Sunday Park Brightly filters sunlight through the foliage of the scarred old tree bearing knife marks Joe loves Mary, 1963 broken hearts, carved so boldly for anyone to see Sunday morning park basking in the sun flowers blooming, beetles zooming so inviting to have fun Car pulls up the parking lot slamming doors, engine hot blankets, dishes, picnic baskets on the grass that's still wet bats and balls, strung out net now we're ready, we're all set Watch it Johnnie, don't do that oh were is that catsup now Steven see, you broke the bat we need more coals, this meat is raw Oh my, I'm just too old for this I should have stayed at home mother, look, you see this bump he hit me with a stone Sunday, Sunday park blazing in the sun people bustling, children tussling all pretending to have fun Time is up, time to go it's getting onto six let's break it up, pack it in no, no, no, no more tricks we'll be back next week for sure you can count on that hurry up now, let's get going has anyone seen my hat Sunday evening park slowly sets the sun litter scattered, flowers battered all is quiet from the fun Dimly filters sunlight through the foliage of the scarred old tree bearings knife marks I love Mary, Joe iscrazy, 1963 broken hearts, pierced with arrows but no one to see. W4U
The Do-gooder Song (lyric) I trash capitalism Every chance that I get. Adore the irrationalism Of making money from its threat. Took up Uncle Karl's profession, Where saints fight against oppression. When a slick racket's found, Don't ever shut it down! I'm a do-gooder, Enhancing my career. I'm a shrewd looter, Opportunist signaling here! Just raise the crimson fist, If toil's at its darkest. If fairness is dismissed, Find that hero who's a Marxist. Nah, you want a rich prog spender, A resourceful left pretender. Got plenty for a feast? Invite my hungry priest! I'm a do-gooder, Refining my charade. I'm a smooth looter, Soapy crusader on parade! Need a public spotlight? Let's posture and inveigh. Social justice can be brought right To the Collectivist Café. Despite my color privilege, They can't tar this savior image. We decide what's nice, bad, Guilty as my white dad! I'm a do-gooder, Enhancing my career. I'm a shrewd looter, Opportunist signaling here! Like philosopher kings Tugging where your heart rings, Give us what moral power brings, So we can pull your puppet strings! I'm the intellectual class, That pretentious celebrity, Or politician ass. Better society! [refrain change, closing] Any land of cream and sugar Attracts our pied recruiter. If a crisis grows acuter Better call the do-gooder! Better call the do-gooder! _
Spoiler: Prompt: "Write a short rhyming poem explaining Einstein's theory of general relativity in easy but accurate terms" General Relativity If you want to understand Einstein's thought It's not that hard if you give it a shot General Relativity is the name of the game Where space and time cannot remain the same Mass affects the curvature of space Which affects the flow of time's race An object's motion will be affected By the distortion that is detected The closer you are to a large mass The slower time will seem to pass The farther away you may be Time will speed up for you to see Guess who? https://arstechnica.com/information...onquers-rhyming-poetry-with-new-gpt-3-update/
In the Desert by Stephen Crane, 1895 In the desert I saw a creature, naked, bestial, Who, squatting upon the ground, Held his heart in his hands, And ate of it. I said, "Is it good, friend?" "It is bitter ― bitter," he answered; "But I like it "Because it is bitter, "And because it is my heart." [via PoetryFoundation.org↱]
"How are you?" you ask. My mind races There's nothing worse than having a thousand things to say. Every word and thought scrambling for first place in my mind, only to catch in a lump at the back of my throat... unsaid "I'm fine" I reply. "No really?" you press on. "There's so much I want to say but I can't make sense of it. Not yet." "That’s frustrating." "It is," I say, "but I think if I scream... it might help." So I do And I'm not alone You're screaming too We're all screaming At the top of our lungs ***Tara Shannon
Desolation dwells Left emptiness, vacant room stark walls, lonely broom tilting table, checkered cloth coffee stains, lifeless moth Human beings here once dwelt perhaps hope here once was felt but look around and see could it have been but misery desolation dwells Uninspired ornaments of alabaster molded scrolls of casting plaster windows smudged with coated grime wooden floors revealing time desolation dwells Left emptiness, vacant room stark walls, lonely broom tilting table, rusty knife reminders of the time this lonely place once was alive Human beings here once dwelt joy and sorrow once were felt now shadows cast a silent spell and desolation dwells
Contemplate this before leaving Or abandon the heart still beating Legos and toes, bare feet and old clothes It's never not a good time for coffee.
Allegory for any effort to keep two forces, agencies, or idiots (especially young ones) apart. To prevent them from bringing ruin to themselves and collateral hardship to those around them. Usually futile in terms of working, but catering to sentimental optimism here. --Cece - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Full Moon Valentine Down a highway barren of traffic. Lonely stretch with no demographic. Its crumbling pavement sprouting grass, Billboards wincing at their vintage past. Troubled spaces, where dogs run in packs. Broke trees kneeling atop railroad tracks. Trains have not rumbled here for ages; Gone as convicts escaped from cages. Enter a town pocked by street art scars, Sunken-eyed facades, and rusted cars. Where only death greets our monthly rite Of passing through to a better fright. Relic diner outside the limits. Abandoned farmsteads reached in minutes. Afternoon still dominates this land, Yet already the witch seeks his hand. So there's the lab near where it started. The parasitized girl still guarded. Heartbroken thing pining on a shelf. Immortal and cursed as he himself. Armed keepers circle the outdoor scene. Techs check and tweak the sentry machines. His buried hues leak into dry air. The beast's passion moans deep from its lair. How was a god interred years ago? The last tight-lipped survivor might know. Their alien love wills and wills As day rests its head behind far hills. Later, night's trauma slips its levee. Above, our wheeling orb sags heavy. The sullen scarecrows thrum in their field. Forsaken, yes, but shall never yield. _
Trichome Estates Walking uphill was no battle then. The night air cool but not crisp. There were three of us. Teenagers, with nothing to prove and everything to lose. The sandwich bag was full from bottom to first fold rim. The dense nuggets within carrying with them the scent of what would otherwise seem foul to the nasal pallet, still somehow the most pleasant of aromas I had ever encountered. "Do you know how to roll"? 10 minutes later I found myself in a bubble and smiling from ear to ear. I think she swallowed me. I was in the far regions of a trichome mansion somewhere in trichome Estates. I'm sure of it. Stepping out was no easy task. She loved me and I loved her. My love for her is no less now than it was then. It's not that absence made my heart more fond, it's that she holds me close yet outside of herself. It has been nearly 25 years since we last danced. Even so, Trichome Estates is no less part of me than it was when the music was still playing.
The breaking Every break gets filled with something. Every time a little different than before. A little stronger for the breaking. I guess maybe so we ache no more. The first one clean the entire length through The second about the same. The third one the size of a dime And the fourth one came with shame. The tenth break came and went. Just like the 6 that came before. After that I quit counting. Instead, I counted on receiving more.
Corrosion of conformity (metal band) I'll call it a poem "Clean my wounds" I see the world through bloodshot eyes Streets filled with blood from distant lies. The dogs of war never compromise, No real time for rearranging. "Help me Jesus, help me clean my wounds" He said he cannot heal that kind. Bleeding soul becomes a bitter mind. He said it happens every time (Knock it down) And that's how the story goes (Knock it down) In the land of a thousand no's (Knock it down) I'm all over you in time my mind is changing. Knock it down Black on black gives me a heart attack And the silence makes it deadly. Some choose to kill with simple will. I've seen them fall fast and steady. "Help me Jesus, help me clean my wounds" He said he cannot heal that kind. Bleeding soul becomes a bitter mind. He said it happens every time (Knock it down) And that's how the story goes (Knock it down) In the land of a thousand no's (Knock it down) I'm all over you in time my mind is changing. Twist of fate won't give me a break And myself, I'm slow and tired. I've got to rise with these bloodshot eyes But I keep falling when I'm higher. "Help me Jesus, help me clean my wounds" He said he cannot heal that kind. Bleeding soul becomes a bitter mind. He said it happens every time (Knock it down) And that's how the story goes (Knock it down) In the land of a thousand no's (Knock it down) We are bleeding sins and our sins are always fadin' Oh fadin', oh fadin', oh fadin' Oh, knock it down, knock it down Oh, knock it down, knock it down Oh, knock it down, knock it down Oh, knock it down Source: LyricFind Songwriters: Pepper Keenan Clean My Wounds lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC