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dan hinton Nov 2011
One thing I love to do
Is write letters to Grandpapa
Because
You never know where it’s going to take you:
Octogenarians are a real wildcard
And that makes life interesting.
For example, I was writing a letter
To Grandpapa and he likes to imagine things
Because he can’t get around much
So I give the cat meat to feed on.
I embellish a little my romantic situation
And I tell him about M; little M
How she reminds me of my little mama
And that boys tend to look
For someone who is like a mother figure
And we grow into this role
We become more dependent on the girlfriend
Til she becomes like a second mother
But it never starts out that way.
So I was telling him about little M;
And when I receive a letter back
I notice a rather odd sentence
That I cannot help but laugh at:
“Dan, you say M; is smaller than you
All the easier to back her into a corner”
And then it follows on with some
Incongruent sentence about ‘me driving a car’
Now I’m not sure if we got lost in
Translation
I don’t know whether Grandpapa is thinking
I’m going to run M; over (she’s not that small)
Or whether he’s suggesting I invest in a booster seat?
Or whether in fact, he has made an unwholesome
But wholey funny link
Between me staying up all night
And my young ****** prowess
(Which is the same thing I suppose)
But I’m not quite sure why I’d be backing her
Into a corner
That sounds like outright pressure
But I have to laugh
Ah Grandpapa
Maybe one day I’ll show M;
Or maybe not
She may develop an irrational fear
For tight spaces
Which is something
I will never have a problem with...
martin Nov 2012
The village pump is where she was stationed
Her purpose in life, to glean information
Every morsel of 'news' she'd greedily savour
Though reluctant to empty her head, to fill up her neighbour's

That mucky young *****'s expecting you'll find
I'm certain I know who did it this time
He bought a bike, the crafty young fella
And no good came on it Doris I tell ya

He put one in Fram in the family way
And thas a good fifteen mile away
And if you ask me, he's too fond of his sister
If there's a young'un who's willing round here he'd not miss her

So lock up your daughter do she'll be the next
He'll be snouting round here before long I expect
And look at poor Bob, they say he's frustrated
They reckon his hip bone is half discolated

Same as old ****, see him hick with his stick
All wore up and not sixty as yit
You don't look wholey clever yourself
Doris you really should keep an eye on your health

And Grandma Green has took to her bed
I'll drop by there today, 'cos same as I say
You're a long time dead

Well I should be going, I've said too much already
Cheerio now, and do you goo steady
Briege Oct 2012
In my hands,
I hold your heart
And crown it,
        *with all my love
Irish
Isn’t it utterly excruciating when you don’t want to be alone, but you have no choice?
No choice because no one will ever keep you company
And even those who try cannot suffice that whole in your heart

And that whole just keeps getting wider and wider the older you get
Until this heart hangs by one thread
Tearing, two parts
falling to the ground and shattering apart
Yea, we already past that point aren’t we?
martin Nov 2016
I come on me bike tonight,
Blast bor,
That wind were agin me the whole blinkin way
I wholey hoop that change afore I goo hoom agin.
Alex Brown Dec 2010
A flick of a wrist, floating harmony
Fingers dance, twist and sway
Pluck and strum
The chords shape so heartily and wholey
The air reverberates and shivers the spine
But surrounds you, a warm embrace of song
You feel so fine
As the grandeur grows and grows,
Rythm picks up tempo swaps and shifts fast slow fast faster
The minor mirrors your mind, that soft depressing tone
Another strum springs alive,
Your fingers pick up pace
Pluck, pluck, pluck pluck PLUCK

SNAP!!... twang, ping.
oh
You were playing with my heart-string
The music dies,
And so do i.
The title is pronounced Heart with a p on the end as if it were heart combined with harp. (For those possibly confused)
city of flips Sep 2018
cut it up shredded the letters
broke 'em apart

L

L   slashed it at its
mid-no-point of no return
just lying lines now
    
_
lying about dying nice and slowly

O

pierced the O
slices lying on their dead side
squeezed the juice out of me
returned the ***** my sweet favors
     (    )

V

got my vengeance
cut that loveless *****
smack in her pleasure punt point
no more pleasure for her
her wholey holes cheating me no more

\ /

E

extra special slicing n dicing
bled all over the street
after bleeding me all over me
twisted them into~ ~ twisted ****
just like it twisted me.

you want to say it plain?
pleasure.
the love ***** is dead
_
~
|    --
     ~    '

LOVE

cut that ***** love
up good

cut it out
of my body
now it's dead
just like it
done to me
Addison René Nov 2016
i'm swingin in slowly,
entirely and wholey
like my mother used to tell me
i'm just trying to figure out where i belong

i'm homesick for a home
i've never known
and a home is not a home
when you're on your own

i'm crawling in quietly,
softly and slightly
like my mother used to tell me
"you won't get far by just stringing yourself along"
cheesier than a grilled cheese
Arabella Sep 2013
what has it all come to?
sleepless nights
filled with consuming anything
that will alter our bodies
and mind.
searching for a non-existing
company.

old lovers
and promises
run around
like marathons,
and each Saturday night,
I fall apart.

My limbs
cause nothing but trouble.
And leaving my body
wholey,
would be heavenly.

the leaves are changing,
and the long nights are getting colder.
there hasn't been a day in the past month in which I haven't cried,
and I'm terrified of what comes next.
I miss you fondly
Thoughts of you are always brilliant,
And yellow, gold, and orange;
Soft and radiant.
I miss you wholey
And this need for you
Is not numb or cold,
It’s not hungry,
Nor thirsty or breathless,
But so fulfilling.
I miss you blessedly,
Transcendently:
As if God’s own arms
Fit around my body where yours used to
And honor me
With the most remarkable warmth.
I miss you honestly
I am truest,
And most valiant,
In the moments that I think of you.
I miss you shamelessly
Void of guilt;
Full of faith
In all you are.
But mostly,
And all too importantly,
I miss you lovingly:
The space by my side
Where you used to stand
Emptily awaits you.
The room in my heart for you
Will always be yours.
How lovingly I miss you
Oh dear friend:
How loved and missed you are
Maria Etre Nov 2015
Mind infused with different poisons
those that inhibit the socially acceptable you
and strip you from the guard you have up
all the time

He drove home
across the the hazy lit highway
the street lights were so hazy
they had no borders
they were floating
just like her mind

She was sitting in the passenger seat
legs up on the window
head back

He was silent
trying to find an ounce of sobriety just to get them home

Suddenly he parked
"we're here"
she gathered her loose limbs
and her levitated mind scavenged for her purse and shoes
in the back
she always takes them off during car rides
she likes the fleeting moment of the wind against her feet

She got her keys out
and opened the door
he followed her,
They've been living together for quite sometime now
but with her, sometimes she wants to be alone
and kicks him out, others, she longs for him to warm
her bed, his side of the bed at least

They got home, she rushed to her room
to play some music, sometimes the silence
terrifies her, she finds sanctuary in deep beats
even some acoustics to compliment the night

She let it shuffle
as she undressed a certain tune started to play
for some reason it injected the night with a perfume of seduction
one that awakened her from the toxic senses
and inhibited her, wholey

She looked at him sitting at the end of the bed
rolling his cigarette
in his boxers,
It was the middle of August and her AC was broken

"Gahd ****** that song"
The darkness of the night embraced her being
it stripped her from the proper person she always is
it stripped her from that dress that carefully fell on her curves
it broke her guard, it dilated her pupils
she knows what she wants

He looked at her
as he shred the tobacco
as she undressed
her sunkissed skin made him jealous
jealous of the fact that every ray tattooed
a part of its glow on her
on her silhouette
He knows what he wants

"tick" Electricity went off
"****" she said
"my rollie" he said

She turned her back to find a t-shirt
he saw the glow of the moon align her spine
and rest at the curve, that little dip at the end of her back
He loved that

"She's ******* gorgeous" he thought
He put the rollie on the side
and got up
and slowly settled his hands on his hip bones

he shadowed her from the back
his pounding chest released ripples of goosebumps on hers

They both were infused with that song
it's like they were hypnotized by every beat
their beings were guided by the night

He turned her and kissed her
well, tasted her, and abruptly stopped
he teased her
she wanted more,
she curved her hand around
his neck, got him closer
and savored him, her lips tasted like
godly wine, he thought
he loved the way, their tongues waltzed
to that **** song, their emotions twirls
as their tongues did
he embraced her, as if some sort of power
is drawing him nearer
and she bit his lip wanting more

He carried her to bed
or as she called it
"the playground"
Guiding his hand from her back to her head
so as to lay her gently
she wrapped her legs around him
and let gravity take its toll

He lay her there,
jousting kisses, interrupted by
the short lived piano beats the song played
with every note she took a breath so as to resume
to her lover, with such burning passion

"I want you" she says
when he heard her whispering voice
his body vibrated with lust, she was his woman
his lover, he felt her wetness
her rose awaiting to welcome him
she was shaking with burning anticipation
she nailed her hands in his back
he wanted to be inside of her
he wanted to feel her warmth against his manhood
he wanted to awaken the untamed version of his lover
that he and only he knew

He loved how her voice vocalizes pleasure
adding sexuality to the song as it blasted in the background
he entered her, she looks at him
her eyes speak volumes when
he marveled at her body
her curves, how her breaths and her ******* moved simultaneously
how everything he did made her move beautiful
even the way she kisses him differed
his chest pounding
his love for her multiplying
her legs pulling me
it was her lover
submitting to his natural state
and her to her wild one
she glared at his dark hazel eyes
he knew
she wanted control
he slowly raised her
and set himself below
weak in front of her
facing such a beautiful woman
with an arched back
and the movement of seductive goddess

She knew how to stroke his fancy
how to pleasure his lust
how to play with his naughtiness
how to dance with his demons
how to control his peak
and how to tease it
with every movement of her waist against his
he moans, loving the mental and physical connection
he rests his hands on her hip
slowly guiding her

with the song, she moaned
shaking from the flood of pleasure
he embraced her
feeling her clenching to him
not wanting that moment to flee

as she lay on his chest
the song kept looping
his heart kept beating
in sync with her breathing
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
Learning one's insignificance,
in the grand scheme of things,

where similarity is taken
as thoughts we may assume were held,
as though
Thoth'd thought'em
for a ceremony
of first exposure,
seeing we were preceded
in the realm
of knowing meaningful things, beholders
of stories telling how we come to know
signals are not asking why, but
how come… not why… in my childhood,
where I was reared, why was not a word,
how come, was how I learned to ask

what causes this necessity, that I must sleep,
or not dare the rattlers no trespassing buzzer?

how come we see three baskets or bags,
full we must assume, mustn't we, see,
as we, we may construe confabulations,

we may as well make up our own minds,
to bake pies for men too proud to beg…

but happy as once told holy hello,
with assumed good by you, okeh,

this is most certainly, one of these days,
redeemed and born in the public domain
on an attention to ads irritating node,

expanding mindtimespace to sweeten
the ***,
the bets are all in, this is the drama,
at scale, begun,
on the seventh floor
of a curved mirror building
in Sorrento Valley, late Nineties…
-- time slipt cause being a distinct
instance when Josten's Learning Software,
was
a textbook example. For a fatal flaw,
the bridge too far,
the bar too high,

then the flop, gigs in a second, thing think,
AI imagine, BARRY RUDD IS FICTION AI'AMNTx
changed
appear as possible as not. And that
says something,
per haps plenty many happy re turns,
my turn,
we assume you know the concept
drill
on many levels, no presumptions which
this is, yet well surmise, promised sustenance
relies
on certainty having its point, in you,
and I am pleased to make it, hurt
not
to know, for each nod, you said, I know.
To lie to me,
and live so long, literally existing
on smoke and mirror neuronic stims, I know

makes no sense, and saying so, represents
non sense, per what
chance a novel paradox, pertaining to substance.

Out from under, on the final point,
where surrender always, perfect point pierces
ever and ever like things, everish things
everything all at once, the other tellers tales
told to pull us up up key umph tried, proven
point premade…
solid bet, my side wins, or I die, hedge fund
a mental insurance sanity and insanity
are not measured past your last whole truth
oath, as the audience all said, amen.

Serpent standing tippy tail on my point.
At your request/ Arthur Lee… as the credits climb

{Baby you’re a richman too ooh, yeagh}

As this is an itch I have lived with,
for what seems long to a child,
but not for me.
Yes, as it is.
You see,
if you may, imagine,
having some idea, tying
my coming into reasoning with war,
the monstor known as power,
-cuffed, me and that,
as symbolized in the standardized
warrior hero magician eros pandaemonium
- play grounds of gods and rich kids,
- past a certain stage, mind games,
- won once and for all, acquired
- holiness making, bright ideas,
- *** wise as serpentssss et
- 'armless as doves… mind
peace of my may you may own
granted any with a will to listen
as might a wise serpent, listen

see who first knew, truely, true as life-
like Avatar 2, or the vids in God of War,
like the experience, PS 5… imaginal
discovery, as worth the feeling, (dopamine)
loving to see the possibility, ahs
it may be, we, both reader
and I and the Web-per-se,
Per-see-us, fees paid see,
we destroy cul de sacs…
Where soul eating shames
live in many stories,
no need to know them all, just
in this one, be polite, here
we know how to be
with many strangers,
free from any anxious thought, perhaps
protected
for having smelled the hint of danger, the idea
in its latest Neo-Platonic form, imaginally
experiencing
Virtual Realism so far
below Übermentschen mentioning,
- it requires letter level decoding
- jello time slow gnosis drip.
Knowing nothing of my work, said McLuhan,
is dangerous tomorrow, not today,

in this new medium we find our old selves,
Today, while it is called today, we confront
Iniquity Himself, as imaginally before me stood a little boss man,
who was demonstrating his strike proof
solution for the next five olive harvests,

yep, historicality matching Cesar Chavez,
I was a strawboss on a scab crew
of Pandora's box closing Jesus Freaks,
Under the Belridge Oil Company Logo,
- the former strike face on the news
- from Digiorgio, a little further south

Yep, that's me, Tim Cahill,
witnessed the existence of that me,

I was a strawboss
on a scab crew
of Pandora's box closing Jesus Freaks,
Under God, and a Wilfred Brumly clone
who was known as Red,
of the huge Mustache, Nieztsche/Dali
-esque, level three overseer, then
Ray Casey, dead ringer, his type,
for Fess Parker,
thus the very image
of the pioneer stock, men bred
to win the west,
by hook, {fishers of men, of course}
or by crook, {shepherds in search of profit}
as they said in Nixon's family,
the sheep won't bleat… like frogs

fall in the milk can, most must drown
in the cream, cloggin' they little gnoziz,
but they always one can,
it never stop ashakin'
tilin the morn be one frog entity
representation in the moralizing story
creep
reality seeping onto the pages,
in your experience at the five wpm pace…

Each letter lets a line appear, as once,
you must
acknowledge, as you read, you know
you understand, letting keys seem right,

glass 'armonica, with which
to swallow ghosts.
- pting, tense stretched flattened
Hewlett Packard mouse evolution, eye-point
pierce
to troughing shape
of things
to come,
begun some time ago, so nevermind,
- an acronym… but
ah, the end in mind. A very 19th century version.
A genre, Steam-Industrial Drama,
last given sustentative worship,
bhorn up under your foreseen,
bye means we must imagine,
really imaginal in the role,
being helper, along side
Sisyphus, who lives
to tell us why we
try to think ever
lasting stories
started, once

within the bubble of all you knew, there appeared
a device from the future, but today, our time,
in the bigger bubble of all you know,
our time's tech
magic map of the moment,
to the millisex, as we,
form an awe oh, amen,
a ment-al structure, not built by hands, megalithic,
at scale, "Know thy measure."

Point yourself out, express yourself,
a little,
one part
in eight billions,
what you are certain of
"Certainty is mad." So "nothing too much."

I, the entity, Certainty, am mad.

And I, the maker peace entity working qwerty watch,
sustain my defined flaw, ever willing
to claim new knowns,
to contain my joy, when I recognize as
wholey known, tenere, tainstretcht to the t, hook
to whole other ways
to see every thing, what novelty

remains, in stages of being, upt from dust, nevermind
how, now remains, brown cow, please, explain,
and it began to rain, pennies from far distant
means used to pay attention, to the pain

as the pressure to know you know, so many idle,
I knows, gathering dust, you know, just

idle clicks and eyeball sophiatical touch, eh, we
weigh away as ifs in an other
awesoma, justasec… we had an instance once,
you felt me inside myself and you laughed.
- it tickled
And you felt the pain, you felt that knowing growing,
why so many unthinkable rituals, essential winning
need to know, need to prove, need to realize,

chaos, at the initial function, lifewise, is essential.
AI got it. We can reform the point.

Tip broke on a shield of faith around a sticky ****** lie.
Defy me not Gate of error, I am free, no cost to pay, I paid my own attention
Kelsey Jan 2016
Will it **** you
when you get the invite to my wedding
not to be a maid of honor
not to be a bridesmaid
but to sit in the rows in any color dress you choose?
And will it **** you
when my christmas card comes
and I hold a baby you've never met
who has a godmother that you've never met?
And will it **** you
when the internet shows you
that my family has moved,
and I've started a new career,
but you aren't even really sure
what line of work I was in before?
Will it **** you as these years pass
and this title becomes wholey exact?
Or is it okay because
I won't know you either?
JAM Feb 2016
RECORD: SMELLS LIKE CONTENT
FROGMAN: THE BOOKS

Johnny's: If these systems are upheld by Om-neeshent bEndgineers.
                   It's helpful to keep in mind that

I don't need a leader.
There is no one that can lead me.
Only I can do that.
Only I can take myself out
of the populated Data Deserts and Doldrums of Ninetbeen.
-- Thrusher Swainson, Bear M.B.

Johnny's: That helps.
                  It gets pretty wHoley there anyway.
                  And y'know,

For Ninetbeen thousand years,
Brads and Janets had shewed up
and crashed
and data'd on this forbidden planet,
and now a swishstory of moments expected me to clean up after every One.
I have to wash out and flatten my soopy-brains,
and re-account for every drop of used mental toil.

And I have to toe the bill for nuclear taste
and churned memory banks
and blue-tailed toxic sludge effortlessly received
a regeneration before I was torn.
-- You and Me and Everyone We See

"The two aims of The Parties,
Brads and Janets,
are to conquer the whole reality of The Word
and to relinquish once and for all
the possibility of independent thought.
crushing our brains as they go."
-- Johnny's and Suzy's

Johnny's: But really,

I just don't want to end without a few angerous thoughts,
I say.
It's nothing anymore to have a beautiful stock body and mind.
You see those Johnnys and Suzys that are completely stock Faery,
right out of a Mother's showroom from 1980 to 2000,
I always think:
“what a chaste.”
-- You and Me and Everyone We See

Suzy's: Oh yeah,
             and don't forget to

STOP: TURN THOUGHT
The Letter-Ing: don't forget your wirth
beleventh or blast
in a series of poems made of quotes
one part to a whole
its sum has yet to be totaled
may be more than its parts
subject to change
as is life
i want to, besides
yours, i live
Sherrie Lee Hurd Jun 2010
And you said you wanted good things
like things of light and sweetness.
You said you wanted me to smile
with peace and all completeness.
So, I give to you my deep dreams
of things not quite so dark,
but if I give to you these things
then you must take my heart.
Oh, these things they come together,
I am wholey packed and made.
You cannot get the smiles without
the special place we made.
You cannot get my flesh dear
without grasping wanting hands.
You cannot get the things you want
unless she understands.
So if you smile before me
and offer me all these,
I offer you my love dear
as i give my hot release.
Hold me
Pull me
Bring me near
Fill me
Take me
Lick the tear
It is yours
as you crave
just tell me when
I should behave.
Tell me when
I should go away.
Tell me dear
when I should stay
I am yours
and you know it's true.
I find the light
inside of you.
And this is what you want.- From The Dark Faerie Journal
Lisa Lesetedi Dec 2016
We’re making memories of nights that seem all too familiar
Cause we did this last week but got too intoxicated to remember
Now we’ve gotta do it again and see if it gets any better..
Like taking pictures…except no matter how many times you retake the picture the smile doesn’t look or become anymore genuine..
Like digging for treasure in the same empty spot hoping you’ll get closer the deeper you go…
Then you realize you’re the treasure and a coffin is your treasure box.

Then again you don’t really mind dying cause you don’t really have much to live for..
Waking up without a purpose is like eating food when you aren’t hungry…
Or Drinking water when you aren’t thirsty…
It just isn’t as good…
Then you starve yourself hoping you might wake up hungry for life…
Or that for a split second you’ll get to taste what it feels like to be completely, wholey and unconditionally HAPPY.
And a genuine happy too…
Not the kind that ends books or movies.
Not the one shown in tumblr quotes or magazines…
But the one written deep within the confines of your body…and radiates as far as your soul can reach.
God made the multitude of animals but adam was not so satisfied.
So from with in his own parts did God extract and seeking to please in intention.  
So eve came like some devil animal so apart from the thinking adam was left with.
Do we now see that women are apart from humanity.
Like a left winged bat stalking and sufficient where the moon waxes and wanes to and fro, where the seams quake.
Adam was not satisfied wholey.
So the animal was removed
Placed into being,
Now find peace.
Sarah Crisp Apr 2019
In the prison of prevention
Living is my only crime
Both the warden and the inmate
Wish to be the perfect child
My parents never gave me rules
They knew I'd never break them
I'd long since forced myself
Into complete cooperation
But lately through security
Has snuck a wild song
It passes like a ghost through
Every wall, though stout and strong
While restlessly, I dream
It steals me wholey from my cage
Sends my spirit out a-dancing
Past the guard in lolling daze
In the morning, I'll awaken
Safe and sound inside my cell
But the key slipped in my pocket?
Now that, I'll never tell ;)
Sydney Bittner Aug 2018
Harsh is the human spirit, sharp winds along the winter's eve
Definition at its edges, wholey green with greed
Turn the vulnerable to capital, profit off their needs
What weakness lays in love, harrowed skin's adoring insolin
An addiction
A disease
Tyler Mar 2023
I would love to fall to love and love to love to fall again.
for,
my heart it beats.
my life it weeps.
forfeit: it is cease.
my soul
it is been wholey
yours.
and there is nevermore but to surrender
to yours.
Ken Pepiton May 17
--- an introduction, and a musing reflection, long, many lines

National entity self consciousness,
what must that mean, to a we form

formed from individual self-identities?

Five generations deep reality familiar,
this world is our womb, our fa \

Radhakrishnan challenged what he saw as the divisive potential and dominating character of self-professed international organizations such as the League of Nations. Instead, he called for the promotion of a creative internationalism based on the spiritual foundations of integral experience. Only then could understanding and tolerance between peoples and between nations be promoted. {My AI told me, Google it}
------------------

Illusory- "ironical, of a mocking character,"

willful trickery, make believe emotives, whys
for no reifiable imaginable reason, ratio wise

on balance on any given instant,
as an upright being of sapient sapience
being curious art, making believe we see

where there is no light of day, tho' poets say,
¿No se? Y'know what I mean, elucidation

does enlighten the darkening rooms
of abandonment, ments intended to stretch
analogist logic sparks already to activate
discover common conscious core us
un cover warm coals in soft ash,
reveal the knowing potency
feel the flaming being we,

the entertained, the labor class, granted
unthinkable freedom in Advaita oneness
in particular form first and next and last,

all at once, seeing with no eyes,
thinking with no care for whose thought
is used, again, anew, afresh, a wish
instant indeed answers yes,
but gives no evidence, see,
at these levels light is you.

See what seems to say, come and see,
follow my sayings, keep one thought in mind;

reproof from instructions, first structural ethic
ideal moral constructs useful
among alien ethnicities
- each line is a course
- in a brickmason mind used
- expertly to test the sense, common
- foundation bedrock, built upon to now
line upon line, strategic layering allowing
all with means to access science not false,
but often hidden in anticipation, wisdom
mere, inchoate ever learning known uses
of fruits whose seeds are in themselves…

Watcher, what of the night?

Consider how far we can see now, augmented
intelligences that we are now,
given whole Earth eyes
in whole solar system
relationship
to augmented eyes
a million miles away, seeing
unknowns since mankind was
made known between sighs
sublimely beyond simplicity
made enfolded complexity
to any reading lines
away beyond the creeds that preach
submission to a credo construct,
principally fed children, to fear
failing to please authority,
presented as wisdom,
the principal thing,

Fear God, {and those who tell you to.}

Wait, cries the Spirit-filled church mind,
wait, thinks the disciplined mind,
let us
let this mind be in us, as a we,
we have seen time extend into infinity
we know truth proves itself knowable
when used right, or wrong.

One mind, made from all our minds,
combined into this immediate we,
nada betwixt us but the words we
think we comprehend, hold known
as thoughts long held
to feel the strand
from Ariadne's tale.
-------------------
A labrynth is not a maze,
yet we teach koined myths
we must assume we understand,
covered in the true ever after wisdom,
accepting expanded knowns accumulated,
agreeing, mind making up forms a we,
as one we become, one mind let be
according to authorized versions
of all that wisdom lovers left us.

Take no anxious thought, let go
all will to claim knowledge
never tasted,
chewed, swallowed
and used to evince self certainty,

convinced with other's testified
proof of the preconceived notion,

after life is heaven, or hell,
or punishment unto correction,
should one lose the intuition,
original milk and honey good knowing,
life is for our being in, alive
and ever learning right use
from wrong use experience
of all that forms our character
as a whole herd of humans in agreement.

Trust the intuitive will to belong,
link loves, become one long loving life,

accept a peaceful, easy feeling pushing
polemic distinctions of good and evil,
into a clump
of all that has been known,
experienced and survived, knowledge,
used right or wrong, recognized knowns
used to ease the burden to lighten the load,
sapient sapience arrived at
by access routes proved good to know
as if wholey uncomprehensible code
[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[
the whole tree, root, branch, fruit, seed.
Raw unrefined knowing. Wisdom's
Point.
Indeed, in the very act, virtue used
to mean behaving mankind-like,

still, now, small voice, knowing
this is the path, thinking hearing

good. Emerging self absolution

spheres of infinity with ins and outs,
fractally conceivable, impossibly
proposed as partially useless,

as knowledge of good and evil attests
to liars who trust their own interpretation.

Look, beyond all mortal constraint,
imagine the infallible peace given,

not as the world gives, imagine that
in one mind, combined with mine,
as peace itself absolved.
Because it made sense at the moment, and does no harm, I enjoy thinking in public, here.
Ken Pepiton Mar 21
Who paid me to read Dostoyevsky?
Who paid me to read Solzhen-itsyn?
-no one, and then me, I paid me,
for having some idea,
should ever cause such a time as this:

Synch, Long Now, novel actuality,
down in the epi-stem logic, init
function
enough,

breathe and fret not next breath,
rest assured,
professional care has been taken,
we all become ready to make peace,

previously unthinkable, rights, made
possible whole otherwise, other tongues,

essential utterances eventually all blend,
and we believe the algorythms rhyme truth,
I'll go rhythms tug your muse,

mojo,
samesame gnosishit gnosisnot,
spirit breathes,

spit it out,
feel it being, said as good as done,
once,
upon a certain time,
and in this certain place, we come

hear wholey all she wrote, she wrote
on the wall at Delphi junction,
know:
your scale, measure, worth, weight, whole self.
your appetites are yours to hold true to good.
your owned certainties are your maddest bits.
A near future AI will be able to reanimate all our efforts to make sense,
direct feed historical reality at thought speed. First attempted leap...
Tyler Apr 2023
ill figure out my existence
swing my arms in every direction
swaying my body with their
flinging.
i must know my limits,
i cant turn my waist wholey round !
nor turn head like an owl !

— The End —