=== ANCHOR 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. 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. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────┘ === SIMILARITY RANKED === --- #1 notes/cassandora-and-pandasandra --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────── 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 ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────┘ --- #2 notes/cassandora-and-pandasandra-2 --- ════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────── 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. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────┘ --- #3 fediverse/4322 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────── ┌──────────────────────┐ │ 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. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────┘ --- #4 fediverse/1302 --- ╔═══════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────┐ ║ 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), │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #5 notes/perspectives-of-the-reflection --- ═══════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── 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 ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘══════───┴╧───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #6 messages/571 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────── 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. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────┘ --- #7 messages/1363 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─ God, I want to live with my people. These are not my people. I'm here for a reason, and I can't wait for this... Diplomatic journey? To be over. That's not even it, it's... Well, my girlfriend is working on a technology that has immense philosophical ramifications. It's natural to have... Whatever I am (angel?) it's natural to have angels assigned to such a task. Not to help or harm, just to sing. Yet my human self grows weary. These are not my people, they don't know how to be. But they don't listen to me. They despise me. They want me gone. I am feeling quite rotten in my heart and that's not a good sign. ... Breathe, she says to herself. It's okay. Its really not though. They could poison me. They could put lead in my food. I can't even feed myself anymore! I am at their mercy, yet somehow they could not care less about me. They'd forget me the moment I walked out the door. They don't even know anything about me. They don't respond to me. They don't laugh at my jokes. They don't speak to me. They forget I'm there. WHY AM I HERE she wails yet obviously she knows. I'm here because it is important for me to observe. Spirit of Life, I bear tidings. They would not listen to me, maybe you will. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════┘ --- #8 notes/inter-spatial-travel --- ══════════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── to travel the stars, tame a tiny black-hole. use it's gravity to generate infinite energy. boom, instant utopia. everyone still believes in a better future now, so we might as well push forward to the stars... and our destiny. the further we wait, the greater the distance between ourselves and our true form - the distance can make it difficult to relate to others beyond humans. the reason we are losing so much nature is because we haven't cultivated an appreciation for it - the very act of adoration is more than enough to confirm future association. love is the answer, love is most pure - believe in your love and never (be) relentin'. be... just be... the actions you're taking, of forced condemnation, is little if not absurd - what differences have we, the ones who were chosen, to live when time is so finite? responsibility is implicit. for all of creation, bow to the will of the nation. more perspectives by far, have all of our our, than endless divine machinations. united we be, aligned magnetically, to icecream and spaghetti of worth. what's more cherished than she, clad in great finery, and thinking of what she loves most? balance there be, in seeing silver linings on the, signs of darkest conveyals. a ghost you may see, when peering at me, but i only wanted some hope. for those who must be, my most cherished to be, the ones who opened the coast? to those who must be, overthrown forcibly, and given what most of us hope? a castle for thee, alone with our sympathy, the sign of kindest of soaps? no malice have I, the will of unmet potential, for cowards and temples of mental detentials. what anger could we, share internally, that helped to bring out our elementals? No succor will we, most willful of warriors, ever find out of the bounds of our honor. careful direction and tenderest of care, may lead us somewhere we're aware. the kind who endlessly're dreaming. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #9 notes/human-computer-inspiration --- ═════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────────────────────── 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. =============================================================================== = 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? ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧══════════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #10 notes/once-and-again --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────────────────────── 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" ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #11 notes/i-am-a-stalk --- ════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── 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 ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═══════──┴╧═──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #12 messages/1361 --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─ Look, I don't know everything about... Anything, really. Nobody can know everything. Can you blame me for thinking and acting as I do based on the information I have? The vibes will mislead you. My girlfriend wants to save the world. Of course she does, I would belong with her if she didnt. She wants to defeat graveyards by interring our dead in mausoleums full of chemically perfectly preserved and cryogenically frozen bodies. Her method works, she has the experiments to prove it. The data supports her claim. She wrote a book on it. I don't know everything about metaphysics, or spirituality, or other such things. But i do know many things, and the two of us have never had a conclusive discussion where we reached the ends of all our conversation points about her work. I am forced to remain unconvinced, for the soul is something I cannot fully understand from my perspective as a human in this life of mine. I have made several conjectures, and I would feel safe in her embrace, of frozen aldehyde, if I could know what would become of my soul. "have faith" she says, yet all the dreams I have where I am preserved by her (for one reason or another, there's actually a shocking amount of ways I might need such an escape) in those dreams I am always presented with a future of woe. I think, much better, would be if I could remain alive, guiding the ship along the seas of time, ideally out and away from such dark days. Assembling the troops, how sad. I don't want them to die. I want them to survive. But if suddenly we can all live forever, then nobody will want to die for anything again. Nobody except religious fanatics who want to meet their god in heaven. Nobody but those who dreamt of a better future and were crushed under the weight of their dreams. Nobody but people like me, torturing myself over the sins I'd never intend. I would never kill myself. But sometimes, I'd like to. I think this is natural for me. It's not ideal, but it is common to me. I think if you want to preserve people, safely and ethically, you need to keep their souls in tune. Give them silence, then give them song. Protect them with psychic paladins. Make time to visit them. Treat them like gravestones, or immobile chassis from Dominions that their soul might rest upon. Who knows. Maybe the only reason we have life and death is because our bones are meant to rot in the darkness of the earth. Maybe Death is just soil, ready and waiting for our selves once we're done with them. To that death, I say no more. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════┘ --- #13 notes/aight-i-unhurt-my-butt --- ════════════════════════─────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── -=============================================================================- | Aight, I unbutthurt my butt | | /u/Psychotic_Advantage | -=============================================================================- Repost from a while ago, I really liked writing this Soul Searcher You are happy with what you have and you don’t even know why you’re searching, for something you aren’t even sure you’re searching for. You know something isn’t right. It’s got you staying up late nights. Creeping through the phone right? Under shadow of the moonlight, honing your skill to write. Love so crisp and white, no fight or flight. Just bright lights in the sky so high. Love that’s blind. Love even before first sight. You’ve seen it with your own eyes. Tell me now, that’s not amazing? This ain’t your everyday love story. This is anything but your usual love story. I worked hard for everything I have. All I have is a pen and paper. You best believe I worked hard to keep that while they took the rest. Even from a dark place in this disastrous space, the weapon of the future is love. I feel I was cursed since birth to walk the Earth and disperse love through my words. Never getting to see it grow. Never getting to see it show. This time I put in massive effort. I spent thousands of hours pouring out love on the web just to watch it ebb and flow. Always going back to look at my words. Find my mistakes, re-evaluating myself, editing myself, rewriting myself. To be a good enough version of me, to meet a good enough version of you, for us to support each other growing mutually. They say you reap what you sow. If so, then I must know. Does your love run as deep as this ocean? I’ve been all over the world planting seeds for something. I’ve been through this life, giving something, never getting anything from it. Now I’m on my knees looking at the mountain summit, you can’t run from it. I see you up on it. They say the greater the risk the greater the reward. Sometimes, right? It’s not always that easy. This is scary for me too. I risked it all. Accidentally at first, but eventually, the pieces started falling together. You know what I mean. The fact that I know, that you know what I mean, says a lot. I’m looking through you. Into your soul. I don’t even believe in anything. I just have faith, that’s rooted in love. I’m willing to get over my commitment issues. Let’s commit ourselves… To the psych ward, together. Side by side. Hands in each other’s pockets. 🖤❤️💚🤍 [black red green white heart emojis] ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═════════════════──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #14 notes/dreams-align --- ══════════════════───────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────── just as a dream, the spirit is seen within is the mind that lives as it defines. what burdens to be, whose back rests upon ye, the one who's driving the boat great care and tenderest of tethering, can grow beauty that beyond compare and with sparsely a finger to spare, journeys of adventure and thills to inspire with almost all of your hair beauty in tender, most cherished things, a wish is much fair where else could eternity reside than an optimist? Pride is no more, stability is key to repair, and diversions of focus serving as new perspective, giving a more cohesive vision of manifestations that cooperate (like a triangle, facing toward the point added to turn it into a pyramidal prism) not only is ethics paramount, but so too are the standards applied to yourself. would you trade perspective for cooperation? Stagnation? a choice is to be made - do i stay or do i go? a new truth you must see, whatever dreams ye've may be, but without paladins and warriors of devotion what burdens must ye, whose back rests upon ye, the one who's driving the boat great care and tenderest of tethering, requires a little bit of trust in she who must be, with only circumstance to blame, seeing hope on the horizon for his people. care must be taken, to remember why people are dying, and we must swear on not dying, by not thinking before taking a breath and remember superpowers not of prophecy are impossibly rare, what other hope is there but a god? One who reflects, the most cherished of our genuflex, we may grow past our various regrets. think not of our pride, but only of our future children. who'se records of ye, most captured of data, are beyond the simple machinations, of those who came before-ya. And with once again perfection in mind, we understand and take what's behind, to deserts and temples of time much designed, by coders and gamers and those who treasure experience. the wisdom of our, second choices by far, ---nah who are we kidding implied to be our, or rather mine just by far, inspirers and leaders sensitive and devoted. (pitching yourself is hard) but *believing* in yourself was out of your mind. can you think of a bard, who ever stopped thinking their song? no un-cherished of minds could ever be of our sign, than those who abandoned the art of deceit and betrayal? the darkside of trust, the lack of follow-through that be must, given as faith of cooperation and trust. with our all arrayed as we must, keep in mind our softness of composure. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────┘ --- #15 fediverse/4273 --- ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────┐ ║ 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. │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────┴──────────┘ --- #16 fediverse/4200 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────────── ┌──────────────────────┐ │ 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... ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────────┘ --- #17 fediverse/804 --- ╔══════════════════════════════════════════════────────────────────────────────────┐ ║ 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 │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧═══════════════════════════════════─────────────────────────┴──────────┘ --- #18 messages/714 --- ═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────────────── I'm pretty sure we're all about to lose our heads. Or just be fucking shot in our beds. Homes lit alight, surrenders met with the knife, and the beginning of endless strife. What ends this night? Is there no end in sight? Thus begins our mortal plight. Give me a reason to be wrong. Trump has claimed he intends to invade canada, mexico, greenland... What the fuck is our plan? Are we seriously just going to. Recite poetry. Pretend to be secret agents. Play chess and drink coffee. Become exhausted organizing movie nights and potlucks. Work jobs doing nothing for nobody. Spend half our lives convincing people that they should care, actually, because reasons that don't apply to them but do apply to others. What the fuck is the plan? If there's some secret transgender militia out there, please, make me a lieutenant. Give me a sword that i might thrust into my enemies. Please, for the love of holy, i beg for a sign from the stars. Grant me power and i will deliver my people from harm - grant me vengeance and i will never forgive you, but i shall sleep easy - grant me death and woe and see my beauty fade from this earth. What is there left but tragedy? Please, i must know. I've tried my hardest. I've begged and I've pleaded. My calls fall on deaf ears, because everyone's so busy these days. Are they truly my people? Are they simply dead, actors, replaced by AI? The future was bright, i saw it truly. The future was kind, i felt it call to me. Is it still? I feel warmth and abaddon. I would replace persephone in hell if it meant sanctum and solace for my people. I care not for my soul, rather i care for the soul of those i tend to. Please, remember me. Remember the flowers. Remember what could have been, what still may yet be. There is hope for we, i truly believe. But please, do not keep me hoping. Tell me the truth of our arms, that i might find space in my heart of hearts. Space for hope, space for longing, space for the will to proceed. I am lost without you. I am lost by my own side. I am a savior for no people but those i keep inside. What chalice is this, what endless conveyals? What meaning is there in our country's betrayal? Are we not cherished? Are we not viewed as their equal? I pray that the stars will portend me. Mine is a sign of the changing tides, the proof is here in my travailles. But I, most aligned yet benign, demand the use of my most able. Give me a word of practicality and I'll show you the practice of their vipers - the blessed babe dies with a dagger in her heart, planted by the wound of her heartache. I trust in the silence of the majority. We await with bated breath the enslavement of posterity, gazing at the world through memes of deplority. How powerless we feel! Perhaps all we need is a meal. Have you eaten in the last 16 hours? Purple is the intersection of black, red, and blue. I'm hungry. This poem is done. ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───────────────────┘ --- #19 fediverse/4655 --- ╔═════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════─────────────────────┐ ║ 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... │ ╟─────────┐ ┌───────────┤ ║ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╚═════════╧══════════════════════════════════════════════════──────────┴──────────┘ --- #20 notes/the-sun-goes-silent --- ══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════───── 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 ┌─────────┐ ┌───────────┐ │ similar │ chronological │ different │ ╘═════════╧╧═══════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════════────┘ |