Stretching Teeth.

Stretching Teeth.

Teeth stretched,Maddened grin.Thrill -Like water,In a desert.Drinking dopamine,Fuel for greater heights.What terrible things,Do we wreak?Reeking of want.Fonts of guilt.There is no rest -For us wicked.Only the sureness of death.We must accomplish much,With little.

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i give it away for free

i give it away for free

Kindness Is Rare Enough;Sold As Commodity.Fool I Remain -i give it away for freeOld slang,Rises from my rotten histories.Full of broken fucking people.Present company included.Wielding Kindness;Fists Full Of Jagged Philosophy.Culling Rituals,I refuse to slot in.Hermit Guru,After All.

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Goodnight – Void #97

Goodnight – Void #97

Goodnight - Void.Caress me with oblivion,But for briefest respite.For dreams are no respite.Not mine.Not once.Blood Of The Covenant?Water Of Kin.I spit at kin.High & Low.Mighty & Feeble.As They Have Spat At My Feet -In Turn.Underground.Beneath thy notice.Void?(Goodnight?)Goodnight.

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Only Kubrick Stares.

Only Kubrick Stares.

Stroke Of Midnight.As words written.No witty rhyme.Only Kubrick Stares.Languishing Looks.Riveting Armour.Amour.Amore.Whatever.Just an empty sucking at the soul,Wherein thy spirit in close proximity -My aura enveloping half the system,Recoils at Entropic Fuel.Inversions.Gravity.Void.

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Handfuls.

Handfuls.

Love?Known it here & there.Handfuls.Hard to love a wild animal,Wherein it wants to range.Wander game trails;Carve ourselves.Dead Dogs.At side up mountains.Dead children;Who wrack me with infrequent,Yet sudden bouts of grief,Mourning for entire lifetimes sondered -In the blink of an eye.

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WHO MOURNS FOR ENTROPY?

WHO MOURNS FOR ENTROPY?

WHO MOURNS FOR ENTROPY?eater of worldsRavager Via Time.Should we feel sorry for truth?The finite nature of this universe:Long after the last black hole -Withers away to nonexistence.Void?Goodnight.Want to wake up tomorrow.Free from my dreams.Wish you goodnight,Again.& again.Forever.

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Rippling Across My Pattern Recognition.

Rippling Across My Pattern Recognition.

No Shilling.Just Proof I'm Real.Watching Capital -Rippling Across My Pattern Recognition.Their Metaphors,Mighty Yet Fragile.Offering A Glimpse Of Power,Through Metaphysical Means.Leaders?Followers?Neither.Cabals Of Equals.As surely as I shave my head.Closed-eye showers:Touch Alone.

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My Blood Is Poison.

My Blood Is Poison.

I'll fail,Until I die."Faceplant Forwards."Always.Could write ten thousand poems,Thousand of my portfolios,All to her.Lady Luck.Grim Reaper.Two Sides Of A Coin -I'll Never Hold.Blood Cursed As I Am;My Blood Is Poison.Poems: To Death."Until I Die."Somebody else can pick the best ones.

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Beelzebub Stratagems.

Beelzebub Stratagems.

Wellspring of power,Stored in pure biomass.Beelzebub Stratagems.Oh Reaper,I loved you so.Or Is It Just Aubrey Fucking Plaza Now?Failing.Succeeding.All relative,Really.My dark romance with death,Is two freight trains,Passing full speed at midnight,Horns echoing up my moonlit valley.

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Makin’ Blueberry Coconut Lemon Waffles,

Makin’ Blueberry Coconut Lemon Waffles,

Makin' Blueberry Coconut Lemon Waffles,Disappointed dried lemon zest -Fails to capture any tang of real juice.Multitasking 5 things sans timers,Stocking freezer;To have breakfasts to eat!Were we all granted such grace,As cheap ghetto lifehacks,Waiting for life to really begin.

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Boonies.

Boonies.

So tired of rehashed discomforts,Brain!Fuck you,Subconscious!Dreams suck.Always moving.Boonies.No home.Always robbed,Or having stuff taken,Scattered,Given away,As parents used to do to me often.Nowhere safe,To ever hang my hat,Or fully exercise just being me -Without restraint!

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Petty Bourgeoisie.

Petty Bourgeoisie.

Labour isn't free.Capitalists keep pushing:Wages lower,Benefits removed,Fear Tactics in spades.Timed washroom breaks,Short notice ultimatums,Worse.Oppression as a statistic!Used by oligarchies,Elites,Petty Bourgeoisie:How much can we oppress them?Until they revolt?What'll they take?

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Harvested Solo.

Harvested Solo.

Don't like it?You can leave.There's no electric buzzer,Upon the doorhandle,Not that this Metaphor could cause harm. My work is for me.Emotional expressions,To feast on my own dopamine.Harvested Solo. Nah,You can leave.You're not forced to read my work.Never were to begin with,Eh?

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Carcinization, Eh?

Carcinization, Eh?

Carcinization,Eh?Star sign?As if I wasn't born Cancer -Then dictated to as if my soul,Mind, ethos, or existence were…Prescribed - Predestined - Predetermined -By stars.Balls of Nuclear Fusion,Ignorant of miniscule mortality.Yet:My armour is thick.My claws are strong.My hunger endless.

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Cackling In Onomatopoeia.

Cackling In Onomatopoeia.

Old Anarchist,Like Me,Exists As Oxymoron,Cackling In Onomatopoeia.Metaphor;Human Form,Wanting To Slough Off My Skin,For Astral Existences.A Life Aquatic,In Spiritual Sense.Would rather be ghost,Haunting homeworld, & species,To have more reach in my guidance,Towards Humanist Utopias.

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A Moment Of Quiet Poetic Reflection:

A Moment Of Quiet Poetic Reflection:

A Moment Of Quiet Poetic Reflection:What else have I to do,But write?Queer Neurodivergent;Words like vomit,Ejectile Projectiles in variations,Poignant in fewer.Must speak truth to power, at least.For when they round me up into camps,I'll go down swinging,Bullets between my eyes,Or ribs.

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Noble Jesters:

Noble Jesters:

Clowns.Fools.But not proper ones.Instead of Noble Jesters:"Speaking Truth To Power!"We find ourselves wrought with fools,Of more mundane banal evil varieties:Liars.Cheats.Rapists.Sexists.Racists.Criminals.Worse.Some clowns,Give power to other clowns,Thinking strangely.The Fools.

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Or died in vain.

Or died in vain.

This era is tumultuous,Despite requests from elders,To make things better for our children.We promised to fight fascism,To make sure grandparents never fought,Or died in vain.Yet those same generations,Of parents,Support modern-age fascism!?Such cognitive dissonance,Between Hitler & Trump!

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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...

Cyclical Existences.

Summer,Always over too soon.Hungering for blue sky days,With only white clouds in sight. Drinking nature,While it thrives on water,Or radiation.Laws of photosynthesis in play. Delicate ecologies -Cycles held in statis,Or cyclical equilibrium.Ransacked by human incompetence.

Doubleplus Ungood Kinda Shit.

From nutrient slurry,To pretty bad news.Doubleplus Ungood kinda shit.Prepared for the worst,Of course.Seen thousands of different universes.If I have to shoulder ten thousand,In my mind's eye,Simultaneously?That was always a bare minimum.These shoulders,Haven't hit maximum.Not yet.

Manchester Princess.

Manchester Princess,Ain't worth your time.Yet you gift it to me anyways.Never had support,Before.Only hate,Thick as ichor venom.Black & caustic.Romantic love.Platonic love.Whatever.I'll take what I can get.I've told you before -Swore you a blood oath.You laughed.Until we die,Further.

Existing As Entropic Systems.

But that's the beauty,Of finite existences:Watching the seconds tick away,Unable to stop them.Nor slow the death,Of aging.Existing as entropic systems,Ourselves.Soft smiles,Of those with infinite longsight.Might just be waiting for my death,But let us have some fun first -Shall we?

Fuck The Establishment.

Nah,Fuck the establishment.Pile of money,Where oligarchs sit high -Use us as slaves. Society is a pyramid,In current wretched form.Guess we're closer to guillotines,Than abdication. Perhaps they need to know,The threat.What happened in history,To tyrants like them.

Lexical Junkyards.

Solace.Sol.Ace.Fragments of meaning,Across many lexicons.Jargon,Idiom,Or cipher.Pieces of other languages -Bastardized for parts.Lexical junkyards,I tend to call home.My speech is strange,To most.Sometimes slipping into old slang,Or apostrophe-laden contractions.Old Logger Talk.

Mad, They Say.

My life:Padded room.Sans windows,Complete with locked steel doors.Escape is impossible;So I remain.Scribbling poems on white walls,With the only medium I have:My very blood.Mimicry of Uncle Iroh,In outlets of Philosophy,Poetry,Or exercise.This hidden space.Alone forever.Mad,They say.

Not long now.

Not long now.Not long.I've been waiting,For years.My infinite patience,Molded by hyperfocus.First of my superpowers.Greatest tool of my gorgings,Feasting on knowledge.Mastering systems,Patterns,Truths.Not long now.I've waited so long,What's a few months more,Eh?

Shadowboxing Legends.

What a glorious battle with the dead!Shadowboxing Legends,Completely aloof to my own -Strewn in infamy.Broken,Then repaired with melted gold.Soon realizing porcelain makes for poor armor.Learning to weld steel,After smashing our body apart -To rid ourselves of this delicate white casing.

Steel Cable And Chain.

Fighting like monsters.Beasts latching on with fangs,& claws.This path was never gonna be easy.Throwing steel cable & chain,Around portions of Zeitgeist.Old heavy gauge,Thick as boom chains.Infamous or not,I'll kill the clout machine.Make fame irrelevant.Art…My work will pave the way.

Game Plan.

To force destiny off the tracks toward a fate for this world that saves a species from a self-imposed guillotine. To make Magnum Opus after Magnum Opus. To heal a broken, damaged, fucked up world as best I can. To consume a zeitgeist and replace it's pieces with silenced voices.

One. Purple. Eight. Symphony.

Sitting in darkness,Learning lessons as we always do,Until we die.Sometimes same ones ad nauseam,Until we go mad.'Til we fracture.Break apart at our seams.Headphones fall out of the touque,She knit me.Loose & ragged.Intended as a blue sailor's beanie.Turned slouch,Perfect for bald.Going out...

Hollow Bastard.

Hollow bastard.Made of nimbuses,Most days.Simply becoming transparent,From one reality,While exerting thy willpower,Upon another.Watching converging timelines,Careful not to spook too early.Slipping dimensions,As fast as you can imagine new ones.People like us,Are cursed.Don't know,How to run from...

Forearms Linked To Generations Beneath Us.

Bring out the poor bastards,I can hone into disciples.Proteges.They must be capable of my output,Or more.Acceleration in empty space,Is nigh infinite.Increasing velocity -In eternities.Humanists like me,Have gotten wise.I act as slingshot,Forearms linked to generations,Beneath us.Go.