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Winter is cold-hearted,
  Spring is yea and nay,
Autumn is a weathercock
  Blown every way:
Summer days for me
  When every leaf is on its tree;

When Robin's not a beggar,
  And Jenny Wren's a bride,
And larks hang singing, singing, singing,
  Over the wheat-fields wide,
  And anchored lilies ride,
And the pendulum spider
  Swings from side to side,

And blue-black beetles transact business,
  And gnats fly in a host,
And furry caterpillars hasten
  That no time be lost,
And moths grow fat and thrive,
And ladybirds arrive.

Before green apples blush,
  Before green nuts embrown,
Why, one day in the country
  Is worth a month in town;
  Is worth a day and a year
Of the dusty, musty, lag-last fashion
  That days drone elsewhere.
The core of basic freedoms
Is the freedom to transact
This underpins the other rights
In the Magna Carta pact

The crux is private property
To use, or hold, or trade
Our time, our land, our energy
Our work - our fortune made

King John was forced to sign it
Holding tyrants to account
So that we can all stand free
With our liberty paramount

Why, in all our nations dear
Have freedoms flown away?
Due process rashly flung aside
As prisoners, we must pay

Now Bitcoin rises to sustain
Our freedom to transact
A bastion of private property
No matter how oft attacked

So steady - up and onward
For our freedoms, stand exact
At the root of other freedoms
Lies the freedom to transact
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery078FreedomToTransact.html
Inspired by the Magna Carta - which King John was forced to sign on June 15, 2015.

This was a freedom document that contained basic rights, such as the freedom to transact, and the right to a fair trial.

Unfortunately, most countries have strayed from these basic rights, surveilling citizens and censoring or controlling free market transactions.

Bitcoin restores this right - because it's open to all, and difficult to censor or control.
All night the dreadless Angel, unpursued,
Through Heaven’s wide champain held his way; till Morn,
Waked by the circling Hours, with rosy hand
Unbarred the gates of light.  There is a cave
Within the mount of God, fast by his throne,
Where light and darkness in perpetual round
Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through Heaven
Grateful vicissitude, like day and night;
Light issues forth, and at the other door
Obsequious darkness enters, till her hour
To veil the Heaven, though darkness there might well
Seem twilight here:  And now went forth the Morn
Such as in highest Heaven arrayed in gold
Empyreal; from before her vanished Night,
Shot through with orient beams; when all the plain
Covered with thick embattled squadrons bright,
Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds,
Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view:
War he perceived, war in procinct; and found
Already known what he for news had thought
To have reported:  Gladly then he mixed
Among those friendly Powers, who him received
With joy and acclamations loud, that one,
That of so many myriads fallen, yet one
Returned not lost.  On to the sacred hill
They led him high applauded, and present
Before the seat supreme; from whence a voice,
From midst a golden cloud, thus mild was heard.
Servant of God. Well done; well hast thou fought
The better fight, who single hast maintained
Against revolted multitudes the cause
Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms;
And for the testimony of truth hast borne
Universal reproach, far worse to bear
Than violence; for this was all thy care
To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds
Judged thee perverse:  The easier conquest now
Remains thee, aided by this host of friends,
Back on thy foes more glorious to return,
Than scorned thou didst depart; and to subdue
By force, who reason for their law refuse,
Right reason for their law, and for their King
Messiah, who by right of merit reigns.
Go, Michael, of celestial armies prince,
And thou, in military prowess next,
Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sons
Invincible; lead forth my armed Saints,
By thousands and by millions, ranged for fight,
Equal in number to that Godless crew
Rebellious:  Them with fire and hostile arms
Fearless assault; and, to the brow of Heaven
Pursuing, drive them out from God and bliss,
Into their place of punishment, the gulf
Of Tartarus, which ready opens wide
His fiery Chaos to receive their fall.
So spake the Sovran Voice, and clouds began
To darken all the hill, and smoke to roll
In dusky wreaths, reluctant flames, the sign
Of wrath awaked; nor with less dread the loud
Ethereal trumpet from on high ‘gan blow:
At which command the Powers militant,
That stood for Heaven, in mighty quadrate joined
Of union irresistible, moved on
In silence their bright legions, to the sound
Of instrumental harmony, that breathed
Heroick ardour to adventurous deeds
Under their God-like leaders, in the cause
Of God and his Messiah.  On they move
Indissolubly firm; nor obvious hill,
Nor straitening vale, nor wood, nor stream, divides
Their perfect ranks; for high above the ground
Their march was, and the passive air upbore
Their nimble tread; as when the total kind
Of birds, in orderly array on wing,
Came summoned over Eden to receive
Their names of thee; so over many a tract
Of Heaven they marched, and many a province wide,
Tenfold the length of this terrene:  At last,
Far in the horizon to the north appeared
From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretched
In battailous aspect, and nearer view
Bristled with upright beams innumerable
Of rigid spears, and helmets thronged, and shields
Various, with boastful argument portrayed,
The banded Powers of Satan hasting on
With furious expedition; for they weened
That self-same day, by fight or by surprise,
To win the mount of God, and on his throne
To set the Envier of his state, the proud
Aspirer; but their thoughts proved fond and vain
In the mid way:  Though strange to us it seemed
At first, that Angel should with Angel war,
And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meet
So oft in festivals of joy and love
Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire,
Hymning the Eternal Father:  But the shout
Of battle now began, and rushing sound
Of onset ended soon each milder thought.
High in the midst, exalted as a God,
The Apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat,
Idol of majesty divine, enclosed
With flaming Cherubim, and golden shields;
Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now
“twixt host and host but narrow space was left,
A dreadful interval, and front to front
Presented stood in terrible array
Of hideous length:  Before the cloudy van,
On the rough edge of battle ere it joined,
Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced,
Came towering, armed in adamant and gold;
Abdiel that sight endured not, where he stood
Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds,
And thus his own undaunted heart explores.
O Heaven! that such resemblance of the Highest
Should yet remain, where faith and realty
Remain not:  Wherefore should not strength and might
There fail where virtue fails, or weakest prove
Where boldest, though to fight unconquerable?
His puissance, trusting in the Almighty’s aid,
I mean to try, whose reason I have tried
Unsound and false; nor is it aught but just,
That he, who in debate of truth hath won,
Should win in arms, in both disputes alike
Victor; though brutish that contest and foul,
When reason hath to deal with force, yet so
Most reason is that reason overcome.
So pondering, and from his armed peers
Forth stepping opposite, half-way he met
His daring foe, at this prevention more
Incensed, and thus securely him defied.
Proud, art thou met? thy hope was to have reached
The highth of thy aspiring unopposed,
The throne of God unguarded, and his side
Abandoned, at the terrour of thy power
Or potent tongue:  Fool!not to think how vain
Against the Omnipotent to rise in arms;
Who out of smallest things could, without end,
Have raised incessant armies to defeat
Thy folly; or with solitary hand
Reaching beyond all limit, at one blow,
Unaided, could have finished thee, and whelmed
Thy legions under darkness:  But thou seest
All are not of thy train; there be, who faith
Prefer, and piety to God, though then
To thee not visible, when I alone
Seemed in thy world erroneous to dissent
From all:  My sect thou seest;now learn too late
How few sometimes may know, when thousands err.
Whom the grand foe, with scornful eye askance,
Thus answered.  Ill for thee, but in wished hour
Of my revenge, first sought for, thou returnest
From flight, seditious Angel! to receive
Thy merited reward, the first assay
Of this right hand provoked, since first that tongue,
Inspired with contradiction, durst oppose
A third part of the Gods, in synod met
Their deities to assert; who, while they feel
Vigour divine within them, can allow
Omnipotence to none.  But well thou comest
Before thy fellows, ambitious to win
From me some plume, that thy success may show
Destruction to the rest:  This pause between,
(Unanswered lest thou boast) to let thee know,
At first I thought that Liberty and Heaven
To heavenly souls had been all one; but now
I see that most through sloth had rather serve,
Ministring Spirits, trained up in feast and song!
Such hast thou armed, the minstrelsy of Heaven,
Servility with freedom to contend,
As both their deeds compared this day shall prove.
To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern replied.
Apostate! still thou errest, nor end wilt find
Of erring, from the path of truth remote:
Unjustly thou depravest it with the name
Of servitude, to serve whom God ordains,
Or Nature:  God and Nature bid the same,
When he who rules is worthiest, and excels
Them whom he governs.  This is servitude,
To serve the unwise, or him who hath rebelled
Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee,
Thyself not free, but to thyself enthralled;
Yet lewdly darest our ministring upbraid.
Reign thou in Hell, thy kingdom; let me serve
In Heaven God ever blest, and his divine
Behests obey, worthiest to be obeyed;
Yet chains in Hell, not realms, expect:  Mean while
From me returned, as erst thou saidst, from flight,
This greeting on thy impious crest receive.
So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high,
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell
On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight,
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield,
Such ruin intercept:  Ten paces huge
He back recoiled; the tenth on bended knee
His massy spear upstaid; as if on earth
Winds under ground, or waters forcing way,
Sidelong had pushed a mountain from his seat,
Half sunk with all his pines.  Amazement seised
The rebel Thrones, but greater rage, to see
Thus foiled their mightiest; ours joy filled, and shout,
Presage of victory, and fierce desire
Of battle:  Whereat Michael bid sound
The Arch-Angel trumpet; through the vast of Heaven
It sounded, and the faithful armies rung
Hosanna to the Highest:  Nor stood at gaze
The adverse legions, nor less hideous joined
The horrid shock.  Now storming fury rose,
And clamour such as heard in Heaven till now
Was never; arms on armour clashing brayed
Horrible discord, and the madding wheels
Of brazen chariots raged; dire was the noise
Of conflict; over head the dismal hiss
Of fiery darts in flaming vollies flew,
And flying vaulted either host with fire.
So under fiery cope together rushed
Both battles main, with ruinous assault
And inextinguishable rage.  All Heaven
Resounded; and had Earth been then, all Earth
Had to her center shook.  What wonder? when
Millions of fierce encountering Angels fought
On either side, the least of whom could wield
These elements, and arm him with the force
Of all their regions:  How much more of power
Army against army numberless to raise
Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb,
Though not destroy, their happy native seat;
Had not the Eternal King Omnipotent,
From his strong hold of Heaven, high over-ruled
And limited their might; though numbered such
As each divided legion might have seemed
A numerous host; in strength each armed hand
A legion; led in fight, yet leader seemed
Each warriour single as in chief, expert
When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway
Of battle, open when, and when to close
The ridges of grim war:  No thought of flight,
None of retreat, no unbecoming deed
That argued fear; each on himself relied,
As only in his arm the moment lay
Of victory:  Deeds of eternal fame
Were done, but infinite; for wide was spread
That war and various; sometimes on firm ground
A standing fight, then, soaring on main wing,
Tormented all the air; all air seemed then
Conflicting fire.  Long time in even scale
The battle hung; till Satan, who that day
Prodigious power had shown, and met in arms
No equal, ranging through the dire attack
Of fighting Seraphim confused, at length
Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and felled
Squadrons at once; with huge two-handed sway
Brandished aloft, the horrid edge came down
Wide-wasting; such destruction to withstand
He hasted, and opposed the rocky orb
Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield,
A vast circumference.  At his approach
The great Arch-Angel from his warlike toil
Surceased, and glad, as hoping here to end
Intestine war in Heaven, the arch-foe subdued
Or captive dragged in chains, with hostile frown
And visage all inflamed first thus began.
Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt,
Unnamed in Heaven, now plenteous as thou seest
These acts of hateful strife, hateful to all,
Though heaviest by just measure on thyself,
And thy  adherents:  How hast thou disturbed
Heaven’s blessed peace, and into nature brought
Misery, uncreated till the crime
Of thy rebellion! how hast thou instilled
Thy malice into thousands, once upright
And faithful, now proved false!  But think not here
To trouble holy rest; Heaven casts thee out
From all her confines.  Heaven, the seat of bliss,
Brooks not the works of violence and war.
Hence then, and evil go with thee along,
Thy offspring, to the place of evil, Hell;
Thou and thy wicked crew! there mingle broils,
Ere this avenging sword begin thy doom,
Or some more sudden vengeance, winged from God,
Precipitate thee with augmented pain.
So spake the Prince of Angels; to whom thus
The Adversary.  Nor think thou with wind
Of aery threats to awe whom yet with deeds
Thou canst not.  Hast thou turned the least of these
To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise
Unvanquished, easier to transact with me
That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats
To chase me hence? err not, that so shall end
The strife which thou callest evil, but we style
The strife of glory; which we mean to win,
Or turn this Heaven itself into the Hell
Thou fablest; here however to dwell free,
If not to reign:  Mean while thy utmost force,
And join him named Almighty to thy aid,
I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh.
They ended parle, and both addressed for fight
Unspeakable; for who, though with the tongue
Of Angels, can relate, or to what things
Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift
Human imagination to such highth
Of Godlike power? for likest Gods they seemed,
Stood they or moved, in stature, motion, arms,
Fit to decide the empire of great Heaven.
Now waved their fiery swords, and in the air
Made horrid circles; two broad suns their shields
Blazed opposite, while Expectation stood
In horrour:  From each hand with speed retired,
Where erst was thickest fight, the angelick throng,
And left large field, unsafe within the wind
Of such commotion; such as, to set forth
Great things by small, if, nature’s concord broke,
Among the constellations war were sprung,
Two planets, rushing from aspect malign
Of fiercest opposition, in mid sky
Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound.
Together both with next to almighty arm
Up-lifted imminent, one stroke they aimed
That might determine, and not need repeat,
As not of power at once; nor odds appeared
In might or swift prevention:  But the sword
Of Michael from the armoury of God
Was given him tempered so, that neither keen
Nor solid might resist that edge: it met
The sword of Satan, with steep force to smite
Descending, and in half cut sheer; nor staid,
But with swift wheel reverse, deep entering, shared
All his right side:  Then Satan first knew pain,
And writhed him to and fro convolved; so sore
The griding sword with discontinuous wound
Passed through him:  But the ethereal substance closed,
Not long divisible; and from the ****
A stream of necturous humour issuing flowed
Sanguine, such as celestial Spirits may bleed,
And all his armour stained, ere while so bright.
Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run
By Angels many and strong, who interposed
Defence, while others bore him on their shields
Back to his chariot, where it stood retired
From off the files of war:  There they him laid
Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame,
To find himself not matchless, and his pride
Humbled by such rebuke, so far beneath
His confidence to equal God in power.
Yet soon he healed; for Spirits that live throughout
Vital in every part, not as frail man
In entrails, heart of head, liver or reins,
Cannot but by annihilating die;
Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound
Receive, no more than can the fluid air:
All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear,
All intellect, all sense; and, as they please,
They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size
Assume, as?***** them best, condense or rare.
Mean while in other parts like deeds deserved
Memorial, where the might of Gabriel fought,
And with fierce ensigns pierced the deep array
Of Moloch, furious king; who him defied,
And at his chariot-wheels to drag him bound
Threatened, nor from the Holy One of Heaven
Refrained his tongue blasphemous; but anon
Down cloven to the waist, with shattered arms
And uncouth pain fled bellowing.  On each wing
Uriel, and Raphael, his vaunting foe,
Though huge, and in a rock of diamond armed,
Vanquished Adramelech, and Asmadai,
Two potent Thrones, that to be less than
I am here a poet
And like I do,
Someone messaged me
Like a friend ,I replied
She gave me her mail
That she had an important story to share
Like a man,I gave her mine
She was thankful
But soon she turned a refugee
Under refuge in Senegal
And desperate for help
She asked my occupation
She asked my account details
She asked for my support to transact
$55000
I refused all of them
Now she needs money
To come and meet me on Kenya.
I went ahead
To check her account in here
And she had a one COPY PASTED POEM,
And she was got,
If you are the one,
Kindly try when I am drank
I will pour out all my secrets
I will transfer half of my money to you,
The only problem is
I love Christ
And I don't go near a pub
Leave alone getting drunk.
I will disclose your details!
If you are this one,Kindly Cut your story short!
stephanibaby  7 days ago

Hello,
I am Miss stephani, I have go through your profile, Well according to your profile,on this site I think I've taken an interest in it. We can get to know each other better through this way, my email is (stephanicuma@hotmail.com)
WRITE DIRECT TO MY EMAIL ID I have something important to tell you.i hope to hear from you. Thanks yours ,
stephani

Kirui frank junior  7 days ago
I have just written to your email.
Nathalie Anna Jun 2014
It’s one dollar per load Wednesday and
Time move’s slow at the corner of East Clinton Street
Where under dim flickered fluorescent lamp posts
Tricks tossed in bottles than splashed back in flasks
Flung to back pockets of loiterers at the Laundromat,
Seems to be a prized accessory of the regular.
The regular, leans on washers with leather skin wrinkled wrung hung far from healed bones, like hangers hanging loose clothes.  With soapy brain, bleached hair matted like a rats
She remembers rents way past due, Joey about to come through, and hunger is bad.
Fast thoughts surpass the regular
She smiles behind me through glass reflecting washers.
Mouth full of rotting cavities gleam in the mirror, the sass shuffles outside and lights a red for a change of scenery
Waiting hesitantly during weekly ritual
Which entails more steps than her walk up the avenue
Separating the darks from the whites, like Grandma used to
Detergent, unbranded is used sparingly
She folds each article of clothing carefully, basking in each minute
Diligent about cold wash versus perm press best suggests that for her today life is made easy
For the regular, laundry day is a great escape
Because fabric builds fast in those plastic baskets basked with sweat saturated dresses for a baby
And Joey’s boxers
Today the regular can transact funds to feel fresh, dryer warm complacency in jean skirts plagued with rhinestones
Costumes crafted to endure weekend sin
At the corner of East Clinton Street, those who do not feel like feeling when dire deeds did ***** cheap lose meaning; come here to worship or cleansed
Meaning, I can’t seem to haul this hamper of laundry laundered with various v-neck tees tainted by poisonous stains, regretfully sunk to the bottom of cotton follicles
It’s too heavy to toil with
DP Younginger May 2013
Emptiness,
Hopelessness,
Reasons to disappear into nothing,
No one would miss me,
No one would Care that I left,
Not even she,
The crush I long for each and everyday,
I talked to her,
I had A lot on my mind,
Maybe too much for her to transact,
I don't know where I went wrong,
She left without even saying good-bye,
That's all she needed to Say and I would have been fine,
The two disheartening words that I longed to hear from her voice,
Good-bye,
But how can you even speak to a girl that doesn't even know you exist,
Frequency is not the key to a relationship,
Neither is ever saying more than two words to that Person in reality,
An animated world with a spruce of reality on the side,
Why say good-bye in person?
She won't hear me,
She won't tap the corner of her Eye,
Not even a breath,
I look up,
She looks down,
A face ashamed by my presence,
My heart hurts for a girl who doesn't even believe I am visible,
A small frame of a sad face,
That's all I appear to her and her mentality,
A picture of a friend that could never be noticed,
Seven long hours I wait to hear her words that can only be seen,
Seven long hours in the making of another step towards a disaster waiting to happen,
I speak,
She listens,
I persuade,
She ignores,
I love,
She just stares ahead,
Why?
I was there yesterday when she said hello,
Where am I today?
A secret is revealed,
She knows the secret I have kept from her for so long,
I guess that is why a simple "hello" is proportionately out of the question,
It's all Right,
Keep staring ahead,
You look your way,
And I'll look my way.
shireliiy Oct 2015
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espace-prevention.ch
I.

On the surface easily gliding,
  are my hands. I keep on the table
  an ajar carton of cigarettes. Then slowly
  becoming in my pocket, taking form of a hand,
  a crumpled cinema ticket when straightened,
  ironed by plainsight, walks with lines, the end credits roll lasciviously like an estranged lover
   whose face I can almost touch.
  When let go of closure, air thins and I move
  secretly with fluency. This is how objects
  escape my grip.

II.

  In front of the eatery, a transit.
  I had a dream once in a depthless sleep,
  a figure in stilts studded with guilt.
  The face next to me, disquieting the music
   of currencies, naked in sound as the truth shaved
   like a beast. The nearby tarmac resounds with
   another throng of absence. As a substitute
   for beings shackled to duty,
   the oncoming woman assumes theirs,
   borrows their faces of dreariness and ***** a thousand times like white sheets harassed by
   the wind through opened windows.

III.

    Define space as a venue for collision.
    Say when a red-haired woman straddling
    a duffel bag and myself confused as a peripatetic.
    She ascribes her presence to my footing
    and from where she left off, I take form
    of her expired movement.
                     Found strangeness is that space
    is what happens when remembered. But hold no
    bearing and rear contrivance,
     trying to be bold by definition -- space solicits
     the in-betweenness and then transmutes
     an occurence,
             say the volatile shape of a hand when
    clutching and releasing, the fugitive manner of
    feet when avoiding puddles, the unsolicited
    reticence of a troubling question.

IV.

            A man carries a take away and is now
     amongst the populace, waiting under a shed,
     housing a familiar language. Home.
    
      But first, trivialized. Haggles with the cab driver,
    trying to transact a being angled towards home.
    They agree to a fault, money's perfume clinches  the fingers and is given to a calloused hand.
             Air once stale, is now succulent with the
      resonating memory of a child's excited laughter,
      and is now presumably waiting behind a gated
      home. Like the palm of the hand, the number
         of times the vehicle trundles within
     the nearby avenue is the force it enkindles
        with rest. He is home,
     unloosens his clothing. Like a fine specimen
          freed from a vitrine.
Ad astra

1
From the city I know you were from,
building up the perimeter in summer – it was plenty searing.
Must when I found the town already, triggered and almost accomplished,
searchable signs for searching parties involved like grass on the lawn,
scraps on an empty lot – when in summer it got very hot
and your salt smelt of the sea crushed in between my territories, start the word.
Flesh deems it so in frame, walking with us this very evening crafted
   by a waking remoteness.

2
When it rains, build this city from here on – relieve it of its terrors.
The memory of an old cathedral being burned down to the last cross,
the volume of prayer genuflected within pews, or anything that was hieratic. Rain in the
afternoon was what your entire ocean meant to me, crossing its span of promise,
   sure of its weather. Rasp the skin tight like gears fine-tuned. Borrow its heat when
   it drizzles. Do you remember my face when you pass by familiar pavements, stalls,
   hospitals drenched in prognosis? The even flutter of a bird? What does this question seek
     but your truth – like an elastic map stretched to infinite directions.

3
Here is where you were named darling. Taut your name had it belonged to someone else.
Sharp were your features. Your definitions smooth. Your textures visible with difficulty.
                       When you wore denims rising from the cuff of your knees you showed
  me a blotch and other fraternizations. Moles as variables. Your body as graph. My senselessness,
     somewhat a trying delineation. Thousand fingers mesh altogether to formulate rescue,
   mind a garden of salvage enough for two. Or underneath the sphere of a body,
         neither rain nor sun could stop to flourish me completely. Yourself full of
  symmetries – the universe cut inside and out, trimmed to lasting – ubiquity, inhabiting the temporary.
         I transact with this darkness yourself containing light, like a window to your home
when you’ve moved on to a different continent, I myself staring right into as if the whole space,
    in search for a singular glint I could make up for a cluster
                            to make an elusive thing such as you walk backwards, from the entry, just before the guardhouse, to meet me.
Carl Velasco Aug 2017
I.

If I wait by the mirror and
See my calves half-pressed underneath
My elbows, I’d turn into a portal. To warp
Headfirst into the frosted underbelly
Of sugary insults.

II.

You should expect her rage
Any moment now. She will stamp permanent
Burn marks across your entry points.
You will be barred from accessing
Yourself. The only choice at this point
Is to borrow a backup ghost of you.
You will live in a secondhand time. Lended
In after-phases. You will miss it: your hair,
Your old fur, your eyelids, your ****** fluids.
There’s a chance to return.

III.

I run my fingertips from clavicle,
Chest, belly button,
*****. I feel the head,
A tempered muscle.
I feel my neck cramp,
A choking sensation.
I raise my left leg, bring it to
My mouth, and fry the hair strands
With sweat. They can then become black chalk.
Valid chemicals to mark off
My genitals as a forbidden area.
No more search for the carnal.
No more lurching when
The tailspin sends firecrackers down the
Mouth to reduce itself. I am now
A humble biology, and I can
Be defined by you, any way that
You want me.

I press my ear up your belly,
I hear a falsetto of cities; a mechanic
Wrenching mugs.
I tap your sternum, I scratch it, too:
It sounds like a car running on an empty tank.

IV.

No surprise;
There’s no healing.
The disc of the world parades
Like a funeral.

V.

During siestas, the feet unlatches
From the limb, and they tread toward
Their own Mecca. By the time you
Wake up, they’re tethered back, having already been
Into the womb of their promised treaty.
They walk in rote patterns, taking
The integrated human into different places.
Then you wash it with soap and sunflower seeds,
And try to ***** it with a nail file. It is tortured, but also fulfilled.
They press into cotton, finally,
And they have served you.

VI.

The knee is a vault. See
How there’s no joint? See how
there’s just two huge bones weaved between
Sheets of muscle? A gate.
The knee is a cup when taken out,
A bunot spun from a palm tree.
What does it hold?

VII.

Some bed.

I kiss your eyes; they’re hot like the sun.
We ****; magic.
Now, in this aftermoment, we are well
Aware of our shared worth; the emptiness
Of one filled by the fullness of the other.
Or maybe it’s less
absolute than that?
Buck-naked, blankets doused in sweat, we
Attach, coil, and lock like Rubik pieces. I understand,
at that sheer momentum, the planetary involvement of
our animalistic response,
that *** can be priced.
But not this; not this time; not with
Us two scratching our calves with
Thickened skin.

Will you leave?
Will this recede?

VIII.

It will last
For others only.
I need more than that.
The hunger, the blessing
Of your carved upper lip,
The bouncy, fractured
Underpinnings of your rib. It is my
sole Purpose. I am born
For your pleasure, and you
To make me starve for
Feeling.
We transact. This is holy.
It has to be.
Adlina Nawawi Apr 2017
He reads me like the book he flips through pages at night when he can't sleep, and he thinks that he can't ever temper with the story, when he changes it every time his fingers run down the sides of the pages.

He sees the wrinkles, he tries to help because he won't close the covers till they are planate, and the soaked papers dry.

In all the wonders he can transact, to my heart he did best. He is still at it, making ours a freakishly beautiful drawn story on this wide canvas he calls 'forever'. Forever that is never enough for him, for us. He keeps on adding pages, and papers, attaching them to the still life.

If one day things don't work out, it might then be a story that souls in love would come to venture.
Physical cash transactions are final
  But in the digital world non-reversible
      Transactions have not been possible
        Since financial institutions cannot avoid
            Mediating disputes which prevent finality
              The cost of mediation slows enterprise
                  And makes trade and finance complex
                    Therefore
                  We need an electronic payment system
              Based on cryptographic proof, not trust
            Allowing any two parties to transact directly
        With irreversible transactions based on a
      Distributed timestamp server to generate
  Proof of the chronology of the transactions
And thus finality. The solution is Bitcoin
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery041Finality.html
Sam Irons Aug 2015
#10
"Some say calamity
and some catastrophe
is beauty."
Some think rolling
hills, hay, joints–
madness in the head,
in bed, on paper and canvas–
soothes our souls
but our soles wander
and we're trainers
following the egos
of Hollywood and Penguin,
Netflix and Dover.
I say your beauty,
encompassing calamity
and catastrophe,
and never letting less
beget sad days,
sends me out,
spurs me to transact,
create, build, fail,
love.
I think running
alongside your stride,
fingers down your back,
scripts about our language,
reigns me in,
slows my transience,
comforts me to breathe,
decompress, heal,
care.
We, the ebb of calamity,
the flow of catastrophe,
are bound.
Big Virge Sep 2021
So The Power’s Been Down...
For A Few Days Now...
Frogs, Birds And Sea Sounds...
Have Suddenly Drowned...
Those of Cars Driving Round...
And Folks Running Their Mouths... !!!

It’s A Time To Reflect...
Now There’s No Internet...
Whatsapping’ Or Texts...
Or Vids About ***...

So Whatever Is Next...
When Nature Presents...
How It’s Strength’s BEYOND Tech...
And New Age Viruses... !!!

What Are We WITHOUT...
All Our Devices Now... ?!?

Just Energies Needing...
Comfort And Some Feeding...

It’s Humbling To See...
How Nature Can Be...
So Powerful That...
It Can Shut Down Islands...
And Deal People Hands...
That Can Lay Their Lives Flat... !!!

Encumbered And Trapped...
With No Phone Lines To Tap... !!!

Due To Energies Sapped...
And No Way To Transact...
Through An Internet App... !!!

Cos’ There’s No Power Now...
And The Islands Locked Down...
Without Government Mouths...
Due To Nature And Winds...
That Blew Some Things Down...
In Just Two Or Three Hours... !?!

An INCREDIBLE Thing... !!!
When You Think About How...
Tech And BILLIONS of Pounds...
Can Make People Bow Down...
And Behave Like A CLOWN... !!!

But When Nature’s’ Winds Howl...

Are QUICKLY FORCED To Bow... !!!
And Be Thankful For Things...
That Billions Can’t Bring... !!!

Here I Am Just Writing...
But Remembering This...
That The Day's Hot And Nice...
And The Sun’s Shining Bright...

So The Daytime Invites...
Appreciative Vibes...
That For Now I’m Alright...
And Have Food For Tonight...

Some Phone Charge For A While...
So I’ll Have My Phone Light...
To Eat And Chill By...
As Well As Candlelights... !!!

But They Are Running Low...
So I Hope On The Road...
That Repairs Quickly Flow...
So That We Can Get Back...
To The Freedoms We Had... ?!?

Back To The MASKS...
And Getting That Cash...
And Getting Those Jabs... !!!

To Me It’s Really SAD...
To See People Collapse...

Due To Our Reliance...
On These New Tech Systems...
That Have NO DEFENCE...
Against Natures Presence...
When It Flaunts DOMINANCE...
In Just A Few Breaths... !!!

A Power That’s MIGHTY...
That’s Clearly BOUNDLESS... !!!

That Proves Tech Is Tiny...
As Are We... Humans... !!!

In The Face of REAL Power...
That Just Through Winds And Showers... !!!
Can Simply DEVOUR Like Fires Do Towers... !!!

So Now Twilight Comes...
As Does Darkness Too...
I Hope That You’ve Got...
What I’m Saying To You... ?!?

It Clearly Is TRUE...
All Our Gadgets And Tools...
Are Just Living Proof...
of How Vanity FOOLS... !!!

Cos’ When All’s Said And Done...
And You’re Back To Square One...
And Just Have To Make Do...

WITHOUT Tech, Light or Tunes...
You’ll Quickly Realise...

That They’re NOTHING...
Compared To What...

..... “Nature Can Do “..... !!!
The powers of nature should never be underestimated, hurricane season in the Caribbean inspired this set of words, and much more, when Elsa hit, and caused a loss of power that lasted for a week on the East Coast !
Come, Bitcoiners join
From every land
Alone we may fall
But together we stand

Stand up for rights
And freedoms for all
Stand in all countries
The big and the small

Stand for our freedom
To transact with peers
No middle men needed
To control us with fears

Stand to deny them
Their plots to debase
Our money and wealth
The plans they embrace

Stand up and tell them
We’re done with your taking
Bitcoin’s our money
It’s not of your making

Stand for the assets
We’ve built with our hands
Stand for our children
Our families, our lands
You can see this poem on a background here - https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery098BitcoinersStand.html
Saïda Boūzazy Jun 2020
Hum
Hum ,
                          I love you
                                  She confesses
I can't believe
Indeed?  

It was dream  ,
monstrous, monstrous.

Monstrous?


I can't believe,  but I see her
her?
  
Playing  my heart well
Like the blood her love  transact in my veins

Hum
Love is the song
I'm the singer
Felling is the  is the tune
Heart beats are the rhythm
#love #feeling #madness #emotions #poetry
#Hum

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