#poem

It's not about immigration It's about race Gotta put the brown people Back into their place It's not about justice It's not about the law I remember the salutes Don't forget what you saw It's not about the Bible it's about control their moral center is a giant hole I guess you might think this is a bit crass but it's really all about protecting the Epstein Class #poem (human composed)

@ai6yr@m.ai6yr.org Love it. Happened. #poem

#poem (human)

#Monsterdon So I had to check. The Haunted Palace is an Edgar Allen Poe poem (and Price's last lines are from the #poem).

we don't understand enough to predict Climate, just to ignore it #haiku #senryu #poem #ShortPoem #SmallPoem #SmallPoems #climate #ClimateDenial #ClimateCrisis #ClimateEmergency

Climate action lacks? Historians won't agree. There'll be none left to. #haiku #senryu #poem #ShortPoem #SmallPoem #SmallPoems #climate #ClimateAction #ClimateInaction #collapse #extinction #history #historians #KentsHistoryProject #ClimateDenial #ClimateCrisis #ClimateEmergency Author's notes to follow in a comment.

Analog poem for the morning. #poem (human written: energy consumed: one cup of coffee and a donut)

Today’s impromptu twentieth century #art #poem #poetry #modernart #sculpture #construction

Pretty summer day, What brings you to October? Have you run away? #haiku #senryu #poem #ShortPoem #SmallPoem #SmallPoems #climate #ClimateChange #GlobalWarming #heat #UnseasonablyWarmWeather

Control Breathe, with the rhythm of the tides, and the peace found in the sea's stillness. © Simon J Ashcroft, 2026 #haiku #senryu #poem #poetry #PoetryCommunity

As the weather cools, Climate's urgency feels less. Too bad it isn't. #haiku #senryu #poem #ShortPoem #SmallPoem #SmallPoems #climate #ClimateDenial #ClimateCrisis #ClimateEmergency #collapse #extinction #fall #autumn #weather

@NatureMC@mastodon.online (human poem instead?) AI prompting makes me sneeze I think I'm allergic so stop it please The LLM horror and AI slop Please please make it stop Even worse is AI video and photo scenes It's gross and really quite obscene Stealing artists work is a crime against humanity So just stop, hope you hear my plea #poem (human written, by me)

Regrowth Grass grows green, again, the wounds of summer refreshed by autumn's soft rain. © Simon J Ashcroft, 2026 #haiku #senryu #poem #poetry #PoetryCommunity

𝐀𝐍 𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐉𝐄𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐌 𝐊𝐈𝐏𝐏𝐔𝐑 [#Poem posted on FB by Pete Seidman, a #socialist activist since the late 60's.] “𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘸 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦,” 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘉𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴. “𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧-𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘧 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 … 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘺, 𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘱𝘶𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘴.” The moral sense in my old bones Compels no need in me to atone I feel furious anger not any shame For the genocide that’s being waged in my name. And I’ll not own it if it’s all just the same I will work at rage against it this and every other day Something very plain I’ll say: To the god those war criminals invoke in vain If you’re up there in the sky Idly watching more than seventy thousand Palestinians die, Wash your hands of that Zionist rot! Whose outrages make the world’s finest cry And on our pages smear a bloody blot. —Pete Seidman, 9/20/26 #AntiZionismIsNotAntisemitism #Israel #Palestine #Gaza #Jewish #Jew #politics #poetry @palestine

Suchness Haiku Things as they are. https://rustyring.blogspot.com/2026/09/suchness-haiku.html #Buddha, #haiku, #Issa, #Japan, #poem, #tathata, #Zen

My seventy-seven-year-old father put his reading glasses on to help my mother do the buttons on the back of her dress… —Jackie Kay, “George Square” published in LIFE MASK (Bloodaxe, 2005) Today, 21 September, is the International Day of Peace https://www.un.org/en/observances/international-day-peace #Scottish #literature #peace #poem #poetry #InternationalDayofPeace

Here we go, a poem... (transcribed) here we are in the AI age someone types on a paper page ten percent the robots kill bury the human race on a hill yet the billionaires refuse to stop fill the world with AI slop burning down the planet for cash need a giant golden stash they cannot stop they cannot think if they would the odds would shrink just unplug the infernal machine to keep on going is obscene stop them now, go outside look at the moon, feel the tide walk in the garden, smell the rain to continue the AI age is quite insane #typewriter #poem

God We Strive To Be © Surazeus 2026 09 19 Now is the hour to readjust my brain so I perceive electric soul of time that laughs with shimmer of the waterfall about sad suffering of the human soul who kneels and prays to empty sky of blue at sudden sorrow of the swirling snow. I wonder if my mother is alive, safe in walled haven of her wounded heart, because I find words scattered on the floor that she was just arranging with her mind in ever-changing puzzle of false faith defined by strangest questions children ask. Through random splats of red paint on the wall, which accidentally form math formulas our brains employ to calculate how far we wander lost in wilderness of lies, my eyes assert new meaning of old truth by weaving constellations from bright tears. Now that the long-established way of things, that formed foundation of our politics collapses into crimes of haughty pride, we gather in large crowd of shocked surprise to reassert faith in grand principles that govern how we should cooperate. Or else time may unclock our firm beliefs that we held sacred since the dawn of time at slow unravelling of solemn scenes when wingless angels wearing jeweled crowns shall deconstruct assumptions we hold dear to prove that ocean waves know how hearts feel. Dispersed by humble wind of bitter fame, our tight-knit tribe of honest carpenters sails ships of sorrow to the Promised Land where we build empire of the nuclear bomb that causes lizard of the sunless sea to rise as Godzilla, new god of Earth. Each Sunday at flash of the rising sun we gather on the ocean shore of faith to sing hymns to fierce monster of the deep till hungry dinosaur evolves its form to clucking chicken that provides fresh eggs we eat for breakfast with orange juice and toast. If I succeed in program of respect to readjust perception of my brain, I may see face of God in silver clouds that glimmer with divine agility which emanates from every human heart so we become the God we strive to be. surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/… Orpheus wears mask of Jupiter when he appears on stage in the Temple of Apollo to perform tragic tale of his assassination by Pluto to gain power. #Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Wander With Bohemian Heart © Surazeus 2026 09 19 Now that we have, for eighty stringent years, passed our souls through the thousand darknesses of death-bringing talk by oppressive thieves, we sing again with radioactive faith by leaping on Icarian wings of joy to fall with grace of humble dignity. With analytic pliers of respect, which I forged from contempt for trickery, I sing about the tragic fate of men who live by principles of honesty so I may wander with Bohemian heart as minstrel transgressing borders of words. Still stranded in imperium of the past, lost immigrants from many diverse lands dwell peacefully as one great tribe of souls within expansive paradise of love, so many languages of babbling hope merge into universal tongue of faith. We shall not mortgage time without death-pledge against collapse of social boundaries which trap our bodies in addressless homes in vast suburban maze of fear-locked doors where endless saga of death from despair beats against windows that frame flashing trees. When tyrant in crumbling castle of pride obliterates borders of social rules, he tries to absorb dramas of our lives from family home to prison of the state when he preaches sermon of our great land through faceless voice on the harsh radio. Annexed to system of the social game, brave sovereignty of my body is bound by legal liens of state identity when grim enforcers of cruel tyranny violate personal space of wounded hearts through psychic domination of contempt. Though libertarian impulse of our minds are all assimilated in grand state, ruled by huge invisible cloud god who wields nuclear missiles as thunderbolts, we hide as blind ghosts in our House of Being, shrouded by smoke of never-spoken words. Obsessive guilt of my heart-tortured tongue transforms into fierce dragon of respect escaping murky pool of wordless rage when bitter tyrant strutting in contempt destroys grand temple of the shining god whose ghost fades into stark light of the moon. https://surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/wander-with-bohemian-heart.html Orpheus strums lyre of Mercury and sings epic of philosophers at the Kennedy Center of the Performing Arts as King Midas bulldozes the temple with contempt. #Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism

Bodiless Gods Of Starlight © Surazeus 2026 09 15 He strives to leave the landscape of his failure and map the ancient cities of his loss where he may join the people of his tribe scattered far from valley of their first dream so they may gather by the lake of hope and become bodiless gods of starlight. He has not yet heard song of river stones reveal true way to navigate the world through maze of thriving cities full of hope where shining people drive faith-engined cars beneath cold shadow of cathedral towers that tear the bloody clouds of Heaven gaped. Scored by no tribal monarch of the air, his words strike hard uncounted chords of truth to restir latent power, tangled tight with questions of despair no fool would ask against obstructing laws for tragic fate he gambles to attain key to the gate. Brave angelus of wars no state would fight, he strides with courage over signless roads with heart stuffed full of dire prophetic scrolls that terrify cruel tyrants in glass halls because their formulas of quiet truth unravel matrix of the honest heart. Abandoned cross of tyranny, stilled stained with blood of innocence two thousand years, looms eerie over vast metropolis where hungry people strive to wrestle fear, aghast at equal verdict death declares against all living creatures of the world. If he dares organize poor working folk to break from chains of cultic faith with pride, despite untraced integrity time twists through fractured clocks of misery-measured faith, he might lead brave uprising of the lost to retake paradise from king of lies. Inside high broken tower of regret, where silent knells expand scope of his mind, he writes antiphonal scriptures for faith that sprouts from rotting corpses of cruel gods to show how steep encroachments of desire allow our tangled souls to reclaim hope. Stuck in cathedrals of calcified grief, as fools who worship Sovereign of Dust, we become bodiless gods of starlight each hour we gather on the river shore to chant encyclicals of bitter faith with heart-born liturgy of silent rage. surazeus.blogspot.com/2026/09/… Orpheus joins Hart Crane on his meandering journey to the tower that looms over the crowded city of people searching for treasures of the broken heart. #Poetry #Poem #Pastoral #Necropastoral #MetaModernism #Transrealism #NewSublimity #NewRomanticism #AmericanDream #Cinemism #Existentialism #Surrealism #NegativeCapability #NewGnosticism #MetaRealism #NewTranscendentalism #Astarism