The Copy
If I close my eyes hard and open them again
I can see the cosmos as an enormous expansion without borders
If I continue the journey. I will eventually meet
a globe like ours, a copy in every detail, like the creator
wanted to make sure I got it right
Then suddenly I'm in my copy's living room, looking
like me in glorious detail, even the bald spot
is displayed without hesitation, and my spine feels cold
If I'm a copy, I will accept that, even though I wish
I was the real thing
The doorbell rings, I get up, open the door, and it's the café
man delivering lunch, I pay him with crumbled notes
in my pocket, and think, for my own sake, that no one else
will have the same disregard for money; suddenly, I'm
Back in my own room, remember time is timeless
She used the incerating toilet to dispose of the horse dung.
it inspired someone to create an incinerater
for cattle , horse and pet waste.
the ashes could be used in mulch.
He titled it.
"Materails to Colonize Space'
the secrets of establish a colony in space.
they often dumped that dung into the old
hand-dug outhouses.
covering the dung with sawdust
so the oder wouldn't
ofend the next user.
But this idea ould be patented and alot of money could be made
by helping a lot of people do this thing.
It seemed a novel and humane way of thinking.
Written by: the Inventor and Salesperson
Language Of Patents
rights and processes
disclaimers and terms
maintenance fee'
priority and pending
variations like patent terms
esperson Sterculius or Stercutus
Patent Pending
+++++ResoLute+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++==++++++++++++++++++++++++++++The guy who creates the elastic snap-on strap for pants to make pants waist expand and contract to your size
will be one wealthy suiter!+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Futzing with an American flag hat
There’s a story
A history
He doesn’t want to share
Yet he’s proud
He wipes his chin
And sighs
His body is hobbled
With years of injuries
And drinking
His wife’s voice is shaky
She’s been taking care of him
And it’s tiresome
It’s constant
Their conversation is minimal
Small talk
Like strangers
Doctors appointments
Drug stores
It’s a hamster wheel
In his early days he was a man of steel
Now its just a callous of how he feels
Copy paper of his life was once bare
Now filled with regrets he can’t bare
What would be left of me, no one will notice
I’m not lamenting, for I take it as a fun
My life’s astray now, floating like a lotus
Sometimes it buzzes round the flowers in the sun
Along the quiet shady waters goes my shadow
The way meanders up the hill a bit too steep;
Then it descends down to your grassy meadow
Where we picked up forget-me-nots in happy sleep
Oh, what a joy! - you sang that song so sweetly
And I was clapping, trying to sing along
Boxed down and gone, we never die completely
I'm glad to know we’re finally at home
Its no more than a dream, this whole lifespan
One dream is over, then another comes to play
I am a carbon copy of that man
You used to know, and you’re exactly like my J.
Senator Terms
As elected to Senate
Non preside
Obstruction is time observing Senate
Testimony of leadership is illiterate command of identity language and breach of security
Formal protocol for debriefing advance of intelligence
Financial terrorism acts
Senator Kennedy has the floor in his Senate term
War Room Broadcast
Free Speech literacy requirements
Asm Irwin
Why is the homeless apartments in our county in fraud court to be removed from Senate hearing and converted to profitable runs on the bank while dying poor justice is recorded?
#berniesanders #elizabethwarren #cagovernor #asmirwin #repbrownley #tonybiasotti #nytimes #bbcnews #dailymirror #declanwalsh
I am a purple crayon in a box of pink
or so I think.
I steal the words of my brothers
only to claim them as mine to others.
Do I contain anything that is unique?
I am very quick to critique
someone else's words
when I am the one most absurd.
It is easy to live in this dream
when my ego is this extreme.
Is it obvious to all around
that I am not a king with a crown?
I am a phony for sure
not one with a heart that is pure.
Copy and paste can be detrimental if used in the wrong place
Such as posting and plagiarizing poems from another’s space
The time and energy it may take to search for poems to steal
It is a waste of time if you’re not going to be authentic and real
It’s also a crime to take credit for stolen art, poems or any other copied matter
And only a matter of time before a lawsuit may be served from a silver platter
It must be a type of severe mental illness or some type of character flaw
To want to claim poems as yours, that are not, is against the law
It would behoove you to think before you continue to copy and paste and post
We are on to your shenanigans and the deceitful liars are despised the most
Please remove your pathetic copied and pasted posts and leave our page
Because your reputation, integrity and legal recourse may be a lot to wage
Salt a gin and tonic,
It’s too dry.
Assault my temple with sin,
Be honest,
You like the rye.
Look me in my honest eye,
Conversations with myself are the fondest,
Because no one understands me better when I rhyme.
Took a pen and across the paper it slides,
Scribble out the oddest lines.
Apply pressure to the page,
Trickle out ink until the pen has died.
Wet ink is promised to eventually dry,
But tomorrow isn’t promised,
For some reason I can’t help but question why?
After four portions of Moët fine wine,
I tend to think of life as if it’s all just a waste of time.
If tomorrow could be withdrawn then what’s the point of the “grand design”?
If tomorrow I wake up past dawn,
Should I consider myself only one step closer to dying?
Don’t overstep,
The temple has redrawn the walls and implores you to walk within the lines.
It’s not perfect,
But nothing’s wrong with second best.
When it stops hurting,
In comes walking Sudden Death.
We can’t always be our very best,
Attempting perfect,
It feels like burning,
The scars left behind showcase regret.
I’m a digital copy and so are you
We are digital implementations
Into the world of alternative view
Sharing our endless vacations
Once we appeared there, so we remain
Still I can hear your voice
We are the spirit that flies on again
Over the land of our choice
Digital world seems a rescue for us
We can’t be exiled from this place
The house and garden we held in our hearts
A home, where we sit face to face.
Memories blossom like buds in a bed
So many flowers have grown
And more to come, as you always have said
Throwing Pippa’s blue ball on the lawn.
Please give it a read
This makes the brain grow and thoughts arise
They said, people stop thinking
When people stop reading
They said, rich people has big library
While poor people has big TV
They said, people reading book is dumbfounded
While people using gadget is getting dumber
They said, books are hard copy
While gadgets are soft copy
Well, I see them all as life's information.
"A writer must use ink from their heart for their readers." By Poet
Even as a creative "Ghost" writer,
we need "Heart" as we pull an all-nighter.
What will our muse want to "Deliver,"
maybe happy or sad or be a forgiver.
Words can sometimes be very "Tender,"
other times be bold and an offender.
"Erase" is one of our many tools,
no writer wants to be put in a group of fools.
Words are like paint painting the weather,
from days with flowers like pretty heather.
Summers can be really hot and bold,
then we cool off to a winter of "Cold."
They say our blood is really ink,
not red but a pretty pink.
"A true writer needs a heart to write with.
AI does Not have a heart, they can Not write they just copy."
Life is copy paste
Bashers have the same script
Demolition hate.
Search That Bus (6 Lines or Less) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Miranda Hawley
Hey gals and gents
Keep busing along every little step
From stop to stop every little step counts
Be following your ABC's
And crossing your T's
For no Amber gets left behind
Sub Categories
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