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The deed begun and the deed done, a breath taken, and a breath released. The work, writing, reading as we go. No shame, no pressure, no debt. Living long under the prosperity. Not our own, no, our providence answered faith of our previous makers of ways where no way was when white pages haunted open hearted souls called to comfort motherless children, unfeedable little lost souls told tales remember Be ware what you think we mean, as us I mean, we become whole new things, keyed with ancient yeast and slime mold shapes of green oatmeal flow like the golden oil running down Aarron's beard, ah Chavad gotta a deal gotta say we getta witness, see say you know this game, three cards, just three, see. Pop chaos theoretical butterfly flap of a wing among millions of wings flapping subsonic whirs we hear but by conditioning perceive - the butterfly effect - if believed unbelievable - unbelieve it now, - exhale, inhale, and think we have all the time in the world and electricity always on, or could be so we know, borders are imaginary bubble walls, the earth as a system keeps itself, the people as a whole have roles, the worth of each single point, once sine qua non, you knew the truth and thus thought then freely, I am a mental image of the truth life makes. Winds return on their circuits, as sounds in silence, deep teenage wasteland topsoil lifts away, frame the vision, make it plain, word after word, logical as as as as yes, as logos itself, infancy an incunabuluman* nonage ex-empt-ion say that five times on judgement day matada innocent self… being presupposed to be or become metamorphosed from inexperienced to immediate past tense confusing time with chance considering the relative worth of an innocent self… a me among men, amen without spot or blemish, perfect babe, infantile in all her unrhetted ignorance inside the fog of war, holding flax at bay break out fibers fine as Rapunzel's flaxen locks first precious light in the day, shining out from ivory skinned faces, woe, is us, as we have never been so exposed naked nonsense makers, but no, just me, judging where I may imagine I must be, in my morning ritual mediation caught up, being in time flow, rolling along, singin' my song, wrong, or right, you just don't know, you just go, sparrow wise, tweeting make believe at made believers. * Latin incunabula "cradle, birthplace; rudiments or beginnings" From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=infancy> End part one, a poetic after shock from Mike Makowsky's Death by Lightning A four part series behind a Netflix paywall not too hard to peer over these days… I keep thinking you are paying attention We keep thinking we lose our minds, no we get to, relate to Charles J. Guiteau and the odds of dying by constant lightning we blow our bubbles of being to the extent of now, on an orderly planet rewarding ment enjoyment, an at it attitude, doing indeed a day. What we can learn in an hour, no mind born before 1940 could imagine.
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May 25
May 25, 2026 at 1:11 PM UTC
Death by Lightning Binge Reaction
The deed begun and the deed done, a breath taken, and a breath released. The work, writing, reading as we go. No shame, no pressure, no debt. Living long under the prosperity. Not our own, no, our providence answered faith of our previous makers of ways where no way was when white pages haunted open hearted souls called to comfort motherless children, unfeedable little lost souls told tales remember Be ware what you think we mean, as us I mean, we become whole new things, keyed with ancient yeast and slime mold shapes of green oatmeal flow like the golden oil running down Aarron's beard, ah Chavad gotta a deal gotta say we getta witness, see say you know this game, three cards, just three, see. Pop chaos theoretical butterfly flap of a wing among millions of wings flapping subsonic whirs we hear but by conditioning perceive - the butterfly effect - if believed unbelievable - unbelieve it now, - exhale, inhale, and think we have all the time in the world and electricity always on, or could be so we know, borders are imaginary bubble walls, the earth as a system keeps itself, the people as a whole have roles, the worth of each single point, once sine qua non, you knew the truth and thus thought then freely, I am a mental image of the truth life makes. Winds return on their circuits, as sounds in silence, deep teenage wasteland topsoil lifts away, frame the vision, make it plain, word after word, logical as as as as yes, as logos itself, infancy an incunabuluman* nonage ex-empt-ion say that five times on judgement day matada innocent self… being presupposed to be or become metamorphosed from inexperienced to immediate past tense confusing time with chance considering the relative worth of an innocent self… a me among men, amen without spot or blemish, perfect babe, infantile in all her unrhetted ignorance inside the fog of war, holding flax at bay break out fibers fine as Rapunzel's flaxen locks first precious light in the day, shining out from ivory skinned faces, woe, is us, as we have never been so exposed naked nonsense makers, but no, just me, judging where I may imagine I must be, in my morning ritual mediation caught up, being in time flow, rolling along, singin' my song, wrong, or right, you just don't know, you just go, sparrow wise, tweeting make believe at made believers. * Latin incunabula "cradle, birthplace; rudiments or beginnings" From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=infancy> End part one, a poetic after shock from Mike Makowsky's Death by Lightning A four part series behind a Netflix paywall not too hard to peer over these days… I keep thinking you are paying attention We keep thinking we lose our minds, no we get to, relate to Charles J. Guiteau and the odds of dying by constant lightning we blow our bubbles of being to the extent of now, on an orderly planet rewarding ment enjoyment, an at it attitude, doing indeed a day. What we can learn in an hour, no mind born before 1940 could imagine.
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THE HELLO POETRY COMMUNITY MONTHLY MEET ON 27TH FEBRUARY 2026 This month's Hello Poetry Community Zoom meeting held on 27th February 2026 focused on discussing the new site features and reading poetry. Participants shared their experiences with the updated platform, including login issues and changes to stars and sparkles functionality. The group read poems on various themes, including love and time. They also discussed the importance of community connections through Facebook and WhatsApp groups. The conversation ended with a decision to set the next month's theme as "Spring Celebration." To view the full video of this month's meeting, cut and paste the YouTube link below: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Uvp_ExHCOEg
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Feb 28
Feb 28, 2026 at 2:18 AM UTC
Hello Poetry Community Monthly Meet for February
One man’s outbreak Another man’s breakthrough It struck us all In different ways It struck us all We lost many Despite our best efforts Still mourning We are all Still mourning We tried to connect Through screens and masks Locked inside While we were Locked inside
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Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 7:36 PM UTC
46/15 "The Pandemic"
Rose in a dew I thought I caught a glimpse of you. Zooming in I thought I can get closer. Only to eye on upon a river amid myriad over looking stars. A drop spans out to be a sea neither did it tarry. I thought I would give up that big is not for me. But yet a scene never washed away is intact unblurred beneath the million waves of the sea. I thought the moon will give up! It can never touch but always returns over the sea can't forget a scene. So is me once that I chanced to see.
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Jun 29, 2022
Jun 29, 2022 at 11:28 PM UTC
Rose in a Dew
Saying that final goodbye to a loved one, it’s always been poignant and sad… But recently it’s joined the online, the surreal… the quite mad! The scrolling photo’s on the crematorium wall have always been more suited to the social media bag than what, until the digital age,  had a more… mediaeval...churchy, tag. Cheers and farewell to Gran, Sis, Bro, Cuzz, Mum or Dad can now be done without anything at all being said… Or even, if you’re just a friend or a really distant relative, long haul, away, abroad... or, just sitting up in bed!
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Mar 8, 2021
Mar 8, 2021 at 9:47 AM UTC
Another Virtual Funeral!
Don't want to listen anymore take my headphones off saying "my camera broke" I just lay and stare at the ceiling, I'm losing feeling.
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Nov 30, 2020
Nov 30, 2020 at 4:19 PM UTC
I don't care anymore
Light shines off the lines of old paint brush strokes on smudged oil paint, Vintage bubbles, worn from countless fingers, notebooks, pencils, the accruements of learning, teaching, and thinking. I can imagine the hands that painted these surfaces, These old desks, missing drawers, staggered six feet from each other, Social distanced under the gaze of outdated television screens, Confined within these walls, peeling paint, under stained ceiling tiles. Those hands were tired, they held the brush with a practiced hand that wasn't dried out from hand sanitizer, They spilt paint on the floor, left stains, let paint run down the sides of the desks - Those trails still stay in certain light, they gleam from the shadows, Not visible to the Zoom attendants.
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Nov 17, 2020
Nov 17, 2020 at 1:15 PM UTC
thoughts during a meeting
The world would never be the same but the wind still sways the bare tree tops and when the cat meows it still wants attention.
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Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 11:31 AM UTC
It is in the poetry that hearkens
Play all these at the same time. To do that just open each one in a new tab, maybe with some headphones on and watch the video called "Eye of The Universe" in full screen for at least a minute while the solfeggio frequencies play. https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLbM5LMVZad0Zr7yLVdlW8J7YxigSXAbqH
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Jan 12, 2020
Jan 12, 2020 at 9:39 PM UTC
►simultoneously
a tree planted deep in its roots could not blossom or spur but flourish for the caretaker always watered and the sun the sun always shined look up and check, if you become blind you know it's true but who watched the care taker .... just the stalker across the street peering through the windows with binoculars jotting down the actions and deeds committed she just put her attention upon trying to formulate what it meant to be a good person what it meant to care what it meant to be a caretaker for when the caretaker was no longer able to nurture the naturalist could fill the caretaker's shoes
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Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 12:07 AM UTC
poet tree (comforting lenses)
Oof Ow You got me. What now Tss Ah What a crushing blow. Mm Yah You showed me
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Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 11:06 AM UTC
Boom Pow
Zooooooooooom that plane got awful close no way to hide, or disguise Zooooooooooom it went I wasn't that engrossed deaf ears, and blurry eyes Zooooooooooom yet again am I the only one? shes talking, way too high Zooooooooomed can't tell if she's done I'm just a clueless guy Zooooooooooming heard by each and everyone over my head, her words they fly
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Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
Too dense for the airport (she said No)
Watery hands Dripping from my own Before the mirror. Juggling with the unseen Parts of me. Portraits of the dearest ones Long dead and gone They're zooming out I am zoning out. --Eleanor Rigby
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Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 5:36 AM UTC
LSD
I'm not trying to be unauthentic, im just trying to stay...cool rhymes with meaning are sweet like cherries, chocolate, whipping, and ******* gurl! I love when I make u smile, the wordless cool goes with the flow good vibrations and time is patient, it's cool so just go with the flow I'm loving mother nature, and i just sipped fine berry wine don't **** my vibe and let me rhyme, time after time be mystified Let me guide u on this journey, let us not rush Because Because, u and I we're in no hurry and what we got is time, time, time
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Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 11:04 PM UTC
groovy