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MetaVerse May 22

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                             up                                 
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Kayli Kilzer Apr 29
Today was the end of my life,
yet tomorrow I see all.

I am a rocket creature      /      My bones lie melted,

in the forest, the trees are  /   tire tracks which scar my mangled body:

my landing strip. No better     \    flesh and bones and

sanctuary than this     /          humanitarian malice.

God-given world,             /       Betrayal by the ones we preceded,

untouched; delicate arboretum    \      metal glowing eyes above,

Palm fronds— my blankets and    \    screaming rubber wheels,


everlasting life felt through the wind in my fur.


Anti-anthropomorphic heaven,     /     throat charred of secondhand;

  I take   /   the blood of my posterity stained

green for granted. She     \   sees the world I am at the mercy of,

     who does not belong to me,      \      I am a slave to what he wants

yet I am a microscopic essentialist     /    and a blink of robotic velocity

                        to her                   /           in which I cannot keep up.


Born of Gaia and a martyr of Growth.
A poem about the perspective of industrialization from road ****… a squirrel probably… read both sides individually or together.
MetaVerse Apr 22
The kite's high.
I give it more string.
I give it
All the string.
It takes off
And flies away
And lands
Who knows where?
Goodbye!
MetaVerse Apr 5
The shuttlecock, served,
Goes over the net.
I'll probably lose
The dollar I bet.

Over the net
It goes back and forth:
It goes north to south,
And it goes south to north.

The birdie in flight
Flits like a sparrow.
She hits it so hard
It darts like an arrow.

I smack it as hard
As I can possibly smack it,
And, wouldn't you know it,
It's stuck in my racquet.
MetaVerse Apr 5
I toss the sack.
It's kicked around.
I get it back.
We get a hack.
It hits the ground.
'Skeeters attack.
Aaron Beedle Mar 17
Soothing hue, tranquil blue.
A scene serene in testament to you.
I thank it, this blanket hung soft in the sky,
and drift on the breeze, the mute lullaby.
We are children of stars, all of us each,
if you look way back far beyond memory's reach.
Past fire and lightning, spirit and beast,
our atoms return, and stars we complete.

Look to the sky, our bubble of blue.
A window our parent forever feeds through.
A gentle notion, and grace in a descending motion
so subtle we feel only a warmth on our face as we float in a breathable ocean.

A mirror perhaps it holds above
and paints in clouds the world
with spires and cities and oceans
and shifts so subtle in ways unseen
so we won't forget the nature
of where we've been.

For though the world seems still and quiet
it shifts and it's easy to pass by it,
as we focus on each little thing
there's a joy that it brings, our Ozone,
in its patterns of premature recognitions
shapes that are born in a state of remission
and only those who are readily staring
see that the earth is patient and caring.
MetaVerse Oct 2024
Frisbee flies
Like a UFO.

Blue skies.

A tic-tac-toe
Of them trails
Called chem trails.

Nanoaliens hatch.

A wonky throw—
He makes the catch!

Vivian Jan 2024
I knew It was coming the moment I opened the door.

The sky warned me. A distant, dull voice whispered, "You can't beat It." The sweetest sadness slowly ****** each syllable. I accepted the challenge and began to pedal. For a while, I pedaled without disturbance, except for a distant, dull sky sadly trailing behind. Watching. Waiting. Knowing.

Then It came. It took its time. It was not the one who needed to hurry. I pedaled on and felt It kiss the tip of my forehead, then lick the side of my nose, leaving me cold. I began to count the touches; one, two -pedal, pedal, pedal, pedal - three - pedal, pedal, pedal - four - pedal - five - pedal, pedal - six -pedal - seven - pedal - eight, nine, ten...

And I’m drenched.
Literatim Oct 2022
A leaf
In the gentle autumn breeze
Softly falls to Earth,
Together with its siblings
It lines the woodland path.

The ground below is cold but soft,
Still sensing the September sun,
Not yet has winter’s icy breath
Been felt, not yet its reign begun.

The creatures of the forest
Patter to and fro,
Their feet and wings stirring the leaves
On the ground below.

By comes a fox, takes careful watch,
Then vanishes from sight,
By comes a robin, plucking berries
And then, once more, takes flight,
By comes a squirrel, in its search
For nuts it takes delight,
And finally, by comes the owl,
Waiting for the cloak of night.

The leaf, still lying on the ground,
Is eager for another day
But then, by comes a gust of wind
And carries it away.
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