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Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Did I ever ride one of these casino busses?
That's how I met my wife.

Is this weird enough?
seven measured spans of ten plus some,
this bit, this collection of second chances,
in how many?
in ever,
how many spans of tens have passed, without me?
or,
without the star stuff Sagan says  
I am made of?

or I am made? I was.

That's the measure of my worth,

nay, I say.
Rue the day I told that lie

shall be my epitath, should I leave without
a-counting
them there ex
acted, mockinbird killin' days and ways we was

when we was
never governed, as a people, or a tribe.
as ids,
we was wild injuns, us kids was. we did as we pleased.

life was fine,
livin' by the river, you can imagine a cloud

occlusion of green greasewood smoke
softening a barely waking moon
four thumbs high at sundown

keeping fairy tales down low enough
that grandpas
can snag

-- and release and come back jack, right here
--to this dangling hook

and it's always gonna be this way

catch and release,

life's story your story goes on.
You never lose your place,

that's mortally impossible
to pose a

quandry
quandary (n.)"state of perplexity," 1570s, of unknown origin, perhaps a quasi-Latinism based on Latin quando"when? at what time?; at the time that, inasmuch," pronominal adverb of time, related to qui"who" (from PIE root *kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns). Originally accented on the second syllable.

pronomial adverb, eh?
Writers were warned away from adverbs,
back when grammar tyranny strained
at knots and gnostic gnats magi-ifical
add-on augmented at your own risc

made you notice
tech times change faster than Timex

Sinclair-- sorry, senility function was left on from earlier missions

Force-recon recollected war stories being moved permanently into fish story status before
legend adds a layer
of gloryshit
at funerals.

Reduced Instruction Set Chip, chip
chipping is
addiction diction
A.I. *** us a whole Yah bus win, it's
Free Play day at the Ol' Folk Home.

We sing old songs on the way to Viejas and
laugh about all we left in Vegas.
Thanks, dear reader, my sanity hinges on you, like the swing doors on the Longbranch
Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
Subject enters trance
Subject enters trance state
Subject enters entrancement

Entrance word opens mind
Mental kind
Mind kind, man kind, male and female

see that fe,
see iron, the processed bile,
from certain ores -  see a detail

allowed the ancient few who read
all the ancient writings, as we read
French or Farsi, today, we the augmental.

Augmented I, exo-mindful chooser bot,
software, with a calcium lattice frame,

any curious child could have been shown,
by way of instructions, seldom read, ready

do the drill. Do it again. Do another whole
day. Being particular as to what use is made

of my pronominal reality state, my real estate.

Non moi. My ever after all of that. This.
These
times that try men's souls, since this means
of forming information along bendable old bones,

Once, in the dreamtime's local translation mindspace
timeless,
nothing was.
Nothing was evil, and that was good, a chain construct,

mind chain, prior to any sense we readers hold chains
to represent, closed torqued rods of iron, formed
on the horn of the anvil, the only known anvil,
for the making of such things was closed knowing,

must be earned, this epithet, honest, most honed,
among the dull stone scattered across my plain,

Mam, re, remember,
Mamre had a plain called by his name.

Terebinthine Oaks, con-secration acknowledged,

by whom, asks my little boy, who knew which oak
Jacob buried the stolen idols lied about under,
for shame.
For shame, he who wrestles still, with the will
to be the bherer of all my own shame, amen.

Nothing hidden that shall… should we quibble?
Known is known,
and should one choose one may make a plain
from a point
once,
stretched this far. And holding… ad in fun item,
Chotsky for any one to open worm cans with.
I make a habit of becoming something new, once a day.
Mahe Barzh Sep 2020
" different from the first one. "


her fingers are glossy.

glossssssseeee

glossing. n

classy. i stand gazing.

like uh, a primitive, eye

she tells me their sensitive

and i believe her. because I

am quite the gullible guy

for sweet.. pretty..

cute.

.innocent. looking

things

ZAM.

she magnetically slapssss

and caresses the back of my dome.

tap tap... tap

' hmm a heavy stone, '

tap tap... tap

'it has a lot of content'... tap

tap tap .'oh'. tap tap tap

.

.

...

She begins her

journey

from the top of my head

slowly…

            tippy toeing        

                            down….

   My

            body

moving

         her  fragile nails

Like a

rehearsed fantasy..

she's been wanting

                                 to do.

she closes in

and rests her

index finger

across my neck like a

scythe shape sun....

she approaches  breathes.

in...and... whispers..

..

  “What are you thinking?”



And within that.

          my eyes smile.



[i don’t really know,  some sort of brain activity..... ]



                  “I think”



[your pretty, inside, outside,worldwide, ]



        [and ]



“I think”



[_<(^.^)> <(^.^<) (>^.^<) (>^.^)>]





             “nothing”



She still keeps going                                    [ it’s a long walk…………]

down,

slowly

maneuvering

in

elegant

moves.

before

closing in

....again.

this time in a more arrowed position across the more pronominal areas.



‘Why are you hesitant ?'

on being religiously

silly ?."



"Like if



    you dislike

                  

              the idea of



                         being  bright?’



[because

people are .........   ]





“Wait What???"





That’s not true.



only sometimes...



lol!@#!$!.

but still

“that's  so wrong



And misleading. "





















but please go on”.
Added on March 12, 2016, in https://www.writerscafe.org/writing/myenigma/1737792/
Last Updated on April 17, 2017

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