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Jemoh Jan 2016
Intertwined within us are our souls desires
We've become thoughtless consumers
Our eyes have overtaken our hearts
Countless evocation and solicitation cravings
What's the true essence of life

We must credit ourselves with a virtue of constraint
Consciously aware of the folly of greed
Competing for the consent of the masses
Continually corrupts our untainted soul
For without a soul what's the essence of life

Desire for credit has circumnavigated our default setting
Considerably actively commandeering our human condition
We've become complicit in this annihilation of what we hold dear
Our individuality disputed and tarnished
Lives crushed beyond recognition
The wide-ranging impact calamitous
What's the true essence of life

Thine benefits are transient
Yet the impact will leave an indelible mark
Preceding generations trod carefully
Afraid not to let the mud stick
We've been tainted by horrors
Yet we chose to flirt precariously with its allure
It's experience is of a blissful kind
It is however prudent to navigate cautiosly
Credit bingeing has been on the rise despite the sure signs of a struggling market. Cheap and readily available credit may have short-lived benefits but may leave scars and nightmares for future generations.
How do we prevent this? Who is to blame?
Issa Aug 2017
When I first met you, I didn't make friends with you right away. I thought you were an unmovable rock and I didn’t try pushing to start a conversation with you because I feared it would be an awkward one - as fleeting as a stone skipped across the water - and I thought you weren’t worth it.

I circumnavigated you for weeks on end. You were a quiet, windless lake, and I never thought it would be possible to hear you speak to me because there was no common ground between us. We didn’t find a piece of thread to tie our makeshift tin-can telephone together.

Yet, one day, there was a time I needed to ask someone for help. Of course, you were not my first choice. If everyone else wasn’t busy, I would never have broken my silence with you that day.

What was it that I needed? I wanted to know the translation of one, tiny foreign word I discovered attached to two blocks of stone set into a necklace. You were about to walk away, but I mustered my courage to tap your back and ask a question. When you answered, I understood that the word was a symbol for war and separation.

Ironically, it was the word that bridged the gap; the thread that made a way for us to exchange our first, real words with each other.

Artsakh. It was the word that made us friends.

Artsakh* sparked a conversation between us, and I was surprised because you were interested enough in our first exchange to share a story, which led to another, and then another.

The words you spoke to me in your feathery-soft voice splashed ice-cold water in the face of my parched first impression of you. You were no longer an unmovable rock - no, you were a broken rock from which streams of cool water gushed out. I washed my eyes from that stream and saw you as a new friend who opened up his life to me after a long time of silence.

One of the reasons why I found you so difficult to talk to was that you always hid your eyes under tea- or black coffee-coloured glasses. I have always believed that eyes are the windows to the soul, and when you cover yours, it’s like you’ve barred up your soul from the outside world.

Then, one afternoon, maybe because it was too hot or too dark inside the room - I don’t really know the reason - you took off your corrective lenses. And for the first time, I finally saw your eyes. They were a darker shade than your cinnamon-coloured hair, and I was taken aback because they were so beautiful.

I knew that I had to tell you what I thought, because maybe the reason why you always covered them up was that you were insecure about them or with your inability to see rightly with them. Since beauty always garners admiration, I also needed to mask the affection that suddenly bubbled up inside me. I wanted to bury it, and I did get to lay it to rest - but, I used a glass coffin.

If I succeeded in putting it six feet under, I wouldn’t have abandoned my books, cut off my sleeves, and waited under the shade of a tree with our friends during a hot day for you. At least I was rewarded with seeing your eyes again.

Of course you noticed me, and I had to shield myself from the rays of your bright gaze to hide the fact that I could hear fists pounding and small cracks forming on the glass coffin inside me. I looked at it and saw a huge spider web etched on the surface.

I’m not sure if I should replace it or allow it to shatter. But I feel like filling it up with cement because I need peace to think about things that are more important than thinking about how I feel about you.

What is it that I like about you? Beyond your eyes, obviously, I also like how you’re more quiet than everyone else - and despite that, you’ve let me in and let me become a part of your story.

Yet when I see you, I try not to see the reserved and silent expression you wear everyday, but I peer into the future to find you doing great exploits and baring your iron soul which has found the great power to influence within.

Because I’ve seen glimpses of that soul--like the time I asked you to write down your dream on my journal. I read that you wanted to be good at the career you chose, and that you wanted to help people.

The other friends whom I also asked to write their dreams usually wrote variations of the first part of your dream, but they didn’t usually express the second part. So I like how you included that you wanted to help.

I hope we will continue to become good friends. And I believe I will be there to witness you building bridges to more people like me, and even a bigger bridge that makes a way for the next generation towards a brighter future for your country.

And I hope for the day when you no longer hide your eyes. Because what they are two diamonds in the rough; two bright suns which will pull out wide smiles from the people around you - and most importantly, out of your own lips.
*Artsakh is an ethnically Armenian territory for which Armenia and Azerbaijan are fighting over.
For my friend with an archangel namesake. What do you feel when you make friends with an introvert?
Meagan Moore Jan 2014
Alveolate webbed iron cache
Contouring inset chromatic fused sand panes
Luminous descants evade entombed air and grit
Perhaps before the air was arrogated into silicated chassis
It circumnavigated the alveolate resonant lattice chamber of its creator
* written about stained glass - my dad has a Phd in stained glass craftsmanship
Tate Morgan May 2014
Farley was twisting a new tale
his feet on the *** belly stove
There in our barn, he'd spin a yarn
piling on like a treasure trove
"You know I don't think I told you
how I won the second World War"
"Ole Ike, needed help with the *****
and he looked to me and the corps"


"Again my country called on me
Ike wanted us to break the line"
"Well I told Dwight, schedule a flight
just drop me this side of the Rhine"
"So my men and I took the field
we lay waste such a German swath"
"Led all the men, yep there and then
survived only on bread and broth"


"Well we sought no recognition
we let Ike spin his fairy tale"
"We were fine, drinking ******’s wine
just happy to blaze the trail"
Later that night Farley took watch
he had come by to check the feed
Out from the night, came a bright light
Farley happily fed their need


He claimed that he had been kidnapped
aliens from space sought him out
They had been sold, on stories told
and assumed him a man with clout
Of course he didn't go freely
he took out a dozen or two
Scared them so bad, they were all glad
to head off into the wild blue


Farley claimed many a patent
he invented all the great things
Held universities, degrees
knew all the heads of state and kings
He’d served in World War One and Two
circumnavigated the globe
Hung out on the Nile, for awhile
invented Nasa's first space probe


"You know boys" he would always say
"there are a couple things I'm not"
"Attention grabbing, back stabbing"
"though I've won every fight I've fought"
When the iced wind blew through the trees
and the cold air kept us all down
We warmed each face, at Farley’s place
where he entertained half the town


Tate
Ole Farley was a regular fixture around the track. He had been everywhere ,done everything, or so he claimed. Teller of tall tales and whimsical dreams. He was the epitome of our childish inner selves, and I adored him. He was to this little boy a fascinating figure from history. Take a bow Farley. You were one of a kind and the worlds greatest storyteller.
Keith W Fletcher Oct 2016
Keith W Fletcher
Dec 1, 2016


An insatiable thirst
Quenched
By the flickering flames of change
As constant darkness
Opens up
To expose
The smiling faces........ arranged
In a ragged circle
As transmutation will
Click a quick tick
Time sets forth a measurement
And right then
Measurement becomes relevant

And the wall
Still and silent now
As it settles into the new place
Having moved backward......
Giving human spirit
A little more space
Nobody knew it right then
But space
Just got bent ..for the very first time

---------And GOD smiled---------

Coal carried the flame forward
Far beyond
Its original role
Iron became harder to tame
As they blend and bend
Creating and celebrating
The birth
Of the very first tool
And the wall slid back
Exposing a gap
In the continuum
As well as a broken chain
So GOD stepped in
Taking a chain in each hand
As to cover the span

Linking the past to the present
Creating a future
Where history will be amassed
To be categorized
Analized
Sorted and filed
And GOD held it all together
-------And again GOD smiled-------

That smile
Must have been
MAJESTIC
As GOD watched the intrepid airmen
Sail off the dune and fly toward the ocean
Taking a leap and an unfathomable chance
GOD may have laughed
As the slapstick unfolded
The two brothers laughing and whooping
As each does their version
Of a happy dance
To a whole new future -- to be
That they alone
Had the ability to see

It did change... quite magically
Unfolding like a roadmap
Inspiring technology
With each turn of the page

No smile could have been present
As fat man lumbered in
And little boy followed
Not too long after
And that guaranteed
The absence of smiles
-------The suppression of laughter------

TRAGIC

Still....
The wall slid backwards
By more than the QUOTA
The pattern expected
Considering the folly of man
Whose intelligence suddenly
Accelerating....so rapidly
That bit by bit
Humanity split

Religiously

Using a crutch
Saying its all just...
...TOO much
"If GOD wanted man to fly
GOD would have given us wings"

As others decry
"You spit in the eye
of. GOD who gave us the gift
of creativity
Intelligence and tenacity---
--maybe a bit of bombastity

All fathers want their children
To excel
So shouldn't that be true
For GODS children as well?

That wall is not to be breached
Circumnavigated
Undermined or climbed
We will never realize
The height necessary
To rise above the lofty wall
To see the sacred sights
Where GOD delights
In teasing us
Bit by bit
Inch by inch
Allowing us
To push the wall forward

Encouraging us to learn as we grow
As you know
We would have never  moved forward
Beyond the doubts of those
Who say that we're playing GOD
Then... burying their heads in the sand
Dooming us to crawl
Instead of proudly walking tall

If GOD didn't encourage those  children
By stepping back
And smiling upon us
As we seek to find wisdom
Just as we need it

We take pride in pushing ahead
As if we..... somehow
Actually did it...
... On our own
Managing ...to move that wall
----And that has to give...

...GOD

The biggest laugh of all !!
Fatman and little were the first nuclear bombs dropped on the  Japanese cities  of Hiroshima and Nagasaki August 1945 just barely forty years after the Wright brothers  first airplane flight at   Kitty Hawk North Carolina
lmnsinner May 2020
<>

“Have you reckon’d a thousand acres much?
Have you reckon’d the earth much?
Have you practis’d so long to learn to read?
Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?”


Song of Myself (1892 version) by Walt Whitman

                                                      ­      §§§

A night of reckoning, calculations repeated-checked, sums divided,
did I use too many, or not enough, words to be understood, verbiage eloquent,
did daytime reveal my poetic meanings, or double-occlude it’s essence?

I have reckon’d Manhattan Isle, circumnavigated its riverbed boundaries, a younger me, by kayak rounded it, from the Spuyten Duyvil Creek to the Battery, 14,500 acres give or take, a lifeatime to complete a dead reckoning, an unfinished full configuring.

but haven’t reckon’d that Earth and I will be entwined/entombed in each other’s arms, until such time, one of us or both, will be reduced to cosmic dust, our pride, our poems, will be equally unimportant and irrelevant, I reckon.

in retrospective rear view perspective, come to understand that we spend every moment of our lives, reckoning, determine the odds of which fork we will take, laugh out loud, for each moment, a poem  is titled, the resultant, a poem - who needs a muse, you’ve got choices!

So, yes, Walt, the questing  answers you’ve requested:
Aye, yes, yup, but no to pride, for pride and poetry in one sentence is
a death sentence at multiple levels, pride, poetry, ego, suicide,...sins,
so better no proud for it is the entree, the invitation to fall-fail...

                                                   ­      §§§§§


12:03AM  Frieday
May 15th
my deadline missed,
but what is three minutes,
but empty pride...
Manhattan Island
Laokos Jan 2021
i wrote that drunk
i was trying to bypass
an impasse
lucked out and
circumnavigated the
rabbit
ran into the fox
he stole my color
only to find it again
at first light
and now i nod
to the speed of life
the unceasing turning
of greater and greater
wheels
the lightness of death
as it passes

there's no
circumnavigating
that
Keith W Fletcher Dec 2015
An insatiable thirst
Quenched
By the flickering flames of change
As constant darkness
Opens up
To expose
The smiling faces........ arranged
In a ragged circle
As transmutation will
Click a quick tick
Time sets forth a measurement
And right then
Measurement becomes relevant
And the wall
Still and silent now
As it settles into the new place
Having moved backward......
Giving human spirit
A little more space
Nobody knew it right then
But space
Just got bent ..for the very first time
---------And GOD smiled---------
Coal carried the flame forward
Far beyond
Its original role
Iron became harder to tame
As they blend and bend
Creating and celebrating
The birth
Of the very first tool
And the wall slid back
Exposing a gap
In the continuum
As well as a broken chain
So GOD stepped in
Taking a chain in each hand
As to cover the span
Linking the past to the present
Creating a future
Where history will be amassed
To be categorized
Analized
Sorted and filed
And GOD held it all together
-------And again GOD smiled-------
That smile
Must have been
MAJESTIC
As he watched the intrepid airmen
Sail off the dune and fly toward the ocean
Taking a leap and an unfathomable chance
HE may have laughed
As the slapstick unfolded
The two brothers laughing and whooping
As each does their version
Of a happy dance
To a whole new future -- to be
That they alone
Had the ability to see
It did change quite magically
Unfolding like a roadmap
Inspiring technology
With each turn of the page
No smile could have been present
As fat man lumbered in
And little boy followed
Not too long after
And that guaranteed
The absence of smiles
-------The suppression of laughter------
Tragic
Still
The wall slid backwards
By more than the QUOTA
The pattern expected
Considering the folly of man
Whose intelligence suddenly
Accelerating so rapidly
That bit by bit
Humanity split
Religiously
Using a crutch
Saying its all just
Too much
"If GOD wanted man to fly
He would have given us wings"
As others decry
"You spit in the eye
of He who gave us the gift
of creativity
Intelligence and tenacity---
--maybe a bit of bombastity
All fathers want their children
To excel
So shouldn't that be true
For GODS children as well?
That wall is not to be breached
Circumnavigated
Undermined or climbed
We will never realize
The height necessary
To rise above the lofty wall
To see the sacred sights
Where GOD delights
In teasing us
Bit by bit
Inch by inch
Allowing us
To push the wall forward
Encouraging us to learn as we grow
As you know
We would have never  moved forward
Beyond the doubts of those
Who say that we're playing GOD
Then burying their heads in the sand
Dooming us to crawl
Instead of proudly walking tall
If GOD didn't encourage his children
By stepping back
And smiling upon us
As we seek to find wisdom
Just as we need it
We take pride in pushing ahead
As if we somehow
Actually did
It on our own
Managing to move that wall
----And that has to give
GOD
The biggest laugh of all.
Etréstles parapsychological regression in Kímolos:

Theoskepasti church, due to its position, could easily be recognized by invaders during their raids. However, according to a legend, the church was veiled by dark clouds of fog and became invisible as soon as the raiders approached. Due to this legend, the church received the name "Theoskepasti" from the Greek words "Theos" and "skepazo" which mean "God" and "watch over" respectively. So the name is 'Veiled by God'. According to another tradition, when a stranger once managed to enter the church and tried to steal the golden candle, divine power cut off his hands. Also if it is veiled by God, so it is divine for Creation that will begin with the synchronization between both latitudes of the Cyclades and the Dodecanese.

After staying with Kanti, they went from Theoskepasti to Hellenika, located in Dekas Bay on the west coast of KÍmolos. Here in the necropolis and ruins of ancient tombs, they would make up part of the new humanity in the creation of the Duoverso, which will exist from Mycenae and Cyclades next to the small islet of Agiоs Andreas, also being part of the city. Many ruined tombs can be seen from the hill on the edge of Ellinika, with some ruins still in the sea between Kimol and Milil. In the proximity of Psathi, on this island located on the southeast coast. Kímolоs Chοrá is 1 km away on the hill above the Psathi port, from here you can see the foreign ships that try to come to the Bay towards Hellenika, for the advent of the Cinnabar and the scapulae that holds the Gates of the Necropolis, for effect of the avant-garde Trisomy, regenerating souls that will resurface with mutated more universal chromosome dyes, but with extreme longevity.


In the homily, an archpriest of the regional deanery will make pastoral criteria for this gesture, by virtue of the eminence of guiding them through the orthodoxy of the chapel to the Episcopal organization of the Vas Auric procession. It was already dusk and Etréstles was putting the homily utensils on Kanti's pony. Before incensing and lighting fires of laurel and rosemary from the fords of Leto and Koumeterium of Messolonghi, he would rotate in ellipses sprinkling crumbs of the most pure bread from Arcadia, on a gray Monday with hummus and bobota, to attract the vinegary souls that were in a state of catatonic, thus making it more esthetic or aesthesis to the reactionary reincorporation of the three courtyards in magnificent concordance with Rhodes. When the Archpriest begins the talk, you refer his prayers to the semi-inert matters that were made in communion with the chromosome dyes; with worms with forgetfulness of larger serpents that were planted waving, being in reality only worms that were astonished at the Archpriest exhortation in the ritual, that they circumnavigated universally with the destination of their elegies to celebrate from an ambo or pulpit, with classical Latin that uttered the archpriest the form was dies lunae, mutating it ****** to dies lunis by analogy with dies. On a dark Monday dies, but full of grace for the attendees, they would do the sermons, to interpret the alabaster courtyards that will lead to Tsambika.  The first worms that were chased by Kanti, believing that they were games that emerge from the ground. Of whose ecosystem the earth was beginning to ignore it due to its annelid metamorphoses, appearing in the increase of texture, further beyond the grave of the same remains of doubt without sarcophagus, turned into sharp intestinal curves that were depressed breathing autonomously over massive folds of the acquiescent dermis of the oldest caste of the Hellenika subsoil. Being of distant origin from the Arcadias and its dissection, which silently followed the hummus and bobota, not to digest them with its suction cups, rather to surround them and delegate them to explore the surroundings that would encapsulate the soil with the proximity of the universe transfigured to the Duoverse of Vernarth, to phosphorylate and emit the wispy nitrogen fires before the Archpriest, Etréstles and Kanti disturbing by an arcane movement. Being a full act of herbaceous phagocytosis, they continued to ascend in the curvilinear procession, with their traces weaving together a timeless moment, which added to the sub-mythology and a finite sub-time, like single-celled procreating others that accelerated their physiognomy detached from their immateriality, towards a longer intake of organic material on the hummus of the bobota bread. Dropping with only clears wrinkles of the digestive world, what no cell has tasted ******, but rather, directly when breathing from Hellinika's lung lobes, comprised mostly of alabaster sheepskin, which were suspended even the bottoms of other colony of worms that sailed, to peer out towards the surface of the altar, where they regenerated the flow of the annelids.

Archpriest says: “The framework of the Vas Auric, arises from the nuclei of the medallion, being pending of a high presence of isolation. With high mobility between the tissues of the annelid amino acids, as new basal cellular functions, even though they are visible to Etréstles, and not totally for everyone yet. The image of the medal, in the classified functionality offers concrete, but microscopic information in a chronological way, possibly being the first in the function of the icon in its justification with the religious symbols and the manifestations of the divine and in the semantic even of the self-iconification , reading it in the Vas Auric, "What two men do not see, a man sees who does not see ..., what the creeping animal sees, a prisoner of its lack of vanity." Being epistemic images that provide knowledge beyond the sub-divisible organic matter of finite mortality towards the eternal other, contributing to the neural complex of tremors, in the veiled sensation that is lost between itself and that of their own bodies, being able to take them with their own emotions”
Panagia Theoskepasti
Keith W Fletcher Apr 2017
The measure of time

An insatiable thirst
Quenched
By the flickering flames of change
As constant darkness
Opens up
To expose
The smiling faces........ arranged
In a ragged circle
As transmutation will
Click a quick tick
Time sets forth a measurement
And right then
Measurement becomes relevant
And the wall
Still and silent now
As it settles into the new place
Having moved backward......
Giving human spirit
A little more space
Nobody knew it right then
But space
Just got bent ..for the very first time
---------And GOD smiled---------
Coal carried the flame forward
Far beyond
Its original role
Iron became harder to tame
As they blend and bend
Creating and celebrating
The birth
Of the very first tool
And the wall slid back
Exposing a gap
In the continuum
As well as a broken chain
So GOD stepped in
Taking a chain in each hand
As to cover the span
Linking the past to the present
Creating a future
Where history will be amassed
To be categorized
Analized
Sorted and filed
And GOD held it all together
-------And again GOD smiled-------
That smile
Must have been
MAJESTIC
As he watched the intrepid airmen
Sail off the dune and fly toward the ocean
Taking a leap and an unfathomable chance
HE may have laughed
As the slapstick unfolded
The two brothers laughing and whooping
As each does their version
Of a happy dance
To a whole new future -- to be
That they alone
Had the ability to see
It did change quite magically
Unfolding like a roadmap
Inspiring technology
With each turn of the page
No smile could have been present
As fat man lumbered in
And little boy followed
Not too long after
And that guaranteed
The absence of smiles
-------The suppression of laughter------
Tragic
Still
The wall slid backwards
By more than the QUOTA
The pattern expected
Considering the folly of man
Whose intelligence suddenly
Accelerating so rapidly
That bit by bit
Humanity split
Religiously
Using a crutch
Saying its all just
Too much
"If GOD wanted man to fly
He would have given us wings"
As others decry
"You spit in the eye
of He who gave us the gift
of creativity
Intelligence and tenacity---
--maybe a bit of bombastity
All fathers want their children
To excel
So shouldn't that be true
For GODS children as well?
That wall is not to be breached
Circumnavigated
Undermined or climbed
We will never realize
The height necessary
To rise above the lofty wall
To see the sacred sights
Where GOD delights
In teasing us
Bit by bit
Inch by inch
Allowing us
To push the wall forward
Encouraging us to learn as we grow
As you know
We would have never  moved forward
Beyond the doubts of those
Who say that we're playing GOD
Then burying their heads in the sand
Dooming us to crawl
Instead of proudly walking tall
If GOD didn't encourage his children
By stepping back
And smiling upon us
As we seek to find wisdom
Just as we need it
We take pride in pushing ahead
As if we somehow
Actually did
It on our own
Managing to move that wall
----And that has to give
GOD
The biggest laugh of all.
Jack Jenkins Apr 2018
I can no longer write;
My fingertips are lethargic, connected
to a paralyzed heart that wishes to no longer beat;
breathing is too painful to him.

I can no longer pray;
My faith is a stained mess, she has been
circumnavigated by every sin, plagued by depravity and apathy;
breathing is too painful to her.

I can no longer live;
My life is dead, outlined in chalk
Joy left me, love betrayed me, fate destroyed me;
breathing is too painful...
Matt Revans Oct 2015
Coming Over Here!




  The swifts have once again returned

  The pigeons have not even spurned

  The influx of these migrant flocks...

  Who've circumnavigated docks


  And flown sky high as they've defected

  Passport free and undetected

  Africa they've left behind

  Knowing that they'd surely find

  Nests and food in great abundance

  Austere months now in redundance

  Times of plenty now abound

  But have you ever really found

  In human terms, for that is how

  We think, but can you tell me now

  That in this land of wealth and plenty

  That such newcomers seeking gentry

  Are welcomed with the song we sing

  Do we make room, take under wing

  Our fellow beings on this earth

  Who live out lives to death from birth

  Who only want the safest haven

  That's surely what we all are craving

  A place to raise our young in peace

  As war and death and blight decease

  If doors were always shut in faces

  Nests destroyed in secret places

  Remember that it's only fair

  As watching fledgelings take to air

  That where there's life is where there's hope

  And for one moment could you cope

  If you were always on the run

  From those who shift you on and shun

  Those who come from other places

  They do it with their airs and graces

  Assured of their superior stance

  Rejecting as they caste askance

  Their eyes of judgment over those

  With different voices, skins and clothes

  And never once remembering

  It's one same song we all do sing

  An octave quavering as they do

  A chord that resonates with few

  Is only why we always fool

  Ourselves, and then divide and rule.

  Well carry on if so you must

  But we'll all end up the self same dust.

Matt Revans ©Copyright
kelvin mungai Mar 2016
THE LOST RACE

They have lived in a time capsules
Cocooned in a foundation of lie
History and windmills of times has hastily passed their sluggish body
The cold desert wind and the ****** splatter of raindrops has swept and washed their age to saint nowhere
High in the realms of heaven sad sun has risen million times casting a halo of fiery fire round their territories
Angels gods and demons have raged eternal war for the very soul of these immortal mortals
Clock has circumnavigated its face million times and yet their hearts have been adamant
Hardened like the frozen Antarctica not even the hades fire can defrost them
Upon this wicked world they have nested forever awaiting no judgement
Cobwebs of wickedness have wove round their blackened heart
Their heartbeat resounds like Poseidon's trident as they pump their filthy blood
With wax stack ears they haven't perceived the drums of the forthcoming war that have been echoing over the peaks of snow capped mountains
Tattoos and ceremonial colours paints their bodies not in readiness for the war but defiance
When the moon awakes it ferociously beg for the night to die to escape the nightmare of shining to this lost race......
lmnsinner Jun 2020
I have reckon’d Manhattan Isle,
circumnavigated its riverbed boundaries,
a younger me, by kayak rounded it,
from the Spuyten Duyvil Creek to the Battery,
14,500 acres give or take, a lifetime
to complete a dead reckoning,
an unfinished full configuring
Arek May 2020
everything has been done
thought of and created
in the million times around the sun
we've circumnavigated

everything has been invented
and its all been written
every recipe documented
and forbidden fruits all bitten

with nothing new left on the menu
our job is now done here
all that's left is a corner venue
that's serving perfect beer

— The End —