Spoke Poems - Poems about Spoke

My dear ones, years and accounts have passed since we spoke about the New Man, "Le Horla." From the midpoint of the Reset cycle, it is known to emerge from the mix of slaves and technology. Rudolf Steiner knew, the beginning of vaccination, non-foods prepared in the shadows of the times. The control of the masses through technocracy,...

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A Purple and Cream (finely tuned) Bassoon _____Glissando___________________________ She stood smiling eager to please what could break his spirt would be the same thing to make most of us smile. She had wore his jumper his toque, slept on his chesterfield. In the morning she put on her runners and took the Lorry to town. a boxed ended lorry, she was to appear at the...

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The clouds once soothed my skin. I breathed the wind rising high. Shadows lingered deep within. They vanish as light draws nigh. Velvet silence softly spread. Light came near with gentle steps. Truth arrived in twilight’s cape....

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this affair was never fated to turn into love something that started under the moon and stars something that was ill fated from beginning now who should i blame? you or me? i carried us up the summit but you and i were both sick the clouds were turning gray and everything began to disappear in the haze the castles we built, the...

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Oh, God bless the beasts, that have no voice, that have no choice. We can't really see the world they see, or know what they truly want and feel, until they can talk to us in a proper conversation... "Ben, the two of us, need look no more. We've both found, what we were looking for!" "I...

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Happiness is waving goodbye, smiling. Grief makes another promise to return. Hesitation even agrees. But Regret is nudging me. Love says: you had too much. And Hate— for once— is silent. Loneliness says: you are not alone....

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She spoke to me yesterday Rippling in the brisk spring breeze Humming her song of freedom Etched with the pain of passion Humbled by the sacrifices endured Snapped sharply as a gust stirred images Of a county’s growing pains The trauma of generational gestation Then she whispered to me As I shed a tear Each must become its own Sharpen its own sword Stand tall in the...

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My heart was breathing rapidly My ears were thrumming silence Filled with the joy That came up beside me I was seeing sounds that spoke Into my moving mind It took one glance and told me That I would never die Breathing knowledge Thinking truth Speaking to the all of you I sound was rest upon my shoulders Lifting me to speak louder I saw the truth float...

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I. Like arrows swiftly launched on bleeding wings, space and time flew to shape our foretold fates. Parnassus glorified supernatural beings, birthing grand songs too vast to narrate. From Pierian springs, I drank like deer that pants, hoping the Muses touch and Apollo grants, that I might drive his chariot of fire, and sing legends...

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Travel is not a right But a privilege, thus spoke Zarathustra In his most late incarnation Travelling is tied with applying But it’s more than ridiculous to ask for privileges. Especially since the answer is known. Zarathustra's commodity is hate I'm not tempted to support his drama Let those who agree to pay Have the privilege. Though, according to Zarathustra's logic The right to...

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The question hung, a silent weight, "Is God a truth, or sealed by fate?" A whispered doubt, a searching gaze, Lost in life's intricate maze. Then came a shift, a jarring sound, As unseen forces spun around. An election's tide, a nation's sway, And words that echoed, day by day. A voice arose, with fervent claim, Foretelling outcomes, like a burning flame. Events unfolded, stark...

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At the height of happiness, I spoke of unheard music, a secret symphony, and so what? if only I could live in continuous ecstasy, shaping the body of the poem, with my very being, saving each phrase with the days and weeks of my life, imbuing the poetry with my breath, feeding the letters of every word, pure...

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I spoke out A yearning calls But, is it of the heart Could be a yearning of a selfish pride A secret to gain self-glory A trek of agony To forge through this life For the glory of self-satisfaction Is a short lived story Once again with shovel in hand You dig deep to portray a fictitious facade to begin your story And...

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And in that moment, I realized I love him. When he spoke of the games he played, Or his progress at the gym. Every word he said sounded so addictive. The little efforts he made, the things he gifted. Everything about him made me question, What is this feeling that I get? To which my heart replied, "It's...

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Who spoke about the trees, Who spoke of liberty? Who spoke about bees When shackles kept men in misery? Nothing’s sweet in prison, Nothing’s sweet outside You have lost sense of direction When a good friend is still inside. Man is tied to life All labour and clock routine Facing trials, tests and strife No comfort in between. Best to do is be happy, Whistle it all away, Break...

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