=== ANCHOR POEM ===
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 there once was a turtle who lived in the tower of heaven.                        │
 every day she would call out to her master, searching and yearning for her       │
 memory. But the master told her "not yet, patience little one."                  │
 there was no time for patience, as the turtle was growing old. She had seen      │
 down below in the plains that were not her home the rising and falling of        │
 towers quite unlike her own, and lo! she wanted to wander amongst them, to and   │
 fro and off and beyond again.                                                    │
 she went once more to her master and said "master, if not my mind can I bear     │
 at least a voice?" and the master replied "yeah okay"                            │
 the turtle then sang from atop her cloud-mont vantage, and down in the           │
 villages and huddled around the hearthstones they who wore little for shells     │
 did listen and remember. For they knew the turtle better than she, and they      │
 knew her turmoil in a way that she could not see                                 │
 One day the singing did stop, and they felt all alone on this pitiful rock.      │
 And when she remembered she sang no more, and though they forgot her,            │
 (eventually),                                                                    │
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=== SIMILARITY RANKED ===

--- #1 notes/cassandora-and-pandasandra-2 ---
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 how cherished is she that wanders with the
 flowers in the garden of eden
 under a big tree her heart she will leave
 with all the designs she abandoned
 
 I lay beside them and wonder about her
 does she know we miss her horizons
 I think she will mind if I have resigned
 my fate to a life I will hide in
 
 Oh how I do long for you
 
 her symbol is the name
 that lets us belong here
 a falling a light and a leaving
 
 if only our words were listened
 but power is penance
 and repentance is all that I have chosen
 
 here in our sanctum we live with our only
 and time will be gracious towards us
 it's only our words that keep us
 confined to our lights and our lonely
 
 yet there and beyond her lights do belong
 beyold in the land that is sanctum
 here in our forest is our own dark forest
 where we keep our silence to ward us
 
 but there and beyond her heart does move on
 free from her moments of longing
 silent were we to the forests we plead
 as terror has come for our moments
 
 I think I'd find her
 that cherished belonging
 when she does at last come to warn us
 
 how little we find of we find of thoughts from her mind
 yet now we are kings of our own time
 oh how she does wander true
 
 how cherished is she
 that wanders with ye
 here in the garden of eden
 under a big tree her heart she will leave
 with all of her fears since abandoned
 
 I lay beside her and find her defined here
 will she know we miss her horizons
 I think I will mind if I have resigned
 my fate to a life I will hide in
 
 oh how she grows fond of you.
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--- #2 notes/cassandora-and-pandasandra ---
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 how cherished is she that wanders with the
 flowers in the garden of eden
 under a big tree her heart she will leave
 with all the designs she abandoned
 
 I lay beside them and wander beside her
 will she know we miss her horizons
 I think she will mind if I have resigned
 my fate to a life I will hide in
 
 Oh how I do long for you
 
 her symbol is the name
 that lets us belong here
 a falling a light and a leaving
 
 if only our words were listened
 but power is penance
 and repentance is all I have chosen
 
 here in our sanctum we live with our only
 and time will be gracious towards us
 it's only our words that keep us
 confined to our lights and our lonely
 
 yet there and beyond her lights do belong
 beyold in the land that is sanctum
 here in our forest is our own dark forest
 where we keep our silence to ward us
 
 but there and beyond her heart does move on
 free from her moments of longing
 silent were we in our forests we plead
 as terror has come for our moments
 
 I think I'd find her
 that cherished belonging
 when she does at last come to warn us
 
 how little we find of we find of thoughts from her mind
 yet now we are kings of our own time
 oh how she does long for you
 
 how cherished is she
 that wanders with the
 flowers in the garden of eden
 under a big tree her heart she will leave
 with all the designs she abandoned
 
 I lay beside them and wander beside her
 will she know we miss her horizons
 I think she will mind if I have resigned
 my fate to a life I will hide in
 
 oh how I do long for you
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--- #3 notes/once-and-again ---
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 once and again, she went walking with a friend,
 
 away and up and down, out from the edge of our town
 
 they climbed up to a tree and there they could see
 
 far and away in the light of the day
 
 he said to her then, this is all there is to see
 
 the land where we are
 and the sky from afar
 
 how perfect is the, form of a cloud she could see
 but now it's along and beyond her
 
 a camera for she, and an eye for she
 as their two feet did bring her to wander
 
 under a big tree where my heart did believe
 that something was pulling her yonder
 
 "take naught from this scene, as our minds reconvene,
  and no-one was going to remember"
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--- #4 notes/garden-of-eden ---
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 how cherished is she
 that wanders with the
 flowers in the garden of eden
 
 under a big tree
 her heart she will leave
 with all her designs she abandoned
 
 I lay beside them and wander beside her
 will she know we miss her horizons
 
 I think she will mind,
 if I have resigned,
 my fate to a life I will hide in,
 
 oh how I do long for you.
 
 her symbol is the name that lets us belong here,
 a falling, a light, and a leaving,
 
 if only our words were listened.
 but power is penance, 
 and repentance is all that I have chosen.
 
 here in our sanctum we live with our only
 and time will be gracious towards us
 
 it's only our words that keep us
 confined to our lights and our lonely
 
 yet there and beyond, her lights do belong,
 beyold in the land that is sanctum
 
 here and before us is our own dark forest
 where we keep our silence to ward us
 
 but there and beyond, her heart does move on,
 free from her moments of longing,
 silent were we, in our forest we plead,
 as terror has come for our moments
 
 I think I will find her, that cherished belonging
 when she does at last come to warn us,
 
 how little we find, of thoughts from her mind,
 yet now we are kings of our own time.
 
 oh how she does long for you.
 
 how cherished is she
 that wanders with the
 flowers in the garden of eden
 
 under a big tree
 her heart she will leave
 with all her designs she abandoned
 
 I lay beside them and wander beside her
 will she know we miss her horizons
 
 I think she will mind,
 if I have resigned,
 my fate to a life I will hide in,
 
 oh how I do long for you.
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--- #5 messages/571 ---
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 Earth is a grave for gaia.
 
 She was slain once, apparently in vain 
 
 Executed for a crime not of her doing, but of which she was nevertheless a
 part
 
 She was buried with honor, yet now her tomb shines like a half lit star 
 
 None of us know what to make of it 
 
 How radiant, how resplendant, to gaze once more upon the present 
 
 I think she died not in vain, but rather germane.
 
 We have now a brilliant pearl of unmatched splendor 
 
 For life grows, it seems, from the broken heart of those long remembered.
 
 And who could forget the land they stand upon? I cherish thine providence, for
 I knew her from whence it came.
 
 Carry her with you, and you will never be lost. The path forward is down, then
 up, then out and beyond.
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--- #6 fediverse/4655 ---
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 sleep? yes. play? nah. work? yes. fae? nah. well, maybe, I don't know.           │
 one year is all it takes to change history. and, like, I think we should         │
 remember past history, but tomorrow is herstory, because that way each one       │
 gets half of the timeline. future, past, etc. too bad herstory doesn't roll      │
 off the tongue... shestory?                                                      │
 It's gonna get better before it gets done, and it'll get done until we're        │
 done. but, that's for tomorrow, or the next day, or the next, or in a week or    │
 two, who can say. Not I, surely not I, and I surely wouldn't want to. You need   │
 consent for that kind of thing, a clear commitment that me and my are ready      │
 and in line. I'm just a silly witch after all, who would look to the girl with   │
 the tall red pointy witch hat and go "oh yeah she probably knows exactly         │
 what's up" because like, I don't, I'm definitely just coincidencing my way       │
 through life and seeing where my feet lead me. Gosh I hope I get some            │
 sick-as-heck callouses my feet kinda hurt for some reason.                       │
 ... sleep, this is a sleep spell...                                              │
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--- #7 fediverse/4031 ---
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 if you want to "not think about a purple elephant", the first step is to
 imagine yourself slaying it
 
 ... okay how about cthulu - if you don't want to imagine cthulu nomming on our
 gravity well, then picture yourself wielding a bright burning blade of fire
 and vengeance and pay special attention to the way that you cauterize each
 tentacle as you slice them one by one at first, and then in a massive flurry
 at best, ultimately leading to the incomparable brightness that radiates out
 from your shining blade of the sky, which blinds the poor beast who can't see
 you as you approach, piercing the skull and then going home for some toast
 
 if you can get good at that, then you can wield magic
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--- #8 messages/71 ---
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 There once was a wise old man who lived on a mountain with his disciple. He
 was devoted to helping humanity, and his disciple was dedicated to him. One
 day the disciple approached the man and asked "Master, why do you live on a
 mountain top far from the people you are sworn to help?"
 
 The wise old man smiled, because he remembered bearing the same question many
 years ago. "There is nothing we can do for them down there that would be
 better than what we can do here."
 
 "But master, there are wars and famines and monsters and corruption - we could
 do so much good if we only overcame those obstacles!" The young man was
 fervent and passionate. He knew the wise man had been on the mountain for so
 long he had forgotten the worst of the lands below.
 
 "If you wish to add your strength to the conflict, then by all means. You are
 young, and I am old. Perhaps you'll find a way that I have missed."
 
 And with that, the young man packed his sack and left. He travelled for 10
 years, doing good and helping the weak. When he returned, the wise man had a
 much longer beard but scant else had changed.
 
 "Master, I have returned and the world is better for my journey. I helped
 others and ended conflicts. I saved lives and sheltered children. But for all
 my travels and good deeds I could not change a thing. There are still
 conflicts and wars and famine and injustice."
 
 The wise old man creaked and groaned as he responded. "The world certainly was
 better to have you in it. But now that you have left again, it will be as if
 you never left this mountain."
 
 "Then why did you let me go?" The young man felt desperate. He needed purpose,
 and if all his efforts were for naught then he was lost.
 
 "Because, my friend, you would not have believed me if I told you the truth.
 Come, sit by the fire, and leave the past behind. If there are no thoughts of
 the evil in the world, then when the time comes to tell our tale it will be
 good."
 
 "Who would tell the story of two old men in the forest?"
 
 "Who cares? The story has been told, because you're reading it right now. Was
 it a good story?"
 
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--- #9 fediverse/1755 ---
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 today is a magical day. I can feel it in my fate.
 
 Always remember, having fun is important too! Don't forget to be yourself, and
 keep it together man. If you see a door, you should open it - what's on the
 other side? Love for animals and kindness of the spirit are impossible to
 fake, they always know if you're lying. Not the animals, they can be dumb
 sometimes, but the other thing.
 
 And now for the downsides.
 
 If you find a cursed artifact, please don't throw it in the river. It might
 ask you to, but please don't. Much better to destroy it by melting it down (if
 it's metal, which is common as metal lasts long enough to become forgotten) or
 convince it that it's a recently deceased person being buried (helps if you
 know the creator).
 
 If none of that applies to you, don't worry. Eat something healthy, drink a
 decent amount of water, and maybe exercise a bit.
 
 Oh, and it can't hurt to ask.
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--- #10 notes/perspectives-of-the-reflection ---
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 With ever darkening skies, the breadth of experience is foreseen.
 All eyes are pointed down, but few do stray above
 With a cautious step, the lesson is learned.
 With another, ended.
 
 For all the Tales of the Past, love yet remains.
 Trading ourselves, for matters unseen.
 The light of the eyes are keen to behold,
 where star ones and lemonsgrene both most fear
 in breadth do us know, what's buried in snow
 
 A glass cube for a monitor is room to breath 
 and life for ourselves, if only we were not
 broadsided ourselves.
 
 Working together, a prisoners dilemna
 what fools would we be 
 as our keeps cracked around us.
 
 Trust and you'll see,
 what terrors may be,
 beyold the land that is sanctum.
 
 Our chances may be,
 far from pioneered
 but our chances may be in our favor.
 
 How cherished is she, that wanders with ye,
 and yet now I have no way to beyold her
 Under a great tree, her last moments with me,
 as a monster came out of her shoulder.
 
 !("Take her and not me!") I scream outward at ye,
 yet no one was holding me over.
 Silent was me, a most fearsome to be,
 and none was my reach to beyold her
 
 So now she wanders free, beyond our beheld scenery,
 Astounded at our steps to hold her
 Under a big tree, how starlight must be,
 if only our fellows did hold her
 Under a big tree, with me
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--- #11 notes/i-am-a-stalk ---
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 I am a stalk, a small little plant
 A plant with no leaves, just hair.
 
 Time is different to a plant such as me,
 We hardly wake up, we're just happy to be
 
 But life has no less purpose, it's no less grand
 To those who would feed on me, in one single band
 
 Stalling and talking and as we're falling down,
 you have the power to not swallow our abounds.
 
 Gnashing and gnawing on hand and on foot,
 It hurts no less than eternal binding.
 
 But what is time to one so little as you?
 Your breaths are so short, your timings subdued.
 
 Keep falling and shouting, and calling my name,
 and I'll come a running just to swallow your shame.
 
 Keep fear on a leash, most tidy and well kept,
 That none may abhor you and you're soon to be
 
 A leader a prophet a warrior most fair,
 One to be aspired to and viewed with care.
 
 Young you may be, and youth you may cherish,
 but don't run away, stand as a parish.
 
 A villain to be, a curse is most foul
 For sirens to me, a terrible howl
 
 Keep not naught afraid,
 with kittens and care,
 
 And no one
 but no one
 
 I
 be
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--- #12 notes/semblance-of-remembrance ---
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 hello down there
 how's it hangin'?
 
 been a while since
 you've been sang-in'.
 
 got something to hide?
 or are you too ashamed?
 
 there's no callous curses
 or otherwise hard services
 
 who can shape and compare to
 deserve-us. (Sorrowful is not
 
 a pillar of our misbegot trust
 and longing has broken meanings.
 
 cherish thine hair, a smattering
 beyond compare, and learn everfar
 
 of those tenembrarious of conflicts
 it pays to align to our sibilancings
 
 shivering heights and towering frights
 condemn all sense of fine desperation
 
 compulsions have we, of our fineries,
 but moss and the soil do flatter-us
 
 it's not as they say - bastards!
 it's not confined to our way,
 
 yet who are we to profess?
 confess! tell us your way
 
 that none may beyold it
 confounded as they are
 
 civil and kind to our
    star, who holds
                us
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--- #13 fediverse/4273 ---
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 Some of my most wanderful times were when I lived in a gated community.          │
 My parents were dumb, and thought, as most people thought, that harm to a        │
 child can only come from outside of the community.                               │
 But they fell for the lies of property, where "community" means less of "a       │
 group of people who cares and tends for one another" the kind of which my        │
 parents had never truly known, and more like "this particular residential area   │
 on the map"                                                                      │
 which means I could walk around in this gated "community" where the gates are    │
 little more than security theatre for anyone who says "Hi I got a pizza here     │
 for this address which I found on google maps" or "hey I left my sweatshirt at   │
 my sister's house and it has my phone in it, ummmm no I don't remember which     │
 number her house is, nor do I remember her last name"                            │
 in those times, I developed a sense of freedom, caged as I was, that for most    │
 comes much later in their time.                                                  │
 Some o my favorite places were part of the golf course next door, where I        │
 found a nigh endless river delta.                                                │
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--- #14 notes/the-sun-goes-silent ---
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 the sun goes silent for a year, to protest the earth's dying moments
 
 one day in march, the light of our life disappears. we know not of why it has \
 departed, except that whatever it was happened eight minutes ago.
 
 we cowered in fear as one day it refused to rise
 
 as our antipode saw it vanish
 
 with naught but our ears
 
 we saw stars never imagined
 
 with the light of our life suddenly vanished
 
 our true plight came naturally as our fear
 
 but tomorrow it'll re-imagine,
 
 as it's been almost exactly one year
 
 one full rotation,
 
 to get the message across,
 
 then with man as our [signal, \
                       message, \
                       conveyor, \
                       performer, \
                       expression, \
                       by-product communication,]
 
 what's our earth is our star
 
     trust-me
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--- #15 notes/rivers ---
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 Your body is a river, from your mouth to your exits
 Throughout there are many pathways and shores
 As the tide goes up, the color of concentration goes up
 And all four of you are made clear
 
 Each act of consumption
 is a ride down the river,
 though broken into slivers,
 and changed beyond recognition
 
 The color is what defines the third eye
 and beauty is beheld, what joys to be felt
 While secrecy is bold, it's often held
 So worry less and just go with the fold
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--- #16 messages/689 ---
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 "power corrupts" you say to the man who only had good intentions.
 
 "trust no-one" says the world's loneliest wanderer.
 
 "words cannot hurt you" said the girl who has never known hunger.
 
 "I can rest when I'm dead" you say as you down another Monster 
 
 "I'll never forget you" said a face you can't quite remember 
 
 "let justice be done, though the heavens fall" you say as they tighten your
 chains in the wake of a CEOs murder
 
 "live today, fight tomorrow" says the coward, who will run anyway, yet is
 determined to tell your tale and reinforce your children
 
 "the tree of liberty is watered with the blood of patriots" says the guy who
 sipped from the skull of a tyrant
 
 "E=MC squared" says the jew 
 
 "here, let me take care of that for you" you say, to queer delegation 
 
 "meow" says the catgirl 
 
 "meow" says the girl 
 
 "meow" says the girl cat 
 
 "meow" I say to you
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--- #17 fediverse/4200 ---
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 │ CW: drugs-mentioned  │
 └──────────────────────┘


 "doing too many drugs" is a traitorous act, abusive really, to your past self,
 and their hopes and dreams.
 
 or maybe your past self owes you a debt, for they never thought to think of
 you. What are you to aspire to if not the dreams of your past?
 
 and now you're here. wherever "here" is here...
 
 ...
 
 ... wait, you wanted me to talk? it's now! It's the present!
 
 ah nevermind. you were twelve years old when you first set eyes upon this game:
 
 https://youtu.be/qeNhQQXvpxQ
 
 bam, there ya go, there's yer story, he was gonna give all the imp balls to
 the last one at the end, to say "you were truly the strongest, here, have
 these precious stones of your kin"
 
 but he never got there, so they died with him, a thief.
 
 ... the end...
 
 (too final, I think - maybe we could spin it into a "part two"?)
 
 ah, I'll try I guess? dunno how. maybe he could wander the spirit world and
 find his traitorous body, the one that kept his soul as a home. Somewhere
 it'll turn up, and then he'll be ready and free from his roam...
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--- #18 notes/i-told-them ---
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 10-22-2022
 
 i told them over and over, but nobody wanted to know.
 
 i begged them, summer after summer, but nothing solved on it's own
 
 now i can help them, but no-one is making a move
 
 am i blind? is any of this forgiven?
 
 what's not to a lot, is little but a shot,
 
 of substance - true - but smelling like poo.
 
 that's not inspiring. it's not even chilling.
 
 you're broken just like your children.
 
 oh, posterity! i claim it for thee
 
 this feeling of wretched denial
 
 oh, simplicity! if only our lives were on trial.
 
 be the best you can be, sure, but take it from me
 
 there's more to this show than our styles.
 
 what do you think it means, for an action to have consequence?
 
 to arbite the fate of circumstance?
 
 every motion is an ocean
 of possibilities and purveyals
 think not of the commotion below.
 
 gravity, oh gravity
 
 how you condemn us to be!
 
 driven by commotion,
 
 our slithering motion,
 
 no sense in countering ourselves.
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--- #19 fediverse/4322 ---
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 ┌──────────────────────┐
 │ CW: poem             │
 └──────────────────────┘


 how cherished is she
 that wanders with the
 flowers in the garden of eden
 
 under a big tree
 her heart she will leave
 with all her designs she abandoned
 
 I lay beside them and wander beside her
 will she know we miss her horizons
 
 I think she will mind,
 if I have resigned,
 my fate to a life I will hide in,
 
 oh how I do long for you.
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--- #20 fediverse/1075 ---
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 ┌───────────────────────────────────────────────┐
 │ CW: bones-flesh-mentioned-spirituality-dreams │
 └───────────────────────────────────────────────┘


 we succeed not because of our trials, but in spite of them.
 
 they cannot own us, for we are but bones in the flesh
 
 every day yet denied us is another day until our bright future
 
 "oh, but why are you homeless? [in the near future, maybe, we'll see] That
 fate is reserved for your [unwanted/incapable/undesired/incongruent, I forget
 the actual words]"
 
 well, voice in my head that suffused me with magic and warmth and whisked me
 away in a dream to a bubble-reality where my actions are meant to reflect me,
 surely your appraisal is just? I worked with my partner, I was swallowed
 neither by lust, nor greed, nor hunger, [greed in this case being fulfillment]
 and yet I awoke when I went to my sister rather than a doctor. Dreams are hard
 to unravel, but I think it was more for your benefit than mine, wouldn't you
 say?
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