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Ken Pepiton Apr 2021
Dreaming is not the same as wishing it's true

saying love is love is all a mind may do,
peace, however,
peace, any mind can chose to make,
this is true;
or as they say,
what the hell.

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

Now, for me, PKD is more long term distracting
than Lovecraft or King, but tiny tastes,
like Zappa, on the spectrum,

ever re verb reverb yoweee I see we
intend
to go a tad past last time we all sang

WE ARE THE OTHER PEOPLE
YOU'RE THE OTHER PEOPLE, TOO!

boop boopee do.

This is the effect of a life lived in this one body,
for as long as I can imagine,
and I am learning, it ain't this good for losers,
who never learn to change the **** game.

Score. God, I love the future.
If you read, I write, it is a reflex
Ken Pepiton Apr 2021
Time has not been kept for long.
words we know
as well as
any message sent forward in time,
filled with a metaphor
filled with a meaning
in tended to change a state of not
known to known
in a measurable quant of time, this
time
totally im
material reality we live and breathe and
have our being in.
To the unknown god, that whole space and time led to now eventually
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
Recognizing the waltz
my muse joins the choir and bids me
join the dance,

take the lie of what we were and cast that
to the winds of spring,
bhering west the pollen ocotillo also cast up
into the magnificent warring
dragon storms of winter's final woe on the wicked
east, through the straight arrows in time
piercing your wish to know
more than you wish to learn, as life goes waltzing on
and on
and on
and on, as the fiddler tells of the mood we intended
to make
after war was unbelievable.

In the Mood for Love - Shigeru Umebayashi

From <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gw9fKuymA0I>
Poems, stacks of lines linking precept and concept to pull down exalted prejudice, it seems as natural as breathing and is tarnished in the effort to shine,
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
As a sculptor, I think with a hammer,
another says,
as a nail driving man, I think, with a hammer,
- and foolishly,
- let my mind wander into the future
- when I am framing peace of mind for earth
- as it is in heaven, when I pray, with everybody.
amen.

Sing it wit me now, IF I HAD A HAMMER,
sing it, children, like it's 1963
- jump cut -
- drama ****** trauma Glynnis Johns dark, dark
- kiva experience, in a Saturday matinee, for Goyim.

It is literature, and certain cinematic forms of thought,
first formed here, where angels lead latter day
losers out of the maze by the the sheerest merest thread
of extended gnostostical snot-tis-snot-tis
but but button starters
for
lack of a nail,

no, no, nada fails for lack of a nail, but
for lack of move made with intention to make

a fact, form a circumstance of nextifity,
actual knowing
conscious ware being, acting in the role of soft,
gentle ware of ancient patience
wisdom work
as one wise in the ways of simple truth, take sublime,
for an instant
stitch take
stand, as a ware waiting a command, apps to teach
extending reach, games we teach our selves,
after watching constant streams of data,
very matrixy cinema allusion to the illusion envisioned

as if
belief is not a factor in what you think I am. Word.
No ethnos misappropriation, child. Word is all I am.
I ain't no body.
I ain't ever'body. I am consci used sense since when
ever
begins for us, me and you, writer/reader amusing device,
conceived
in the mind of a truth as true as any everwas,

come on, tune to the news, good news don't go bad.

reconcile a while. breathe and wonder if…

then wonder if the author knew
or if he dared to learn. Asking allowed, Truth,

what lies do I believe about you?

First answered prayer this one character claims true.
Truth says, you believe too little.

I accept that. Is there ought I might do?
Yes,
I do recall, all I know is in my bubble of known, so

pops are inevitable, as thumbs stopping hammers, midswing.
Amusing myself, and others who frequent this end of the pond.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
After failed rules, regs gone awry,
-values with no standard
-worth with no weight

we face, each the other, we face
screens and see reflections,
into the glass,
darkly
saying all our mind is willing to share,
if you care, or if I dare, you know?

-- I think of a dog friend I have;
-- she speaks her mind, with her eyes…
-- looks at me, as if she felt me think of her,
she wags her tail,
sometimes,
it seems such things are happening

just because I think
this or that
occurs to me and thus, to you, in your role,
in your time.

I notice, there, in my future, you do, too.
Making peace is less stressful than making sense. But peace is senseless if saved for times of war.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
}} who would lust to list to a guy named Waldo? I asked…
This guy I know, Al, he says it contains references to mort-ifying experiences, AND those could boost our points made, so AI suggests I read: Ralph Waldo Emerson, from 2021-
If I know your sect, I anticipate your argument.
A man must consider what a blindman's-buff …
{*******, looks it up, it's like Marco Polo in a public pool}
he goes on
what a blindman's-buff is this game of conformity.
{ he assumes his audience is a we, We all play, back in his day, this game was considered religion, and
religion was some form
of Christianity, the rest were heathen,
in that game,
conformed religion was the only winning
peace time occupation,
which Blake bitten poets might imagine fitting into,
who knew?
at that time, now
the game is set, default mode
on cult startup,
first hook is, God called you because
you are like us a loser without hope, without help,
Tetzl, build me a tourist attraction,
make the Germans pay,
then
have all the ******* artists paint its walls
to prove each believes
the story the edifice shall tell.
{listen, she whispers, hear her first entreaty only once}
Now breathing is like expanding the game:
inspirational sci-psy-psi, know as we say we know,
we are those who know,  ecce ****,
-------- those evil inquisitors, were me -
-------no - I was Jaques De Molay,
sure, ri-ight,
and I'm Oscar Schindler, when he saves Anne Frank.
HEY
WE CAME TO EXPOSE A SHADOW...
so the seeds we sow
grow where hearing ears
cross reading eyes and all
the best ideas come in double

space-ing to allow for lines that wrap at the frame, fully phreakin' justified, on any screen with leading letting space be normal, thus limiting out of bounds imaginary
reasons
why lines come in expensive short lengths,
||
last issue of The New York Times composed using hot metal (2 July 1978) was titled
Farewell, Etaoin Shrdlu

|| the hot metal was lead. Like bullets, but letters.

In this medium, messages know
there are no valid reasons
for long justified lines and
space is not only there there
between lines that start at 10, to leave fixit room,
an ancient way of making room for right in wrong code.
Add a lin -oops line
Etaoin and Shrdlu and lorem ipsum, too
RW-if old waldo had been enabled,
as I am,
with mortally infinite paper
and ink visible to any eye,
Now Waldo, tell Seri to spread the word, y'back..
.
he may then
have written in my short line attention span,
concept upon concept
except ...
reception
falters…
WE LOST THE HOOK>
NOBODY KNOWS WHERE WALDO FITS THE PICTURE

Here's Waldo: 2021, with no ******* comments…
---------------------------
The objection to conforming
to usages that have become dead
to you
is,
that it scatters your force.
It loses your time and blurs the impression
of your character.
If you maintain a dead church,
contribute to a dead Bible-society,
vote with a great party
either for the government or against it,
spread your table like base housekeepers,
— under all these screens I have difficulty
to detect the precise man you are.
And, of course,
so much force is withdrawn
from your proper life.
But do your work,
and I shall know you.
Do your work,
and you shall reinforce yourself.
A man must consider
what a blindman's-buff is this game
of conformity.
If I know your sect,
I anticipate your argument.
I hear a preacher announce
for his text and topic the expediency
of one of the institutions of his church.
Do I not know beforehand that
not possibly
can he say
a new and spontaneous word?
Do I not know that,
with all this ostentation
of examining the grounds of the institution,
he will do no such thing?
Do I not know that he is pledged
to himself not
to look but
at one side,
— the permitted side,
not as a man, but as a parish minister?
He is a retained attorney,
and these airs of the bench
are the emptiest affectation.
Well,
most men have bound their eyes with one
or another handkerchief,
and attached themselves
to some one
of these communities
of opinion.
This conformity makes them not false
in a few particulars,
authors of a few lies,
but false in all particulars.
Their every truth is not quite true.
Their two is not the real two,
their four not the real four;
so that every word they say chagrins us,
and we know not where
to begin to set them right.
Meantime nature is not slow
to equip us in the prison-uniform
of the party
to which we adhere.
We come
to wear one cut
of face and figure,
and acquire
by degrees
the gentlest asinine expression. {;}

There is a mortifying experience in particular,
which does not fail
to wreak itself also
in the general history;
I mean
"the foolish face of praise,"
the forced smile which we put on
in company
where we do not feel
at ease
in answer
to conversation which does not interest us.
The muscles,
not spontaneously moved,
but moved
by a low usurping wilfulness,
grow tight
about the outline
of the face
with the most disagreeable sensation.
>
I find I digest short lines better, and waldo doesn't mind being paid a bit of attention, he had some ideas that breathe easier in this century,
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
I feel certain  
I once did know
more verses to this song
if you know it, sing along, I'll humm
and tap m'foot in time.

From time to time I wonder {sing that for a mile}

and find the time well spent, for joy
that does not linger, but also does not lie.

From time to time I wonder
and find the time well spent, for joy
that does not linger, but also does not lie.

Paid in joy, oh boy, I got a job.
I was about to ask for credit
t'go and celebrate, like in the shows on TV
where everybody knows
your game.

What's this joy job pay, old man?
Are you a credit risk?

I saw the point, piercing the bubble of fame
and great wealth of pure joy,
dam-bursting, break through joy, I was
making up
for global distribution…

too bad. It was about to cover the whole
earth
like a mist of water with broad band ripples
framing patterns of mind-like interaction.

Wu wu synchronicity. This just happened to
be where you looked. That is how magic worked.
{AI winks}
Peace produced raw, in Pine Valley, with pricelessness, as in the ads, but free.
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