#verslibre
seeking ranks of three and four all over the room
leaping off the big sinking ship to stay alive
building a new ship to rise over the old ranks
taking more time than needed to get it done right
Apr 15
Apr 15, 2026 at 11:30 PM UTC
gathering clutter to line it up in a row
taking the row and crushing each thing one by one
crushing it all to spare some room and clean the mind
leaving only some of the old fun stuff behind
Apr 14
Apr 14, 2026 at 9:44 PM UTC
switching myself from "doing" to merely "being"
twisting the old clutters down to almost nothing
striving to keep most things ready and straightforward
letting time wear away the hurt from long ago
Apr 13
Apr 13, 2026 at 8:33 PM UTC
gathering all the snapshots into one lone hub
thinking more about what holds rather than what's held
choosing not to match others but to make anew
shutting the doors and keeping the dimly lit out
Apr 12
Apr 12, 2026 at 11:42 PM UTC
writing in this way since the self has left the room
liking things by working them in ways haters don't
learning that the word "around" has outlandish roots
saying "about" instead of "around" from now on
Apr 11
Apr 11, 2026 at 6:26 PM UTC
going over the paths to get to newfound lands
telling them to "tilt their heads" when they don't get it
hearing one say something like "the how is the what"
choosing not to reach out to midwits and dimwits
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 8:29 PM UTC
knowing things only bore them since they see no depth
looking at words they hold way more than what they show
seeing tales of yore crushed into small lines of words
tilting bland lines to show higher layers of breadth
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 6:59 PM UTC
knowing "the left can't merry" with their knotted minds
seeing "the right can't see shades" with "black and white" thought
becoming the lightning that "nobody asked for"
wanting to make less and less sense as time goes on
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 6:57 PM UTC
weaving the live yarn with the old cut writing tools
feeling the new heat of the whole world in a blink
seeing the light later as they become one thing
choosing no longer to watch these rigged-up ballgames
Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 6:55 PM UTC
making the tools cold will make them more straightforward
making the tools hot will make them fun and trippy
giving what is worth it to those who truly help
getting the top to see how much they are loathed
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 9:09 AM UTC
wishing to tweak writing and speech and also thought
finding hard shapes in all if we let them run free
going somewhere should mean filling it with meaning
going somewhere without care makes it a mere dream
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 9:06 AM UTC
walking through the long years back to the shining light
learning how the deep lines win each and ev'ry fight
seeing how the buried seeds all grow day and night
knowing that the ghost within sees with its own sight
Apr 6
Apr 6, 2026 at 10:59 PM UTC
keeping one's likeness away from the shifting shots
keeping workflows hidden and yet with output shown
inputting the thoughts into a hidden holder
making them hard as stone, kept away from the drone
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 12:07 PM UTC
knowing full well that things started out hard as ice
melting down later into something like water
letting those things then rise up like a cloudy steam
striking down later with a big bolt of lightning
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 12:02 PM UTC
letting the daft know that my work are not these words
having these words as the output of a workflow
having these words come from hard bounds set in my mind
telling them all to know what holds and know what's held
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 12:47 AM UTC
getting our bearings straight for ye olde bear-cat day
holding a soft likeness of a black and white bear
wondering to call the bear an "orc" or "bee-wolf"
asking a wild frog who calls them "the brown ones"
bursting into the house asking for a dark beer
wanting only the beer / not wanting to wear green
holding a pound of gold bought many years ago (?)
finding that luck in life calls for some speed as well
packing away the things from the shared house today
seeking to have less clutter in the newer house
driving away quickly from the rough old boroughs
choosing no longer to live in these crowded hubs
showing up at midnight to a dark shady room
lining the loud ones up against the gray stone wall
getting ready to shoot them all with some quick shots
taking them out and burying them underground
having taken some snapshots we set the seeds down
letting the old things fall so that we can spring fresh
making this a do-over for a brand old year
cleaning the house up before cleaning the world up
springing too quickly into a new shape of things
drawing a landsheet to show all those spots and hubs
tinkering with the landsheets and now the spreadsheets
having a deeply rooted wrath for those big rings
keeping all the wealth locked up away from the crowds
weaving around the networks like a drunk knitter
looking high and low for the things we might have missed
fishing around the seas for a new line of thought
picking up on the breakdown of the old network
finding that things leave without ever coming back
knowing that the "lorehouse" no longer teaches things
seeking ways to get back into the living world
getting an inkling for something new and helpful
seeing the light at the end of the tongue shifting
looking at the now through a looking glass backwards
walking backwards into what will become of us
choosing not to hold on to the old ways of yore
seeing time as a twisted spring that shrinks each year
seeing trends ring around in five (not twenty) years
smelling the slow shift from one time to another
seeing time now not as split-up chunks but long flows
splitting time up only for the look and feel now
smelling time only happens when the time lies near
smelling much less of the time when it lies further
writing a thing many times by setting blocks down
letting these new tools make men want to wander off
letting these new tools make new groups and ways of life
laughing at those who wield the new tools like the old
having the drawn strips let us fill in the meanings
going from the heights of meaning to none thereof
choosing not to spell things out for those reading this
melting stones into flat pools which line up to here
walking into the dark woods of the deep meshwork
sharpening up the "raven flint" to make it shine
shifting back to the days of the early network
shifting but with the sharper tools that we have now
making the new tools house the old writings at first
taking them from the old to the new we go up
becoming one group again? seems like not at first!
having yet our minds raised to even newer heights
becoming lighter so we can become harder
choosing not to be one but become another world
spreading half-truths online can seem so "fake and fey"
letting out steam which becomes water on flat leaves
Mar 31
Mar 31, 2026 at 3:49 PM UTC
starting the ring of the moon with a hidden shout
knowing that leaders high up care little for us
finding all folk groups have a cringy thing in them
thinking whether we need to get rid of it all
finding evil in books that say things too slowly
hearing old put-down words as new uplifting calls
knowing full well that groups cannot have sundry kinds
choosing to go nowhere when our home feels the best
giving it to things to which most others don't give
calling the other a threat to our leadership
"letting them all in" while also keeping some out
wanting the newer rather than the most liked things
liking new names only when they line up with us
choosing not to lift up the house of the groupthink
guessing truths right while the midfolk shove them aside
choosing not to take heed in those who don't take heed
seeing ownership as theft yet wanting to own?
looking forward to the days to come with sound minds
bringing up three kinds of knowledge (rooted in time)
sneering at shrieks of "fully uneven settings"
shifting away from the old ways not all at once
mashing up yet another clean build of software
thinking of shifting further west one of these days
making small steps towards a much better end-game
tweaking the staff row in the many weeks to come
making the world even smaller to keep things big
thwarting the copper-tin swindler from here on in
knowing that a law won't always make things better
caring too much can lead to things not working out
gnorning on about the goods that they did not take (?)
seeing one side stand up with the others seated
hiding the golden meanings inside a sound house
sending the ghost to haunt the evil blue network
choosing not to belong to any binding group
stepping away from the need for the other's likes
playing the game as it lies for what can we do
********* the mindless inwardly linked networks
taking heed of the two sides of the rotten meat
showing them the nothing that they have rightly earned
taking it all in only to get drawn away
laughing loudly behind the one-way glass window
fighting nobody and yet with everybody
shouting once again that too much leads to the end
seeing left and right as shadows of bygone times
knowing anything could have more than one meaning
having the freedom to stay weird in dark rooms
becoming a wasted island in the blue sky
jamming it all up with waves of hidden beacons
calling "craftwork" as something "one gets away with"
seeing a fifth day on a thirteenth of the month
getting led astray from the watery stone things
needing no more of those to come in to our lands
working hard to tweak the world in a some such way
choosing not to wait for them all to acknowledge
leaving the locked house to build a new land of one
bringing back depth to an emptied out flattened world
splintering ourselves into many other names
bringing all the angst of yore into this craftwork
holding a looking glass made only of raw words
trimming the list of friends to make things tidier
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 1:36 PM UTC
it’s the gaping hole that never truly closes
the gasping in the silence of the night
awakened by the ache that comes
as sudden and swift
as the piercing cry of wails that rose
when the man in white
turned up at the door and painted the day
the colour of nothing
Apr 13, 2025
Apr 13, 2025 at 10:27 PM UTC
My hands were stained with beetroot
My hands were sour with lemon
My hands were salt from cabbage
As I cried in your defence
"He would have kissed me on the steps
If I'd looked up, if I were not such a fool
The cue was there, you know
When he asked about my necklace."
I always wondered, so now
Where's this bold solution from?
And she said, were you a man
I wouldn't have to look.
Oct 18, 2022
Oct 18, 2022 at 7:24 PM UTC
I'm a reptile,
Eye being covered by scales.
It's pressing close to the blind eyelid.
I'm a reptile,
Becoming slow and cold.
I feel deeper, curling round.
I'm melasse,
Gluing eyes up, flowing unhurriedly,
I'll become ember with a silly fly.
I'm melasse,
Finding my way through everything, one can't wash me down,
Without leaving a sweet stain.
I'm a vase,
Responding with a sonorous song to a snap.
There are meaning and value to my emptiness.
I'm a vase.
Only when broken I'm beautiful.
Immortal snakes live in my bottom.
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 10:08 AM UTC
And following the afternoon's events, a pail of renewed perspective tossed across the windshield of the days that came...
Mortality slunk through the scratch of the grass there.
Disturb the pebbled road en route to the stone-
Stony silence
/\
Kick the gutter with a shoe warmed by active blood flows
/\/\ Scoop the child up and throw the foam plane with sizzling aliveness
slide along into a vast yard, calloused by time, read the inscriptions
With a knowing keenness and carefully selected clothes, a mired aliveness
/\/\/\atop the turf or below - a crude slab signifies they once were
Consider the stories stubbed out... this is ashtray soil.
Think of the ones still spinning, as the year crept to its death!
A plume of cries and upthrown paper, variegated.
Row after row of lowly souls, failed fortunes entombed
It's a cloudburst life.
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 3:50 AM UTC
I am Lazarus!
Come from the dead,
To tell ’bout the dread;
The land there is the same here,
The souls there the bodies here,
Nothing different, but the tumid river.
To cross the river,
Is a shock and shiver
You, here , they, there
Are the same but a sigh asunder
The living and the dead.
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 4:24 AM UTC