If you realise that birth is just
scratches on paper, and fewer
lines scratched on stone.

When you pass. Reflect that your
epilogue of living a meaningfulness
life to its fullest.

Than just a few words
on stone.. R.I.P

On the corner of your pages
I'll leave not my name
Nor my wretched face,
But a word of thanks

You let me read your stories
Shared to me your worries;
I somehow became part
Of your wonderful art

I would be greatly honored
If you saw my crooked words
And remember those times
That once our pages aligned—

Where laughters are easy to find
So did our cries and whines.

This poem is everything
I didn’t erase

The sea I swam until
the shore was closer
than drowning.

My mind took so many detours.
I ran toward the sun,
become tangled in why
I didn’t do the dishes,
wondered if my bookshelf
had one more space for Apocalyptic.

Sitting in the litter of what
I couldn’t complete I question
if this is poetry or confession.

Tuesday has way more ink
than I have words for paper.

sometimes a few words
can make a real
difference
in someones
life.

We were each put in this life, on this planet,
To build our souls inside,
Too be open, explore, always search, so many,
Different life styles, to mix with, as we float,
In the open sky.
We were warned of evil, false prophets, forces,
That will control our life and mind, they,
Keep recruiting, so many, in a very short time.
Everyday their grooming, to keep your thoughts and bodies in fear,
A new war now, attacks the human mind, is the end of mankind near?
After you receive a taste of the evil, most jump in line,
They love repeating the worst cruel stories, many times,
A good person is not allowed one mistake, if they do,
They are labeled, for the rest of their life time.
Positive encouraging stories, are sometimes laughed at,
Or twisted around, like a wild vine,
Even if someone helped them, they claim to be the hero,
Every time, many in this life, think they are so perfect,
Only in their words, for their actions never show any signs.
They may think their fooling everyone, as their personal life,
Falls farther behind.

                                            The Original: Tom Maxwell ©8/5 2023 AD

She's a scientist
She don't look back

She's really a 🍕 gourmand,
but genetically,
Gourmet is where she's at

She loves being a statistician,
Calories count per pizza slice
(scientifically, toppings atoms don't matter)

A-good theorem excites,
Especially epically, when she
disproves it in tour face

Knows a lot of big words,
That nobody else understood 
 (but flaunting feels good)

She's an artist,
And a poet, always looking forward
(chasing sunrises)

She gets overloaded with advice,
So knows how, to give it back
(but only tidbit sized)

She knows the world is flat,
When running, she really likes that!

unlike me,
i'll quit when
out of stuff,
but a woman,
well. that's-he, be,
something else