You Feel Your
Mortality As A
Result Of All
Tragedy...
To A Future
Devoid Of All
Dreams...
Dreams And Schemes.
You Sense More Intently,
Confronted, Evidently,
With No Sense Of Health,
And The Uselessness Of Wealth.
Where Pride Rips Aside
All It Seems...
Splits It’s Seams...
Where You're No Longer
Asking Who You're Unmasking...
***
There's Nothing Wrong With That.
Welcome Home.
-Gray Squirrel
09-14-2025
unrealised
ephemera
cast aside
an intriguing
insight
refigured
visionary
images
an
adjacent
fascinating
fantasy
lavish
cohesive
spectacular
embodied
in
an abandoned
concept
Movement Shod
Heeling halt
Abbreviated democracy
Flank in route
Gaurd maneuver out
Folded company
Beret for address
Redress complete
Back in Britain
Marina Ann Hantzis
Princess Matilda
Vulnerable Matilda Prodigy
Florence of the ash reddened twine Nightengale
Graphic design
I come from a brass adorned general
We don't resemble excess points
I am exit of branch in brass adjacent brad
Minute brigadier
Halt
Ag is creation
In duration of appointment
Grass is yawn
Foreign testimony
Irresolute burden
Friendly visions 1
The refusal of hindrance
Nulled void in presence of buddha
Blvd.
Bill of ardent
Assembly of literature budget
Education boundary activities
25th hour calls on sight
POWER OF THE IVORIES
~~~~~~~~~~~
I wrote this poem as a remembrance of my mother. Even when macular degeneration and diabetes took her eyesight, she continued playing her beloved piano. I often sat adjacent to her, watching her arthritic fingers dance pirouettes across the 88 ‘blacks and whites,’ lost in creativity and the music. Her pain temporarily dissolved, and she was at peace in her musical heaven, soulfully content.
She walks into the empty room
and sits down on the stool;
her heart engulfed with grief and gloom
from life that has been both kind and cruel.
She knows that she must persevere
though things seem dark and grey;
then wipes away a single tear
as she begins to play.
Familiar music soon takes flight,
her sorrows start to lift;
and so she plays into the night
and feels the music’s gift.
At last, she plays a soft reprise
and feels her gloom depart;
true solace found in ivory keys
That mended her broken heart!
Adjacent profits are gained in purchase of information
Non profit lobby hides, assemblies
And congressional lobby laborers
Caught in data shortage
Corrupt a report purchasing shares of
Corruptible budget items
Obstructing legislation
Creating false pretense for arrest
Arrest of defined confine
The hide
The title
The bonds ageing interest
Non profit
Must eat here at specified time
In thousand oaks California
Only at eves Arch, after days end
In Ventura at Catholic charities
The food reception is all day Charity
And none are required
Available coordinates for investigative
Journalists
Publicly available languages
This feeling is complacent,
it just doesn't feel adjacent,
too much or to little,
reciprocation is unrealistic,
your stupid but unforgettable,
unattainable and unavailable,
there's a bond hard to break,
I want to escape,
but isn't that a mistake?
We could’ve been something just as much as we were nothing,
you were a boy but I wanted a man,
I was a woman but you wanted a girl,
two different people,
two different worlds.
-popular_loner
Like the globe she dances
Spinning on pointed toe
Pole to pole she meets
With arms en haut to show
Perfect orb, she crystal glow
Out as far as up, and
Down as far as in.
Jormungandr swim
Slicing through the molten core,
A double sided blade,
To each degree of astrolabe
Swim figure eight eternity.
Diametric pins astride
The face of ticking time
A fourth of nine
Then up to meet
Parallel at noonday chimes
The halfway of the day
Announce his symmetry.
Just like in hand at quarter three
That teatime hour, gone
Like falling sand, the face
On chain of gold or silver,
Through the hunter’s window.
Once again at midnight black
The arms of time rejoin
Same and like is to the day
The middle note is rung.
And poles so far
Like penché toes
Pointed to sky and hell
Now both to heaven
Two star-ward gazing hares
The black and white of chess in place
Adjacent palette foes.
My lover and my enemy
For this minute of the day
A fleeting time to my dismay
Are sleeping wed bedfellows.
Frightening silence pervaded
Swelling of ground here and there
A tree adjacent the gate with a GHOSTLY stature
Unfurling a dark blanket by its broad canopy
Even birds don’t like to perch in the GODFORSAKEN place.
Except the bulging- eyed owl
A silent witness for GRIEF-STRICKEN hearts
The fibre art of GOSSAMER aglow in the sunlight
Floating gently like sailcloth
On the gates, they’re like murals of pinwheel flowers.
No gusts or downpours can annihilate it.
The gates are half-shut.
When they are fully opened,
Macabre music of GROANING erupts from the coarsened hinges.
Scent of geosmin from a freshly dug GRAVE
The tired soul along with the retired corpse
Comes again through the terminal gate.
On the far edge of the world there are
fanatics of many minds and religions.
They have uninteresting histories,
jejune existences, and distorted ideas of nature.
Some are belligerent, felony-friendly foreigners.
I’ve never given them a single thought,
because they are nothing to me.
They’re insignificant—living curiosities
and I grant them no more sympathy
than I would a flock of wild birds.
Of course, I’d never wish to harm wild birds
unless they had the wherewithal to attack me,
in inimitable, Hitchcock style.
.
.
Songs for this:
Kashmir by by Toni Jevicky
Bring Me to Silence (Audiotree Live) by Fievel Is Glauque
.
.
felony-friendly = terrorist or crime adjacent
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
older than the Englishmen who raised a bridge
over its Constitution, a nude Indian sped away
from a warring Englishman behind
absconding by canoe to an adjacent isle
but smallpox caught the indie afore ammunition
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
that witnessed the grapes of wrath in '37
and suffered its wine, the black potential rebelled
against the clear minority who had signed
emancipation letters without intent
ergo, cars with bodies went flying upon the riparian spine
"There's a river meandering through the mind,"
leaning on treasonous city hearts, wrinkling under the trebled
degrees of island sun, chuffing at progressiveness
and how the colour schemes lightly redesigned
black power free, it seems, walks unfettered to its banks
carrying tackle, tiki-torches, tourists, a picnic, and gun
Discovering Light
Cry Ugly shame lost its power
Shame was regret…
Buying into malicious judgment I wasn't good enough…
He knew I was more than good enough… I gave all I was capable of…
He loved me because I gave 100%… even when my 100% fell short
He channeled his disappointment and hope through his poetry.
Discovery emerged reading his heirloom book… regret quickly segued into shame.
Shame perfected as a child… stepping stones used to set my foundation
Decades devoted to unraveling the source… reflected in the dark strands of thread woven in my tapestry
Oblivious of the light, silver and gold spun adjacent to and translucent overlay… changing the tapestry's initial designation.
Sherry Barton
April 13,
The synthetic poison
that courses through my veins
churns the bowel of the earth
and sent a tremor through my heart.
What kind of remedy this is?
It heals one part,
But devastates the other,
What kind of potion man brews?
I see the flower buds
bursting forth on one branch
leaving the adjacent portion barren,
It heals and harms
It yields and resists...
It resuscitates the body
but kills the spirit.
in a world of chaos
where harmony is just a dream
and nightmares induce every scream
i'll freely ride high upon a moonbeam
to machinate the perfect scheme
to build my home adjacent to a stream
AP: 2nd place 2025
syrup spit in my ear
teaching me how to slide
and
she the hip hop record
out the san francisco's
out of the san francisco
hurdled dirty
exchange rates
mastering the filthy turn
broken horn memories
adjacent his new coats
he had and hadn't given
away
how he wound down towns
spendings is spring
weathers are drying deserts
behind her eyes
so depressing sad
how about some ice cubing
and she would run home
alone
just couldn't get around
to their name
In the spaces between heartbeats,
Where time stretches thin as spring leaves of poet-trees
blowing in the breeze,
I catch glimpses of you living
In a universe adjacent to mine.
There, the sky burns violet at dawn,
And trees grow downward, reaching
For a core of molten starlight
While gravity plays different songs.
You drink tea made from moonflowers,
Write letters with crystallized rain,
And speak in colors I can only taste
I press my palm against the membrane
That keeps our realities distinct.
Feel it pulse like a living thing
Between dimensions, between dreams.
Sometimes, when the barriers grow weak,
I swear I can hear your laughter
Echo across the cosmic divide,
A melody in quantum frequencies.
Perhaps one day the walls will thin,
The boundaries between worlds dissolve,
And we'll meet in that strange space
Where impossible things become real.
Until then, I'll keep watching
For traces of your existence
Collecting evidence of parallel lives
In the corners of my consciousness.
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