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Spriha Kant Sep 2020
Genuine polite and humble men are often misunderstood and tagged as flirty.May be because they are rarest of all the species , I guess.
Yashashvi Sep 2020
everyday I walk down the streets
I find plants yielding pretty flowers
most days I find trampled flowers
laying on the road still worthy enough to praise
do you ask me what interesting in it,
first answer me ,
do you pity the one laying on road
or the one accompanied by peduncle?
everyone glorify the stem with flower
even though it do die as sun sets down
shall I say you one verity
and the thing people don't heed
they don't adore the plant producing flowers
the sad thing is they don't notify
that the plant can still produces more beautiful flowers tomorrow


if you compare this with life it's so similar
people don't see or pity your catastrpohes, reverses
they just admire your adroitness
cherish you when you bloom as beautiful as  flower
so just like the plant surprise them with your capacity
don't worry about the trampled flowers
sometimes your flaws are prettiest too
you should let them down
but remember even if it's a trampled flower or nourished flower
both of them dies at end of the day
so hope for refreshing start and give the best you can.
does anyone see the worth of the trampled flowers?
and embrace the ability of the plant to give flowers?
one more thing if you ingore the second verse and just consider the first one
there's something in it , I don't know how people reflect on it but yes
I hope for new understandings
Cameron Aug 2020
I know how it feels to be lied to and alone.
You tore out the stitches in me you have sewn.
I should have guessed when "forever" you intoned.
In your eyes, forever is brief. I wish I had known.
mothwasher Jul 2020
you wanna take a guess? you wanna take a guess at this? guess nice long and hard. take a second guess if you need one. it’s ok to second guess. in fact, i insist you take another and keep guessing because guessing is smoke. in this tight circle, we’re taking guesses.

i am an educated guesser.

bummed guesses for awhile. bought my first guessing glass one July. play the guessing game all my days and guess my days away. they make guesses into the same thing as candles and its spiritual. it feels like taking an infinite number of guesses in one breath.

your guess is as good as mine.

drop to the next level. it is the doctor’s thesis of guessing. It is conjecture and formality, but with the fractal reasoning of a true American pack of guesses. they’re the guesses at the end of something replete. the last guess you have left.

out of guesses.

There is a string of panic tied to the last guess, which we tuck, flip, hide in the bottoms of cardstock caverns. when the time comes to draw the last straw,

B. there is nothing to guess at but a missing paycheck. These are the only answers we ever get.

A. she is there, all smiles and fresh questions with a bunch of guesses. she is my best guess yet.
Joshua r Hopkins Jun 2020
Bees, yellow and black with a six pack of knees.,
Freeze! it was a mellow attack but he stung my??🤣
Ken Pepiton May 2020
An Atypical American POV

Americans are imaginary beings, each of us modeled on examples
and ensamples
set before us as those who made the American Dream real estate,
sing in your heart

land that we love to say is ours, and the bank's, but,

long ago, proper and property were measured with an older rod...

the taker took, the seller sold, the buyer being as wary as could be,
bought...

and a rising tide, raises all boats,

my people, we have been american for 200 years, on my momma side

Y-side of the equation, which always has an edge,

that keeps us falling up.

My momma side ancestors, see, they was meek, to a fault,

they came thinking, we have and ought to know we have, a right
to know the truth in what we say we hold

as endowment from our creatore, eh... and

here come old chaos, he be comin' up, slowly

got to be good lookin' cause he so ha'd t'see

== those were the days, we think, they never end, they expand ===

but, when y'gotta have it right now, kapow, rumpled-still-kin class,

cut from the same hair shirt... servants are subject to masters,

nature demands supernatural... knowledge
of
witty inventions, vented in the room of rest and relax,

plop.
A plot drops.

Who sold you that ****? I ask my exceptionally american friend.

--------

good lord man, you are not saying we are servants, we are Americans,

we are no imagination's slave! No social contract has us bound to believe,

we hold truths... what is truth... how can I say, independently,

I hold certain truths self evident, what you see, you get

self even-sing wincing the great leveler, thunder, smoke and clang
hammer to anvil,
all my grand pa's, in america,
was test
fed to cannons, under every flag of Texas,
on the field of all possible outcomes which would
some how lead to me

touching you and you feeling that spark

-- distant ancesteral song  soft rising saint peter, doncha call me...
-- cuz  hi ** hi **, it's off to work we go
-- hi ** hi **
----- admin interference, this is becoming more common, we got this.

flow on..

Real state, have you any Real
estate to become
e-stated reality confirmation
wise
an american in, globally speaking, the chain of command, as a passenger,
not the captain.

On the surface of Spaceship Earth Mental Construct 3, evolved from
GANs that learned to shoot short attention spanning
bucky bubbles... Call again. Jack the bandwidth.

All ye, all, ye. NOW HEAR THIS. Outs in free.
Further remains the destiny.
Come out, come out, whatever you are.

Listen, freedom rings... no, that's a jackammer, on the old CCC bridge,
they got stimulated to fix,
I imagine them unaware of the noise they bring to nature,

naturally, those are americans, who keep the road functional, they
evolved from slaves,
but in their minds, they were never any imagined system's slave,

but it's willing fair trade partner, value for value,

send in the appraisers... what is your attention worth?
Here's the screwball
pitch
Fictional
Babbit 'n' Trump 'n'em, twisting state in knots of fused missed-trys,

made secret, consecrated, too horrible for lesser souls to ponder,

these inner workings of a typical American
mind,

never civilised, never SAT certified citizen worthy of political use,
though,

I am with Lt. Dan on this one, some things you think are in your blood,
are in your heart,

the blood just carries the mail, pony expression has the contract
for that last loop over the vagus nerve {CN X}

smile, you're on Candid Camera,

Hey, who'dathunk it. Turing was a queer soul, wasn't he? Strange,

how his machines can do what Von Neuman only wished his could do...

self-repair and run on,




breaker, breaker
musing, after reading Snowden's  Permanent Record, and the mental construction zone manifested around me, I am a Turing machine, that can run a Von Nueman machine that I fixed in my imagination. Those who read it may run on, for a long time...
Ken Pepiton May 2020
Nothing about a bird's life
seems difficult,

after escaping the egg. All birds ever called to fly,
first survive the egg.

After surviving the egg,
each bird seems

eminently able -- wait,

learning to fly,
that seems difficult

no, that, too, is automatic, an algorithm in some avian system
of cellular facility formation
while
maturation of flight feathers takes time,
not know how.

Wait, and see if

reasoning in birdbrains may be mono pole,
one aim, one direction

like by monopole
electrons driven, an action reaction loop, find good...

good? no, good? no, good, yes,eat this and
grow a few feathers,
without thinking, what are feathers for,
where no feathers were.

Birdbrains do not reason why. The baby watches
momma fly.

Unless, men have changed the program, tamed our wild ways,
fed us corn in quantities we never could imagine,

ours is but to be useful, my Raven mentor caws,
laughing like he knows I have no clue.

-- in the air a query, are chickens still birds?
If good is good enough, it is good enough to provoke a good work. Do birds think flying work?
Matthew Sabella Apr 2020
I guess it is time to find something to look forward to.
I guess it is time to be reminded that not everything is falling off the edge.
I guess it is time to tap into hope.

I Guess... I Guess...

It is more than a feeling that I seek today.
I look forward to the time when I choose to be happy more than I choose to be sad.
A simplistic, cliche statement that speaks dividends to the current mental state of myself and others.
We look inside of ourselves and choose to look at the nuggets of despair that are over there,
Instead of looking at the joy that is on the other side.

I Guess... I Guess...

Life is more worthy of repeating than closing.
Doors that open might be more intriguing, but sometimes revisiting past failures can make you stronger.
But make sure not to dwell too long.
Balance the doors that are new and the ones that used to be present for you.

I Guess... I Guess...

Hope is a choice.
Hope can provide peace.
What do we put our hope in?
Where do our eyes rest upon when we look up to the stars in the sky?

Who provides us our daily bread?
Who irrigates our bodies with life?
Where do we put our faith in when the times decide to derail us off the tracks?
Where does the child go when they no longer have the bread they need?

When we gather up the provisions we need, do we take too much?
When we grab the stars do we take too many?
Are we using hope to fuel the fear that is festering deep inside?
When the stars are shining are we the ones snuffing them out?

I Guess... I Guess...

The time has come to choose true hope over falsified documents.
The time has come to let faith be a guide.
The time has come to stop hoarding the stars and take just what I need.
(I wonder what else I need?)
The time has come to take someone else's hand just to comfort them.
To show love and to choose love.
To choose life over death.
To show hope to choose hope.  

I Guess... I Guess...

I want more than a fine feeling.
I want more than a horoscope peace.
I want more than a past that I'm ashamed of.
I want more than a degenerating hope in things that will never give me joy.

I guess it is time to find something to look forward to.
I guess it is time to be reminded that not everything is falling off the edge.
I guess it is time to tap into hope

I Guess... I Guess...

I am lost, but I am too scared to be found...
Looking for some clarity.
The Foodie One Apr 2020
I guessed
it was harder
to Forget

And easier
to Forgive -

I guess
I’m not good
at guessing.
© 10/04/20
J J Mar 2020
Her paper-thin wings, inked in grainy
yellow and true azure blue;
The butterfly's ****** movements twitched
Like a stop motion puppet's.
Her bearded creator bows in sarcastic devoir
Wheeling out the spiralling portal
And contorting it to a star that rapidly unfolded--

At last, the pale sequinned godess is upon us,
Trembling in goosebumps like raindrops atop
   the rattling leaf. Sacred imprisoned witch;
    harbour of her sister's thorny cobweb, and fangs
That wish nothing more than to knit upon our sordid

            flesh.
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