseous, just thinking about them - I’m not mocking heartbreak. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Adolescence should feature at least one earth-shaking, world-shifting, heartbreaking first love - unless, of course, covid happened. Do I harp back to covid lockdown too much? Well, it happened. It was our Vietnam, and we were unprepared. There’s a guy showing me some persistent interest - something I have no time for - or interest in. He’s a tall, sporty, transfer student from Princeton. Not unattractive, in a sort of eager, and dense, hipster way. “I have a boyfriend,” I told him, hoping he'd lose interest. “He must be invisible,” he observed, several days later. Then, “If you’d give me a chance, you’d soon find out I’m a sparkling conversationalist.” He updogged. “Introverts,” I said, “we should be running the world, but no one listens to us.” “I like a woman with ambition,” he said, encouragingly. “Go away,” I replied, and he did. But he was back in the morning because he’s in my residence and we share a shuttle bus stop. sigh Question: Why are they still calling storms hurricanes? I mean, now that they can have male or female names, shouldn’t they be themicanes? . . A song for this: Alfie by Cilla Black Does Everyone Stare by The Police

38

The pre-dawn rang as cat choirs sang in waring gangs sharp and rank before they sprang with claw and fang. Isn’t it an overweening piety to think that diverse cat societies would address conflicts more politely observe more cultural propriety and politic more peacefully and quietly than our own species, which behaves so violently Are we not, in part, their masters? Don’t we war for goals we’re after? Aren’t some of our leaders practically gangsters? Humans are - frankly - alpha-predator ******** Does any species author more disasters? If the language of cats, we could unscramble, and into their feral dialogs we could wrangle, perhaps we’d see that they’re just following our example.

0

Feb 28, 2024

Feb 28, 2024 at 6:56 PM UTC

anaisvionet

cat astrophes

The pre-dawn rang as cat choirs sang in waring gangs sharp and rank before they sprang with claw and fang. Isn’t it an overweening piety to think that diverse cat societies would address conflicts more politely observe more cultural propriety and politic more peacefully and quietly than our own species, which behaves so violently Are we not, in part, their masters? Don’t we war for goals we’re after? Aren’t some of our leaders practically gangsters? Humans are - frankly - alpha-predator ******** Does any species author more disasters? If the language of cats, we could unscramble, and into their feral dialogs we could wrangle, perhaps we’d see that they’re just following our example.

20

the mirror of the soul is broken, spilling out a river forever flowing, as eternal agony soaks in , I can't control were the gears are going. Is my valued machine broken? Can it be repaired by you ? Can it be rust free again, in a world were all is painted blue? Who would have thought the igniter, would become the cause of the stole? Causing us to be fighters but when does it all get old? LOOKING GLASS Broken mirrors, this floors so cold and wet. All is shattered and ripped apart. Look into the mirror don't forget. Look to find a slow beating heart. Cold yet beating it isn't dead! LOOKING GLASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 7 years bad luck roll over. A black cat that was once loved, now has gone over the shoulder. Question this the loved. LOOKING GLASS It all changes and circles, like the gears to the machine, watched over by it workers, but there's piercing laser beams. Forever grow, river flow, broken souls, sanity goes, the lost soul different highs, different lows,different eyes, visions unknown. LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN Never know, true control, societies soul, vanity goes, the lost notes different thoughts, indifference lost, so its fine, vision unknown. LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN Did you break the mirror too? Will it bring about misfortune, our colorful different hues ? When did this destruction begin? Rivers flow into the ocean. The water construct and destroy. Beginning of the end, beginning again. The mirror of the soul is broken. SPILLING, KILLING looking glass, LOOKING IN The mirror of the soul is broken. Spilling out a river ever flowing. I'm letting it all soak in. Is this vile machine broken? looking glass, LOOKING GLASS, looking glass, LOOKING GLASS!!!!!!!!!!!

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Feb 8, 2015

Feb 8, 2015 at 6:07 AM UTC

leal-knowone

Looking Glass

the mirror of the soul is broken, spilling out a river forever flowing, as eternal agony soaks in , I can't control were the gears are going. Is my valued machine broken? Can it be repaired by you ? Can it be rust free again, in a world were all is painted blue? Who would have thought the igniter, would become the cause of the stole? Causing us to be fighters but when does it all get old? LOOKING GLASS Broken mirrors, this floors so cold and wet. All is shattered and ripped apart. Look into the mirror don't forget. Look to find a slow beating heart. Cold yet beating it isn't dead! LOOKING GLASS!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 7 years bad luck roll over. A black cat that was once loved, now has gone over the shoulder. Question this the loved. LOOKING GLASS It all changes and circles, like the gears to the machine, watched over by it workers, but there's piercing laser beams. Forever grow, river flow, broken souls, sanity goes, the lost soul different highs, different lows,different eyes, visions unknown. LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN Never know, true control, societies soul, vanity goes, the lost notes different thoughts, indifference lost, so its fine, vision unknown. LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN LOOKING GLASS, LOOKING IN Did you break the mirror too? Will it bring about misfortune, our colorful different hues ? When did this destruction begin? Rivers flow into the ocean. The water construct and destroy. Beginning of the end, beginning again. The mirror of the soul is broken. SPILLING, KILLING looking glass, LOOKING IN The mirror of the soul is broken. Spilling out a river ever flowing. I'm letting it all soak in. Is this vile machine broken? looking glass, LOOKING GLASS, looking glass, LOOKING GLASS!!!!!!!!!!!

48