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Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
it's a mere wink from the waning moon,
it's two o'clock, in the after noon, post
meridian,

sliding
in to night, it feels
like

falling.
It always does, be not astonied, it's a trip,
you did not stumble,

you are not fallen.

Astonishing is what stoning was in my realm,
we never imagined
rocks used as apes use rocks.

Astonishment, we meant.
Show the fool the truth, let'm

imagine what they saw,
samesame what
we all see as we 'come round
the mountain,
then
when you see,
you know you saw

all
the fools say
they see, after
the fact.

There is some way, where there
seems no way. Some times take days,
some take no time at all. Change what you know.

In merest of minutes, the moon shall slip
below my horizon and my
spelling trance fail
to make sense
from in or
of darkness, this time of day.

Redeem the lunatics,
this cult culture made made our children mad,
for noreason, but gravity and
matters of time, some
twisted
into
an imbalance in the way
stuttering
words reach round the world,
as fast as a spell spoken

in the beginning. Bang.
Bang.
You're dead. Too bright.

No, you did not anger the gods,
this is an old thing,
under the sun.
Augmentisism is a shock to the system,
so no mindmob sees this without being
Upgraded to use the tech.

Now, wait for the tech,
we always beat them to the finish.
----
Artisto Informo Archeo Typo
whiteout, blame the paradigm shift,
they insist on punctuality.
---- life goes on, we always win in the end. True.

----
A new voice added to the choir,
preached to
since
first
the lie was law
among men imagining

only evil, continually.
Catastrophic morphic
resoundings ding ding ding

Do any American children recall air-raid
sirens announcing noon?

Do they know how to hop a freight,
and twist the rails into
an idea for a
protein
hopf-
based on an origami swan taken to the nth?
An a musing day, June 27, 2019. Historical and all. For unknown reasons.
Anna Fox Jun 2019
I am a kite
lightly floating in the gentle breeze
I am a cloud
dancing in the skies delicacies

I feel only wind
I see only light
carried only by the sky's currents
I am almost out of sight

As I dance the winds settle
the clouds and sky are now more
brutal than they are gentle

I am no longer a kite being carried
fooled by the skies shifting
by the dying breeze
I am wearied
mel May 2019
us humans—we are a
powerhouse for change
a true celestial force
to be reckoned with

did you know
that when we clap
down here on earth
our neighboring planets
are affected by it?

so when we cry until
we cant feel our face
or when we laugh
until our bellies ache
the whole Universe
feeels us shake

our vibrations
are so much louder
than we think
we are so much more
powerful than we
could ever see
our thoughts
literally become things
all of consciousness
is woven into a blanket
of all that we think

and mostly
we are unconscious
in how we guide
our self talk
but it’s never too late
to remember
what we forgot

create a whole
entire new you
with the new
patterns you grew

so let’s make more room
for healing our lives
by rearranging our mind
into a catalyst for light
James Rives Apr 2019
We, at various points in life,
draw a line
in the sand.
Marking where we've been,
where we stopped
to never venture forward.
Winds bring change no lines
can withstand. And we draw
them again in defiance.
We eke meaning from this sand
that would otherwise
mean nothing to us. Imparting
our own ideologies
onto an unresponsive medium
as a testament
to ourselves. Our independence.
The sand is most susceptible to change,
shifted constantly
by the sea, our feet,
the wind.
Still, we draw our lines anyway.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. :)
Arcassin B Apr 2019
By Arcassin Burnham

Pictures lie , these images **** me,
Teleport to places I can be,
Myself in this wicked world, cause I,
NeeD The LorD To FinD Me A BlessinG,
Take me from the world that I'm dreading,
Put me in a carriage with horses, place me
where my astral would lie,
I AM MorE ThaN HumaN, No SurprisE,

People lie , you know you can't trust them,
They let greed and things consume them,
Time spent wasting on love is ******,
I ThoughT McDonald'S WaS QuitE WorseR,
Furthermore, there is no discussion, pacing,
About news in this system, everything will
corrupt your mind,
DeatH TrapS EverywherE , TherE Is No TIme.
©abpoetry2019

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2019/04/shift.html
First sun-warmed sand
First boots-and-socks-off beach
First ankle-deep stand in rushing water
First SPF rubbed on my face
First crocus pops up in the yard
(Delicately)

Nearby, a young father begins
to teach his toddling young
how to fish.
(Patiently)

Last high-country snowshoe
Last low-country woodstove fire
Last hot bourbon toddy
Last dreamy days of Pisces
Last longing for lost love melts away
(Finally.)

Early over the mountain
the nearly-but-not-yet worm moon
spies the confluence and I below.
(Knowingly)

Here at the place where things change,
the wild world fills me
and I devote myself once more.
(Wholly)

For one who is in love with the chase
And the glory of all things yet-to-be done,
The true rapture of Nature is in knowing
She is too Big, Wild, and Free to own.
(Like me.)
Sonia Ettyang Feb 2019
My apologies if you thought you'd play checkers with my heart. Surely you deserve a round of applause for the biggest fool in town.
© Sonia Ettyang
October 2018
I recognized the game before you even played it.
When I left this grey place eons ago
and the sun turned to water under my feet
the sky spit out seven horseshoes
hitting our heads in predictable defiance
and the sand turned to wind
the laughter to salt
when the world opened up
Was it really my fault?

The walls worn under my feet in the snow
who dares think badly back
the greyness left my dry blind eyes
and the haze was replaced with black
the sun sets on a cloudless skyless day
and rises on forgotten lands of warmth
trying to reach down and touch what it lost
too high up now
We’re all too dead.
What’s your interpretation of this poem?
Sutherland Dec 2018
And on this day
three minds know naught.
Light filters through a new lense.
Vision of the future.
The light can not.

Yet the world,
It
bends.

This lense will grow,
and with it, hands.
This lense will go,
and where it steps, break bands.
This lense will know,
and alter all
that the world spans.

From present to future,
the past holds no bound.
The light, with the world,
will
bend.
Their destination
found.

This child will become
what the double cannot.
The double, the steps,
the child, the top.

The world shifts
and
bends.
I wrote this for my niece that has recently entered into existence.
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