A larger friendship circle: the terror of making yourself new friends,
looms larger when it feels you’re just making yourself new problems.
It’s haunting to hear others revel in tales of passion, people
boasting about making love, but never mentions on making up.

Ah, the daily charade of donning a flawless smile – the reluctant
application of makeup. And here’s the most piercing question in the
air heavy: “When was the last time you felt a gentle touch?”

The deafening silence that responds back, “Does the touch of
sadness still count?”

Fear not, dear child – you have blossomed into adulthood, you’re all
grown up, and have grown enough to know how to count. Count on
knowing things WILL one day work out. Stop yourself from counting
yourself out…

                                  A personal mantra I whisper to myself.

I… was a dreamer trapped in a haunting nightmare,
a paradox of hope and despair; drying out these tears
with pieces of nothing – don’t fare so well crying in public.


These eyes are the window, to all unspoken fears,
cloaked in silence.


I… am a war between two formidable forces of always
wanting to embrace the world with love, and also the
fear of rejection that longs to keep me so vaguely isolated.

Stuck in this place, to stay and acknowledge,
all the time buried beneath the grains of time...

Yet another dug up watch with these bare hands –
I could have buried so many hatchets, only if I never
hesitated burying the prior ones time and time again.

As far as I know, the scope of humankind's problems doesn't decrease, overall (somewhere this or that situation improves, while somewhere it becomes worse). There's a galore of sociopolitical problems, also there are environmental ones. While the world human population is already somewhat above 8 billion (8 **** billion) & keeps growing (due to the majority of the most sentient species' members mindlessly reproducing, regardless of their financial situation, genome, & 𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘 other 𝗙𝗔𝗖𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗦 that 𝗦𝗛𝗢𝗨𝗟𝗗 𝗕𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗕𝗘𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔 𝗦𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗜𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗢 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗦... 𝗤𝗨𝗜𝗧𝗘 𝗠𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗘𝗗-𝗨𝗣 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗; but who the hell gives a ****, right?). 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗢𝗖𝗥𝗔𝗖𝗬 & 𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗭𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗠𝗘 are 𝗢𝗡 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗥𝗜𝗦𝗘 (𝗥 𝗜 𝗦 𝗘). As it was mentioned by me in a note to one of my recent rhyme pieces, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗𝗪𝗜𝗗𝗘 𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗭𝗘𝗗 𝗖𝗥𝗜𝗠𝗘 𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗟 𝗥𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝟰.𝟴𝟳 𝗜𝗡 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟭 𝗧𝗢 𝟱.𝟬𝟯 𝗜𝗡 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 (according to data published on ocindex.net). It's now 2025 approaching. You think the situation has improved? 𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗘𝗥 𝗣𝗘𝗢𝗣𝗟𝗘 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗧 𝗪𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗩𝗢𝗜𝗥𝗦 𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗘 𝗗𝗥𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗨𝗣. For 72 countries with the total human population of more than 2.3 billion, last June-August period became the hottest since at least 1970 (according to info published here: climatecentral.org/report/people-exposed-to-climate-change-june-august-2024). This 𝗚𝗟𝗢𝗕𝗔𝗟 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 is, as it's known, 𝗛𝗨𝗠𝗔𝗡-𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗗. 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘 of it is, as it's known, carbon dioxide (CO2) entering the atmosphere from emissions caused by the burning of 𝗙𝗢𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗟 𝗙𝗨𝗘𝗟𝗦.

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗔𝗜𝗡 𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗥𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗕𝗢𝗧𝗛 𝗦𝗢𝗖𝗜𝗢𝗣𝗢𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗟 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗕𝗟𝗘𝗠𝗦 & 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗚𝗟𝗢𝗕𝗔𝗟 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗚 are those of high & ruling social classes. In other words, 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬. It's the wealthy that form & control a sociopolitical course the most. Most mobsters belong to the wealthy. It's the wealthy that consume more than the rest & cause the most CO2-containing fossil fuel emissions. All of the wealthy are corrupt to different degrees. Now, there's a good question to ask yourself: being the main causers of & contributors to all those problems, 𝗪𝗛𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗕𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗗𝗬 𝗛𝗘𝗟𝗟 𝗜𝗦 𝗜𝗧 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗨𝗣𝗧 𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗙𝗙𝗘𝗖𝗧𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧?! A wicked good question keeping in mind that it's mostly unprivileged & way less corrupt people who are affected by both sociopolitical problems & the global warming caused by the corrupt wealthy. That's unacceptable, it's wrong to accept that. There's an option on how to decrease/slow down sociopolitical problems & the global warming. It's simple as rhyme schemes of most writers of pop & trap lyrics, but not in terms of how to reach the proposed. I don't see a better option of fixing the status quo than to get rid of as much of the corrupt wealthy as possible by both legal means &, if legal ones are blocked or ineffective due to governmental corruption, forcible ones. I don't mean everyone of the wealthy should be targeted, only ones that contribute to injustice more than do something good to society or its individual members. The groups of 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗖𝗢𝗥𝗥𝗨𝗣𝗧 𝗪𝗘𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗛𝗬 𝗕𝗘𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗦𝗧 𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗙𝗜𝗘𝗗 𝗧𝗢 𝗕𝗘 𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗘𝗗 (in my view): 𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥𝗜𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗜𝗔𝗡 𝗥𝗨𝗟𝗘𝗥𝗦 & 𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗟𝗢𝗬𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗦, 𝗠𝗢𝗕𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦, 𝗙𝗢𝗦𝗦𝗜𝗟 𝗙𝗨𝗘𝗟 𝗟𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗬𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗦.

I know what humanists & pacifists may say. Something like: "Yes, they're corrupt, but they are still humans, they have human rights. It's wrong to get rid of or put pressure on anyone by forcible means. Blah-blah-blah". On which, some would retort that it's justifiable to get rid of or put pressure on them by forcible means. (I'm not sure about some types of agents of authoritarian regimes & fossil fuel lobbyists, but) the majority of the former & mobsters deserve to be dealt with by forcible means, for they contribute to injustice, including by means of force, not being forced by their social situation to do so. There are justifiable wrongdoings (necessary/lesser evil) & unjustifiable ones. A food theft committed by a person dying from starvation, or a ****** of a murderer committed by a person in retribution for their significant other murdered by the very murderer are examples of justifiable wrongdoings. There's nothing like that when it comes to the afore-mentioned groups of the corrupt wealthy. The best justification of their contribution to injustice they have is that they do it to maintain & preserve their wealth & to survive physically under a corrupt system they're parts of. That's a wicked lame justification. They should never have become a part of a corrupt system in the first place. Contributors to injustice must face consequences of their actions. In other words, «𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗠𝗨𝗦𝗧 𝗕𝗘 𝗣𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗗».

If whatever legal means to punish the afore-mentioned corrupt wealthy are blocked or ineffective due to governmental corruption, all anti-authoritarian-minded adult people in fine fettle should 𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗘 𝗔 𝗖𝗨𝗘 𝗙𝗥𝗢𝗠 𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗦𝗘 𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗢𝗪𝗡 𝗔𝗦𝗦𝗔𝗗'𝗦 blood-shedding 𝗥𝗘𝗚𝗜𝗠𝗘 recently or, as it was more than once mentioned by me, 𝗩𝗜𝗚𝗜𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗦 being expert assassins, 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗥𝗢𝗕𝗘𝗥𝗧 𝗠𝗖𝗖𝗔𝗟𝗟, 𝗝𝗔𝗦𝗢𝗡 "𝗥𝗘𝗗 𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗗" 𝗧𝗢𝗗𝗗, 𝗙𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗜𝗦 "𝗣𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗘𝗥" 𝗖𝗔𝗦𝗧𝗟𝗘, 𝗩. All those problems can't be fixed under this **** liberal-capitalistic system, for it's flawed in ways making it able for corrupt creatures, such as the afore-mentioned wealthy, to exploit it. Think about it.

«𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗢𝗡𝗟𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗡𝗘𝗖𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔𝗥𝗬 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗨𝗠𝗣𝗛 𝗢𝗙 𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟 𝗜𝗦 𝗙𝗢𝗥 𝗚𝗢𝗢𝗗 𝗠𝗘𝗡 𝗧𝗢 𝗗𝗢 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚»
«𝗪𝗛𝗘𝗡 𝗜𝗡𝗝𝗨𝗦𝗧𝗜𝗖𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗟𝗔𝗪, 𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘 𝗕𝗘𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗗𝗨𝗧𝗬»

In my grasp, a pair of glasses rests like a delicate cigarette tucked in
my fingers, their lenses capturing an iridescent clarity that dances in
the tempest of the mundane. Here lies the essence of a frightening
revelation—nothing we possess is truly ours; we are mere custodians
of borrowed treasures, granted at birth by a force that can reclaim it
all in an instant.

Time, is a powerful currency, but to us, is a loan—whether
squandered in idle moments or cherished in fleeting seconds that we
strive to make meaningful. We share breaths with those we hold dear,
our heartbeats intertwining in passionate kisses, exchanging words that weave love and conflict, and sighs that echo in tender submission.
Love, a paradox of durableness and theft, weighs heavily upon us,
testing our resilience with every blow we endure.

Beware the commotion of this world, for it will consume your very
essence, manifesting the wickedness of your heart. I have destroyed
my being countless times, only to rise anew, each rebirth a testament
to the lessons learned in solitude. From this solitary journey emerges
the wisdom to coexist with others in this intricate dance of life.

I gather words like fallen leaves,
Whispers of time caught in the breeze.
Each syllable a step untaken,
Each phrase a path half-awakened.

What if silence held the key,
To maps of thoughts that long to be?
Not carved in stone but etched in air,
Invisible threads that lead somewhere.

The ink may spill, the lines may blur,
Yet meaning stirs, a quiet murmur.
For in the spaces between the known,
Lies the truth we’ve never shown.

to what end wrestle ye with spirits in truth,
not a true Jungian complex if we slip the knot,
now, who started the dispute about right useness?

Table manners at a Norman Rockwell reenactment.

As eldest, I let my peace, first comfort me,
then extend, as joy in truth is our strength to use,
facilitate wait to see, which chocolate each remembers
- it's me as the never has been grand father
- establishing the fact that life remains
as much like a box of chocolates
as any random chance choices
acting a fan of symbiology
on holiday l'chaim
made so by holy
symbolic life experience
changes in the Christmas story,

the one where Mary's matters,
she being Luke's prime source,
James the Wise's mother,

Mere and pure, indeed, one idea
peaceable at nomination, wise
at the taste oh, the beguilement,
we can make secrets, ours, alone,

eh, holy ordained layer on of hands,
no, holy transcriber of tongues,
there are enough inspired
utterances ex cathedra
ala Azusa Street, and radio

mind trust building framed information,
so greedy deep that to this day, knowers
feel the genuine pain of wasted peace,

invested in hate needed to consume
according to planned economic
impression therapy, reset…

wars
for old ignorances
of custom, fief fee fidelity

501 c3, proven non profit…

duty due the personal will to say why

right works and wrong does not…

to tell the whole Bible story, as imbedded
in a disciple
to the kind
of being we form, as
rowdy boys let run a little wild as
has been practice in war societies,

or has been so fictional-ated
as to make no never mind

what if, ai ag us on one eclipse
explanation, sheer luc, by any measure

You gather all your experience,
pick any 27 years,
in acquisition sequence

-------
I can remember thinking different…

-- what more can a rescuer Dad attempt,

temptation to avert a train wreck,
praying to be led away from adversity

endured, enjoyed remembered,
encouraged to let this mind be,

in you, be ye bond or free, be leaving

the lessoning about to be wished loose,
as one's equivalent knot, to a yoke,

broken in the acceptable fasts,
we agreed, let every yoke be broken,

set the captives free, enforce reality,

or else, enjoy making up your own mind,

given the exact same mind, liturgically,
as the blessing of wisdom settles on us,
as we witness the weform this mind takes

and we feel light headed.

Beneath your fingertips lies the earth of roses, their essence entwined
with sharp, thorny scratches upon your neck. Moist lips utter a
cascade of words, attempting to dilute the value of any moment; these
words, a subtle taste inspiring saliva that stirs the mouth, to spit a
piece of game, loudly amidst the intricate game of cards that mirrors
the tumultuous game of love.

Tears well in my eyes for those who are suicidal – cutting themselves,
even as life unfolds as a beautiful wound. We grow amidst the pain of
our parents, who pray silently that we are not handed over to their
burdens at birth. It is a legacy, passed down through generations,
where ancestors never dared to shatter the shackles of their
subjugation. This oppression, cloaked in passive aggression, who can
dream for their young, when they’re too busy living so restless? How
can one value God’s favour, when you always rivalling other people’s
blessings?

The notion of death becomes a familiar companion; in a world where
malevolence persists, the thought of extinguishing it all seems a swift
solution. Those pretty eyes, seemingly pure, can swiftly unveil the
truth that being innocent is a fragile façade that can be lost in a sec.
But wouldn’t you want to fall in love with someone who appears
heaven sent – perhaps they hail from the heavens, but their arrival is
more a descent. Even Lucifer must have carried a bit of Heaven’s
scent.

Everyone seems decent every time you greet them; meet them a couple
times and you mind tries to delete them… I’m thinking too much,
the mind is the evil of the heart, when the two don’t always get along.

If I let you read my poems,
      I let you guide into my soul,
Flourished by my deepest thoughts,
      Ways in which I do not tell the world,
Yet, my words have such meaning,
       Such song in the heart.

And if I let you read my poems,
        I let you read a new me,
A chapter that began too long ago,
       As I drift into a lingering sadness,
Writing my way into therapy.  

When I let you read my poems,
        Don't shout to help me,
These poems are quite, subtle to be,
         Silent, yet so loud underneath,
What is it that lies beneath?

And when I let you read my poems,
I have given you my wrenching soul,
Etching to be free,
Connections lie between the lines,
Even when you dont understand, listen to me.

So when I let you read my poems,
I want you to wonder to the world of me,
Watch my soul freeing with relief,
To know that someone knows the hideous parts of me,
That the world will never see.