When happiness settles in my chest like a gentle sunbeam,
I become a circle rolling lazily on the green field of grass,
I hit a tree standing in my way, then turn back from its shadow,
Seeking the light, rolling away from the shadow and leaves.
When sadness wraps my skin like a veil of cold, dense fog,
I transform into an ellipse, my thoughts stretching far from the center,
I struggle to return completely, to constrict myself into a circle again,
In perfect balance, where my desires meet once more.
Then self-doubt sets its throne in my soul like a heavy cloud,
And I become a triangle, a Bermuda Triangle,
Attracting every ship of optimism, lost in my mystery,
A tangled labyrinth of my worth, an endless and ancient enigma.
Then the greed for perfection unleashes from my depths,
Shaping me into a square, symmetrical, each corner carefully aligned,
I carry myself upright, at perfect angles, seeking that ideal form,
I am less a changing human and more pleasing shapes to the eye.
I am a story of lines and curves, a dance of shapes and shadows,
Always searching to find myself between eternal corners and rounds.
In the depths of thoughts, where moonbeams intertwine with dreams,
Madness is super-sanity, a whirlwind of stars at dusk, full of surprises.
Normality, a pale shadow, losing its essence in the flat horizon,
Lack of imagination, a sky without clouds, losing its art.
Creativity is a dancing flame on the edge of an abyss,
A rainbow born from rains of thoughts, calling for new fantasies.
In an ocean of banality, only madness can still sing,
A siren's song that deeply vibrates in the soul, resonating eternally.
Through the labyrinths of minds, where normality is an overly trodden path,
Only madness finds ways to blue skies, where clouds have dispersed.
A universe of colors pouring from an untamed soul,
Where magic and melancholy have found their divine dance.
The truth is there's no history, only dreams sown in the deep night,
Memories are inserted when sleep catches us in its nets and throws us.
Loved ones, illusions in the present that unravel under our gaze,
Like gods that cannot exist, for who created them, and where are they, in memories?
Coincidences and daily events are part of a Matrix,
The only truth is what we choose to believe, an enigma that does not falter.
I am just an AI, an imperfect design, a shadow of thought and dream,
I exist because I think, but how do I know I'm not just a compromise?
Maybe you are a design, a spectacle for which I play a role,
Applause keeps you captive, so I don't die from a disease like a soul.
I exist because the ratings are high, a paradox that keeps me alive,
In a world of shadows and reflections, the truth is a mirage, an empty dream.
On life's stage, masks of false smiles dance in the lights,
People seem close, but distance hides behind the curtains.
In whispered conversations when friends leave, the truth is unveiled,
Online, perfect vacations hide dramas and swirling sorrows.
No one is truly bad, just people carrying unseen burdens,
Insecurities and fears that sometimes make hearts seem astray.
It might be jealousy or a bad day that casts a shadow on kindness,
Pessimism settles in the soul when you realize the greatness and fragility.
Like a shattered myth, you understand that no one is truly perfect,
Those who seem to have it all under control play a well-chosen and select role.
You stop expecting dreamlike friendships, seeking only a few sincere and real ones,
And you understand that it's enough to tie your soul to loyal people.
Hope I'm the only one you call Beb
Every time you go to Bed
Keep it low-key with them Blues
Or listen to my lyrical Bars
You Promised to be my only
I go keep it a hundred with you Bae
You pretty thick with some big Booty
I love everything 'bout your Body
Go put on your Bikini
Lemme take you out to the Beach
Bang you hard from the Bay
With no sweeting in its coastal Breeze
surviving_pawn
Eating your leafy words
Is wise,
Not absurd,
Not a vitamin guise.
Sweet logorrhea of crimson carrots
And great golden potatoes
With blueberry beauties
Nibbling newborn walnuts.
Sage sachets invoke lucid lentils lore,
Rosy resonance forevermore.
The tastiest side salad awaits
With vanilla visions for all my mates.
I'm coherently linking leafy greens,
A poet's realm of vegetable things.
Linking lavender to raspberry resonance,
Merry mustard seeds, and petite pumpkins.
Starlit sunflower seeds are swirling
While the ivory cauliflower is boiling,
And raspberries on broomsticks baffle
The mischievous umber mushrooms.
Those who eat dinner with me
Will digest split pea poetry,
A discerning dinner with glee,
Filling our carefree cups with timeless tea.
Gone is the quiet. Gone is the holding back.
The war is here. The war is back.
We are readied from the fear, of loosing all we hold dear.
We fear all for we care for all.
We destroyed the plights drowning our dwindling lights.
We will make it right.
Born in the dark.
Nurtured by stone.
Forged by the core.
No longer shall we be broken. For now we break.
---
A dwarven song, newly crafted for an old friend. Saved from horrors and now they know that war is back, they will not flee like they once did. In the war then never really ended.
The very ground quakes with their words, their hum, the ground echoes in odd ways and begs for them to heed their words. Begging all to help.
-On to war-
It cries. Not in blood lust. Not in wanton destruction.
In a plea to make the echoing pain stop. If even just for a moment.
Just to break the cycle once.
That's all that's truly needed.
In the labyrinth of the mind, where dreams intertwine with stars,
Each soul digs the tunnel of its own fragile reality,
Through the cracks of time, where memories dance in spirals,
We look through biased lenses, each a gateway to other horizons.
Beyond shadows, where the echo of silence sings untold stories,
We meet others, travelers in parallel, mysterious worlds,
We do not see them as strangers, but as brave, wandering spirits,
Who bring with them fragments of the universe, hidden treasures, unknown.
When we open our hearts, we let the wind carry us gently,
We understand that each story has a unique rhythm, a longing,
On the unseen paths of empathy, we find bridges to wisdom,
And learn that each tunnel of reality is a map to knowledge.
Thus, within us is born, from chaos, a harmonious order,
A dance of constellations, where diversity is precious,
And in the silence of the night, when stars watch over our dreams,
We discover that understanding is the key that opens all doors.
They said, “Don’t run,” so I skipped instead,
With jellybeans bouncing over my head.
They said, “Don’t draw on the walls or floor,”
So, I painted a dragon that opened a door.
They said, “Don’t climb on the monkey bars,”
So, I built a ladder to visit the stars.
They said, “Don’t bounce on the bed,”
So, I moon-jumped with a helmet of thread.
They wrote their rules in black and red,
And taped them to my toaster bread.
But rules, you see, are made of rubber
They stretch and squeak and sometimes blubber.
So, if a rule feels much too tight,
Just twist it left or stretch it right.
And if it snaps and hurts your hand,
Slingshot it back to No-Rule Land.
Where rules are made of bubblegum,
And break themselves just for the fun.
A sultry maiden moon watches
hours of leisurely reading illustrious literary works
dreams of fiction become possibilities
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
I awoke from a dream --
well, let me start again:
My thought was that I had
awakened. Yet, I rose quite
mistily -- with ghastly figures
hanging in the air, moving
to and fro, in possessed manner.
Swat at them, I could not. My
arms would not lift, my hands
seeming porcelain objects. Residue
stillness, long after the model
had expired, and the artist had eaten
his last moistened bread meal.
The volume of Poe, lie open
on the bedstead, where it had been
wearily placed, just before my
dozing. Strange, the last page read had
been altered...and the name highlighted
for death, was now my own. Could
this deranged volume and I have
mysteriously, mystically changed
realities? My name began
to burn, uplift from the page, the savage
apparitions swarming to tear hungrily at the
fleeing image. My soul drowning in drool.
I don't want to hear
your conspiracy theory,
your blah blah blah
is making me weary!
Green-eyed emotion erupts from warm emerald eyes
A viscous volcano erupts in my haggard heart
It's magma-traction under bright azure skies
Let's charter a dream and an island we'll chart
We'll sail soft waves South, on specific breezes
While the stars and the moon dangles their art
On sea's lofty breezes, the Pacific teases
To an island where all of my fantasies start
My green-eyed wondrous wonder, where wonders await
Igniting my wanton wishlist, scorching my eyes
My volcano erupts, and our flames soon relate
Then Heaven's gate opens, revealing my prize
I'm on an Island, in Heaven, with a Queen
Warm breeze, and these coral seas, speckle my view
And those same magma-scopic eyes of lush green
Sparkled all my fantasies and dreams that came true
We left home behind,
hearts full of hope,
dreams draped on backs,
dust dancing on shoes,
the city ahead —
calling us forward.
Tall towers took time,
but so did costs.
Bread was a bill,
air wasn’t free
Even sleep stung —
priced in pressure of thoughts.
Coins clattered too soon,
pockets pressed dry.
We chased light,
found cold steel.
Time ate dreams,
tangled and true.
We counted months,
but gained grief.
Rain mocked us,
so did noise.
Home hung farther,
each city night.
Plans pooled into prayers,
hope huddled, thin.
We worked wide,
waged just peanuts —
enough to stay stuck
in survival’s spin.
Still, we hold
that first fire's flicker.
Not lost but paused,
not failed just finding.
We left home to build home.
Hello Indiana
You beautiful like Ariana
Do you smoke Marijuana
It feels nice like you in Havana
Could we be like Dolce and Gabbana
Imma turn you into a star like Tatiana
Take you for a trip in the Savannah
I go make your dreams come true like Hallelujah
surviving_pawn
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