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Empowered Manager, your Rules beknown
I'd rather you Teach how we must Behave
Or, filter these Concepts to his Reknown
And coat this Script for his role as a Knave
So what's new? Long does this Method wear
For the Centred Market your Profits invest
Though, we Illusioned, squeeze each dareful tear
Close his Next-Door Gates for an Open Contest
To be Fair, dear Sir, if we can afford
To pay for that trite, unsubstantial fee
I suppose his Skill to waters accord
Reward by Harvest; A Hero as he.
So yes I'm aware for such tweets I send
Were not his eyes for your mouth he'll depend.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Antony Glaser Jul 2018
my wife tells me Lady Bird Johnson
was a woman of reknown
until she career blighted Catwoman meow!
She had a problem recognizing people had a difference of opinion into Nam
Eartha orders her own taxi
water under the bridge for Lady Bird
Eartha told Lady Bird the youth crime had increased to avoid Vietnam service She was person non grata for 10 years
Sometimes I really do feel like an alien in my own skin,
Like I could twist and turn, transform and try,
All the years of my life and still not get it right.
I don't know who made it that way.
Couldn't tell you where the notion developed,
Or who proved to be truth before I did.
I don't know which artist created this outline,
Sketched it in ink, and entitled it a lifestyle -
One I once dared not color outside the lines of.

But I figure, if I cannot be a Mona Lisa of a painting,
I could be a more original, less world reknown piece
Because the regard of outside perspectives is less important
Than the quality of art produced in me.
Maybe I've been too focused on the colors already on the palette,
Instead of the mountains of shades I could imagine.
Maybe the skin I wear is black, like mourning, like darkness,
But these shadows make it possible to appreciate light.
Maybe the issue isn't me. Maybe I just need a new canvas,
One that resembles my possibilities and not my limitations.
One that allows room for breath, and exploration, and mistakes -
That isn't stifled with labels, or schemes, or systems.
And maybe I have to create that for myself.

Sometimes, I really do feel like an alien in my own skin,
But that doesn't make it any less mine,
Nor any less worthy of love.
And maybe I can love this martian without having all the answers,
Or even a planet or plane to belong to.
Maybe the person behind the pen, or pencil, or paintbrush, is me,
If I decide to be.
Thrice-Strung Judges, Thirty Pieces you Shout
Be that Iscariot or Ally you relay
How the Once-Loved Prince now the Blubbered Pout
Has sent me to Interest another Fey
So it seems a Pillow for the Sullen
Whom by Lines saw no End to this Debate -
Which Petal weans; Or scratches Tears fallen
Least charge one's Sanity before its too Late
The Wheel was Right. Through Change Strength will confer
And sign assurance Monopoly disown
For Saner Men; And Women leaves Fresher
Let each bare Happiness bid for Reknown.
How Wonderous be, this Marble whirls for Love,
Then Season the Troll; Then Sever the Dove.


‪#‎tomdaley1994‬ ‪#‎tomdaleytv
A Watoot Mar 2015
He's a world reknown pianist and
She's a respected ballerina;
Another one's a famous artist.
Everyone wanted a picture. An autograph.

A simple teenager turned into a super model and
A hunk in the beach; girls flock him.
Another one's singing in the comfort of her home.  
She turned into an internet sensation.
Everybody wants to be like them.
No.  Everyone wants to be them.

And here I am, passing by the familiar streets.
And here I am, listening to my own thoughts.
And here I am, a girl unnoticed.
*Here I am, just another face in the crowd.
Then this Potent Dragon my Dredglings fear,
One which Expected me in all Surprise:
That your File as Prince and Lord revere,
Already Pre-Owned and Locked in her Prize
When Tears cry Blood, and Blood their Ties disown
So to these Stinging Bells your News persist
Which your Smile bait Worms by Jelly reknown
Suffice even the Enlightened to resist
Thus the Siege, which dear Siddhartha did warn,
Offered the Goddess of Mercy such View:
To Breathe and Blow free my Charmings consarn
And hold to the Heart of mine own self True.
These Fourteen-Lined Girls cried your Muse repeat
Of casting my Levels versus your Feat.


‪#‎tomdaley1994‬ ‪#‎tomdaleytv
drumhound Oct 2013
My mother named me
                            for no good reason.

There was no fireman hero,
     no reknown global leader,
          nor an astronaut Stephen
          setting his foot on the moon.
It wasn't even her stylist whom she honored
as he kept her trusted secrets.

The roulette wheel of monikers
whirred uninterestedly past
Michael
David
John
Robert
Mark
Mitchell
Glen
(and thankfully) Carl
and surrendered its last click
     on the formal of Steve
                                     with a "ph".

                       It was haplessly indifferent
     in the way it came be.
                  A last grasp of titles
                                       as they pushed her out
                             the hospital doors.

I have a friend whose name
was never in question.
     He was a fifth,
                       as in William V.
The Ist was proud,
             so proud that he named the IInd.
     The IInd an heir,
                so he named the IIIrd.
            The IIIrd obliged,
                          and so the IVth.
                    The IVth weary from fighting
                                the previous I's
                                and hence, the V...
as in William V,
                          as in flavorless,
                          pomposity faded,
                          worn like a hand-me-down
                                    dress shirt through five generations
                                              bereft of shape and dignity and fit.

     He wished he had his own name -

                         I did.

     And I found my name
     free to be
     designed to the only son
     my mom ever had -
                                to be as grand or plain
                       as I constructed it to be.

This one-size-fits-me tag
                      Stephen Dane Roberson
                                  is the Ist
                                              and only.
     A name that I love
          because it is filled
               with all the stuff I put in it;
and that stuff is me...

a me I wanted to be when I grew up :-)
Corkey Hawley Jul 2010
What is left of my life
feels
     like
                  a
          roller
   coaster
           ride
one
   day
         is
    up
the next
           day
        is
   D
     O
       W
           N
All I can hope for
is that it will all
come
Around
& that good things
do still
wait
ahead
for those
who reknown
a life
worth living
& is not
PROFOUND

keep on living


keep on loving


keep on doing

**till they stick me in the ground
Doc 7.7.2010
A hero once of no reknown, a man of name unknown,
did seek to win a might prize of treasures yet unseen.
He girded up himself to go and no one cheered his way,
he travelled out against the cold and journeyed through the day.
And no one wondered why he did and no one saw his path,
alone as none had been before he faced the winter's storms.
He was a man with youthful face yet laughter he knew not,
there was a kindness in his ways and depth to all he thought.
As he walked out along a trail he heard the erie howl
of wolves as they track down their prey and he went to look about.

A cottage neat was in the woods, nearby a forge it stood,
and hungry wolves were all about the cottage in the wood.
And by the forge a man lay dead, his body torn and burned,
for when the wolves they had attacked upon his forge he fell.
The grizzly scene struck terror in the heart of the young man,
but then he heard a child call to her father as she ran.
Without a thought of self he went quick down from where he stood,
and grabbed a sword from out the forge and ran to aid the child.
The blade it burned deep into his hand but he dare not let it go,
and with the burning blade he fought and he dispatched the foe.
Then taking up the frightened child he took her to her home,
and first he tended to her fears before he did his hands.

The sword which came out of the forge and cooled in the fight
he kept there at his side as he sat waiting out the night.
And when the morning light it came a woman's wails he heard,
and stepping out he saw her kneel there at the dead man's side.
She was the mother of the child returning back from town,
to find the horror of the sight, her world had been torn down.
The hero stayed with her a while and helped her with the child,
and in return she gave the sword with which he'd saved the girl.

And on he went to seek that prize he knew to be so grand,
not realizing all the while he held it in his hand.
Alone once more and still unknown the hero walked the road,
his every action noble and his every thought was good.
And many times he used the blade to fight for what was right,
and never was a finer blade e'er seen in human sight.
One day he stopped a while to drink at an inn along the way,
and a woman saw his still scarred hand and asked if she might sit.
She said she had a tale to tell of a man who had been brave,
and who had found her as a child and who her life did save.
She said she knew that man by sight for his hands were deeply scarred,
by the burning blade which he had used to protect her from the wolves.
Kind sir, she said, why do you search for the thing already found?
You have the Burning Blade of Truth, the treasure most renowned.
My mother often speaks of you in words of glowing praise,
and it would be an honor if you came and lived with us.
At last he knew that she was right and that his search was over,
and so he came to settle down and married the girl's mother.
This is an excerpt from a manuscript I wrote some years ago but, for various reasons, never published - it's an philosphic work on Truth and Madness and Reality called Drinking the Rainbow Fire and it contains a number of poetic portions interwoven with the text and so I thought that since some of them can stand alone without the surounding text I could share them here.

copyright July 19, 1996 by Timothy Emil Birch
Evi Dent Halo Sep 2017
"And her, and her lime green hair

Calamax, oh Calamax:

The sister fair.

-

She estranged

From her throne

Had thoughts, and thoughts

Her neighbors grown

To runaway

To newfound grass

Intermediate memory

So she passed.

-

Flighty and light

Her steps were made,

Made meaningless strides

Eventually which dug her grave.

-

In time she added

All she did need

Every each day

She found feed,

Foal she was

Foolish and dirt

Likely to lose.

Her life-

Inert.

-

In path she was

To kingdom fame

To find reknown,

In gold so vein,

In this it was

And always will be

A forigen concept,

To the narrator: me.

-

"Calamax,

Your beauty full,

Come to home

Our cart to pull."

-

"Calamax,

We entreat you so

Rest with us,

A new home we'll be-

Stay and see."

This: their words,

Their strategy.

-

And soon she lay

Upon the road

The same she traveled

To escape ailing abode

In deep well she was

In cast: sad lot

Her feet bare, breathing stop.

-

Her talent took

Her far away

From family,

And daybreak smell

Sold upon

Life's errs and cracks

Her soul we mourn:

Oh, Calamax!"
FINV "Calamax, Sister Fair." v2 (6/11/17-6/15/17) by Evi Dent Halo
You can't be in Love whom you do not Know
As to Lock a Heart which you do not Own
So these Sages tell to such Mind would blow
Then **** the Spirit his Labours reknown
Yet as Souls oft do these Teachings re-think
And bask the Summer of these Elder Days
What's Taught be Sought; Then stone June Harvest's sink,
Permit everyone's Telly to do the same
So be it. Fine. Let those Vagabonds speak
Thinking all too well their Cosmos composed
Be Wired to their Fines; Then proves them Weak
Do with all their Noses bleed then disposed.
And now the Smile - when Lady Charmer breeds
Gasps with all her Gust; Then sprinkles her Seeds.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
Ken Pepiton Feb 2021
sides in position
self imposturing, pre sep
paration, settling scores and bounds
separation
church from state… wait

what are these

things? Words? Or mental wisps
inter
daring done to render due
to whom due, honor or otherwise reknown.

Heroic words. I've uttered some,
imagining all boys did,
singing with their dad's, to Queen,
we
are the champions
of the world, we pretend, to the end, then

we fall away… or they
fall away … the anthems in the ballparks,
oh,
say. can you see… we are the cops,
we are the redcoats and the brown shirts
and the cavalry and the real estate speculators,

slipping my grip, the idea of me, citizen-soldier,
come limping home from the edge
of baseball,
where futbol over laps ancestral lessons
in rendering unto the owner rents ……….

How old is old?
Ask a child, for old men never
learn the bounds, or
if they do, I can't say,
there seem no theys I fit just right.

I
balance _ or I lie /I\ am lifted leaning lost.
…………..

Salt, salaried man,
spending time in reading strange sayings
as if
we
know there is meaning found some times,
we think.
we mentalate, cogitate, take a tic

to stop
and think
a gain or a loss, more sense or less, inessence
or essential point

in time? See? Say what you see? Squiggle wiggle
vermicule breeeze, or
whispy vapour
rising
above or diving into a period,
a point
in time to see ifery vanish in wasery wonder iffing
whatsitmatter,
any way.

We lived past that. Now, we make sense……..

Radical is root-related, as well as
edge
related… out on the edge of known
a
self awareness wonders at my existing
outside the inside
as seen on TV
via AI guides through the explosion of knowns

I am anonymous.
There is a canyon near my home
the sign says it is the canyon with no name.
The map says it is a slot-like canyon, with no name.

Thingery thinking in terms of lines and letters letting
all we knew
blow into the winding times told of in tales too tedious
to
recall
with Howard Bloom level detail. {he is unique}
He touches me, do I not touch back? The curio knows.

How sharp the edge of a point stretched from

the mind that could see the wind whip a spark to life.

Sense when nonsense seems the fashion, the way
forms fashion fasteners around axes,
facistical twigs and vines

something says this is missed as a message,
this ax bound in sticks,
I dare, I do, I ask what was the meaning of this,
and
while we're on my dime, what's with the wings
on the Phrygian cap,

I mean,
what was the artificer's source of inspiration, like
why is liberty always a lady
wearing fashion far up the ladder of learned things,
what is the trick
that
feminine wile, legendary lure, curious art, enchanting
c'mon
one bite.

That idea, boing, stretched so tight it threatens ever
if it
breaks once, just
once

the attention span…

An encrustation sensation overwhelms me,
I'm thinking
I know
I know
I know
nothing so important that it could not wait to be said
by you, reader/writer being ready
read on

words to the wise are plenty,
these who say we know bread, they say leave the leaven.

:they said leave it in Egypt:

But who knows how?
Sour dough is sour dough, y'knows, it don't cook with no bubbles,
no,
dough rises in a backpack tied to an ***, crossing the red sea,
near that place where
National Geographic got that image of a golden chariot wheel,
reminiscent of the drowned army,
or was that
not true?

Do you believe AI knows? I mean, does your believing matter?
Ask who knows what and you learn, the memory we share
holds answers to questions you are afraid to ask.
………….

One in 8 billion, those are the current odds,
taken to scale, with man, all varieties and models,
augmented intellectuals allowed,
the measure,
of all things…
but
two's a crowd.
Social distance morphic resonance,

send me money, I am drowning in debt…
do I doubt?
Don't you, what if… somebody is going to win,
I think I can.

Ha, Wattie Piper, child hood infection exposed
too soon  to
W. Clement Stone, do it now

selah, right word right time, just before
I lose my mind

na na na na
--------------

Is the universe friendly,
does it matter if we know or if we agree?
It is,
I say.

I made my bet, I go with the goodness aspect
of knowledge,
truth itself, yes, the idea, real, the whole

enchilada.
Good is never evil. That is a true story rule,
you can bet on it,
because life isn't fair.

Think no evil, see no evil. My side won.
My weapons are not mortal, I know.
Once fooled, once ready,
I know
the trick is knowing good enough to know
the difference,
by now. We are mostly post-

original disconnection beans being removed
at birth,
with that little blue **** thingy,
nigh on universal by 1948,

super bloom, that was the year, the pollen way,
say,
hey, see this singer singing home song long song
so
far away, way way way away
hey

---- dancing dust motes seen in sun ---
A scratched itch, if nothing more.
Megan Sherman Apr 2017
Thou hast not the facilities to make contact with this,
These melodies that maketh my appendages swell,
And throb with deepest passion's bliss,
No crime is my rhyme, or my feet that dance and dwell,
Those anodynes to my depressed mood,
An extra lofty homeboy from the oaktown,
My reputation as such precedes me, a lewd
Beat as this; thou has not the facilities to touch, nor its reknown.
Must I labour the point? This beat is beyond thy reach
Yes I must labour the point: Thy hands cannot fathom this,
Massive melody with wanton wickedness replete,
With their guidance thou cannot go amiss.
    With mighty longjohns and bonny lasses,
    I spit my lyrics for the masses.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2022
In my time, I learned of wasted prosperity,
wasted production,
time spent destroying unsold goods.

All we were saying, we say as well once more,
give peace a chance, we all were dissuaded,
we all were led to this, we followed… we all did,
none among the numbers related to my mito mom,
knew how far mortals can see using knowledge,
the stuff in the Platonic form of science,
the tree, and all the fruit of the tree
which is in itself, ipsa sapientia

from former time,
I learn of earning daily bread
I learn of waking ready as known
I learn of patterns proving order
I learn of the flickt wrist whip act

Crack the whip. eh, knack is not knowing
how  it happens, knack is knowing
how to make it happen, knowing the effect
-- shh specter of spinoza- snap
pay attention, this is amusement, not folly,
affectionally called the crack of the whip,
or finger and thumb,
hear it, not feel it, know it means, quiet
listen
-crack of the bat

snaps the ear of any near enough to hear it,
and know that is not the sound
of a cat correcting a sailor's needless will,
breaking the boy, oh, yeah,
we seen it done, on TV,
we seen the boss punish the shirker,
we seen the pioneers take son's
to the woodshed,

rod for back of the fool,
whip to call attention to the snap, look up,
stand straight, and tall, upright,

faulter, find mine, whip me into shipshape,
saint's and land's sakes alive
all ye truth teller alliegiance pledgers,
be ready to face all the reasons war holds.

The commit-ed-tee, apart from any we, I'm in.
Mittere, carry the signal, be gone,
as we say, so be it,
amen,
launching prayers for fulfillment of our
godgiven heart's desires, yessirree

the history of our current we, the people
of earth, cognosticators of the cloud of all books,
articles, poems, songs, blogs, and posted memes;
-all searchable to original con-text captured expression.
So, that all being true,
it seems, we are the aftermath of all before now,
today, while it is called Hueta, or whatever, this time
between sunsets,
whiling away - amusing my minds imaginary board
of advisors, it is permissible to say, videlicet, viz.

the rule of law, is fulfilled
in that which truth
makes free, as free can be,
on the only one choice planet,
when it comes to living like a mankind creature.
- all who read these words can, that is special
Common gnosis, letters form words we all read.

Let letters serve as sounds, silently singing to you,
I am a ware, a functioning self-forming will to be,
a thought, or a wish, or a prayer,
come be, being seen
as that which lets until it be taken
out of the way.

Posited points. {the box of all gods thoughts}
Laws of the Medes and Persians, oaths to truth.

Mighy men of valour and reknown, completely
known, first error of the mother, secured by a god.

Then there were the promises, all the desires
in the heart of our kind, available in story form,
since ever ago, in the beginning,

we made words, letters let us know, with music,
whistles and cracks, and snaps, and claps, and stomps.

LOUD likka lightning sound, some three claps ago,

Boom come a roaring down the canyon,
echoing off my walled in self, hermit me,
ever learning, never coming to the whole truth,
and nothing but the truth,
so help me God,
' assume you are in my taxonomy, then
assume we have relegated the affects of tehkne
in extending our vision in to the imagined realms

we have seen the insides of our bodies, our own,
heart's pulse, our own colon's polyps, stripped
of flora and fauna, for the procedure.

We know oh so, oso, a bear totem load, more
than any super position non universal intelligence,
among the elohim, the plurality of spirit beings,
mentioned in the beginning
of the part of this story with this story in it.

---------- I always wished to be a writer,
but, I knew, I wasn't, really, I knew,
and then I became what I was at my core,
you know, a life unlived, is not worth the exam fee.
So, it stood to reason with me, that truth,
known makes free the use of that known,

no lie makes truth, it finds truth and twists it,
much as men find flax and form from that linen,
and from linen spin near everlong thread,
from distaff to spindle, a line,
on another, each
make a reason to wonder, shine it in the sunlit
spider kite, gleaming reason to wonder, how
anybody ever learned to make priests garments,
on contract, I mean,
somebody makes the uniforms to signal symbios-us,
we who let letters be taken out of the way
and we listen to the thinking thought way

to go
slow
jell-o air, breathe and find template con fi
density commonly sensed as we

like on TV, those people, on all the channels,
even YouTubers, et al, okeh, we
are who we imagine we are
as seen on TV, but mmm some of us read,

and we cheat,
we let go the letters on the page,
bookshelves stuffed backdrop
to signify power and authority to make right use
of all the potential
attained with a little will to access the actual science
in our collective unconscience, yes, happy

state real, as el camino real, amigo, we be
of one mind,
most of the time.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
"Confused, ingenious, or was that…?"
Ingenuine,
ingenue
- say it
nuengine image imagined, whined a high note
engineered imagineer error
red line
somewhere whistle this-away this-ah-say,
see a whole world at play,
esse, assay worth
play 'em the old songs never sung
any better
redoing all the old dances, yes, as in yes, t'day.

Fun items added in since sopho-more, English,
as led, edu-cated, mind you, hand written
note
" will you settle for mediocre?" abuse, from a teacher
who would tell an aspiring nobody,
such a possibility exists, just
Sue Ellen Stapp, star of some place in Texas,
standard townsquare post final flag
risen for us to serve under,
we were warriors,
always, farmers sort of,  some years,
enough to get by, without trying.

Mind wandering paladins, sometimes, we think.
The character dressed in black has an attitude infectious,

why, I wonder,
should I care? There, I answer, should and shall, sha'n't we
make some sense of this? Shall I or should you,
whose to do, eh, much
about nothin'. Nothin's t'do t'day. it's so.

Man must make a living some men say.
Man must find a living other men say.
Man must live, or go away

banished from touch or kind word, from now

on to now, one day being all we take away,
live this one, or pretend any day you wish is this one,
called today.

Okeh.

My job is not yours, and when I die, the winds
return on their circuits to be the legacy
of legendary souls, said to be
heirs of the wind. {due to trouble…}

Yeh,
ghost riders, in the sky,
yip…
---------------------
we, I say, in awe, a we has been, mani
infesting

many many means made up as mind that matters,
means to ends, maps and steps
right, usually
- some sequence of events -
- some informing occurs, the we or me

Morning ritual, daily doings, done your way
any we
we wake in and have no former self aware in, forming me
from what you think we see.
a we.
o so strange the state, awe arriven through a slit
in the curtain, started then,
some certain number measurings ago, counting slow

a pin hole

backwards, ah, first ether egg.
In a terracotta plant ***,
a me, recalls the sense of that being,
reassuring, in me, even drugged to painless
state,
things believable appear as I think,
and sometimes remain visible, to this eye

think I say to some part of myself, remember this,
it helps,
someday, because it always helps to remember this,
painless state safe as sound in times embrace

comingling in cognosis space, co know co know
reknown,
no crown, not of laurel nor thorns nor light,

for now is night and all confusion settles to form
tomorrow's sunrise reflection.
A given day, not earned, nor to earn manyanawit, but to play the role,
chosen... visiting the past... I can really remember the dream state during my appendectomy when I was 12. A benefit of proximity to my grands, I bet.
Bae
I think of you as a miracle
A treasure I sought and found
A love that keeps hatching in the middle of my chest
Makes my heart race and days blessed
I would compliment you today and tomorrow and feel I didn't do enough for  I love being in your hair.
I love having you around me surrounding me like a circle or dome I can't escape
I love the peace you bring  remarkable and reknown to me
I love seeing you smile and watch us talk and laugh like we knew each other thousands of years ago
I love being a a collar and you being the shirt.
Love being the make up to draw the beauty lines to where they belong.
Back home I can sit comfortably and say "wow life blessed me more and more  because I got you "
Sometimes in my dream I call you BAE
When you have a crush on her, you need to tell  her the truth
Tell. her she means the world to you and never stop
These compliments do mean a lot to her

— The End —