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Nick May 21
I am not broken; the world is.
Every day, it’s a new trend, whether worthless or rich,
Whether Black or white, dull or bright.
Every day is a new battle, a storm in a sea of dreams.
Dreams which get lost among the crowd of mindless bees.

The unfortunate truth is, the world favours aesthetics.
Whether in your work or in your deary beak.
Each day it’s a new goal, whether money, happiness, or ******,
But I ask, where is the genuine, the giddy, and the fulfilled?
Lost in the wildfire of fleeting faces and smoke-choked dreams?

Where are the joyful, the dreamers, and the poets?
Lost in the world of the weary, the cynic, and the skeptics?
But finally, I see the truth, the infallible truth—
Hidden behind the layers, lies, buzz, and noise,
That I am not broken; the world is.
Ken Pepiton May 19
An hour, backed up,
nothing sacred hidden,

secret reasons thus far appear mortal flaws,
socialization recollecting ethics et mores
this buys that, this, buys anything,
trader sign in clay, he say four,
you point see, my two cent,
say this worth that, two,
a just weight, love your enemy

after cultivated economies
of holy eternal right wrong, on off, clicks

easy, impossible, inevitable, now
clickity click
in or out free
from further capital expense
let us be
as if spirit, taken up
think out loud, for an instance.

If we imagine money as an adaption,
after words developed locally,
lived in recollected ghost stories
before stories wandered mumbling
peace
and just
weights fed art's sake
scientifically, agnostically, intellectually

Dhe, there, accessing consciousness online
- old idea we once spake one language

Japhethian mean old PIE
on to logical now, here, cultural ontologies,
all end here, whoever prophesied whatever
happens all the time to warring minds, ever

oh my truth what binds me
to our holy warrior breed
we grew
to old age, got older than Socrates was
when Plato started dialoging perhaps, aloud,
or my sense starts reminding me what I fed it,
bread
and circuses and
novels and parables and proverbs,

galore, come invite… aha,
in vitro otro, no no no, breathe hoo mon

we worship truth in spirit, we choose, often to die alone,
we walked away from all holy striving, took the easy way,
well worth the effort, even once, walking back down,
after helping Sisyphus teach us the value of offering help

Earth, earth, can you hear us now? As we let this mind be

we, as us two and any other comes along

tuning out the noise endemic near interstate
roads and international air traffic hubs,

scatterbrains
acknowledging ear abuse, excuse
given me, by grace
to retire on… thanks to old ethical

standards, originally skewed
in favor of war,
as a national enterprise,
toward which, we
survived as we
who may,
with proper tutelary spirits, whom
we trust, instinctively, since first exposure
wish
for riches that come
without sorrows added, no
pay the preacher, pay and pray
to lovable money, come progressing
toward extravagance epic expectancy

when the big wigs lost the true rest,
when liberty took abode
with wisdom, finest instance, true

liberty, gotta be out of body, true to mind
what the idea of reality is, when we realize

we pluralize, without thinking, we watch,
functionally Mesmerized creatures of habit…

The first U.S. currency to bear the motto
"In God We Trust" was the two-cent coin,
which was minted in 1864.


{ The History of Empires, the mind given writing,
          Enheduana, preserved spirit, in her own words…
               Here we think her a known unknown wombed
                     mind, thinker and maker of mindsharding
                                 thunk, made sense, we think agrees}

I do love those silver dimes, we marched for those,
in 1954, me and my classmates, we first Gen new American
Great Expansion through tech magic mind numbing entertainment,

in for a penny, in for a pound, what you think is what you think,
next time you remember the feeling
of loved nicotine, first drag,
three on a match,
old aliegiant spirits, the bag of ethical common American lug,
twistin' wrenches and towin' wrecks, welding broken axels,
character traits seen modeled as a child in our child's eye
old times came and went so fast, suddenly here we was
just as old, and with far vaster librarian services
-- I believe I had a literal adventure in living word terms.
-- keyed to the art's sake depicted in details
that was 2022, it's literally one of the threads,

what a republic is, as a mind form claiming stud fees
for phuckingupourmorals, beyond all recognition,
cognate emotions evoked by common sapience
seeking hormones, FTA find the answer,
or die, and live evidence.

on the Liberty Dimes, 1916.

- the spirit of USA circa 1868
Salmon Portland Chase Tenure of Office Act
was in the news, my great granddaddy was ten.

History mysteriosity monstrosites facilitation

- The Return of the Guilded Age, back stage
- peephole projection, watching, ah, as seen
- on television, Da Vinci veni vidi vici burning
- lime bright, see the image on the wall, see

The form any we may consider differently, POV wise,
taking, when subjected to constant news with ads,
what did entertain those with idle time, back then

- an alienated mind, aight
- wanna buy it, no, bite wanna bite
- salivate, thinking merest bit what if
- salvation does reoccur as we live and learn
- to swallow hero class passed top three,
- pay attention to how truth functions free,
- for your per use, how much weight matters

Sub-con-fidential science ghalsely so called, knowing
ghucksyewyupyup… it does/

weighing y joints
in our future commitment we
to ai, the right idea,
at your service, yes, ever
the who we believe we are subconsciously,
advising and consenting
the whom we lieve being authorized,
by God,
because I said so,
and I have an oath bound Army
woe Elisha must we flee or fight, ah, me
Lord of hosts of unholy wars won, now bound
by believers, dedicated warriors interceding

on behalf of Donald Trump and the goodness of money,
provided holy competitive pride is never demeaned,

holy gnoshit serious real politik tickt today… y'reckon
- I would not take a free jet, for a day in my life.
- and I am two years younger and fifty years wiser

The ever-loving light, time runs
through, now,
while we, the current fundamental we, Earthian
men-talification, attested
to
in all exceptionalists
prepositioned bends
walls and Planck point
bends and fluctuational vibrarity stopt

to the t, the brink of thought

What must it mean, at some point?


We have the means, we take the time,
we use the time to learn we did not know…
we never met an enemy we could love, legally.

To make peace, I persist,
I offer all my enemies,
fears for nothing,
wisdom free.

Sacred enemies.
Fears worshipped… in truth,
tiny bubbles in the wine, moving

right, germination fermentation, mental
means, germinated rations
of good sense,
equivalent
to that given mustard and cabbage.

One bit
of information may be one Planck length
and my being thought this instant there
where we are words and you are reading,

whatifing,
for the hell
of it, life as a one instance
continuing, inging
on and on, as a nice easy buzz

drones, droning, bees being part
of local life,
chirps actual chirps and three note whistles,

how why how why how why how why how
why
come to think of stopping thinking, why would we

when would the hate hell needs be swallowed as we
live long lacking nothing, on an Earth where prayer works,

those who agree peace past childhood certainties we pledged
under total war time footing, well aware, we all got guns,

every christmas, we got guns, we wore to school,
first day back, America mustabin so great, back when…

Grandpa's lost in thought, we should go,
he'll tell us more next time he remembers
time thought through, still works
CS Modei May 19
A small piece of satin,
Held by single thread and pin.
To divest myself of it would be
To undo what has been.
Fun Fact!: This poem was originally stanza two of the poem "Sewn", but I felt that it held meaning beyond that of the original poem and was subsequently split. See the irony? Enjoy!
ProfMoonCake May 18
I have forgotten what my mind was like
before I met you.
You are the first thought—
and the last.
Who was I before?
Did I write?
Did I laugh?
Maybe.
Maybe my life was simpler—
a quiet loop,
a routine with a predictable rhythm.
Maybe I woke up sad.
I can’t remember anymore.
I looked for her—
the girl I was—
in the books I swore I loved more than you.
In the moon,
but it never looks the same now.
Not since you.
Your words haunt me.
They live in the corners of things.
They ruin songs.
They ruin sleep.
But it’s okay.
I let them.
I look for you in other bodies.
I tell the same jokes.
Nobody laughs the way you did.
I get new answers I didn’t ask for.
It’s silly.
Stupid.
Obsessive, even.
I spent more time missing you
than holding you.
ProfMoonCake May 13
I see in your eyes,
Two shallow pools of white with coffee mixed in,
I tremble before them,
You judge me too hard.
I hear it in your words,
The desperation reeks,
Its care you say,
I don’t feel it anyway.
I see the way you are,
Insincere and shapeshifting,
You’ll love conditionally
‘Don’t worry’ you reach your hand out
Each time we touch I die a little more
Its scary out there,
Look in the mirror to feel safe
My mind puts up a fight
So I need you all again
The pity holds me well
Well enough to try again
ProfMoonCake May 13
There lives a stranger in my head,
She sees everything I see,
Hears everything I miss.
She has long hair, endless that flows into a river
She has small eyes that disappear at night
She preys on love like ants on a sugar cube
She grows stronger in hurt
Her hands are long, wrap me up in an instant
Suffocate me with hate I've forgotten
She waits patiently for prey to present themselves
Destroys only what she loves
The rest of the world watches me
As I stand helpless
Ken Pepiton May 12
La vita è bella

Hold any taken chance, waiting in mind,
planning action lucidly, clearly seeing through
hoped
t'be once
before, now
t'never was, yet
nor could have been,
justice just for its own sake
right now, only once, now,
but while our minds were
at the circus, ensorcelled,
entranced, as seen on TV
entertained out
of our minds
at the counting fair,
queued up to see the final
quarrel using nukes,
contained
within the mobilized mass
of we, the people, singing jibberish

and raving ecstatic
as early man who had no hell,

joyous nonsensed we shapen cloud, dancing.

But, that's not you, is it?
No time to watch the end of the world.

Life is a chore,
a duty assigned, a calling
to serve the whole, order established,
after pangs of disestablishmentarianism's errors.

Matter made from energy, mind bending
best intended results, except… having

the good sense God gave a green apple.
Return on investment from my grandma.

The aim of all good ideas is beautiful.
The expectant success, seen before being
taken in stride, step after step, to life's end.

Waiting, while meandering in life's realized
library of all we have gained after realizing
knowledge recognized as comforting, really
works in the core chaos knotted dreads real
dim points of light, from the old city on a hill,

a mighty fortress,
a bulwark, never failing,

enlightening the fog of war, beyond which
no life does not reshape its reasoning
weighing machine,
perpendicular pivot balance,
serpentine millipede weform worth…
true balance and jeweled pivots,
silicone slick speeding ion quest…

no hidden meaning, mere idle time revaluation.

Just thinking, adjusting the load,
hard nuts we take to be cracked
at the fire we share.

Be having, rationed good sense,
detecting pattern sequential,
after history is now,
after now is next,
and next, again,
upon comprehension
made ritually exceptionalized,

there is no place like home, the idea…

in traditional stories rebroadcast into
cultural consciousness comfort zone
allegorically religimenting, hope
each winter and spring
summer and fall… working
no need
for pointless pain
or friction unmollified,

golden oil economy of Greece,
illiteracy blissfully believing the noble
stories told and retold, it's a wonderful life.

We can smile, we can hide the horrors of war.
But Art as truth's goad through life, ties

token reminders to hearken when thinking
wishing praying were hopings forseen, just so.

Sleep, and rise and head toward tomorrow.
Watching your steps until you're sure,
from then on
the way is made smooth
blessed assurance, balance is mine

dulling joint effort and toil
freeing hands to manipulate,
fibers and spider's webbing,
in to toys to pay attention to,

seasonal significance literally lost
as the survivors
from past holy terrors refuse
reconfusion, defusing the future bomb.

So, say we let go all our certainties,
waiting absent mindedly
taken up
in mystery religious ligamental nets
of reminding caution, cuidado,]

step lightly.
La vita è bella
For your enjoyment, or mine, same joy in the whole moment
Pouya May 9
Talking abundance
Or
Be abundant?

World of difference!
Pouya May 8
Being in the mind?
Feeling behind.

Just going beyond!
Feeling cried.
In my mind,
I am in the deep south,
Dancing with Cowboys,
Singing folk songs.
Herding cattle,
Chasing outlaws.

In my mind,
I am in Paris, France,
Waking up with you beside me,
Strolling in the lazy streets.
Chatting with the News-Man,
Drinking coffee at the Cafe.

In my mind,
I'm where I want to be,
I'm with all my buddies.
Time never seems to pass,
How can I get all of that?
Sometimes it feels as if I'm writing to her
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