The philosophies of the club of Steem rattled, smoked and chuffed. Huddled masses and hubs around calculations and filtered through news of the west and east. Verses were quoted, and an encyclopaedia in

There once was a name in a book Which meant everyone had to look And children were called What the name had installed And all crudeness moniker’s forsook.

Martin Luther, dutiful young buck. I have felt your pluck enough to understand the hand that feeds can too experience the greed. You rang the bell on the door and crucified your invitation into the church

He was green with envy at all the trees. He wished he could be. Could he be a tree? Could he try to be a bee before the tree? That’s an opportunity. He was blue before the sky and felt just as strangely

My phone remembered that it was running low on memory so I remembered to give it some memory. I hope I can remember to find the memory memes for meself to put to memory these memory memes. There is so

I couldn’t do it on my own. I tried and looked at all the books. I couldn’t shift the rolling stone. I had to reach the end of strength. I had to reach the end of mind. Before looking toward the wood.

Instrumental synth piece. Enjoy!

Could you be round the world in a day? Could you move closer to the way? The steempunk enters his long code. Like DNA in the diode. Could you be better than you are? Could you have patience in journey

Wrote a poem today.

Rachel labours watching with a soft eye through her pain. She’s losing herself, but Israel will gain. Son of her trouble cradled in the patriarch’s right hand. In season’s everlasting, where the products

Take up your mat and walk. Did you know Mateio sounds like The Italian for Matthew? And that is gift of God But Mateio in the Greek means useless And Matthew Disciple collected taxes for himself But Jesus

26-4-2018 When Job slept sweet after the storm A face was traced by God’s right hand He captured tears and set them ‘part All from the rain When Job dozed thoroughly relieved The Spirit was no longer grieved

20-2-2017 In the Year of Jubilee Let him who is without debt Cast the first pomegranate In the season of victory Let Victorians shape their mouths round prophecies Poured out by God In the splendour of

16-10-2017 Writing on the blunt side of a stick Putting the stick into your hands with another plank of wood Not striping the sticks for specked and spotted goats Remembering the cross and where it rose

In the future there's a queue Of cyborg people who are lined Awaiting a payment from us Because they have a new virus "We cannot earn, we cannot learn. So help us to rehabilitate. It's up to us to

Thanks for the idea @tankadiary. I have written something based on the above image that you gave us. That one could lean upon the lazy despite being crazy out here in the woods where the wood is good where

Punk song based on Job 6:25.

A poem to acoustic guitar taken from the collection "Chapel of Green Stone" by Othniel Poole. Available at . Steemit, Twitter, Facebook, Instagram: @othnielpoole

Whomsoever beckons reckons that there’s seconds to be had at hands of glad who make so mad the burdens of the learning turnings of the earnings so erudite and delighted that they’re knighted. These things

I made this song in 2002, and I used to spend some time with Samuel who has little vocal samples in it . We used to look at the stars and talk about the Pleiades and light speed and that. I probably should