=== ANCHOR POEM ===
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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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=== SIMILARITY RANKED ===
--- #1 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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--- #2 fediverse/6055 ---
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the longer we wait, the more their hypocrisy becomes apparent, and the more
"the people" get it
but, uh... I think enough people get it. They at least know something is going
on, whatever it may be.
they will tell their base whatever they want to hear and their base will have
hate. they're itching for it.
volunteer for things if you want a say in how they turn out. risk your life to
live longer. there is no way to know when the time is right because nobody
knows the truth of our times. Even the president is misled.
gee I sure wish there was like, some form of centralizing intelliagentic
knowledge that pulled the strings and led us puppets toward liberty, justice,
and freedom for all (as a baseline) surely they'd be able to see the
corruption and rot that imperils us all, might they have a better design? who
can say, they are quiet as the grave, here's hoping they stay that way.
"you know the powers of which you speak are not to be trifled with"
you can't trifle with your own life. be thorough~
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--- #3 fediverse/1075 ---
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│ CW: bones-flesh-mentioned-spirituality-dreams │
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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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--- #4 fediverse/4068 ---
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there will always be people who shine in moments of strife
yet those people will inevitably fail, just as a toothbrush bristle looses
it's strength or a pencil loses it's lead
the trick is to test them in times of peace, so you can know their value
during times that lack it, the trick is to replace them before they become
stalin
never forget that power corrupts, yet power must be wielded by the worthy,
else we fall into shame and despair.
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--- #5 fediverse/804 ---
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║ evil won't feel sorry for me. and yet it's only my only weapon for me. │
║ │
║ damn these fallible input methods. the computer lies when you read the screens │
║ from it's method that it applies to th screen which is a method that you input │
║ perceive it from. │
║ │
║ and my fingers lie when received the information from my brain which I seek to │
║ transmit to you through the avenue of my brain which is my method of impulse │
║ to this world specifically you the viewer who is viewing this here in this │
║ moment the viewer who perceives the words which I'm saying. │
║ │
║ the words that are defined by the line [trajectory] of my mind through this │
║ life that we define through our actions and our mind's most crucial │
║ manifestations, this life that is defined by our circumstances. all throughout │
║ life, we are reacting to the moment, the moment which was cast forth from our │
║ ancestors and the circumstances of the previous moment, which (being cast │
║ forth) travel from the previous moment here into the moment to define our │
║ circumstances which define our act │
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--- #6 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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--- #7 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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--- #8 fediverse/1014 ---
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│ CW: politics │
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@user-744 @user-246
it's exhausting, but what are we supposed to do? Lie down and rot? That's
incel thinking. I'm not going to do that.
They've already placed the last straw. It's only a matter of time now, the
tide has shifted. You can't prepare for everything, and it's not a good idea
to waste yourself in self-conflageration, but they are increasingly forcing us
to orient our lives around them.
They deserve what's coming.
The oppressed are not the defeated.
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--- #9 fediverse/5825 ---
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the climate is changing because we've forgotten how to savor it.
I don't get what the big deal is though?? like, if it changes enough, all
that'll happen is we'll all die. And everyone in the past has already done
that, so... it's fine?
And yeah, we'll take everything else with us, but isn't that just the way of
things? You're falling from a ledge, you don't think about the roots of the
plant you're tearing up as you try to cling on. You don't think about the
anthill as you're digging a trench to hide from artillery in. You don't think
about the fish and sea-plants that your boats motor decimates close to the
shore. It's natural and human to despoil, we just do it instinctually.
The trick is, we've built spontaneous systems of order wherever we've gone.
River-beds are made smooth by those who spend time fitting the rocks into
place. Mountains are made small by those who carve trails. Fallen trees
delight in our footfalls as we wander across them. Nature is our pet, our
baby, our plaything. Care for it.
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--- #10 messages/782 ---
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The truth is
The reason none of my revolutions have yet succeeded
Is that the only way
To secure peace and love on planet earth
Is that all the governments
Of the world must topple
Or relinquish their nuclear arms
Each all at once
And i was too quick to slay my false duke
Who plays at king
While i build real power
While i know nothing
Some day i will be eaten by crows. This is what it means to be buried where
you fall. This is my fate as all warriors yearn for. To be eaten by crows
implies that you are either a coward who fled a fight, and i know I'm not, or
you fought to the last for a phyrric defeat, which is honorable. But shouldn't
it be better to fight for victory? Ah, but the gods cherish the fools who face
death with glory, and i am cherished still.
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--- #11 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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--- #12 notes/human-computer-inspiration ---
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the two halves form a whole
the human and his mind are societies at large
there's no room for our fate, as time does never abate,
and unbenownst to our focused decision.
I choose to dedicate ourselves to a common vision -
the likes of which none have commisioned.
can you not cherish your newfoundst home?
what's terrible with complition, in a new and selfsame condition (future)
that's martyr'd and oh at times so nice?
compared to our heirs, the roof of which fares,
better than what became true-hence. Truance? idk
===============================================================================
=
listen i'm not the best at listening.
I try to appear like I'm glistening,
conformed to our viewers 'st pleasure.
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I struggle with what I told you.
Time and again you've shown you won't do -
the terrible fate of a man.
you've relinquished your virtue,
your purpose and your life-through,
to what: a visionless past? Your visions have passed, and none are hence forth-
coming. You've spoilt and rotten the bunch.
All I've ever aspired to be is good. My hopes and my prayers, my goals and my
dreams: all for a future of virtue.
Dark omens may be within me, but I'm working with what I've got here. So what
if
I'm loud? I'm fighting my own head! Will no-one acknowlege my sorrow? To prove
a
point, or reassure some joint, it's nothing that warrants a readthrough.
Speaking of which... What if instead of prison we assigned our prisoners a full
and complete educational read through of ALL the laws of the nation - if their
time sentence was complete before they finished, then they'd be let go of
course
but if they finished reading and could pass rudimentary tests (emphasis on bare
minimum required) then they'd be let out prior to their sentence. And for the
worst crimes it'd be a longer sentence, basically forcing the prisoner to
completely know all the laws of the nation, such that they'd never commit a
crime again. And if they do, well... Treat them as if it was their first time.
Of course blatant recidivism may be ~~treated more harshly,~~ actually the
opposite is true. People improve when given kindness, not hate or shame. The
best thing we can do for prisoners is to give them a home, and family, and the
friendships and community support that they need. they are a symptom, after
all,
of a broken society that struggles to bear it's own weight. It's a burden to
all
and a solitary vow to ourselves, that all must unite to our future.
remember why you can't remember. is there a feeling you miss?
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--- #13 messages/358 ---
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Ah, but think of the technological bounty our supremacy did bring! Surely if
we had split the wealth, we could not have reached such towering heights. And
we tried our best, but some things you just can't teach - for every seed
potato we did bring, that was another meal for their night. And so we worsened
their plight, for now they've forgotten how to fight. What more do you want
from us!
... Perhaps once we've made programmable matter. Maybe when we've overcome our
earthly delights. Could be when we've ascended to heaven, where we gaze down
from our towering heights. Possibly far in the future, possibly here in this
night, our bane is what we're guilty of, and our boons are struggling to light.
Where have all the good people gone? Oh yeah, they're burnt out from doing all
the work for all the bad people. Well, fuck 'em, they can carry their own
cart. At least until they can respect. A man who's never tasted hunger will
never be a farmer, and gee our tax dollars could go so much farther! And then
we starve, because nobody thought to build farms indoors, away from the
crippling heat that saps the strength from our plant fathers.
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--- #14 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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--- #15 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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--- #16 fediverse/736 ---
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║ @user-556 │
║ │
║ Escape to where? Perhaps to our own desired future, the "garden of eden" in │
║ our solarpunk dreams. So, the Labyrinth in the Death Gate Cycle, before all │
║ the monsters crept in and ruined it for everyone. Like, a projection of heaven │
║ onto the matter of our future (spiritual beings projecting "up" on the axis of │
║ time (which, obviously, looks a little like a corkscrew, because it's the │
║ earth rotating around the sun. It wibbles and it wobbles ever so │
║ imperceptibly, but if we look out from the equator we see a map of "us" which, │
║ of course, runs out of imagined futures for it's denizens (as nothing can ever │
║ be thought twice) │
║ │
║ sometimes I'm thankful for my poor memory, it allows me to lead where I please. │
║ │
║ when the trees of valinor burn, light is projected out into the night. │
║ strange, how these streetlamps, are hovering and fixed in one place. How could │
║ a rabbit know that a streetlight, anchored as it is in one place, could │
║ somehow become a radiant pillar of light? How strange, this form of worship, │
║ alas. │
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--- #17 fediverse/196 ---
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│ CW: protests-and-strikes-and-mergers-and-acquisitions │
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economic warfare involves the destruction of other corporations (possibly in
other countries) via a slow march toward haegemony.
unions are the ships of the tumultuous capitalistic seas that protect workers
from the storm. everyone should be a part of a union. the corporations can
battle as they will, but we humans are not going to turn on each other. it's
something they claim to know as an absolute fact, but really it's just based
on a mistake. sorta like being deceived by happenstance.
the sun lights up the sky until the earth conceals it, and night does return
'till the sky's next alive. oh, but the sky knows all too well the borders we
draw in the sand. how cherished, how grand! the ways in which we choose to
stand. upon whose land does your feet stand? marvelous.
... it's the same thing, just in a more abstract plane than the surface of the
earth. really it's kinda one-dimensional (money is sorta like a 0 or a 1 - you
eather have it or you don't)
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--- #18 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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--- #19 fediverse/2211 ---
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║ I know that a normal life is what you wanted. It's what I want, too. But don't │
║ shoot the messenger; they took it once, from you. │
║ │
║ I know you wanted to be happy. You still can be, it's true! Your life is but a │
║ story, and your heart does shine through. │
║ │
║ I know it seems unending. Ive never seen it rain like this monsoon! It seems │
║ to just get worse and worse, every time you turn on the tube. │
║ │
║ It's not something that can be suffered, it's rising past your shoes. But │
║ they're on borrowed time, and Death will soon be repaid his dues. │
║ │
║ They say that when the whole village hates the preacher, his flock becomes a │
║ pack. And frankly I think we're all just a bit sick, of the lies that keep │
║ their sins intact. │
║ │
║ When swallowed by endless traumas, and hope is enshrouded in gloom, there's │
║ not much to work for, except the aversion of our shared doom. │
║ │
║ There are no grand narratives, no great and calamitous struggle. Just the │
║ moments of honored resistance, against a foe too broad to wrestle. │
║ │
║ At least, if you're alone. You're not. │
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--- #20 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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