Brok3n’s Reviews > 100 Selected Poems > Status Update
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Brok3n
is on page 59 of 121
eath(having lost)put on his universe
and yawned:it looks like rain
(they've played for timelessness
with chips of when)
that's yours;i guess
you'll have to loan me pain
to take the hearse,
see you again
Love(having found)wound up such pretty toys
as themselves could not know:
the earth tinily whirls;
while daisies grow
(and boys and girls
have whispered thus and so)
and girls with boys
to bed will go,
— 1 hour, 23 min ago
and yawned:it looks like rain
(they've played for timelessness
with chips of when)
that's yours;i guess
you'll have to loan me pain
to take the hearse,
see you again
Love(having found)wound up such pretty toys
as themselves could not know:
the earth tinily whirls;
while daisies grow
(and boys and girls
have whispered thus and so)
and girls with boys
to bed will go,
Brok3n
is on page 54 of 121
King Christ,this world is all aleak;
and lifepreservers there are none:
and waves which only He may walk
Who dares to call Himself a man.
— Feb 13, 2026 03:40AM
and lifepreservers there are none:
and waves which only He may walk
Who dares to call Himself a man.
Brok3n
is on page 53 of 121
what a proud dreamhorse pulling(smoothloomingly)through
(stepp)this(ing)crazily seething of this
raving city screamingly street wonderful
flowers And o the Light thrown by Them opens
sharp holes in dark places paints eye touches hands with new-
ness and these startled whats are a(piercing clothes thoughts kiss
-ing wishes bodies)squirm-of-frightened shy are whichs small
— Feb 12, 2026 03:30AM
(stepp)this(ing)crazily seething of this
raving city screamingly street wonderful
flowers And o the Light thrown by Them opens
sharp holes in dark places paints eye touches hands with new-
ness and these startled whats are a(piercing clothes thoughts kiss
-ing wishes bodies)squirm-of-frightened shy are whichs small
Brok3n
is on page 52 of 121
here's to opening and upward, to leaf and to sap
and to your(in my arms flowering so new)
self whose eyes smell of the sound of rain
...
down with ought with because with every brain
which thinks it thinks,nor dares to feel(but up
with joy;and up with laughing and drunkenness)
here's to one undiscoverable guess
of whose mad skill each world of blood is made
(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon
— Feb 11, 2026 03:14AM
and to your(in my arms flowering so new)
self whose eyes smell of the sound of rain
...
down with ought with because with every brain
which thinks it thinks,nor dares to feel(but up
with joy;and up with laughing and drunkenness)
here's to one undiscoverable guess
of whose mad skill each world of blood is made
(whose fatal songs are moving in the moon

