notelevision.bsky.social - Profile | ThreadSky | a Reddit-style client for Bluesky

submitted 7 days ago • 0 comments

the sea’s nipples perked up turned white danced for me in the half moon’s light calling taunting tempting me let’s swim naked tonight

submitted 7 days ago • 0 comments

god asks his son about deletions how does one wipe the slate clean? confession agression genocide how does one hide offenses old colonial gold stolen koh-i-noor close a door expunge abolish anul forget let the past sleep escape memory till all those who weep are buried this is how we delete our past

submitted 7 days ago • 0 comments

#allrightsreserved — Fred Forge | Excerpt from : [My 369 Notebook]

submitted 12 days ago • 10 comments

a peach pit is filled with cyanide yet we enjoy the fruit with fervor

submitted 9 days ago • 0 comments

a festival of insignificance lacks desire this is what i seek not merely bread for a week prolonged existence i wish to feast

submitted 9 days ago • 0 comments

la poésie pour février ce n’est pas forte ce n’est pas vite ou grande c’est un petit cadeau des paroles sur lèvres mots soufflés sombres des phrase pour gel les rhymes noir des sens de mort et renaissance

submitted 9 days ago • 0 comments

the sound of stars twinkling light dancing energy is heat what matters when we are licking flames throwing irony in a fire so hot that the moon melts into the sea dripping magma leaving stones in her bed

submitted 12 days ago • 0 comments

to be the name that rises with the moon, perfect as a champagne bubble in the chalice of his mind

submitted 13 days ago • 0 comments

in the midst of apocalypse poets scratch hope in dark doorways

submitted 14 days ago • 0 comments

we write we eat chocolate and drink coffee we rhyme and wrap ourselves up in words in blankets in stars

submitted 14 days ago • 0 comments

i tried to skip sunbeams across the water but they just slipped out of my hands

submitted 25 days ago • 0 comments

with each pass water asks can I take some of you away?

submitted 25 days ago • 0 comments

i dream of you being that breath i just can’t catch

submitted 25 days ago • 0 comments

tell them we have the same birthday tell them i was your cousin’s cousin long ago tell them we’ve known each other for millennia

submitted 26 days ago • 1 comment

trial by fire leaves fingers burned spurned like enemies our vision of the self diety dirty coated in plastic dipped in all of our wrongs the ego wears armor yet we battle ourselves in the nude

submitted 26 days ago • 0 comments

the parent component is fundamentally altered changed and oranged re-rendering the DOM the children will all behave differently now

submitted 32 days ago • 0 comments

as torrents go this wind smells sweet disordered and filthy discarded washed by rain looking for what’s left stains breadcrumbs remain leading home swirling stuck in alleys raging through caverns seeking solace by the sea space to breathe

submitted 48 days ago • 0 comments

spirits in the still motionless transparent only apparent when swallowed passing over the tongue of humanity our souls are pickled in a society drunk on grift and gift opening holes for filling with sins that cannot be distilled or washed away

submitted 82 days ago • 1 comment

Bug Life commuting into the sunrise triple file like ants marching to war the windowless metal box unlocks filled with antebellum accents that mock day dreaming of caterpillar cocoon swaddles and how i could find my place as a moth following the sunset home 7/28/2024 #poetry

the sea’s nipples perked up turned white danced for me in the half moon’s light calling taunting tempting me let’s swim naked tonight

god asks his son about deletions how does one wipe the slate clean? confession agression genocide how does one hide offenses old colonial gold stolen koh-i-noor close a door expunge abolish anul forget let the past sleep escape memory till all those who weep are buried this is how we delete our past

#allrightsreserved — Fred Forge | Excerpt from : [My 369 Notebook]

a peach pit is filled with cyanide yet we enjoy the fruit with fervor

a festival of insignificance lacks desire this is what i seek not merely bread for a week prolonged existence i wish to feast

la poésie pour février ce n’est pas forte ce n’est pas vite ou grande c’est un petit cadeau des paroles sur lèvres mots soufflés sombres des phrase pour gel les rhymes noir des sens de mort et renaissance

the sound of stars twinkling light dancing energy is heat what matters when we are licking flames throwing irony in a fire so hot that the moon melts into the sea dripping magma leaving stones in her bed

to be the name that rises with the moon, perfect as a champagne bubble in the chalice of his mind

in the midst of apocalypse poets scratch hope in dark doorways

we write we eat chocolate and drink coffee we rhyme and wrap ourselves up in words in blankets in stars

i tried to skip sunbeams across the water but they just slipped out of my hands

with each pass water asks can I take some of you away?

i dream of you being that breath i just can’t catch

tell them we have the same birthday tell them i was your cousin’s cousin long ago tell them we’ve known each other for millennia

trial by fire leaves fingers burned spurned like enemies our vision of the self diety dirty coated in plastic dipped in all of our wrongs the ego wears armor yet we battle ourselves in the nude

the parent component is fundamentally altered changed and oranged re-rendering the DOM the children will all behave differently now

as torrents go this wind smells sweet disordered and filthy discarded washed by rain looking for what’s left stains breadcrumbs remain leading home swirling stuck in alleys raging through caverns seeking solace by the sea space to breathe

spirits in the still motionless transparent only apparent when swallowed passing over the tongue of humanity our souls are pickled in a society drunk on grift and gift opening holes for filling with sins that cannot be distilled or washed away

Bug Life commuting into the sunrise triple file like ants marching to war the windowless metal box unlocks filled with antebellum accents that mock day dreaming of caterpillar cocoon swaddles and how i could find my place as a moth following the sunset home 7/28/2024 #poetry

did social media kill goodbye?

sleeping with stones and flowers i find sugar ants in my bed

the insanity of being too busy for humanity