Who sets the pace?
The Ace?
Of Common Era,
Emergent in Time and Space
Show grace, and realize this is no race
We only win once all of us are safe

A bloated corpse paraded as a king
A putrid puppet poisoning the spring
A goldish idol led about by rotted string
We see you as we've seen you all along

They test us out
Which deaths bear clout
Whose pain is advertised?
Another classroom torn?
Move on.
Black, Brown, or Native born?
Move on.
White Woman? Labeled thorn.
Move on.
White MAN?
Hold up! This action ripples wide.
A clarion, to choose your side.
A beacon lifted up
By all the rest who died

With only words
I cast him out
This king of nothing
Hellish lout

Old doggerel
No pictures pasted
Lord of loss
Your hope is wasted

At midnight my time, Daisy the baboon from "Overdrawn at the Memory Bank" flipped down a hill. Woo, party.

Call forth the Alpha Channel
That which IS but is NOT seen
Call forth the Background Panel
Paper white or blackest screen

Upon these fields, our layers overlap
Above, below, but never crossed between
Illusion of dimension beyond flat
Imagination left to fill the scene

Await the hunt of Herne upon the longest night
Call forth the hounds to help us win the fight
A false king rises in the west again
But old gods care not for the works of men

I dreamed of dancing in the icy rain
Skin steeped in blue until I'm warm again
The brace of temperature
The sting of speed
The knowledge I'll receive what help I need

Beyond the green of malachite
Upon a film of helium
Reflection of a moonless night
Reflexes of the numb

Oh, wait, I broke my trait
To recommend the term "Date Mate"
I took some time to percolate
"'Ship Mate," I say, is also great

I've heard "date mate" before. Rhyming is cute. Just now, I found "'ship mate" and that is pretty rad.

What god's, what hero's name
Are lost by those that sound the same
Adam, a dam, a man, les hommes, quelle dame
For context, one must seek beyond the frame

Tick Tock
The Clock of Ages
Aegis of the Sages
Cut for Time
As Hour Wages
Caught by Rhyme
Once Writ on Pages
Language Lost
By Libraphages
Glottal Cost
Or Choking Rages

The mast is broken
As the sail becomes our shroud
Present your token
So your soul will be allowed

We are collections
Groups of nerve and bone
Lost, but not alone

We are connections
Mapped, but still unknown
No context without tone

We are corrections
Links between argot
Won by les bons mots

Words change
Words chain
Translate, explain

I cannot bear the dance from dime to dime
My stomach turns
I lost my will from working overtime
My soul is Herne's
Wild in the night within the storm
Callooh! Callay!
May your home and hearth be warm
Come What May
Come What May

My new window has a whistle
Humming engine, singing wind
Hear it moan among the thistle
Let me in
Let me in

I am a sodden piece of bread
Upon which mold can grow

We are the zeitgeist overhead
Beyond that which you know

The cycle between hope and dread
Depends on what we sow

You choose which way you go

He sows the seeds of hate
And wins no prize
He thinks it was his fate
And acts surprised

Fair

Which Digimon is this?

My talent lies in acting out
In screaming silently
My weakness lies in having clout
Even mums dis me

I need your words
To wrap my eyes around
I find that ink
Comes easier than sound

Build up, break down
Shift the Third Estate
Beware the First and Second
The powers that sow hate

Safety in numbers
'Til the numbers get to high
Then they drive us out
Of places where we thrive

A plague of persons
Gentle AND/OR Strange
If we survive attack
They plaster us with blame

Do you love me? Platonically.
The Sacred Love, iconically.
No fashion, face of passion, only honesty.
Profanity involves more clothes, ironically.

Masked marauders under dead of night
Or sanctioned sinners claiming hate is right
When faced with darkness, left alone to fight
The ask and tell of love must see the light

Water locked beneath the skin
We drink our weight, we soak it in
Our flesh will swell before we let it go
Eau agua uisce su voda vesi air H2O

Ignorance is bliss
Until the walls fall

We don't know what we'll miss
Until the last call

I smell of mint that stole my garden
Hid the mantis nymph and fed the bees
Pulled up from stones but still it winds beneath
With mulberry and hawthorn, it remains

I overwhelm myself
Most every day
So noisy in my mind
I'm ground away
Sound itself is powder fine
Static snow before the cathode ray
No sense that we can yet define
Absorbs the cost of what we do not say