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Stephan Cotton May 2017
Another shift, another day, Another buck to spend or save
A million riders, maybe more, delivered to their office door
Or maybe warehouse maybe store.
Or church or shul or city school, right on time as a rule.

Clickety, clackety, clickety, clee,
I am New York, the City’s me
Come let me ride you on my knee
From Coney Isle to Pelham Bay
From Bronx to Queens eight times a day.

Ride my trains, New Yorkers do
And you’ll learn a thing or two
About the City up above, the one some hate, the one some love.
On the street they work like elves
Down below they’re just themselves.

Through summer’s heat they still submerge,
Tempers held (though always on the verge),
They push, they shove – just like above –
The crowds will jostle, then finally merge.

Downtown to work and then back to sleep
They travel just like farm-herded sheep.
In through this gate and out the other,
Give up a seat to a child and mother,
Just don’t sit too close to that unruly creep!

With these crowds huddled near
Just ride my trains with open ear,
There’s lots of tales for you to hear.


Dis stop is 86th Street, change for da numbah 4 and 5 trains.  Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.   77th Street is next.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     I’m Doctor Z, Doctor Z are me
     I’ll fix your face or the visit’s free.
     Plastic surgery, nips and tucks
     You’ll be looking like a million bucks.

     Looka those pitchas, ain’t they hot?
     You’ll look good, too, like as not!
     Just call my numbah, free of toll
     Why should you look like an ugly troll?

     You’ll be lookin good like a rapster
     Folks start stealing your tunes on Napster
     Guys’ll love ya, dig your face
     Why keep lookin like sucha disgrace?

     Call me up, you’re glad you did
     Ugly skin you’ll soon be rid.
     Amex, Visa, Mastercard,
     Payment plans that ain’t so hard.

     So don’t forget, pick up that phone
     Soon’s you get yourself back home.
     I’ll have you looking good, one, two three
     Or else my name ain’t Doctor Z.


Dis stop is 77th Street, 68th Street Huntah College is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     It was a limo, now it’s the train;
     Tomorrow’s sunshine, but now it’s rain.
     The market’s mine, for taking and giving
     It’s the way I earn my living.

     Today’s losses, last week’s gain.
     A day of pleasure, months of pain.
     We sold the puts and bought the calls;
     We loaded up on each and all.

     I’ve seen it all, from Fear to Greed,
     Good motivators, they are, both.
     The fundamentals I try to heed
     Run your gains and avoid big loss.

     Rates are down, I bought the banks
     For easy credit, they should give thanks.
     Goldman, Citi, even Chase
     Why are they still in their malaise?

     “The techs are drek,” I heard him say
     But bought more of them, anyway.
     I rode the bull, I’ll tame the bear
     I’ll scream and curse and pull my hair.

     So why continue though I’m such a ****?
     I’ll cut my loss if I find honest work.



Dis is 68th Street Huntah College, 59th Street is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     He rides the train from near to far,
     In and out of every car.
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”
     Some folks buy them, most do not,
     Are they stolen, are they hot?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”

     Who would by them, even a buck?
     What’re the odds they’re dead as a duck?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”
     Why not the Lotto, try your luck,
     Or are you gonna be this guy’s schmuck?
     “Batchries, batchries, tres por un dolar!”


Dis is 59th Street, change for de 4 and 5 Express and for de N and de R, use yer Metrocard at sixty toid street for da F train.  51st Street is next. Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     “Dat guy kips ****** wit me, Wass he
     tink, I got time for dat ****?  Man, I
     got my wuk to do, I ain gona put
     up with him
     no more.”

          “I don’t know what to tell this dude. Like,
          I really dig him but
          ***?  No way.  And
          He’s getting all too smoochie face.”

     “Right on, bro, slap dat fool up
     side his head, he leave you lone.”

          “Whoa, send him my way.  When’s the last
          time I got laid?  I’m way ready.”

          “Oh, Suzie,..”


Dis is fifty foist Street, 42nd Street Grand Central is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin doors.



     Abogados es su amigos, do you believe the sign?
     Are they really a friend of mine?
     Find your lawyer on the train
     He’ll sue if the docs ***** up your brain.

     Pick a lawyer from this ad
     (I’m sure that you’ll be really glad)
     You’ll get a lawyer for your suit,
     Mean and nasty, not so cute.

     Call to live in this great nation
     1-800-IMMIGRATION.
     Or if your bills got you in a rut
     1-800-BANK-RUPT.

     We’re just three guys from Flatbush, Queens
     Who’ll sue that ******* out of his jeans.
     Mama’s proud when she rides this train
     To see my sign making so much rain.

     No SEC no corporations
     We can’t find the United Nations.
     Just give us torts and auto wrecks
     And clients with braces on their necks.

     Hurting when you do your chores?
     There’s money in that back of yours.
     Let us be your friend in courts
     Call 1-800-SUE 4 TORTS.


Dis is 42nd Street, Grand Central, change for the 4, 5 and 7 trains. Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Toity toid is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


They say there’s sev’ral million a day
From out in the ‘burbs, they pass this way.
Most come to work, some for to play
They all want to talk, with little to say.

Bumping and shoving, knocking folks down
A million people running around.
The hustle, the bustle the noise that’s so loud
Get me far from this madding crowd.

“We can be shopping instead of just stopping
And onto the next outbound train we go hopping.
Hey, it’s a feel that that guy’s a-copping!”

They want gourmet food, from steaks down to greens
Or neckties and suits, or casual jeans,
It’s not simply newspapers and magazines
For old people, young people, even for teens.


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Thoidy toid Street, twenty eight is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     “So what’s the backup plan if
     He doesn’t get into Trevor Day?
     I know your
     heart’s set on it, but we’ve only
     got so many strings we
     can pull, and we can’t donate a
     ******* building.”

           “Hooda believed me if I tolja the Mets
          would sail tru and the Yanks get dere
          by da skinna dere nuts?
          I doan believe it myself.  Allya
          Gotta do is keep O’Neil playin hoit
          And keep Jeter off his game an
          We’ll killum.

               “My sistah tell me she be yo *****.  I tellya I cut you up if you
                ****** wid her, I be yo ***** and donchu fuggedit.”

     “I wish you wouldn’t talk like that.
     And we can just **** good and
     Well find some more strings to pull!”

          “Big fuggin chance.  Wadder ya’ smokin?”

               “Yo sitah she ain my *****, you be my *****.  I doan be ******
                wid yo sistah.  You tell her she doan be goin round tellin folks
                dat ****.”


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Twenty eight Street, twenty toid is next.  Watch out da closin dowahs.


     Do you speak Russian, French or Greek,
     We’ll assimilate you in a week.
     If Chinese is your native tongue
     You’ll speak good English from day one.

     Morning, noon, evening classes
     Part or full time, lads and lasses.
     You’ll be sounding like the masses
     With word and phrase that won’t abash us.

     Language is our stock in trade
     For us it’s how our living’s made.
     We’ll put you in a class tonight
     Soon your English’ll be out of sight.

     If you’re from Japan or Spain
     Basque or Polish, even Dane,
     Our courses put you in the main
     Stream without any need for pain.

     We’ll teach you all the latest idioms
     You’ll be speaking with perfidium.
     We’ll give you lots of proper grammar
     Traded for that sickle and hammer.

     Are you Italian, Deutsch or Swiss?
     With our classes you can’t miss
     The homogeneous amalgamation
     Of this sanitized Starbucks nation.


Dis is Twenty toid Street, 14th Street Union Square is next. Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Watch out da closin doors.


     “Ladies and Gentlemen, I hate to bother you
     But things are bleak of late.
     I had a job and housing, too
     Before my little quirk of fate.”

     “There came a day, not long ago,
     When to my job I came.
     They handed me a pink slip, though,
     And ev’n misspelled my name.”

     “We’ve got three kids, my wife and me.
     We’re bringing them up right.
     They’re still in school from eight to three
     With homework every night.”

     “I won’t let them see me begging here,
     They think I go to work.
     Still to that job I held so dear
     Until fate’s awful quirk.”

     “So help us now, a little, please
     A quarter, dime (or dollar still better),
     It’ll go so far to help to ease
     The chill of this cold winter weather.”

     “I’ll walk the car now, hat in hand
     I do so hope you understand
     I’m really a proud, hard working man
     Whose life just slipped out of its plan.”

     “I thank you, you’ve all been oh so grand.”


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is 14th Street, Union Square, change for da 4 and 5 Express, the N and the R.   Astor Place is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     The hours are long, the pay’s no good
     I’m far from home and neighborhood.
     All day I work at Astor Place
     With sunshine never on my face.
     Candy bar a dollar, a soda more
     A magazine’s a decent score.
     Selling papers was the game
     But at two bits the Post’s to blame
     For adding hours to my long day.
     All the more work to save
     Tuition for that son of mine: that tall,
     Strong, handsome, American son


Dis is a Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Yer at Astah Place, Bleekah Street is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     Summer subway’s always hot, AC’s busted, like as not
     Tracks are bumpy, springs are shot ‘tween the cars they’re smoking
     ***.

     To catch the car you gotta run they squeeze you in with everyone
     Just hope no body’s got a gun 'cause getting there is half the fun.

     Packed in this car we’re awful tight seems this way both day and
     night.
     And then some guys will start a fight.  Subway ride’s a real delight.

     Danger! Keep out! Rodenticide! I read while waiting for a ride.
     This is a warning I have to chide:  
     I’m very likely to walk downtown, but I’d never do it Underground.

     Took the Downtown by mistake.  Please, conductor, hit the brake!
     Got an uptown date to make, God only knows how long I’ll take.


Yer ona Brooklyn Bridge bound Numbah 6 Train.  Dis is Bleekah Street, Spring Street is next.  Watch out da closin doors.


     The trains come through the station here,
     The racket’s music to my ear.
  &nbs
Images, overheard (and imagined) conversations.  @2003
C J Baxter Jan 2015
The noblest, normal little chap
had eyes of the dawns red rise,
and beliefs like bubble wrap that
would pop to his surprise.  

Cloaked in the mornings mist
he'd speak of the night like it was never to come.
He'd take the hours just to twist them
and hold them under his thumb.

Sucha noble savage, sucha champ!
Such an intriguing little creature.  
Some call him foul, Others a *****,
but to me he is my treasured teacher.

He runs soil through his scarred hands
and talks of the life that he holds.
" This here is my love, my little land,
it can crumble but it never ever folds"
Nicole M Grubbs Aug 2012
The night I met my Soul spark, O he was sucha cosmic twin flame to see. Stared into sky eyes that left me not knowing what to do. Words are found speechless and my breath I tried to catch as my Soul spark laid flickering by candle light is where we first met. Time stopped around us as we glowed in our own flame's light and gave me a new found meaning to love at it's very first sight. His skin draped over beautifully to the light body inside and I traced my fingertips over him to feel that his felt just like mine. We danced our first waltz, something of our very own flow and had me levitating towards the ceiling like a light-diamond rainbow. Waited so long to hold my Soul spark that now it feels like a dream. Our moment came and went so quickly like a shooting star you almost didn't see.
.It's 4 a.m.A hotelbibleisspreading thegood newsto a local wino,as ***** childrenof intimatestrangers areplaying X Boxwith addicts.A young girlis learning toinhaleup on thegravel rooftop,scribing poetryon her armin the sparsemoonlight.Razor writingis sucha wasteof type O..
stéphane noir Dec 2017
sometimes i wonder if shakespeare was behind the pen
that fiddled and diddled in that old church parking lot
i drove by it the other day but there was no one there
nobody freezing their buns off in the wake of the open door
nobody trying to canoodle in the back seat that wasn't folded down
nobody even thinking about pulling into that darkness.
would you even do that again? i would a hundred times think.
what even happened to that kid who used to write songs
and play them as if he were playing in front of a hundred eyes
but they were all your eyes and there wasn't a flame in existence
that was brighter than they when each lit up in its own way.
what even happened to the girl who showed that boy her house
and the colonial colloquial drapery and carpeting wall to wall,
her little sister sticking her finger into the brownie batter
and protective mother who i've gotta admit was 100 percent right:
stay away from the bad man with the non-leather patagonia jacket
and all of his sassy ideas that got him good grades in k-8
but really started to expose his weaknesses steeped in frivolity
when he got into the upper level courses and advanced placements.
[a GD mile wide and an inch deep, that's what me thinks jar jar binx]
stay away from the burnt out eagle scout who let his guard down
and allowed your guard down both metaphorically and not sooo... but
remember that coffee shop show that you never came to?
strange, it feels in this moment like an aching sore thumb.
i listened to joshua radin all the way home and thought
christ what am i even going to do about this can this work and
if it can work how can it work but if it can't work why can't it work?
because lord knows this lady is easy to please when we drink. but
silly,you're tough as ***** ****** nails when you need to be told no.
& i aint never heard of sucha thing as a dude who's charming as hell
when he's telling a gorgeous woman sum'thin she don't wanna hear;
make me a pill for that and i'll sell it on The Street for days without end.
[so how much supply you got when the thing aint even fda approved?]
"lose yourself in what you're doing and you'll never work a day" is
what they tell me while they cast me into this steel bending furnace
and demand me to find a way to be cool and relax and chill the f out-
been doing that on my own and there's no milky white ear to listen
or a record to put it on or even a GD vocal box that feels like working
unless it's singing showtunes in the car or harmonizing to justin bbr
like i'm the **** 6th man in the pentatonix or however many there are.
capitalistically useless thing i was born with and worked really hard at
until one day it told me i don't have the capacity to scribe anymore.
so i'm forever speechless like the kid who got coal for christmas last year.
& you'd catch me in that backyard again with all the 15 year old girls
still kinda trying to impress them but mostly you, & give my shirt away:
wear it and be proud that you snubbed the bad man who passed through
with the non-leather patagonia jacket in the old church parking lot.
and then i watched jim and andy
Frank Holliday Oct 2013
I loved you FIRST!! but afterwards
your Love
Outsoaring mine, sang sucha loftier song
your Love
As drowned the friendly coolings of my dove
which owes the other most?? my Love was long.
And yours  one moment seemed to wax more strong,
I loved and guessed at you, you construed me......
And loved me for what might or might not be-
Nay, weights and measures to do BOTH of us wrong
For verily love knows not " mine" or "thine"
But with seperate "I" and 'Thou" Free
For one is both and both are one in love
Rich love know nought of "thine that is not mine"
Both to have strenght and both the length thereof,
Both of us, of the love that we CAN MAKE ONE!!!
Dougie Simps Jul 2013
Could you imagine if we lived in a world where we never discriminate?
The word ****** would be a myth, People were open minded and great!
It hard to talk to one another, when rarely we relate,
Judging one another because of the pigment on another persons face
This life is sucha disgrace
I'm sure it wasn't gods plan...
To belittle all our women...
Give power to a weak man...
To **** with no remorse...
Start an idea called divorce...
To conceive without love,
That virally spreads thru *******
And To pray without meaning
Ask god to approve your selfish dreaming...
While the broken hearted child, recovers from internal bleeding,
Society, I am pleading
We gotta resort to a change...
We gotta help one another,
But you can't help AND inflict pain
Questioning all my thoughts,
Skeptical on my wishes,
Because angels are cleaning dishes now all in hells kitchen,
No point of leaders voice, if no one cares to listen...of loyalty, when integrity is morally...missing
And if the world comes to an end...I just hope im not a witness
Crazy how America represents the eagle!
Yet we are treated like pigeons.
Brainwashed by the "govt" seems nowadays to be a given..
Can I be a good man?
Or a brilliant musician?
Can I follow my own heart?
Wait, do I really need to ask permission?
Do I!?....I don't know. But these modern day issues all seem to think so.

-Dougie simps #LostLoveWriters
Wrote this off of Macklemores hit song "same love"
Nicole M Grubbs Mar 2013
looked all my life and found only heartache, the moment i stop looking i find sucha cosmic beautiful entity. synchronistic destiny?
Dougie Simps Mar 2014
I mean...I... I apologized
I attempted to do what makes me most uncomfortable
I Admit. Admit that I needed to commit to something that could of raised happiness, raised my vision. I guess I saw something...it was just an abstract view...I walked into a museum only to misinterpret you.
The sculpture I thought was broken. I thought it was missing pieces...these were my distorted and ignorant views
When the truth is...I'm the broken one...the critic of his own self review
I didn't know...it was sucha short, intense time and quick moment, I guess when they say handle with care...the few chances of opportunity to display your control, are the ones you need to learn to grab on to and hold it. I Regret. What's that? I never look back. I just wish I could of accepted what I knew was important...I wish I could of handled the truth and the facts. Cause I've become someone else. You've brought this newfound inspiration. not as someone you yearn for...this is a person who's supposed to be part of your journey, the friendship of wisdom and honesty in your future creation. I apologize. I'm aware it hasn't been that long. I'm a man of chipped pieces. I'm a sculpture with many flaws. I think I miss the person I felt most comfortable with...not due to feelings, just the fact they cared at all.
She was sucha good friend to begin with...why'd I let her go?
Ayeshah Dec 2015
On my knees

once again

*I'm calling out for answers to questions  
a helping hand

I don't even know what to say

It's been sucha long time

sense
I've asked for anything
for myself

What I'm asking for is simple

All I request is peace

Heal me and allow me to live again

Not be fearful of the
"what ifs"

Let this time be worthwhile

Where I'll have
honesty 
 love & devotion

Loyalties a must
without it there's no trust


I come calling on you

begging for understanding
  &
forgiveness

GOD please

*I'm calling on you & only you can save me


help me

reach out & teach me

Please hear me
as
I bend my head and pray


On My Knees
Copyright ©
Ayeshah K.C.L.N
1977-Present  
All right reserved
Anne Baluch Jun 2013
Human being Human being
Why you sucha mess ?
Neither fully satisfied
Nor happy or stressed

You party and you cheer
And spend money on shores
Just think what you earned
Is this the way should go ?

And then again you blame
Not happy with work & fame
Tired exhausted and fatigued
You say it's same old game

You wish for nonsense thrills
When life is good to chill
But still you feeling bad
Coz no one to nosy and drill

When life is good, you tired
When life is hard, you tired
Am sorry but this is enough
Am tired of your desires

If I can get a change
A chance of some relief
I'd jostled my way out
From this ****** believes.
C J Baxter Dec 2014
A red river runs with me- through the night
  and the heart of the city. “Burst the banks!”,
I yell but his movements stay slight.
Bobbing along, to the moon we give thanks,
for it’s filled their minds with the expectance of fright.
The wrong time bends its way toward the right.
Everything else bends too, to fill in the blanks.
  We’re starting to spill over. The flood comes tonight.  
The blood that I run with will stain your hands,
The river will coarse through young and old veins.
But nature doesn’t come calling out any demands,
She moves us-sweeping and cleaning up mans stains.  
Times hands are broken. Your guess is as good as mine.
Each horizon I’ve arrived at, they always move the line.  

I fell into the river from a childhood nightmare-
And sometimes I fall back home in the day.
But each place is the same- Scarily rare.
You can blame it on pixies or blame Gray-
Or any kind of thing that makes a young mind aware.
But I’ve laid my thoughts out and stripped them bare.
Pens cruel ******* of what I called real
taught me not to get caught when ever I steal.  
   I borrow thoughts that tie me in tight knots
as I try stitch them into a portrait of a woman.  
But they always twist into fantasies plots
just to burn out in the fires they were fuming.  
So hear I drift alone in a thick and red river,
Creeping with the wind and the moon as we shiver.  

At one point, a wholly spun world now ago,
were days when this river bread new life.
It worked mens hands to the bone to grow
family and cloth each beautiful wife.
Helped purpose find its way to the heart
of each voice that was silence by a no.
The river shares snippets of his life with me.
Speaks a a story that my eyes can see.  
    He told me his plans to wash away the old,
now that those in high places think they’re above-
He floods the ground as this story is told,  
Sweeping up lost voices and spirits in love.
The river has given us life, like so many before,
one day he will whisk us off to a warmer shore.  

There are thousands deep under his water,
and some who float just above his open lips.  
With the love like a fathers for his only daughter,
he lets us drink his life but only in sips.
For greed can so often father slaughter.
It created hate in nature when it caught ‘er.  
Tore her apart, one sin after another.
Then sent us cutting out hearts- brother from brother.  
          We surge through the cities old and cold veins,
collecting each drifter lost in a dark way.
With the eyes of the pretty, the logicals brains
and the patience of listeners, we sway
with his rhythms and with no need to pray.
We’ll sway till the morning of a red skied day.  

     “ When now was never we dreamt of forever,
   of days shivering madly down this old cities river”

Through the black night, we sang these words of hope.
Thought one day we’d wash up in our old city
and walk on its streets and it’d be able to cope.  
To see it from the bottom and marvel at its scope.
Not to just walk and think “Oh its Sucha' pity”.
Those days when concrete handed me rope
and pointed me out toward tree’s on the horizon
are over. The grounds now are on the risin’.  
           Like hell being filled to its level,
we drowned demons and free’d souls.
But only for a second could we revel,
for our buildings were built without holes.  
And those finely suited sit their grinning,
Our old structures seem to have saved them.

“ We drowned in the waters we were swimming,
But were the only ones who ever had braved them”
through tear drops and bloodshed, ive said it a million times and ill say it again because when i lost u... a part of my heart, my soul, u took, my friend I look at your pictures, and i really cant help but to smile, sadden i remain, cos i needed to see u before u left, just for a while My days go by, i think about ur mom and dad, how hard its gotta be to remember the wonderful son, just a year ago, they had. tough listenin' to music, i find myself crying, still seems so unreal, the thought of u dieing. catch myself wanting to tell u all the new things in my life, even though since u've been gone, my minds not been right. but then again thats something i absolutley loved abt u, u could make sense out of anything, ur heart was so true. Intelligent as they come with such an interesting perspective, grateful to have learned from u, i was starving for that connection. handsome as can be, those green eyes are embedded in my brain, heart and stomache still flutter anytime i simply hear ur name. sucha shame, u were destined for greatness, the best at so much, always wantin to make it. hard to write with all these memories running through my head, give up anything to see ur warm smile once again. empty, for all along i had a plan, a year ago i wouldnt know this me, if that helps u understand. met a lot of people, but i felt u in so many ways that even mentioning this puts me in dark depressing daze. But i know i always will because u werent just anybody to me, i appreciate the person u were, so brilliantly unique. i fight tears almost as much as i breathe, because when i lost u, i felt like i lost me
R.I.P. Ryan Lee Carlson.
TTDBS **
Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
This has a photo of a California Black Lizard
official name, sunning on a rock, but that's
in the modern novel medium, blog form.
mmmmaybe, baby, we do
grow old, past sixty-four and even more,
unbridled tongues, held silent, lo' monks,

listen, quiet, now, then, to now, then to when
listen to the Osprey fly over our valley to Yuma,

to the Chocolate Mountains, beyond the river,
the only river, running down the great crevice,
due to erosion from John Bunyan's Pauline ax,

a rift right across the heart of the land,
opened up the first Bright Angel Trail,
for there was no other way across the canyon.

And we had people, before, on that other side,

that happened, all around the globe, that hap,
the earth was struck, and struck another,
time and lost all its religion,
it was announct, we all sang along,
and some force pushed the edge of the sun,
in a single most malignant EMP burst relig-i-used
to beat al bound synenergy rationally, as knowledge
and life, root and branch, time and chance missed call
first shall be last, roll on, roll on down time orchard

lessons learned in lines of trees, you can imagine,
while alone, just be used to being in the sense we yoosta
call peace, or bliss, blah good blah, being right inside.
- breathing easy, not sleepy, no place to be.
When outside is just too hot or too cold.

Chaos reigns for days, and weeks and years, and
we can imagine, my kind, human kind, earth stock one.

We the deme, the interbreeding productive kind,
we who beat the dis-easing raging fever from eating
foul putrid rotting corpses, as would dogs, any dogs,
naturally,
we have such knowledge, said to be wild boys,
raised by wolves or Comanches… Grandma,
she did not know her people,
but she knew her place,
and made it perfect,
just right, she and her little dog, and relics
from a life that matched Saul Bellow's on earth,
though she was never widely read, she did leave
a greater legacy in terms of proper child minding.

Yep, minding is mighty
otherwise than rearin' n'raisin' hardgeenevahnegated
she said it, and she served such chicken at the
same table where we all ate, we was sorta colored
because my grandaddy fixed cars for folks mr leon
the jew who owned the Loma Vista in the Green Book,
befriended on collect calls, and sent Pop Boyett, said he
t' tow ya in, he'll send his boy Jim,
'be there drectly, jest don't fret none.
sit tight. Sundowns a ways yet.

yeah, I am white proud that my grand daddy was friends,
with ******* and injuns and jews, his customer's
including Charlie Lum, Mary's daddy, who used grandpa's

knack with stunted fruit trees, to bring peace and calm
into the environment, with a quarter acre lot back yard.

Living earth is in me, I ate my first mud pie, and liked
the laugh it got from whoever washed my mouth out.

I watched an uncle get his washed with soap, thus
learning how loudly to utter curses when being proven
beguiled by a will so sharp and thorny, nothing sweet
shall ever stick,
honey chile, tar baby, chocolate kisses, all a mud pie
made me remember, at a whim, in my dementing whiling
away

nothing needed doing more than not dragging grease
from the shop, past Grandma's back porch,
where the squeezed water tub always was soapy
enough to expose a little boy to sudden stripping
and brush scrubbing,

while she laughed,
and made them all laugh, as long as that junk yard
was apayin' the electric/


-- Coming in from a tinctured cuppaKuerig
Settled mind alligning old stitches in a tapestry,
not much sense can be made of Bayeux resolution

stitched in time to serve in tutorial classes
open to the masses, for your undivided attention

in silence, for the space of about a half an hour there.

Columbian, it says on the plastic waste,
mea culpa, mea maxima,
we suffer such silly easy living made much too easy,
I light the bowl with a focused rim jet quartering,
too easy to use the flower, to ask smoke a favor,

as to result
in a bounce back,
as the elanvital of my mountain pushes west winds
back into themselves
to form the ribs
of huge cloud forms that reform so
true to pattern proof, exhalent
of this wind
reflection off the ridges we live on,
vitalized by a DNA centric view
of stress or pressure, squeezing bests
from times as worst as worsts were then,

Vital tipping point that lets a spirit slip into the story.

Structure and content cata and ana, as we leave
that which our fruits produce, a cache of all we be

come and see, I said, okeh.
Proof by Synthesis/ Venter link, blink
-Craig Venter… GI imagine, we all can Google It,
in another window,
and find it not mystical in terms of who imagined this.
You realize whoever it was, it is yet done
dramatically as next years
stories, lightsped mind gluons
from last years tragedy we all can find,
sympathy puddles, lost allusions
to chances being once this line
was written
for no single pair of eyes, not mine, ours,
de-cartooned Madiera wine revival fly,
wise minding times retwining U to I,
leading down old fissures where
suddenlies occurred and we all recall, as if
some things in life after television are with us
-to this instant and
until we die, and leave our mystery religion lying ever after.
Twinkling a little,
winking
done did done, artificial art intuited involuntarily

Accidents, where by we live, U rhea re minding us,
there is something wishing to use us, as yousta be,
- so fine
thank you for your service, Turing and Von Neuman
The general and logical theory of automata…

"much less well understood" loop the tape,
loop it once,
and again, become the digital life Wolfram made,
flat land as real as Wildersmith ever projected it

Up against the wall, we pass through it all
and so on and so forth,
fighting phrases to fit the codescript initial intention,

in the immature tabernacle state,
a thousand atoms should be plenty,

make life from that, and all the scattered dust
of heavy metal stars that burned too fast
to eat up all the lithium.
- this is the bottom
A funda-lowest level, fundamental, puts us sensing
tips of our own tail, verily modeling
Ouroboros
in the womb as drawn to our imaginations with
Look Whose Talking Now! WOW
Haeckel and Jeckle, and L. Ron-ron didoo ronrun
Dianetics really gave Travolta therapist recollections
needed to over come the scorn
spewn on Urban Cowboy,
outside Texas and New York City.

We can tame the bucking machine, with no pistil.
No bull, boys and girls, we made sugar in Trinidad,
using the pistil of a bull to instill the will to learn
to live,
and let it be known, life abhors evil, it fails to hate,
that which has no use and piles as potential piles
of all we knew we needed to encode to become
XML, then the shifting database schema, Dinesh
D'Sousa, the metadata scraper with an MIT MBA.
Not the pundit.
He fed me this character trait, mind in order,
meets older orderly mind in mortal chaos, coping.

Feel his way past the message messenger collision,
caused in no insignificant way by poetry, and poets,
enthralled with taming textual dragons, lizard brain,

quick wits
to wot not with, per haps, haps as chance are us,
being lucky because we feel lucky,

monstors speak often one with another,
see the bull lizards crawl all over each other.

Smell that, mofa, smellmemo nofa fame fa fa fa me
lizard pheremone, so subtle after while.

Layin' out on the terrace, up above some granite
splashes from the wave that left the coastal range,

rising up from here, see it there, on googled earth,
take away the clouds and spin that globe,
like you are one of those named winds,
names you heard they called the wind; Mariah, and
Santa'na; Chinook and Roclydon and twisters
too many to name. Bringing dust to the Amazon,
to feed the hungry jungle, woken at the touch of waste
being made to feed once needless services, after,
the great lizard brains lost their minds in one fell swoop,
so they say,
they who strike the suckers, just below the root,
fine staffs are made from suckers broken off before blossom.

Orchard watches, as a young man, planless, saved, for sure,
but no assignment save this so-called fight of faith, for sure,

some people can be fed the kind of meat that forms soldiers,
from any man worth his salt, which, if it were ever a sin to gather
salt, say from the sides of the roads, where there's a plenty this spring,
why then I would think the concept of sin had passed its use by.
why,
I'd get the old pickup runnin' and take a flat blade shovel,
or, what was I thinkin'
not a type scooper, but a flat, scale-scraper shovel, there you go,
use a phrase arranger allowing such metaphors that morph to any tool.

Fluidbots in The Abyss, look it sees you seeing it, so what, was that new
when Nietzsche notict, tskt,
I trow not. But if it was then, it is not now, and that leaves me room
to say Freud imagined he knew things and his followers do as well.

Sometimes a cigar is a prop.
A stiff staff to lean on in a manifested dream interpreting schema
for ancient meta data shuffling,
the whole of all we know so far right now,
this being in which words act as though we know, we
at machine level code, being the internet, being a node, a nerve,
in the ever of ever since every thing, the whole truth thought impossible
but, to not imagine, thinking it at once,

it must be possible to tell, or why, in hell, aha, instant answer,

this is not hell, because if it was, I could not tell you the truth,
as Paul bore witness All Cretans are liars, I tell you the truth.

I bet my life, against any one of many, each experience as fable forms from,

those hang as moss in swampy tidal deltas, where rivers do not branch,
but open wide, another spring time in the Rockies, reaches all the way
to Burro Creek, down through all the Diablo Canyons in bad lands,
at the edges of the last great tsumamis that our satellitia see through centuries
and eons to when there was no thing made by man that could show him,
the Nazca Lines and our Blythe Intaglios.

In the world of artists at work, function descriptive sign making symbol
we agree, we be
come and see, sit beside our tiny fire, see, we have no words to say,
so we some times whistle and sound so much like a bird, a jay,
some one out there laughs he is my brother so he whistles better,

then every body laughs and shout PA PA PA papapapapapapa yah, way
cool, pa looks at his old walkabout friend,
he nods,
we grin, and go, well, when why was just a guest at our station,
in the core script lost,
left in the back of a black volkswagon,
who gave this boy a ride, from Santa Barbara, that strip,
I never paid enough mind to what they call it,
but it was lined with hitchhikers, they gave them rides,
and he was one of those who took PCH up and down,
a few times, spring of 1970, eventually, I imagine,
I would have been invited
to learn
at Esalen, what I could imagine doing about it.
The big? mark of the beast, the very knowledge forvidding one.

Cognosis infections sets in, but you know Jesus never sneezed,
and hees heest atuitionally
assumet' be wiping your excretions from your beard.

In the spirit, no offence, only words, no gestures, ups or downs,
rounds and rounds, teetering palms, tilting eyes, furled brow,
world class rime crimes tearing whole realities' religited ties, bows gnosis
knot release,
tricky three pole knot…

Magic, once, a few who knew, easily seemed so, read Twain,
and imagine your own, in dementia, joining other intentionally scattered
brains
informing conformist patterns that make our laughing echo
as medicine from men listening to grand fathers and uncles whistling
and laughing and little sister joining in, so grandma's sister does so, too,

woo hoo pretty soon its allusfools fullfilled dancing in the dark
where we can still feel the fire.

As a s aside, for science sake, I have reached a stage,
an effect in on or to or any of the hundred and fifty
or so pre
positions things can be, and become, formative,
logos, logical sense of saying something seems so,
if you have been at this stage, and wondered

what is it worth to say it is no secret and never was,
I use cannabis, and I read and write and function

as any writer in the days of Post and Colliers, n'such
had to believe was possible,

to create the creatures we see on television,
those were dime a dozen underground reds,
feeding fertlizer to minds subknowingly with science,
hidden persuaders, falsely called so, they were inyaface!

Fool, he follow the old weigh where heavy mean good,
real good, get down, to the ground feel the weight o'
oh momma did you know,
oh momma when did you start to show,

could you have let me be nothing but a bad draw, you
nevahnevahnevah gonna know now, but momma,

mam, where all good mommas gone, go on, you done,
you brought a heel into the world,
yes, ma'am.
a real snake stomping, preacher, kinda man, selling
salve, to soothe the transition, come the kingdom

due any day. What price you pay, what task you prefer
performance mandatory, in any sucha story
as this very one intends to be,
at a rate, cuneiform forming lets, say that,
this way
in an other time, one symbol to the thumbprint,
one per inch,
10 wpm during upload to ever from now.
Used just yoosta be we were tools.
"a used key is ever bright."
Images holding minimum 1000 words abound at Kenpepiton.com
119
ur testosterone is sucha wsate of time
stop pointing the knife flip the handle
hand itto me backwards
and ill stab out my own eyes
Mallory Nason Jun 2017
my luck hasn't always been the best
when i think I'm on top and living life at my best
a quick turn of events always seems to find me and tare me apart like wolves in a innocent bird nest
I don't understand why my life is like this
its an infinite circle of mishap
I am sucha good person,
why does misfortune always have to take advantage of me
I don't deserve these cards I've been dealt
but what can I do
besides hope for the best and see whats next
#unluckiest #person #I #know
Delton Peele Mar 2021
wait what hey ***
that aint mine
you said you didnt wanna come back here tonight
fox worthy
you funny guy
put
my
  

hands on the back of my

oh **** that old ladies got SOME
GUM
    
see ya
  
ding daddle ding
dumb
on the run again
lost all my favorite jeans again
hiding in the trees
haw
johny law man
cant see me
oh snap here comes my friends !
oh no
dont see me!
im a bird
nothin to see
chirp
haw awe man
heh heh whatta u doin up there
hey

look cops are here again
you  owe me twenty bucks
    
ohh neat
off to jail again
oh no not that judge again
i hope i get some mail from my friends
i just cainst wait ta get out a jail agin


Turbulent , tumultuous,
Testing ,
Trying,
Times.
Solo
So
Low
So
Slow
Lowly
Solely
Slowly
Solo-ee
Trudging
Bare foot in the snow
Uphill up
A bell curve incline
As the weight of the world
Focusing
All of its weight
Upon
Me.
And all of it gravity
***** me down
Yoked to the
Worst of the uncaring
On the verge of collapsing
They wait impatiently
Up on yonder wonderin
How much longer I'll be .
Thay all got thier
Big ole
Buckets
Of burden
They gotd time to do themselves
But rather throw them on
Me.....and at the midway in this most vertical
Incline
Snow blowin
In my mind
Something gives
.
....an....
I'm thinking
Exacerbating.
Pondering
Contemplating
Vacillating
..Wondering ..
I'mportant
Things
All kinds a things.
Like if ice
Is made from water
Then
When it
Melts
Why does it taste funny.
and why does my celly always fall asleep before me and sounds like a weazing grizzly ridin a bulltaco 500 up hill underwater and i cant ever sleep
And why don't the fruit flies in my room like my organic made from real fruit
Gummy bears
And do the cows stop and
Stare at me as if
I'm melting
Is it because they are eating the mushrooms

And Is it accidentally
Or are they secretly
High and
Harvesting?
seems like
a ******* way to get high
buuut........... then again
who am I
ta think
on such things?
What do you think I think?
Nothing ?
Ya?
No!
I think
That I think
Too much.
If there is  
Sucha
Thing.
Anotha
Vanilla bean
Ice cream
Wet willie
Hypolerbies
In tune with
June
Jumpin on
Jupiter
With pockets full
Of juniper
Berries
I swear hes
Done gone lost his mind
This time
I got got
Got
GOT
No time
I got to get out
Of this
Place
Oh boo you got idears but no clue
What solitary confinement
Can do ta
Me .......here....s
J May 2017
Wanna go back to the days at the pool
Just a quiet kid following the rules
I lost all my brothers after high school
I was sucha **** fool

Now I got all these problems
Thought being alone would solve em
There all piling up one by one
Starting to forget how to have fun

Tryna figure out who I wanna be
In this so called land of the free
Feel like dropping all my responsibilities
There too much of a liability

Tried to go live and be myself
But pain was all I felt
My true me kept up on a shelf
Tryna throw away the cards I was dealt

I'm physically able
Emotionally unstable
Constantly being labeled

Losing sight of the shoreline
Keep telling myself give it more time
Everything will be fine
Thats just another white lie

Lost in the ocean
Lost my devotion  
Too much emotion
Might start smoking
Need something to help me with coping
Andrew Dec 2018
The farthest horizon
Have you seen it? In purple
Sunset above the mountain,
Above love, above grief.
I have.

For the mother's breath
For the baby's rest. and the rain
Let in. But the ice is thin
The water's cold.
From the daily woes
The keeper's best
Sucha  reverie, well
it's hooked like a net on the docks of
Inside of me
Ken Pepiton Dec 2021
The lie that lives
is bound in a book or told, vocalized
-ever hear a calf cry in a milk barn
-make that noise
as tale one may make into a metaverse,
- it lacks a name or that name
- is unspeakable, that is the ploy
- say my name

whither idle word awrit or spat, some say
in the beginning,
first dot to mean e, or some sucha thing
a letter
.
let it be knowing, exponentially
growing, stretching edges
pushing press press
up against gravity
itself the core
of all that holds us, here, earthly
as we seem
we heirs of wind and nada mas,
masters of making

mistakes retaken as chances, work look
second glances,
some thing seems
shiny
see'

it moved it chewed abit of the bud
I grew, in that twisted branch that led
to ba'hai, yes,
hai. right.

Fun though, nobody hurt, you know
when its real,
and you forget to breathe.

- good line
- you're mortal now, doitchaself
- faster
- or slower, lighter
- or darker,
darker, oranging a purple mantle
on three wanderers,

parts of the system we are parts of,
actual parts.
functional, working parts, paid
with vicarious thrills, djewnotice, its
colder now,
and darker, yes, I did, notice, there
remain tribal bonds,
some sealed in blood and love, as the
weavers of wondering tales told in days so
old
'tis a wonder, there' any life in these'tall,

gutteral stops'as commas do signal. stop
,'.; signs letter's signal subtilities subtler
than any beast, a we we imagine

we may realize
eventually eats us alive,

Jolishit, that felt so real/

8 seconds. Minimum, you're 10 minutes short.
Your overrode the stats.
What were the odds?

— The End —