We live in an age when we duplicate the duplicate as we lust for something new in a duplicitous spiral of self infatuation
Six times removed and long since past a time of trying to understand
Living in a personal microcosm while consuming a tasteless microwave dinner
Plastic food and reality TV are the consummate evening fare and fertile ground for finding future leaders as we fumble forward hell bent on the consummation of our own destruction
Backing the backward speakers and letting blatant mistruths rule the day
The devolution of a people involved in the vehement veneration of the vile while valuing vice
Bowing to those who never state the truth as the state of humanity dissolves into a state of chaos and disrepair
When avarice becomes the reigning religion retribution will most assuredly rain down
A leveling brought about by our own hand, not some vengeful god
And all those who failed to see their own self importance and rampant wantoness will be the first to cry,
Never Enough Time
Never enough time
But so much time in my past
An age far down the road
How to make minutes last
In this state
At this date
Fast rate
But never too late
To try something new
Not a duplicate
Of previous fate
But a new way
To see
Feel
Learn
No time
No time to burn
Slowing down the moment
To feel
See
Be
Hear-
Here
Never enough time
But I know that this moment
Means everything
#artstackpoets #ThePoetryHaul @ARTSTACK
The rain keeps count
Time lusts forward
Never duplicating the feeling in my chest
But expanding it painfully toward the past
Four, Five, Six
When did it happen?
A state of grace to forget
A broken plate at dinner
Turkey breast among shards of ceramic
A breath brings me back
The rain keeps count
And when they ask what we want?
We answer:
A world where mercy isn’t passport-bound.
https://thehiddenclinic.substack.com/p/the-price-of-a-pulse
duplicate dawns
.
age folds into ageless
like a shirt never worn,
creased only by memory.
.
lust was a breakfast word—
burnt toast and silence.
six hands, maybe nine,
lifting the same glass.
.
dinner spoke in tongues
time forgot to archive.
.
the past dated me once.
I wore blue,
state-issued,
village-stitched.
.
never said always,
and meant it.
.
rain rehearsed sun
behind my eyelids.
a kind of performance
with no witness.
.
I mistook stillness
for meaning.
.
a duplicate dream
left on the platform.
.
I carry it like
a letter never sent.
as if all
the lives i’ve lived
could condense
into this one moment
this fresh breath
this staggering wind
i summoned the rain
to wash away wounds
with space and time
holy scars so divine
yet invisible and unrelenting
and ain’t it beautiful
to embrace growth
and age with grace
to devour dinner
as the winner of
the race?
how grand is it
to fail six different ways
only to be resurrected
by the soul of seven?
to bask in the glow
of completion
even if has left
your heart depleted
and defeated
it was only a moment
in the grand scheme
of things and dreams
always seem to
find a way home
i have finally come to know
you cannot duplicate love
with lust and trust issues
misusing influence
and being indifferent
allow compassion
to disrupt cynicism
catapulting you into wisdom
and higher vibration
let healing be the state
you consistently
find yourself in
and never hesitate to
to begin again
Dishwater
by Trusanda Lyons
I love the way you pour your soul onto paper, like discarded dishwater.
Bits and pieces left to be sifted through—
some identifiable,
some no longer fitting into the lines for which they were created.
A puddle of music,
a wash of color,
a deconstruction of your life—
pieces lingering on the abyss,
waiting for new meaning.
Pieces once lifted to the highest stature,
now drenched and lying on the dirt.
Each beautiful and meaningful in its own way.
Nobody, not even you, gets to define your life.
Read the remnants like tea leaves,
and let rain wash the rest away.
My response to the challenge can be found here: https://haikushack.substack.com/p/maybe
@artstack #artstackpoets
Prompt words: never, lust, dinner, age, six, time, past, state, rain
We live in an age when we duplicate the duplicate as we lust for something new in a duplicitous spiral of self infatuation
Six times removed and long since past a time of trying to understand
Living in a personal microcosm while consuming a tasteless microwave dinner
Plastic food and reality TV are the consummate evening fare and fertile ground for finding future leaders as we fumble forward hell bent on the consummation of our own destruction
Backing the backward speakers and letting blatant mistruths rule the day
The devolution of a people involved in the vehement veneration of the vile while valuing vice
Bowing to those who never state the truth as the state of humanity dissolves into a state of chaos and disrepair
When avarice becomes the reigning religion retribution will most assuredly rain down
A leveling brought about by our own hand, not some vengeful god
And all those who failed to see their own self importance and rampant wantoness will be the first to cry,
"What did I ever do to deserve this?"
Time stretches and slips
drops like rain
the space between breaths
age six
the door cracks open
I cannot name things that exist outside this moment
the state of my body is a secret
I can't eat my dinner and am therefore exiled to my room
relief
lust is a word I heard once
rough hands that take
this thing he calls love
this thing stays on my skin even after the water runs cold
duplicate the past into the present
like a clock spinning in circles
I will never be that child again
All ten...
Never lust till after dinner.
It does nothing but duplicate your troubles.
Since the age of six, they told me to clean my plate.
There are starving people in Africa.
I’d be happy to send them my lima beans.
Time and again I pushed past my limits,
to be sent to my room in a state of sorrow.
I wanted to be done with all things trivial and yearned for freedom.
And when it rains it pours.
Now I’m grown, alone, and yearn for those dinners
even when if they had lima beans.
I'm very grateful to be writing poetry again in this light, fun way of sharing. Thank you for posting my effort.
Thank you for sharing mine 🖤🤘😸
Thank you for the mention!!!
Prose poetry doesn't apply?
Feel free to do any form of poetry!
Yay! I got a mention with my post! Gotta work on the new poetry challenge!! 🩷