Panic’s funny if it’s explained in rhyme.
I’m at a brite, swank, corporate event
summarized by its unexceptional
atmosphere - so I put on my watch face
- hanging back, an observer in the pack.
Fitting in is emotional labor
I couldn’t be more chilled - there’s a ‘work’ me,
who knew? Like a LinkedIn survival skill.
It must be a very recessive gene.
Adulthood happens without my consent,
like old iTunes agreements no one read.
Sooner or later we must all face the
unsparing proposition of working
- the need beneath it is adult and real.
Not money, in my case, something bigger,
something I must approach indirectly.
The wheel of life may spin quite wildly, but
ultimately, it lands on consequence
.
.
A song for this
kid by everything but the girl
kid by the pretenders
The rose showed one face to the world.
I believed that face for a long time.
What I could not grasp at first
was never harmless.
I saw only one side.
The rest escaped me.
It stayed hidden
until much later.
I trusted the rose enough to hold it.
The thorns seemed unimportant then.
But some wounds come quietly,
And leave a mark behind.
What started as a scratch
Became more than it appeared.
The wound was easy to hide,
But difficult to forget.
Tears came more often than before.
Some days brought it back.
I tried to move on,
But it stayed behind.
The rose still stands as it always has.
People still lingered near it.
No one sees what lies beneath,
Until it shows itself.
The thorn did not leave just one wound.
It returned more than once.
Each mark stayed a little longer,
and it lingered.
I noticed the flower first.
Little else caught my attention.
The rest came later,
By then… the thorn had done its work.
Not every rose is the same.
Some pain keeps the shape of where it started.
Think twice and drink responsibly.
All choices lead down a certain path.
Be prepared for their consequences.
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: 1st place 2026
Concealing a dagger's not legit
even if not intending to use it
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
Halls of justice full of gloom
criminals and victims in every room
Some hide their face, others sly
Glaring at others with a stink eye
Guilty and innocent, a mix of fears
Torment is pacing, verdicts bring tears
A silent witness, no words has thee
invisible to all, but large eyes do see
Who are the guilty, in justice hall
Ode to be a the fly on the wall.
once this vacuous void
stood aimless and wild –
now mindless and violent
I was looking at a dying man who was asking me for a stone I had in my pocket. He wanted it to survive, but he was a sinner—because a book said he made fun of people and abused them. I watched him grow pale and wondered: should I help him because of his situation, or let him die because of his deeds? Then I thought, why should I care? And I continued walking along the footpath.
There comes that day, inevitable day
when God will have had enough.
When His promises, humans overstay
hence, He will have his rebuff.
God's covenants come with a consequence
as we humans play the fool.
His forgiveness appraises disobedience;
and He governs with sovereign rule.
Is it selfish to pray, "Lord, Jesus, come
to take your children home"?
Such brings the destruction of earth's kingdom;
yet shall tribulation convert some?
Away with the pretense of our praise;
God knows the song of our hearts,
His justice rolls as the rivers raise,
judgment will stream as His Spirit departs.
I light the match
And watch the flame flicker.
The flame is bright,
A beautiful blue, orange and yellow.
I know that if I touch this flame
I’ll be burned. Perhaps scarred.
But as I stare at this dancing flame
All I can think of is the beauty.
So I reach out with my other hand,
Slowly, tentatively, purposefully.
But then I stop, look at the flame.
And I think about what I’m doing.
Then I drop the match.
I watch the flame, stare at it.
In the back of my mind hoping I don’t get burned.
CONSEQUENCES inevitable effect of everyday events
What worthy upshot holds in store
is integrity which counts for more.
"Hoping all your consequences are happy ones."
Bob Barker on Truth or Consequences
Mediacraft attacks could conclude
if words split wrong from right.
Grace and mercy would grant latitude
but truth would upend the fight.
Worthy upshot holds much in store
yet, integrity is worth much more
Worthy upshot
worthy upshot
would find mediacrats ending word wars
for lying is moral turpitude, depravity, sin.
But who finds truth absolute anymore?
Can you hear consequence? Is it calling?
Will we ever turn to face the weather?
Hush little lamb; all your senseless bawling.
Blinded by our choices; a braided tether.
Striding in cadence with the bellwether.
We’ll soon have to answer; all together.
So often, I contemplate
The extraordinary consequence of being
Beholding majesty of dawn
In quilted colors, salmon blush and coral pink
When laced with morning blue, I think
How can I explain the world, its beauty unsurpassed
And my ability to see
What I can’t fully understand
When tasting of the fruits at hand
Of cherries red or grapes of violet vine
To still the wine that teases thirsty lips
Why and how, I can’t explain
So then again I ponder, how it is that I remain
To bear the fragrance of the night
When sunset in its splendor kisses a magenta sky
To yield forever souvenirs
Listening through my eager ears to graceful melody
Be it Whip-poor-will or Lark
As they pierce the lonely dark
I still can’t comprehend
And yet my hands extend
To sense the purity, the brush of velvet snow
To compliment all that I am seeing
To boast the consequence of being
I almost died, for loving
who didn't love me...
But I revived, in love for
who just loved me for...
I almost died looking
inconsequential loves...
For life undoubtedly
happens in this plot:
we live for the best, and
for the worst that we feel...!
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