Gerhard Oevermann 🐦⬛
@oevermann.bsky.social
Divergent Hippie Liberal Poet. Navy Veteran. 🏳️🌈 🇩🇪 🇺🇸 LGBTQ+
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Note: I am notoriously bad at answering DM in a timely manner. Comment on a post to get my attention.
Pinned
Devotion
the criminals in old stories fear hell
i fear something nearer
becoming the kind of person
who can no longer be surprised
by their own harm
i fear the smoothness of habit
when it has forgotten its reasons
and that fear
too
is a form of devotion
a devotion to staying awake
#poetry
the criminals in old stories fear hell
i fear something nearer
becoming the kind of person
who can no longer be surprised
by their own harm
i fear the smoothness of habit
when it has forgotten its reasons
and that fear
too
is a form of devotion
a devotion to staying awake
#poetry
November 26, 2025 at 2:26 PM
Devotion
the criminals in old stories fear hell
i fear something nearer
becoming the kind of person
who can no longer be surprised
by their own harm
i fear the smoothness of habit
when it has forgotten its reasons
and that fear
too
is a form of devotion
a devotion to staying awake
#poetry
the criminals in old stories fear hell
i fear something nearer
becoming the kind of person
who can no longer be surprised
by their own harm
i fear the smoothness of habit
when it has forgotten its reasons
and that fear
too
is a form of devotion
a devotion to staying awake
#poetry
One, two, three. Ah ah ah.
November 26, 2025 at 2:05 AM
One, two, three. Ah ah ah.
November 25, 2025 at 11:58 PM
slow orbit
i keep returning
to the same small grief
not to suffer it
but to place it
more carefully
until it becomes
not a wound i circle
but a cairn
and my days
move around it
like a quiet vow
to remember well
#poetry
i keep returning
to the same small grief
not to suffer it
but to place it
more carefully
until it becomes
not a wound i circle
but a cairn
and my days
move around it
like a quiet vow
to remember well
#poetry
November 25, 2025 at 11:30 PM
slow orbit
i keep returning
to the same small grief
not to suffer it
but to place it
more carefully
until it becomes
not a wound i circle
but a cairn
and my days
move around it
like a quiet vow
to remember well
#poetry
i keep returning
to the same small grief
not to suffer it
but to place it
more carefully
until it becomes
not a wound i circle
but a cairn
and my days
move around it
like a quiet vow
to remember well
#poetry
November 25, 2025 at 2:51 PM
at midnight
my city thinks in pixels
windows blinking
like uncertain prayers
I walk beneath them
a moving typo
in its unfinished sentence
#poetry
my city thinks in pixels
windows blinking
like uncertain prayers
I walk beneath them
a moving typo
in its unfinished sentence
#poetry
November 24, 2025 at 5:03 AM
at midnight
my city thinks in pixels
windows blinking
like uncertain prayers
I walk beneath them
a moving typo
in its unfinished sentence
#poetry
my city thinks in pixels
windows blinking
like uncertain prayers
I walk beneath them
a moving typo
in its unfinished sentence
#poetry
Remember to Laugh
last night you laughed
and for a moment
the years fell off you
like dust from a curtain
I glimpsed the child
waiting patiently
behind your face
last night you laughed
and for a moment
the years fell off you
like dust from a curtain
I glimpsed the child
waiting patiently
behind your face
November 23, 2025 at 7:19 PM
Remember to Laugh
last night you laughed
and for a moment
the years fell off you
like dust from a curtain
I glimpsed the child
waiting patiently
behind your face
last night you laughed
and for a moment
the years fell off you
like dust from a curtain
I glimpsed the child
waiting patiently
behind your face
the small god of minor choices
sleeps in my pocket
waking only when I hesitate
each shrug of his wings
becomes a road
I will later call destiny
#poetry
sleeps in my pocket
waking only when I hesitate
each shrug of his wings
becomes a road
I will later call destiny
#poetry
November 23, 2025 at 5:43 PM
the small god of minor choices
sleeps in my pocket
waking only when I hesitate
each shrug of his wings
becomes a road
I will later call destiny
#poetry
sleeps in my pocket
waking only when I hesitate
each shrug of his wings
becomes a road
I will later call destiny
#poetry
My Cat Recites Sappho
no one hears it
she whispers only to
those she has dispatched
and to dust
and the god who lingers
in beams of late sun
she knows
that beauty must
ignore its audience
she purrs
in dactylic hexameter
#poetry
no one hears it
she whispers only to
those she has dispatched
and to dust
and the god who lingers
in beams of late sun
she knows
that beauty must
ignore its audience
she purrs
in dactylic hexameter
#poetry
November 22, 2025 at 9:53 PM
My Cat Recites Sappho
no one hears it
she whispers only to
those she has dispatched
and to dust
and the god who lingers
in beams of late sun
she knows
that beauty must
ignore its audience
she purrs
in dactylic hexameter
#poetry
no one hears it
she whispers only to
those she has dispatched
and to dust
and the god who lingers
in beams of late sun
she knows
that beauty must
ignore its audience
she purrs
in dactylic hexameter
#poetry
The Bear Lives in the Suburbs Now
he walks the cul-de-sac
after midnight
past sprinklers and backlit TVs
he remembers glaciers
but eats from compost bins
and sometimes
dances shirtless at the club
a kid once called him
the ancestor
he nodded
he walks the cul-de-sac
after midnight
past sprinklers and backlit TVs
he remembers glaciers
but eats from compost bins
and sometimes
dances shirtless at the club
a kid once called him
the ancestor
he nodded
November 22, 2025 at 9:37 PM
The Bear Lives in the Suburbs Now
he walks the cul-de-sac
after midnight
past sprinklers and backlit TVs
he remembers glaciers
but eats from compost bins
and sometimes
dances shirtless at the club
a kid once called him
the ancestor
he nodded
he walks the cul-de-sac
after midnight
past sprinklers and backlit TVs
he remembers glaciers
but eats from compost bins
and sometimes
dances shirtless at the club
a kid once called him
the ancestor
he nodded
The Last Unicorn Works Remote
she turned off her camera
during the staff meeting
no one asked why
her spreadsheets
were immaculate
her silence
divine
she hasn’t used her horn in years
but still it glows
when the signal drops
she turned off her camera
during the staff meeting
no one asked why
her spreadsheets
were immaculate
her silence
divine
she hasn’t used her horn in years
but still it glows
when the signal drops
November 22, 2025 at 9:32 PM
The Last Unicorn Works Remote
she turned off her camera
during the staff meeting
no one asked why
her spreadsheets
were immaculate
her silence
divine
she hasn’t used her horn in years
but still it glows
when the signal drops
she turned off her camera
during the staff meeting
no one asked why
her spreadsheets
were immaculate
her silence
divine
she hasn’t used her horn in years
but still it glows
when the signal drops
The Fox in the Dream
i followed a fox
through my own childhood
it stopped once
to look back
not at me
but at the version of me
that almost stayed wild
then it vanished
like an answer too late to be useful
#poetry
i followed a fox
through my own childhood
it stopped once
to look back
not at me
but at the version of me
that almost stayed wild
then it vanished
like an answer too late to be useful
#poetry
November 22, 2025 at 9:17 PM
The Fox in the Dream
i followed a fox
through my own childhood
it stopped once
to look back
not at me
but at the version of me
that almost stayed wild
then it vanished
like an answer too late to be useful
#poetry
i followed a fox
through my own childhood
it stopped once
to look back
not at me
but at the version of me
that almost stayed wild
then it vanished
like an answer too late to be useful
#poetry
i write these lines
to pin myself
to the page
but the ink answers
not in my voice
but in the version of me
that never spoke
he knows how the story ends
he is not afraid
to pin myself
to the page
but the ink answers
not in my voice
but in the version of me
that never spoke
he knows how the story ends
he is not afraid
November 22, 2025 at 9:03 PM
i write these lines
to pin myself
to the page
but the ink answers
not in my voice
but in the version of me
that never spoke
he knows how the story ends
he is not afraid
to pin myself
to the page
but the ink answers
not in my voice
but in the version of me
that never spoke
he knows how the story ends
he is not afraid
A Map of All the Roads Not Taken
i drew a map of regrets
the lines would not hold
each road led to another fork where I turned back
then forward again
chasing a version of myself
that knew which path
was only meant to be imagined
#poetry
i drew a map of regrets
the lines would not hold
each road led to another fork where I turned back
then forward again
chasing a version of myself
that knew which path
was only meant to be imagined
#poetry
November 22, 2025 at 8:59 PM
A Map of All the Roads Not Taken
i drew a map of regrets
the lines would not hold
each road led to another fork where I turned back
then forward again
chasing a version of myself
that knew which path
was only meant to be imagined
#poetry
i drew a map of regrets
the lines would not hold
each road led to another fork where I turned back
then forward again
chasing a version of myself
that knew which path
was only meant to be imagined
#poetry
I wrote a fictional piece about time, memory, and reading. It begins when I find a page I wrote as a child that seems to know more about me than I do. I would greatly appreciate anyone that could take the time to read it and give me feedback.
#poetry #writing #prose #fiction #writingcommunity
#poetry #writing #prose #fiction #writingcommunity
November 22, 2025 at 4:38 PM
I wrote a fictional piece about time, memory, and reading. It begins when I find a page I wrote as a child that seems to know more about me than I do. I would greatly appreciate anyone that could take the time to read it and give me feedback.
#poetry #writing #prose #fiction #writingcommunity
#poetry #writing #prose #fiction #writingcommunity
The Infinite Return
i stood at the edge of my memory
and found the same beginning
not a circle
but a spiral returning in disguise
each time
the wind is colder
but the fire is mine
#poetry
i stood at the edge of my memory
and found the same beginning
not a circle
but a spiral returning in disguise
each time
the wind is colder
but the fire is mine
#poetry
November 22, 2025 at 3:40 PM
The Infinite Return
i stood at the edge of my memory
and found the same beginning
not a circle
but a spiral returning in disguise
each time
the wind is colder
but the fire is mine
#poetry
i stood at the edge of my memory
and found the same beginning
not a circle
but a spiral returning in disguise
each time
the wind is colder
but the fire is mine
#poetry
November 22, 2025 at 12:07 AM
November 21, 2025 at 11:46 PM
November 21, 2025 at 11:43 PM
November 21, 2025 at 11:40 PM
November 21, 2025 at 11:37 PM
November 20, 2025 at 2:48 PM
November 20, 2025 at 2:46 PM