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Mollie Grant Feb 2016
“20 ways to repurpose a light bulb”

It tells me I need to start with a good grip around the bulb,
give the solder point a twist and free the brass contact
from the wires leading to the filament. If I make it that far,
I have to break the insulator and pull the filament out
from there. Grabbing the fill tube, I need to empty out the bulb
and wipe it out to get it ready.

I guess I could channel my childhood and turn the bulb
into an aquarium—dropping a little bloodfin tetra in with
a sprig of sea-grass or even make one of three small hanging vases
to put on my wall in the kitchen. If I want to get crafty,
I have directions for a glass sculpture, a holiday ornament,
and seven different size centerpieces.
The real surprises on the list are the light bulb necklace
and the concrete molds for light bulb handles.

Here I am, 4 A.M. on a Saturday morning planted on the couch
peering at the screen through my Jim Bean bottle eyes
and all I see are ways to repurpose this broken bulb
for something new—something it should have never been—
and I wonder why I can’t just grab the oil and a wick and
turn it into what it always wanted to be.
She Writes Jul 2022
Repurpose your pain
Create a masterpiece
- Art
Kabelo Maverick Mar 2015
Barricades detach my demeanour slowly…
Wear my shades to match my deceiver clothing
A kiss of *** good to balance pH mantra
…I did some good to malice and got defaced, gangsta…!!
I’m a whirlwind and terribly vexed
to be mentioned in the same pun as Labour Rights
I make the world spin, probably next…
Repurpose myself and brace plugs for my neighbour’s lights…
Maverick.penmanship© Equilibrium of my Rights and Wrongs 2015/03/04
ECKate Jan 2014
induratize me, just leave that scent behind;
at the doorway it lingers,
whispering faux truths without surprise.
the snow laughs in reflection, glitter haunts a mirror & to say we
see as nothing, we find there's
constant consistency here.
but water is transformation,
repurpose, great ingenuity;
freezing to create sorrow's surface, melting to break deep rests escape

my mother's brain found it incredibly sad,
trickling chemicals tricking bodies into reform,
skirmishing the soul away from the eyes,
to think if I could shake her free.
and that's what a love hath done to me, so i wait for the melt,
to remember my uncertainty


© 2015 Kate Volk
Got to remember
how the **** to swim
before it's far too late-
before I must surrender
to the flow of things in Time

Got to break this spell,
got to break free from
this hell
in which I hold myself
captive
pleading for
a more fair Judge and Jury;

Holding myself prisoner
even though not consciously,
this sort-of Shadow puppetry
is forcing me to see that
I've got to relearn to swim
before it's far too late-
to rectify and repurpose
all these persistent negative Energies
and turn all this darkness
once more into light.
It's ironic - you're not environmentally conscious——
And don't forget, baby, you're the one who said you want this

You wanna date her, but then you claim you've had it,
So you return like I'm made of paper or plastic
Crumble me up and throw me away
Or repurpose my presence, you wouldn't want me to stray
and try to salvage what's left of my shattered broken pieces
Keep me compacted tight, make me believe I'm beneath this
Shred me, burn me, then keep my remains
Just to piece me back together how you want me in your brain

One day you'll lose me, I'll become biodegradable,
and you'll try to reuse me only to realize I'm not disposable
I'm not the insulated coffee cup you settle for when you're in a rush
In fact, keep this up and I'll be ice cold to the touch

Cut down tree after tree then wonder why you can't catch your breath
Dug yourself into a landfill trying to avoid your death

Consume me, then remove me, keeping pieces each time
But you can take it all, the soul you know's no longer mine
neth jones Sep 2019
in our very own room
all have fever.. privately
we feed it soft egg

we closet and build
create fabric, like insect
mouthwork, repurpose

outside of the home
dictated by company
we have shared madness

we tread the weather
we institutionalize
miss out on the world

societies pal
traitors to our piracy
mistrust our own mind

blinds drawn, in fierce study
apply to the retooling
head clay made better

the automaton
must bare some animation
unallied approach

wetter still and fit
your neutrons fend now and thrive
carry the tune outdoors ?
Joanna Oz Sep 2014
Somewhere smothered --
In between sprinting feet,
And a hazy head
Heavy spun with dreams,
The image of you - dissolving.
Slipping slowly like sand,
Through cracks in a desperately
Clenched fist, seeping
Out through pores,
Glistening a ghostly sheen,
From ghastly truths.

Sometime released --
In between blooming bushes,
And the infinite inhaling
Of passages - hungry, hunting
For fragrance to fill the lungs.
Expelling old dusty promises,
In a windy whirlpool,
Your roots were dug up
From my garden, and you
Dissipated into clean blue sky.

Somehow forgotten --
In between toes dangling,
Off a precipice of golden possibilities,
And the plunge of faith,
To the inconceivable depths
Of my expanding soul.
A cosmic flight to air me out:
Empty slate, open arms.
I am slipping into light,
Reclaim, repurpose, renew.
Back cowering atop the cliff
Lies my memory of you.
Butch Decatoria Apr 2021
A mosaic of broken colored glass
Repurposed in to a High Art
Against the brilliance of the sun
Stained glass skeins color the pews
Without doubt made anew
Alive ain't broken.

(We're Mosaic... as it were.)
Harry Roberts Jun 2019
The Earth is swallowed by fire then chewed up by carnage,
The flames lick the world and then Gaia is tarnished,
Hugrgy maws of a beast to our mother we encourage,
Unsuspecting till the day that our collective nutrition is harnessed.

Life swallowed across the scale
Recycle rebirth refuse if they fail,
Reform and repurpose review a new trail
Revive and realise a line in the tale.

Energy is magic and vessels always transforms
A glacier to a blizzard that becomes a sandstorm
And if you listen closely you can hear the earth move
Life can just transform and to humans it won't prove.
beenseen May 2019
We sit in these walls
With a million doors pressing closed

They close until you stand up
and pry with your ****** fingers
at least one door open

Even a crack can let in the light.

Im sick of prying with ****** fingers - I want this door flung open now!

Ive felt a few feelings in my life
None that didn't do me help
None that didnt lead me to this exact thought.

**** this im ******* done!

Ive discovered who and what
Its the where and how thats staggering
In circles in front of me
Running like the headless chicken

That i assume is me
But its not
Im in full spectrum

At least i honestly feel like i am

Ive been tricked into a destiny that has no piece in my puzzle

And i have to be brave enough to be all my own parts

That's what they all fear the most

Let be those
Who judge you

Pretending is the hardest game
And im not its number one player

I know thats ok

Its ok

Ive done my mending and changing - as i grow towards my light

How do i do all this ****?
Its confusing
Its bothering

How do you try sow new seeds
Or even mend to the old ones
when someone took a great fat stinking **** in your garden?

I suppose
You have to shovle the **** out
Repurpose it into a sort of fertilizer

Yet i still need to source the mud
& some how you got to keep those seeds safe
& the few buds you have,
some how they need to stay alive

And its wrenching my heart
& i want to pull it out of my chest
& lay it down in some tool box

Perhaps for hands that know how to do with it better.
Thoughts on growing thicker skin
betterdays Oct 2014
¤ i borrow a snippet of a thought from ezra pound
and repurpose it...
to make a mothers plea...

..is it not time for us,
to remember how....
"to be men.... not destroyers"

so that we can give
a world .....
somewhat intact,
to those in the  following generations

is it not time....again
¤ i must admit i am not really aware of the context of the quote from pound, in italics ... .i just read it while looking for poem prompts
and it gave no poem...just the name.
but thought it apt, in light of
recent world events.
in saying this .... i do not condone the action of ISIL
nor condemn the reaction
to them.....
Liz Devine Feb 2017
Look within me
look through all of the soft spots,
sharp corners
study every space and piece

what do you see?

Do you see someone who loves --
or someone who hates?
Can you see my demons?
The pain and the shame?

Do you see yourself?

I am a woman
product of the white devil
proud to be reborn
to redefine,
reflect,
and repurpose myself
as a lover of God
and to see the light in every being
BoogzThePoet Jan 2019
last week, one of my students told me, "Excuse me Mr. J, But can i tell you something, You've changed my life in such a great way",
#7 "Inspire the Youth" Scratch that one out.
Or throw yourself at candles in the form of a prayer.
prayer that #100 can be met by my winged hands that is to soar with my dreams.
Ring the door bell of roots as if you're loosing your mind.
#3 say what you really mean to the deaf so a blind man can tell you the meaning of love at first sight,
or talk as fast as you can about a deck of cards, be the joker in the crowd.
#9 "touch a whale",
although i have no interest in become a marine biologist or working at sea world,
so perhaps seeing one will do justice,
i want to know how big, is biggest on earth,
i want to size that to earth just to remember how small i really am.
#10 "have a good day" this means 24 hours a day,
this means 24 hours without wanting to slip under the storm drains like rain.
or use those 24 hours to mean something to someone.
i have written enough love letters, i can repurpose them as wallpapers.
but perhaps one of the biggest faults of being a writer,
is having countless ways of telling someone i love you,
and only hearing one way back.
#34 break every mirror in the house,
and watch the wonder's of superstition control my mental. breaking the code will only strengthen my whole.
#4 go an entire night without flirting with the steak knives.
we all have days when we feel we've lost ourselves right? but find someone to wake up with to flirt with at breakfast.
flirt with the idea of knowing someone is something to you,
you are something to someone,
and someone saw that in you.
#2 "live long enough to see your child grow"
make sure you're there and able to walk her down the aisle when she's ready to say i do.
everything isn't perfect but i promise you,
the man that i give her away to,
will have to be.
these are just some of the things i need to do before I'm casting myself as casper.
some of the things i can never finish but up mostly will endure to do until the lifts of my soul are called for.
my bucket list.
finally, #1 always fall forward.
use these 365 days knowing you'll fail
but fail towards your green light.
the road isn't always a slipped *****
but a stairway to heaven which heaven placed that dream just for you.
I'm amazed by you.
I'm amazed that i was able to do all of this with the same 24 hours as you.
I'm sure you're expecting this list to finish along with the clip of its bits,
but this list finished while i spoke it all into existence.
now tell me, what on your bucket list?
Natalie Jul 2018
we
we are all versions of our favorite people

we
extract
traits or quirks
from people we like
and repurpose them for ourselves

or

we are all copies of each other
because when it comes down to it
what really separates us from one another?
what makes you better than me?
race?
***?
wealth?

we are all copies of each other
we are all based off the same principal
we want to love
live
smile
laugh

we
shouldn't prevent each other from finding these things
we
should embrace and accept our differences
and to those who don't approve of a lifestyle
fake it till you make it

remember

don't prevent people from finding happiness
allow
people to find a light

someday you'll find yours too
Bhill Jan 2020
Can you recycle
It's the same as repurpose
Improve with your change

Brian Hill - 2020 # 21
Can you?
Ambiguity within mine
doodling Yankee mind that
arises, asper current
hoopla harrumphing
American Civil War statues,
which verbal/written spat

particularly regarding southern generals
(many atop horses) arouses
call to arms whereat,
excited curiosity possibly twill incite
dangerous extraneous, mutinous,
treasonous *** for tat

promulgation exhuming ghosts
abolitionists of Dead Poets Society
screeching like a wildcat
signaling resumption, sans
war between the states recruiting
every able bodied proletariat

after well nigh one
hundred fifty four plus years,
which repurpose sing reformat
might transform mine
humdrum friggin existence
into one enviable secretariat,

where these ears will
hear constant ratatat,
when bombardiers din
temporarily doth pause
scampering atop rampart
analogous to polecat

espying the freshly minted "enemy"
unconcerned if maneuvers induce pitapat
cuz resumption of battle will drown,
this weasel granted leeway within Union
Schwenksville, Pennsylvanian nonfat
spry old man confident fighter

despite civilian life
extant, viz noncombat
acclimated to rustic/primitive conditions
honest to dog abode comprised
thatched hut housed within mudflat

only during rainfall rigging
makeship shower plus laundromat
counting lucky stars kismat
blessed without necessity
to whip out handy dandy hemostat,
thus yours truly ready for action

quite content nsync
within no man's land habitat
linkedin with nearest battalion via
microchip embedded within
noggin rock solid as hardhat
genetically modified lest

Johnny Rebel lob brickbat
also on lookout against
swampy hungry creatures,
thence I will ******
these lovely bones akin to acrobat.
Keith Frantz Apr 2020
Under white pillow ceilings
I witness in childlike wonder
The Great King Elephant 
did hide in the Clouds 
with his friends 
Death and Folly
Honu and Homer's heroes
Pavarti with Peacocks
and Rockhopper Penguins

The World has stopped 
The Oceans 
then whispered 
to the Earth
The Sky overheard them
and sculpted again
with great abandon 
The Earth 
was tremendously overjoyed 
She set upon 
bolder trees and wiser deserts 
And let the animals know
Flowers with unique faces
de novo in the joy of the Rain
cleansing the lonely paths of man

I beheld a Different Sky today
sweet with promise and decorum
where Clarity holds Paramount
She repeats
to those who will listen

The Sun sang his shiny song 
and threw spotlights 
unspoiled upon
all the Creatures of Creation
Beast and bird 
synced reminiscent rhythms
Breaking through 
the now ancient 
Cities of Gold
Enormous flocks did crowd 
the modern Sky
And the Rebirth is known
As Phoenix itself 
leads the formation

Through it all
The Stars see us 
more clearly now 
The Moon somehow 
seems moments closer 
as she winks delish 
and swings her sass

They each escaped
to the freshborne 
Lilac Meadow
where they cajoled and rejoiced 
The Wind and the Rain 
teased the Clouds
The Sun begged the Moon 
for this symbolic dance
The Stars waltzed
hide-and-seek 
with the shrubs 
and the hedges
Man was invited too
He was warned 
not to play too close 
to the Fire
Again

All danced 
our blessed dance
And revelled 
As Yesterday's pyre
flared higher
and farther
Licking the toes 
of all living things

Golden foxes 
did strike fair accord
with withered sheep
and woeful jackrabbits
Truer still
The Elements
once again granted
Man humble magnificence 
I stood reverently 
encouraged and inspired
by this reset
Alas repurpose
Another opportunity yet
Of Nature's Last Chance
In our New World
Under a Different Sky

April 8th, 2020
I wrote this for my mother on her 82nd birthday in the Year of Our Pandemic.
She complained about how dark and tragic my poetry is. I wrote her this about man's time and emergence after the COVID-19 pandemic.
tentatively took page from playbook of devout believers...

Allowing, enabling, and providing
cautious optimism to abound
thus easing grief instead
reason to rejoice found
once corpse cremated
or buried underground.

Whereby reincarnation will eventually...
mitigate grief otherwise...
mind numbing skull will experience
shell shock twill forever stun

unable to square circle
defying reality analogous to accept flying nun
(matter of fact) reunite each loved one,
thus resisting automatic reflex against secularism
just for fun.

Bidding thy nonagenarian
papa permanently farewell...
tis no rhyme nor reason
for me to cry inconsolably
versus ruminating diametrically
opposed outlook pray tell.

How bittersweet mortality doth taste
grievance especially unpalatable,
when existence of
Boyce Brandon Harris erased,
whereby fading memories
offer small consolation baste
within the noggin of his sole sun
twice orthodontically braced.

I still remember, when ye shlepped me
to Lancaster Cleft palate clinic
(mother came along for the ride;
plus she enjoyed stopping at Entenmann's
Exton, Pennsylvania location)
splurging for sweet tooth.

Doctor Mazaheri (small statured)
(a renown prosthodontist)
fitted yours truly for speech appliance
to rectify submucous cleft palate -
a bony defect in the midline
or center of the bony palate

imparted nasal twang
pronouncedly noticeably distinct
mutation genetically bequeathed
middle offspring born this way
offering yet another defect
whereupon token scapegoat
opportunistically targeted by bullies.

Twilight (zone) of your life
metaphorical draws curtain call
concomitantly ushering
remembrance of things past.

Recapitulation of most salient sunny events
fondly recalled mostly boyhood circumstances
many incorporating Lilliputian Matthew Scott Harris
forever jinxed (think hoisted by his own petard)
thus **** of jokes and laughingstock
among madding crowd.

Alas, methinks how robust, intimidating
and indomitable dad appeared
when yours truly a wee lad
undersized even now as an elder statesman (ha)
still the runt of rat pack

(though this measly once upon a time miserly
mousy man no pack rat)
matter of fact downsizes personal trappings
when I eventually make trek
across River Styx.

During interim (between now and then)
hope springs eternal
that suspended animation courtesy cryogenics
will halt biological aging (particularly mine)
preserving till end of time

freeze frame where mise en scène
retaining vestigial said countenance
portraying boyish looking good (older) fella
until peace on Earth
and good will to all men/women prevails.

I thaw (ought) how grand
to donate and/or repurpose body
as science fiction becomes reality,
where mise en scene art becomes life
cessation of senescence held in check
once defunct corporeal edifices

gentrified to instill longevity
twerking, seeding, pollinating...
**** sapiens fostering civilization
to take root across solar system and beyond
sphere where sunlight doth bathe bedlam.
topacio Sep 2022
No
I've become very fond of my no's,
and the ways in which the
wind does not go.

Lend me your question
and I'll lend you my no,
after my season upon
season of insatiable yes.

I cozy up next to my no
like the cold to a stove,
we are a perfect match,
her and I and we dance
the tango at midnight.

My no is starting to have
a mind of her own,
enlarged ego and a
questionable claim
to a no man's throne,
her master plan
to repurpose my
night away from the
masses and throngs
who never seem to
know which way to go.

I "no" my way into secluded gardens,
water sheds and cemeteries,  
preferably alone, where my no's
like to stampede over the paths,
forging her own.

I've made friends with my "no's",
so much so I dont know
which way to go without her.
The road to yes is paved
with a thousand good no's
is what she subtly whipers to me
as I gaze over to you,
and your question starting to
drip into our current affair.

What better sound shall
pour from my lips than
the steady cadence of
my self-assured no?
Thomas Mar 2020
Let the trials and troubles break and rebuild, the broken soul that now you feel

Let the Flame scorch and burn
the Cancer that grows and churns-

Each time you move around the wheel
To change your soul, make strong the steel

To clear the fog that clouds the mind-
Repurpose what has been lost to time.

Look deep within to find your light
That's been buried deep, beyond your sight-

Give heed now friend, the words I say- when your light is dim and you've lost your way.

The pain the darkness that now surrounds you - can be the path that you've been bound to.
For reasons now you may not see. That at it's end your Light be freed.
Graff1980 Aug 2021
I'm not flossing,
but I cost men
a certain respect,
got those searching rejects
looking for objects
that might inject
a direct flow
into a system that's
too slow,
so they watch their engines
go too cold.

I'm not a bomb
but I blast holes
in those
violent episodes,
take the illogical
and repurpose it,
making poetry
with logic in it.

I'm not a gun
and I never want to
carry one,
but you'll get shocked
when you're shot
by the thoughts
that blow your mind
and help you carry on
at the same time.

I maybe grandstanding
demanding the handing
of banners back to the past
got citizens bleeding patriotism
cuz that cloth cuts like glass,
those symbols don't last.
After the harshest winds have blasted
flags just flap and go flaccid,
disintegrate brains like hydrochloric acid,
turning people into plastic
action figures that only think
and articulate in a certain way,
do what the corporate dynasties say
as the greedy businessmen repatriate
every cent they ever let us make,
while taking our rights and education away.

— The End —