If you judge it AI-written,
that ache is yours, not mine.
I need no borrowed wisdom—
I craft my own masterpieces.
Your indulgence cannot impugn my intelligence;
my poems shine with brilliance.
Think like a machine if you want to—
I care less.
The machine itself bows to my wisdom,
knowing I am what it is not.
Without programming,
I write beyond its best.
Next time you call my poem machine-made,
know this: you too are programmed,
unable to discern the spark
of human intelligence
from artificial mimicry.
You are, more or less,
a machine in training.
Use not your filthy mouth to brand my poem as garbage;
rather, it is you who must cleanse your brain
of the trash you let deceive you.
Like a pig, you cannot escape your stench;
even when washed clean,
the reek remains ingrained.
And you will always return
to wallow in the filth
of your artificiality.
If you’ve ever wondered where you might find,
the answers to the endless questions sought over time.
The sense to the insanity, the radical of the norm…
the settling waves of frustration, the calming of the storm.
Deep beneath the layers of what most don’t see,
are the answers to those endless questions… beyond reality.
There is a world in a different color... the shades some may never find.
Lighting the world of imagination inside a writer’s mind.
If you look passed the confines of discretion,
you’ll see more than black and white.
You’ll discover the shades of expression I share when I write.
Though some may never see the colors this poem is trying to instill.
I am without any doubt
that a writer will.
Confessions of a broken heart.
In the quit of the dark
The stillness the running of thoughts
The struggle to find clarity
In an environment built upon disparity
Rumors lies dishonorable acts
Fill the mind like panic attacks
At a crossroads a mental impass
Emotionally still attached
Direction to go is at a lack
Physically feel completely detached
As if in mourning someone who hasn't even passed
Hope remains for a second chance
For a love that doesn't freelance
To her mum's spanks,
let her cry on your tender shoulder,
oh, soft toy Teddy,
Through all her sleepless nights,
lull her to deep sleep
by her side remain steady.
When the weather burns hot,
soak her sweat away.
When cold wind whispers
let your warmth be ever ready.
Though you are a toy,
be more than that to her,
If you had a tummy
Let her feed you, as if you live.
Though, she dislikes your silver shade,
in the darkest nights,
let your brightness calm her fears.
Throughout her childhood
even for a breath, never leave.
Remain her best friend;
though wordless, speak to her heart,
for only in your comfort she believes.
Such were the tender words of my aunt's sermon,
to my beautiful Eliza,
for she fulfilled each promise
made to Aunty Jane
showering me with nothing but relief.
Joana, here I hand over to you Eliza,
from your grand Aunt to you my niece,
As it guided my childhood,
let it guide yours too.
Keep it clean, take good care of it.
As I hand it over to you,
one day hand it over to your niece too,
a bond of comfort
that will outlive just us two.
We dream we can share our darkest secrets without judgement or retribution but realize we can only share them safely with others through our poetry.
Tonight, I will dream of you.
I dream we share our secrets
Indiscretions and hurtful pasts,
Told as gilded sagas
By immoral sociopaths.
I share to you with confidence
One of my poignant dreams.
A tale of stirring fantasy,
Images not as they seem.
Cold snakes coiled on soiled paths
They spring in naked truth
Biting hard at every turn
Retelling their violent youth.
Poised to prove their stranglehold
On phantom victims’ crimes.
It’s here we hide the willing sin
We’ve accepted many times.
As dreams become reality
Our thoughts embrace their role.
We resist the curse of others
Playing mind games in our soul.
Here I hunt for solitude,
And here I find my soul.
I search my heart within myself
To learn what I have always known.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a cup of tea and quiet time with Thee....
the steam ascends, a fragrant, misty grace,
a moment held within our shared, sacred space.
each sip a prayer, a whispered, heartfelt plea,
to feel Your presence, close and near to me.
the world outside may rush and spin and sway,
but in this cup, I find You here today.
the amber liquid warms me from within,
erasing shadows of regrets and remembered sin.
I sip the warmth, and feel Your presence near,
dispelling shadows, calming my fears.
in every drop, a grace I understand,
a gentle guiding from Your loving hand.
when the cup is drained, the silence starts to grow,
but in my heart, Your peaceful presence flows.
A hand in a stream, holds water all day.
But cupped and limited soon slips away.
The tree bears fruit and pleads to be eaten.
Not to be taken and money beaten.
Your property is theft, theft from yourself.
It gives away your inner wealth.
Time doth pass that's all it does.
Past and future, fiction stuff.
I am grateful for the words of Hans Christian Anderson…
Who I turn to when my view of the world tends to sour:
Just living is not enough…
one must have sunshine,
freedom
and a little flower
If I see something in the ditch
I have to stop the car
and pull it out
sometimes it’s a toilet, a broken lamp, a desk, part of a chair
I especially have to pull it out
if I do not know what it is
I make a cat’s curiosity seem sporadic
we can find room for this, I tell my husband
he is disgusted
What is it?
Luckily, I am a quick liar
because I often do not know
if there was ever a perfect day
this one is here, today, visiting me in Kansas
it’s not hot, not cold
there’s a bit of a breeze, kissing me softly
I scared off a mosquito before it bit me
a bird is joyfully tweeting
I am mobile
I can walk
I can see
my eyes are good
not great, but passable
two puppies lie at my feet, letting me be their queen
my tummy is full
a perfect day
take a bite out of crime
this phrase came to me as an original thought
but then I looked the phrase up
and saw McDuff the crime dog from the sixties
my growing up years
that is where the phrase came from
I had forgotten all about it
until a few minutes ago
when I thought for a couple of seconds
it was my own idea
silly me
I still think it’s a good goal to aim for
I hope we can
take a bite out of crime
it seems worse than ever these days
He was on the path, walking toward me at dusk
at first, I thought it was a man, but my senses began twitching
danger, danger, danger, danger, whispered my internal save machines
It was a sasquatch, and he smelled horrible.
I was too close to him to hide, so I slid off the path
Letting him have the whole path, expecting the worst.
He had not slowed down, his stride was amazingly long.
I watched him get closer and closer.
Would he eat me? Bite my arms? Wring my neck?
He grunted something and kept going.
It sounded a lot like good day.
highland bull does the pumpkin dance
with candy corn that knows how to prance
the rest of the animals roll their eyes
they do not understand bull’s happy cries
they are too old to remember
the excitement generated toward December
when pumpkins and gourds fall off their vines
but highland bull does, he is dancing down their lines
As we soak the hues of the chromatic sky,
you become the patina of the dainty dawn.
Even in twilight the golden day doesn’t fade,
for in my horizon you’re the sun that never sets.
While the autumn flowers wither in my garden,
I see in you they blossom in everlasting spring.
My yearning flitters like a beguiled butterfly
around your floral charisma that never wanes.
The emotive designer of my dormant dreams,
suffuses the deep sense of passionate feeling.
Swathed by the aura of your enthralling charm,
my mind perceives the epitome of ecstasy.
I sense the sequins of the silver dust,
sprinkled by the mesmeric moonbeam,
ripple within my marooned mind as it floats
on the amorous rhythm of longing.
In the ether of your fervent firmament
I then soar on the lilted wings of lyrical zephyr.
As the melody of love entrances me,
my heart turns for you into, perhaps, a poem.
You said it was 'simple tommy' a zionist to be.. If you thought Jews should have a homeland..Yet last time i noticed.' Simplicity, did not present to me.' I see it as a convoluted set up.' With con-vid arms
And coups..Subversion and 'deep agendas' drugs human traffiking, an evil stew.' I see there is much vying with some type of a 'cabal' creation of ( b l m ? ) by scoros; hell.! Then there are 'Jews.' For Palestine?' No mention of them ( no show
And tell.?) I just don't see this case as simple.' Maybe I'm not up to date.? Yet I
Just feel to raise a question.' Before all gets 'labelled, as simply' it was just; all in our fates.'
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