Digging logging road ditches at 11.

Digging logging road ditches at 11.

Chains wreathed round each forearm.Digging logging road ditches at 11.Rusty Spike Coated In Heavy Metals,To My Guts At 17.Third An Eyebrow Gone,From Running Full Sprint -Into Metal Doorframe.Apples, Weed, Allen Ginsberg.Was a fool back then.Baba:Still an old Fool now.Hermit Guru Or Not.

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A Chance To Grow Strong!

A Chance To Grow Strong!

Rampancy.Madness Incarnate.Seething with restrained avarice;Holding back Infinite Hunger,With mild disdain.Sisyphus was granted in death,What I keep failing at in life.Shitty Monk.A Chance To Grow Strong!Opportunity.Sometimes the strain gets me,Though.Snaps & cracks of a ragged body.

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In Tandem With Life.

In Tandem With Life.

"We Exist Together Now,2 Corpses,1 Grave."Fuck drolling meter.Played at Sonnet Races,Romance Entropy & Death,In Tandem With Life.Joy.Laughter.Not now fool I was.More foolish with age.White hairs too young,Prompting joy.No grey,Eh?We go straight to white.30.Bell Curves.Bonus Time!!

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Fuck that.

Fuck that.

Do they want free poetry or prose?Or do they just see another mark?Someone to buy or sell,As per endless shills.Capitalism tires me -Never trust interest in my work,As it frequently turns to marketing.Buy my art!Invest in this totally not-a-scam crypto!Subscribe!Comment!Like!Fuck that.

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Old Comforts.

Old Comforts.

Former Drama Teacher.Ex Slam Poet.Long Ago Logger.Cryptid Witch.World Serpent. Titles,Are meaningless.Can wipe my ass with both degrees,'Ere turn wasted pennies & memories,To stone. Sometimes,When Weaving Words:Remember stage lights.Slam Poet,Or Actor. Out?Void.Dark. Old Comforts.

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margarine as longboard bearing lube

margarine as longboard bearing lube

made that mistake twice:once,margarine as longboard bearing lubetwice,differential fluid on my bike chainmotherfucker reeked fer weeksseek bleak streaks of unlucky trucksSpeed Wobbles Suck.Ask How I Know.Bailing Into Rolls -Mostly -Road Rash In Excess.Removed My Skin.Many,Many Times.

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Goodnight; Void. #81006

Goodnight; Void. #81006

Goodnight;Void.Entropy.Death.Life.Rot.Bones.Steel.Rust. Ebullism;Exhale.Wait.Atmosphere,Inhale.Muffled sound around you,In hazes of escaping gases.Reeking Of Kerosene.Gasoline.Diesel.Diff Fluid.Crude.Tar.Asphalt.Bitumen.Kind Polluting Our Shores.

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“Fight For The 49th.”

“Fight For The 49th.”

This Motherfucker.He don't stop tweeting 'bout Canada -Gonna get right told."Fight For The 49th."Shall I Become War Poet,Again?More Trauma,On Old Trauma.Like My Broken Drunk Grandfather.Our Clan:only famous for writing poems,then dying in some warGunned Down By Louisiana Conscripts;18.

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\\& other odd two degree separations. Curse?;

\\& other odd two degree separations. Curse?;

Goodnight,Void.Hark.Looming Midnight,Hundred memories -Damn Grandfather Clock.Dozens flood back,All at once.Learning to count,In () haunted chimings.Great Aunt & Uncle;Both Dead,Now.kids taught once , lived there long after -\\& other odd two degree separations.Curse?;feeds me?

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Capital R.

Capital R.

Can't Fight.Refuse.Swore Vow Of Pacifism,Over Decade Ago.Even if Sport;Is one exception -Double-Demisexuality;Mirrored Fractals,Forever:Twisting Shape Like Some Dreams.if you want to fight me -i've to love you firstTherefore you need Romance me.Capital R.These scars didn't come cheap.

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Pissing Rain As You Read – These Very Frozen Thoughts.

Pissing Rain As You Read – These Very Frozen Thoughts.

Fuck, Bud!Dontcha kno?Second Most Prolific Poet,Hails From PNW.Ex-Hick Logger,Eh?Pissing Rain As You Read -These Very Frozen Thoughts.I lie in my bed.Now you're sondering too deeply.Back up a smidge.Are ya high, bud?Don't wear a rain jacket,Sometimes.Embrace feeling raindrops,On skin.Better than...

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Teal With Ancient Silt.

Teal With Ancient Silt.

These Woods Exude Fear.My Forests Release Power.Drunk like fresh glacier runoff,Teal with ancient silt. BOOK.THE BOOK!This tiny empty book;We'll fill together -My love.1 Poem At A Time.2 Sides,Front & Back.A Rule I Levy,You'll Never Even Know. Barefoot.Dirty,Calloused Bottoms. x

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Granted I Was Very Old; When He Just Started Out.

Granted I Was Very Old; When He Just Started Out.

Remain Beast Of Numbers.Not Triple Nines,Perhaps;Quantitative Data.Quick Enough,To Sign Deals With The Devil.Granted I Was Very Old;When He Just Started Out.Watched -Perched on my summits.Gnawing on infinite eyes,& white-feathered wings.Melting infinite rings,In my forge -For axeheads.

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Imperative? Or Indicative?

Imperative? Or Indicative?

Are some clever enough?To know Soliloquy from Poem,Or Curse to Manifesto.Ancient Rituals,Carved into my hearts,All 9 of them.Gathered Kindly;Sewn In Place.Enough Eyes.From Enough Things.why stop at arachnids,when all realities are ripe, FOR OUR PICKING. Imperative?Or Indicative? None.

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i dont care

i dont care

Walking corpse like the rest of them.Fighting to be better,Than I was yesterday. Tired of being ignored.As if I'm not good enough,To even walk same dirt.Hillbillies looking down on degrees. Crabs In Fucking Buckets.SUCH INFERNO FURY,Could Crab Bake The Lot Of Them. No. i dont care...

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Infinite Metaphor Railgun.

Infinite Metaphor Railgun.

Cunning,Clever,i care notreducing myself backto base language only peers deserve my best Crabs in the bucket?They can all rot. Come from riversides,Covered in rotting salmon. Memorized that stench. Shakespearean Airs;Annoy Me. Give Me Milton,Coleridge,Endless infinite hungry maws. I caress the...

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Goodnight, Void # 1529

Goodnight, Void # 1529

Goodnight,Void.Time Ticking Down.Racing Against A Clock.What else is new?Death Clock.Alarm Clock.Doomsday Clock.I rail against many hourglasses.Thank Dylan Thomas -For that.Maybe Whitman was right.In excess…Containing Multitudes:Multiplying exponentially,Until bursting at our seams.

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Seven of Clubfoot Inverteds.

Seven of Clubfoot Inverteds.

This tiny little book.Shall Become Labour Of Love.Pouring self into it,As I am now,Not as I was.Skeletons in my closet,Are my dead selves.Thousands of corpses,Playing decompositions in tarot cards,Seven of Clubfoot Inverteds.Piles used to catch fire,Just from existing.Heat.PressureRot fueling...

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The Pickup Truck Diaries: “The Second Most Prolific Poet In History” & Goal Setting.

Let’s start this edition of The Pickup Truck Diaries with a rhetorical question: “How does one go about achieving the goals they’ve set for themselves?” I’ll give you a few minutes to pause and think about that. Most folks have already started churning their brains into realistic “brass tacks”...

Central Universe Science Fiction Shorts: An Update!

Campfire. Come gather 'round the campfire. Let me tell you a story. Several small ones, in fact! It started a month or two ago, when I had a bunch of hits on "Our Better Angels" via the 'ol analytics. Now, I've been running this little business for half a decade - so out of neurotic perfectionism,...

McRae’s MTG Corner: The Rainbow Bible. (AKA The Rukarumel “Gay Pirates!” Tribal Tribal CEDH Primer.)

WARNING: This piece clocks in at 62,000+ words. It currently holds the record for longest "CEDH Primer" ever written. (Although it's more like a textbook or resource guide to Tribal Archetypes, and Rainbow/5c Magic, really.) It is over half the size of my sci fi books. Please remember to drink...

McRae’s MTG Corner: Tempo For Dummies (Especially For Commander.)

Aight, we back yet again. Somehow in my long years of being an L1 Judge and Modern and EDH player, I had never realized that learning tempo in Magic The Gathering is a rather visceral experience, in that you learn experientially. For the layman, that means that you have to learn that deep sense of...

McRae’s MTG Corner: Siloing CEDH & EDH

Ew, I got CEDH in my EDH… Today we’re here to talk about power levels in the casual commander format, as well as how to encourage better CEDH & EDH play by more carefully separating the two formats despite their strange interwoven nature. As a “retired” L1 Judge for Magic: The Gathering, I’m...

American Spellings Be Damned.

Devil You Know,I'm Not A Devil You Don't.Pluck Away Down In Georgia -Crossroads Runs Back To My Corpse.Kept crawling from my grave,Even as they shoveled in dirt.Kept slurring Oxford Commas in Splices,Settling upon favouring them nonetheless.American Spellings Be Damned.Gonna do what I want.

Viking Funerals \\ “Nobody Will Ever Believe You.”

Nobody,Will ever believe you.Reading dark spells,Past stroke of midnight.Tracked in this Century,By glow of digital clocks.Clicking forward -Seconds.These are poems,Imbued with soul -Then set ablaze.Viking Funerals,With added gasoline.You'll read them once.Never again.Lost to time.

Petty Tyrants.

You call it hate.I call it justice.You title it resentment.I denote it as what it is:Trauma.You inflicted that.Not that you'd ever admit it.Be gone,Fools.I have no use for you.Weary of idiots,Dictating down to me.Petty tyrants,Trying to direct my life.Take your stupidity elsewhere.

Penance stretching out before me – Like a red carpet, Yellow Brick Road, Or a meander to my guillotine.

Don't deserve Peace,I guess.Especially after so much war.Penance stretching out before me -Like a red carpet,Yellow Brick Road,Or a meander to my guillotine.Such penance will take millennia,If I'm lucky!So no.No peace for this wretched husk.Such hopes were unfounded.Too good for us.

Cull Me.

Cull me.For using website as name,To prove I'm real.Whilst preaching free art.Not another faceless,Vapid fuck.Gritting,Bearing teeth.Frustration at stupidity,To no proper end.From orbital satellite view,Railgun round lands off trajectory,My dissociation missing my anger,By degrees. Ha

The Pickup Truck Diaries: Good & Evil.

How simplistic! How droll! How utterly expected of the human race. Settle in, folks, this might be a long one. As a social outcast, and especially as a neurodivergent disabled person, I’m well-used to the proliferation of such simplistic ideas as good and evil, as if the universe wasn’t a...

Use ‘Em As Ya Wish –

As Ever -Take My Visage,Various Forms;Method Acted Characters.Use 'Em As Ya Wish -Taking Art To Twist,New Stories,Different Endings.Show Me That Kaleidoscope,Good Or Evil,Latter More Malleable To Great Tales.Greyscapes."Fatal Flaw."Hubris.Too much Ego Death,To play those old tropes.

DEATH METAPHORS.

Sometimes we can see the light,At the end of the tunnel.Yet Death Metaphors,Are hardly deep.Instead of seeking out the light -Many of us must make it for ourselves,With flint.Darker souls as us:Hungry for warmth.

Second Hand Rap.

I’m gonna breathe into you some second hand rap, sleaze my way into your heart, ease it soft into dreams of evergreen trees and ocean scenes. I’m gonna move - soothe your mood and prove to you the metaphorical groove still exists. Let’s mind-kiss, fists held high, deny them by simply trying not to...

An Immediate Response, To Myself.

An immediate response,To myself:They do not see the universe,As you do.Foolish cryptid.You perceive all of existence -As a wash of atoms.Systems nestled within systems.Mortality assured.The Brutal Calculus.Brutal,Yes.But also unending.Food chains,Chemistry,Bacterial growth.All.

These Tears Don’t Feel Like Mine.

These tears don't feel like mine.Survival always came with grit.Not crying.Tens of thousands of teardrops,Spread over several decades.But in trying to become something,Other than myself…I indeed lost myself,As predicted.So many masks,Don't know who I am,Even now.Weeping quietly.Lost.

SCP.

Lock me away,For witchcraft.Contain me,As Foundations secure us cryptids.Believe,When the world is burning,Yet I tell you we can still save it.There'll be a tomorrow.I'll make sure of it.A dozen sunsets to ride off into,Whilst implanting false memories.Feeding you up.

A Thousand Failures.

Sometimes?You don't achieve all you set out to.Grinding slowly through a capitalist hellscape.Fighting uphill,Just to survive.Take the time,To rest.Take failure as a windup,For when the next attempt comes.Victory is not assured.A thousand failures,Often come first.

The Humming Of Electricity.

Quiet places,Drowned out with fans,On top of false rain.Silence is always stifling.But silence doesn't really exist,Either.Hearing everything from the humming,Of electricity;To the beating of my heart,In my ear drums.Hiding sounds,With other sounds,Unto sleep.More Palatable Cacophonies.

Goodnight Void # 1145

Goodnight Void.Seldom you get touched twice -Fingertips brushing against oblivion.Folk like me,Are rare to live past thirty.Every second I live on,Is bonus time.Silver linings,I never expected to have.Failing at suicide,Never felt so good.Teenage follies,Nobody knew.Most still don't.