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If ever were to be modeled here on earth,
one aspect is universal,
any exploration as
to what can be true and what seems thinkable,
has previously had expectation set
to recognize
and expand, as realizable,
in application, skeleton key-ish,
old lock tech common
in empty old buildings
- archer of life lessonings pings -
- -ng all points on the spectrum
and adding perceived Disneyifications
of storied locks, those knowledge
unlocks, always,
as truth frees,
never cursing ought but ignorance,
that such storied locks unlock I- in stages,
we barely remember
our bare first snow
of memories
with others possibly needing
my attention,
to any certain detail, tool, wrench
or spanner time seams leaking
from old skins, tied to tighten
around just right, eh,
weather whether or no,
old soul, so sure you lost your will to win,
then, another breath forces its way in.

--------------

Watching fluffed flakes
of Southern California snow, witnessed
by some, in El Niño years past, just as big as a
little paper doily under a piece of truck stop pie.

At Descanso, and also at Gorman, top of Cajon Pass.

Top of the winding six-percenter
called the grape vine, down
into Bakersfield,
across primeval subsurface saline swamp,
until a while ago, after internal combustion
and electric pumps and radio dispatch police.

Earth, earth, can you hear me now,
how is one old man expecting
to establish a true reason
to believe the cultural corrective aspect
at once, before, as now, all began
occuring because the right hand and left are inhibited,
by not inconsequential inhibitory circuits, inhibiting
unreasonable single mind superiority, internal tyrany
we are under oath to oppose,
as truth in form and function, redeemed words
effectual and fervent reproof of instructions,
taking the Mickey out of Yanks, touting
dis-Disneyification,
relieves
a form of tyranny commonly capable
of ruling a soul committed
to aliegiance and confirmation rituals early enough.

---------------

This then be a future fantasy.
Snowed in, in a Southern California
spring blizzard, blocking the hinterlands.

I sit behind my Tesla wall,
and welcome the test, was it worth it,
what price can one put on winter warmth?

How guilty should I feel for having won,
upon acceptance of the form Jesus was in,

when his word assured me I might rest assured.

Truth known makes free, form is not function.

-----------------

Historicity, I think they call,
mental time travel when you experience
life in a world lit only by fire.

Wonder if, then we think of praying men,
professional preachers of the impending

rapture, which belies all we know of gravity.
Miraculous, no less than the flying white horse,

or the horde of righteous dead coming on, behind.

And even then, there is resistant hate of brothers,
essential to trouble the minds of the greedy rich
and powerful, who constituted this world order,

this very one we live under, or within, in spirit
and in the truth the internet lets prove reproof.

----------------

Enough. We fact check, team spirit.
What can we honestly say we all know?

Six thousand years of written retellings
and retellings, and savage adversarial
herds of prophecy guided god-minded
meek as Moses Phineas knew, true
a certain variety
of the species,
with no regard
for breeding, gravitates to rhetoric
in tune with the pain perceived as needing
rebellion arrousing need --
engage disbelief, let it flow,
out the left ear is fine,
feel
relief, mindlessness
of this hard problem,
what are we about
to do, these days as we pray
with science included in grace,
due to the odds demanding,
a definite bias on Earth, to living,
like grace cheats death into agging
us into freeform ideas for hearts
to conceive as worthy
of cognosis fervency,
as at Eureka instants in prayer.

Truth, none may gainsay truth,
any may and certainly do, lie about what
Truth is behind a universal direct object, set

in the form a free spirit may hold,

not any form smoke cannot pass through,
but the form believers
accept as ours after,
spirit wise, as living words,
death, or out of body reproof
of imagination, a weform, a we,
the shock alone, makes a body think,
woe, this ain't hell but that really hurt,
bang. Same, no worse, and one last time,

I respond , "the Oxycontin is not working",
and time expands, and expands again,
and interest in worth of reason,

appears to judge my plea.
Believe me, death is not scarey, after
finishing a mortal experience in such
a time as this,

freedom from fear of death, is so freeing.
Coherence in mindtimespace is coincidental.
Insider explanation, 11-10-02023, I flat lined thrice in a medivac Bell,
it seems to have been a rebirth not possible fifty years ago, and a joy of being alive is more expressible as a corrective to all I am bound to know and defend from mental tyrannies, as many have cadres enlisted against peace.
Fluid time, fluid stone, fluid light
all right, solid nothing,
nothing at all, a solid wall,

with a clustering of curious curio types,

messengers messaging between
whole and part, paid tuition
ars intuitus
rare anachronists insist, words evolve.

Words expand, as children into sage
or wastrel conformed and conditioned
expanding the idea of wedom,
breathing, statistically half in, as half out
breathe,
what manner of man am I, wombed or un?

Were there ever men such as we, who can
share context across history, at earth level.
----------------------

Considering the ant is no childish passtime,
Fulfilling aristocratic duty to learn then teach,
Considered here, linearly, on a thread

one thought wide, picked from circumstance,
to consider sidereally distant, sent from Mars,

between three and twenty minutes of time away,
on an arc affected by cohesive force, eh

grave-definite down, down, down
to the core of our communication organs,

signaling scents accepted as thought projected,
kindly lines, minds attuned as thought accepted.
--------------------

Consider ever, from your vastest sense,
of the gravity bubble we exist within,

you and I, my hearing, seeing, knowing
me and you, my guardian guiding will,

to which I choose to submit, under no threat.

General Common Sense, beauty recognition,

test to tell if the word lord means any true -ing,

Greek men, pure, indeed, wisdoming wedom

mob minds and freedom do not mix,
oil and water, sure as Hell.

Freedom from all forms of tyranny, what holds
our we shape, in our minds? Common sense,

under all the stories contained within this
Goldilocks zone of unintended circumstances,
working out, fine, just iusta think
fine…
is no real answer, it is a code, a social norm set
said, fine, I'll say it, as a code for so small
we'd need ants eyes to see it…

and, lo', we have those,
we have predictable macroscopic images,
graven deep into our idle time drifting state

watching art mock life, and learn life laughs.
--------------------
For you to use in any way you can imagine perfectly fine with me.
Ken Pepiton Mar 6
{strange to feel so understood
strange that I am not alone}
{{https://hellopoetry.com/cielnoir/}}

Walking out of sleep, into
-- noonday sun
-- post atmospheric river
-- deep gray-purple days past
editreadyreaderprepresent-tensing

noise directed traffic, trending
psy-sci-psilliness dissing

ontological first thoughts, first
stretch, and last yawn,

seeing some connection from
former time to formations now
serving purposes proposed as ifs.

If duty calls us, and we have ears
discerning us as those called, hearers,

saying nothing, listening -
acknowledging life, itself, is not ours,
not experienced alone, ever, after we

agree to merge ourselves into me,
the leader, left-foot first, marching
ants selecting territory to sift for worth,
ax-el-
what good can I find to do, in response
to differentiation, feel the touch of other,
bump spring gentle
level speed to fills and tunnels

others, advisors, certified professional
advisors of the unfinished, unpolished

ones, you and me, creatures of literal

evanescence, perhaps never appearing,
glimpsed as in a zen riddle, popped
when a country kid asks who
tamed the bull… the ox

yes, I see, says the country kid,
I understand, you think oxen are
natural, that limits your wisdom.
-----------------
But of the tree of the knowledge
of good and evil,
thou shalt not eat of it:
for in the day that thou eatest thereof
thou shalt surely die.

Now, hear this, as a stranger in that garden.

Make up a mind that may as well imagine
having access to this single window lens,
in a fly's eye/

see me see you, sit tight. Bee, alright,
flea'ld be okeh by me, ye'll see,

what ever two or more of my kind agree, we be.
'pon acknowledging

the reality of energy, and us being, small,
upto a point.

We break the wave function and drift, pointless

reasons for the faith we take as granted, we think

we have a full portion, rationally, fair share, we think.

But few are free to find time to take words as power.

We agree we means primary person acting as one,
in the spirit form we form as we read, and write,

and hope to hold
the gentlest wind in our fists, as we expand
as breaths, and breathers, nameless alienated minds,

cohere, at once, each point possible,
once…

------------------


Old Jobe, and me,
we considered the works of God,
we saw all the noise and storming

contenders for worth of your loyal
adherence to a plan from a committee,

a party platform, from which leaders,
may stand and look into tomorrow's

victory over all wrong thinkers, leading
away from the best way for all of us,
we, the part-takers in policies of common
wealth taken from the losers to use

for the betterment of all mankind,
losers included, of course, abort no

unwanted child, let society eat them alive.

------------------

Rush to publish, shush nidicolous muse,
Peace awaits inpatient perfecting grace

- long form war, for goodness sake,
- so simple a child can participate,
- the game of life under standing
- constituted authorities established,
Under God, by God, and you
you,
good citizen had better believe we've
GOT GOD, and the entire dairy industry
on our right side, and our enemies,
on our left side, we are destined
to rule over, as gold over silver,

and plutonium ove' all.
Y'all'd know if I lied.
Some ideas are poison,
some are radioactively poisoning,

as life imitates art, foul miasmatics, sniff.

Uric acid industries, good side hustle,
set pots to **** in behind the pub,
public minds congregate to process,
fermented bread purified water,
into precursors for alchemists.

It was a profitable enterprize.
Vertical integration, however…

even then, there were regulators.

Identity, registered voter,
have you read your party's rules for us.

What must we hold true to trust
the committee of good for us reasoners?

Whereas, conjunctive fact fixer, that said,

It being the fact that; inasmuch as.
While at the same time.
While on the contrary…
------------------
Rushing to  betterment, settling
for plenty good enough, betting

on welfare shared by knowing users
of the tools we used
to build the channels of commerce
and learning used to make living easier

inventing means of exchange, symbolic
worth determinants, worth of cows
after…

blah… no mas.

---------------
measure for measure, reassure me,
nidicolous commiseration,
promi-sorry noted aliegiance
conserved determined formal
arrangement of shared woe and weal
- we authorize these changes, we think.
let us imagine, set an image of our wedom,
we… the ready readers granted all meaningful
words ever read by our massively parallel process

of gaining means to branch out and make shade.

Trees, Bees, Toads, Children

Who do I think we are,
who do you think I am,

what do we agree is true,
what do we do to prove it so?

If it is true, any it, we use it.
If it is not true, we see it so, because

we do not trust those ordained to lead.

-----------
Bring measure, come fair trade with me,
take my offering, think it linked to God,
the spirit entity historical Jesus called Father,

when he asked
forgiveness, as with all our debtors
debts, dissolved as gnosis knots
snot-nose brats can have
for a thank you, missed, to whoever
made truth the way life makes us take

at certain instances where signals merge

at a certain round-about in Montana,
we forget forgiveness generally given,
we take if as granted, as we should.

So… with no evil intended, good happens

for all who know not what
we are doing as we survive our helplessness,

and discern the order of effort and participation,

ruled by lines drawn long ago, proper and right,

my peace, my home place, my self assurance,

good by my own estimation, nothing missing,
nothing broken, all things, at scale working
together to gather the harvest, year after year.

-------------------------

Let us project an image we agree to see, knowing
we are showing what we hope to make you see,

a reason for your efforts to be joined to ours,
for your right to influence the rules we use

to keep enemies enemies and workers working…

---- Republican Evangelical shot across my bow

Quantifiable worth of one
person, weight of one person's wish
to willingly partake in persistent life,

life after all is said and done to come this far,

to have taken communication
from the Babel excuse for our misunderstanding,

to these days of Google Translate,
and Assisting Intelligence Coherency, here we be,

now, or never, as we must be to breathe
and have our being orbiting our normal ordinary star.

On the ball we all live on

some rule, some obey, say they who rule.

Those who rule themselves,
obey or stay beyond the reach
of proper societies, as such,

far from the maddened crowds,

herds of humanity harnessed
for war, for defense of local
wealth in terms of valued
conditions to which we become
accustomed, ordinarily following

the leader, as in the children's
games of emulation, marching
as to war

"With the cross of Jesus
going on before… glory, glory…"

Pied, perhaps, are we, on power.

We publically profess to all the world,
say those voting for Donald J. Trump:

We believe in American exceptionalism.

{eh, except ye believe, and say, I see, and
I agree, to this entity inviting all, except those
who are forbidden by religious ties, from knots

to hold yoke to cart or plow. Free souls,
lost in old bet you regret that nows

sould in spirit to a conception, love your enemy.

Refuse to partake in war, deserve no part
in the victor's loot.

Die in dispair, or let go, lose it all…

See the hand hold
a finger, or a toe.

Watch a babe locate a nose,
or an ear, or recognosticate

a familiar face, smiling.

We think, as common, completed
successful sprouts from random
spurts of natural gumption, urging us

reproduce, take pleasure, participate,

in using up our sources of sustained
existence atop the only gravitating thing
equipped to host us.

Chance, and timing, chaos in orderly

coordination with wind and water,
rare fair weather in early March,

beware the Ides, nay, not this year,

March, she came in like a lion,
dumping a whole winter's withheld snow,

at once, reminding many, we are very small.

Reminding few to thank foresighted good luck,

we chose to build upon actual rocks, solid
state soil free to consist as structure base,

for anything two or more of my kind, agree
to see as possible, seeing as believers do,

we must mean the rooting through the fruit

falling to become soil substance for next year.
be seed settled

Be not deceived, as a command, presupposes
reception, once,

be not deceived, many voices in the wilderness

cry this is the way to become lorded over, follow me.

Waveforms collapse, sometimes.

The principle of superposition
of waves states that
when two or more propagating waves
of the same type are incident
on the same point, the resultant amplitude
at that point is equal
to the vector sum
of the amplitudes
of the individual waves…

Slowslooo slide into home. Tune

to zero beat, co hear silence
unbelievable yet evident to any hearing it

as we exhale, in recognosis, this is that

state of mind,
combined,

we free spirit informants,

conforming ourselves to norms, imagined

before the concept of wave coherence formed
in the mind of man kind,
common access
general available knowing,

when, on earth,
as it must be in heaven, if we imagine happiness
constantly overriding common knowledge,
-stretching our hold on the joy of living
chirality insisting we not let our right hand know,
what our left is imagining in this outreaching way,

Beggar's banquets, ***'s rush, breathe

with first reason sought, breathe out,
breathe in, no idea

not a clue, nothing random, but this bubble
we have our being in,
as a liposome time bubble,
when we pause, to think about it….

--------------
In my seeding mind,
reseeding reason to rationalize,

worth and weight, in ancient terms,
57 something tons of silver's worth,

a single talent of silver, once mentioned,
for scale,

to make a warring spirit acknowledge truth,
bow and pay obeisance, kow-tow,
or bolt
upright, how now

may we intercede,
in the spirit of mere words,
redeemed to base value in moral terms deemed

ethical, under these circumstances,
we are free to think this line of thought bought
dearly with the patience taken

to make it all possible at all, what? me worry?
- you may laugh, but take no anxious thought.

We are most alien of all minds, sacred places,

signaling knowers to know, now, time is as a dream,
only if you maintain consciousness of that fact, as art.

Now, consider life a game.

Your move. My move. We agree, we become

one of these things in the form of Paul's God,
all's supreme being spirit form of Truth's Way

taken, as granted any willing to think, why not
me, the stranger in paradaise, asking whom

do we imagine wise,
as the serpent, while remaining harmless,
of no effect, ill or good, either real, or not.

At our we level, we laugh at me.
I become the first beggar in paradaise.
I think we think we know, we meet
at the mean

and we play the balancing Sisyphean
paen to Science of Light Amplification

you push my buttons, I pull your thread,

we make up a mind, to get past this.

This is Ken Pepiton, as he sat in the sun,
thinking of Van Gogh's ghucking sunhat
self portrait,

and laughing at having dropped my name,
where he left his hat.
To all the poets in bemusement.
Ken Pepiton Mar 6
This is Ken Pepiton, as he sat in the sun,
thinking of Van Gogh's ghucking sunhat
self portrait,

and laughing at having dropped my name,
where he left his hat.
caught a thought. Rough edged, too true, madness patterning
Ken Pepiton Mar 2
Prove the wise serpent harmless as the dove.

Put on the whole armor metaphor, contain yourself,

dare let a spirit test if I can say
- there did you hear it…

this is true
the three essential mere words, tied to the story you're in,

there was a beginning, as with any bubble form, once
upon a certain time, as certainty grew worse,

madness became standard anger modality, berserkers
were bred, as these days the grand wedoms breed
heroic champion character development programs,

elite forces,
chosen warriors,

each a volunteer, taken the step, learnt the salute,
comprehended the safety in the chain of command,
- es no mi culpa
be wise as those who prayed
to a manifested golden calf,
be so wise as those who, to this day, say to the vicars,

to you alone, let Jah speak, for we are totally unworthy,

thus it  is written, read the preacher to me, no escape
with honor, but on the battlefield,

so okay, everyday people, common folk, simple art,
some time spent,
invested, using investigatory story skilled honed,
on audio only Perry Mason, take the stand,

I need not remind you, you remain under oaths,
and woe to the man who does not believe,

faith alone be the evidence
of hoped for things occuring as wished,

tool for the task, a maker ever wishes, such
such tools as these we use to read, ready
we become some sorted thing, filtered

line by line, sieved as fine ground flour, dust

thou art, and unto dust, eh
the cinematic depiction of ancient burial sanctuary.

Sanctimonious display, displayed artfully and often,
always show the coffin, or the urn, or the ashes

on the wind,
it all depends on wind working,

otherwise, the stench is enough to make
life under the sun and moon and stars, impossible,

here. Where self evidence appears, with an ancient
silly wise wombed man's grin,

answered now with slight smile level reassurance.

Real life is done on a continuing basis.

As an ancient adage says, the unexamined life
is worthless, not worth the cost of living.
Becoming a form of information, destined to exist upon a time, once.
Ken Pepiton Mar 1
Doing anything, late in life, is for the moment.

No duty remains, all shirked, all left undone, long
ago passed down to the next hero's attempt.

Daily reminders from old mail lists, so and so died.

Yeah. So she did, so shall we all. I understand.

Each of us has a while, as each star has a while,
burning out from self's centermost being, shining

distant, single star, single mote lit for my looking,
first star wish, wished, and wished, and wished,

in vain,
at Venus.

-------------------

With myself, alone, listening,
hearing a human ****** interpret a novel,
a told tale of plottable inter-essential new

points of views, from within the author's mind,

seen and said, seen. Look
see the worth of such words, an authority

describing the scene, bringing life from words.

Telling thought shared as if,
if itself, the if in all we must imagine, saying

this is plenty, genug enough, this in us state,
as an awesome thing of many minds, elohimish,

in this atmosphere we breathe in harmony,
as each breath extends the reach of each word…

wouldn't we willingly want wishing work, word
work, daily dues to pay, waking, wishing, will
would
you join the dance?

Did you laugh? Life is all game.

----------------

Slow knowing, seeing guns,

thinking game plotted paths,
rewarding reality with possibilities,

triumphant miniature thrill of victory…

essence of history, we won, we won, we won.

And then, the new formed governing mind,
the officially united, naturally selfish mind

representing those whose national will,
continues to revere the pioneer, pawn

queened, by no more noble cause than,
following the rules used to progress,

across the board, each step a stage
in the game, scaled to seem relatable

to royal rules uses made of lower worth
pieces in the arsenal of this one, black,
against that one, white…

clearly… contrasting points at the edge
of the grayscale, light's own, none to all,

whoa,
look, in broad day light, light
alone, lacks any gray but  
in reflection, none
from our sun.

----------------------

Some axiom from our Hallmarked past,
tells us to hang in there… hold the line,

only find time to filter for wisdom, enough

to imagine making up a mind from nothing,
Helen Keller had touch, imagine a spirit's mind,
intangible,
made up
from mere words as metaphors, holding
thoughts, thoughts called feelings, but not,

thoughts, states of patient grace, thoughts, if

we both think, between each letter, those thoughts

in the realm between us, in the medium of thoughts…

no eyes or ears or fingers, even so, imagine
knowing all the time redeemed for now,
is being used to make us useful, hmmm,

as om, oh my, ahh-ooom, mmmhmmm, soon….

Makes no difference,
we think as if difference is essential,

day by day, difference referring to load,

how worth thinking is a line of reason?

-----------
Behold the happy thought,
hooking hope where no hope was imagined.

What harm? None done, none intended,
none available for take away.
Seemed tuned to some either-real reason for continuing...
Ken Pepiton Feb 28
then the full corn, in the ear.

¿Has the seed faith evidence,
made the dedicated monk

useless, due to evolving knowledge,
horticultural returnings to old knowns,
bringing hope to survivalists,

intent on living on Earth, warless

for the ever after this?

No, fighting
for a faith that must be kept,
pristine, clean, cleared of science logic,
such has left all reason bleeding,
use the rags remaining from the old
folded and put away worlds
in storys held
stuck in the stars,
so we may remember, lest we forget.

Those who knew nothing as we ought
to have been knowing by Christmas,
all are forgiven, or nothing is true,
self-evidently…

washed, cleansed from perceived stains,
white as new-fallen snow…

Deep Mind white room cinema effect,
preceding the ever after this…

you be come this far, alone.
You be edging up on after all's

been said and done, what you did's
been said to have done nothing,

nothing, thus
nothing done wrong,
nothing done to no effect.
What a release life offers for seekers willing to bet there is more than mortality involved in making peace with priceless joy at having one more day...
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