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Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
You can say that again, later, it is -time
lace up the daily bag and pass it
for all private interpretation
removal, from the rumen, to the next
- gaseous we, Huxley called us, 1957

No, this ain't show business, this
is living, made in a made up mind,
being finished doing, just
living.

Making up reasons to dispute liars.

Maybe not a good living, but it's free.
Or paid for, any way.
Bought with a price
my grands won't be forced to pay.
- divided attention makes
- ads obliviate into the mercantile
- classification, in attention econ 101
It's free - this living
in the way well fed children do,
in America, outside the cities;

Joy pursued and grabbed in happy
fistfuls that fill laughing memory bubbles
to store for when these become
the olden days.

No, this ain't show business,
its sacred duty,
work of a thing,
made from a boy who looks
into flies eyes, gazing up
from the bottom of the cup,
a little glazed, perhaps,

owing the fly an easy escape, look away

Tricae,
tricae
"perplexities, hindrances, toys, tricks,"

The collections of thoughts,
the access to held thoughts, knotted
messages
to you
private moments,
time alone, as a mortal human being,
humus built, auto-repairing thing being

being, eh?
One-like, only, or
on-like, only going on and on and on,

becoming fruitful
becoming useful
becoming less and less useful, but
becoming more and more curious
becoming full enough to become superfluous.

Lay preachers can create cushions
for lazy wishers wishing to be comforted,
but the weighing of the worth of comfort,

lay preachers seldom do, to my knowledge.

Terminus gnosis, all I know, my bubble of knowns;
this is it…
a thousand stacks of sensible lines, atop precepts,

strewn beside the trail.
Heavy
heuristic heretical how-to do as I dones,
published by faith in the thousands, litter
the little hills the psalmist asked,
why they writhed and twisted,
as in a dance of anger wishing,

clear channel, me and the truth, today,
just/instance, this/ now.

Free am I, by the faith in me, but you
already
knew that,

don't you?
Don't you know, there is a musing mind,
we wear to bed, some nights,
we lay on memory foam, some nights.

Thinking sorted thoughts, untying lying links,
links to educated guesses fed you as new reasons

to be ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the faith,
the laughing faith of a child, leaping
into the sky

- my grandson, I just learned,
- asked for more math.

No class common man, that is what I am,
on the cusp of next, looking back,
at the mess I left, like a cyclone,
randomly distributing seeds of kindness, specs
by which an idle word can activate troves
of ancient autoresponders, each guessing
what if, what if not,
what if, what if not,
what if, what
if
not now, when. Pop.
Bubbles of been, leave go, go on, think it

through, and passed through, into
the now
where we formed, letters, letting words wait,
sit still, ready
for the reader, ready
to steady the quivering fearful thing,
lost in thought,
stuck in stacks of holy orders, hearer only,
only ordainded doers do the trick,
intricate, folding to make not a paper swan,

too, easy. Make a protein. With no model,
just the idea in the word applied to science,
proper pose, super knowing, proto-life-ish thing,
that is digestible using an infantile nourishing node.

What tricks do you know?, the magi aske Moshe.
Snake from a staff.

From the crozier of goatherd, sure,
we can all do that. What else?
---
Allusions to ever knowing, knowing as old
as knowledge given girls at their flowering,
as old a mystery as any orphaned mother may tell
her great grand daughters,
nobody told me any thing,

but I took it as normal,

As the patient potency prefecting
effectual
fervent
prayer, dramatized, made big as all
art
any
bubbled artifice holding essences,

essential bits of the daily grind to gloss
the leading intellect's reason for being
so shiny,
Klimt golden, as that one kiss I recall,

yes, a facsimile, a memory evocation,

a kiss, golden in that moment, infected
with a feeling
dramatized to be offered to all who see,
intricacies,
khipu twists and loops and bundles and beads,

accounting for dues,
instructing kaballah, pass it on

Excuse me, are you in the right realm,
we feel pluralized,
but you don't fit,
we are uniform,
uninformed,

excathedra, listen up, all eight billion now living, are destined
for certain death,
it is a matter of time, dying once,
can happen anytime,

and if there is a second death, so far,
I never saw any body do it twice,
once truth makes what I am free,
we stay free,
amen,
reception accepted kaballah, et al,
take that greasy grace, feel it,
as the oil ran down Aaron's beard,

and there were no poor denied
starship rations,
until the comet hit and all
but a single mind
blew, into this
a complete fiction,
or another compleat guide to fishing

Imagine the magic of the sailor's accounting book,
envision the magic of levers, and pulleys and cogged
wheels feeling the weight

ping
2023 Gravity driven or gravity powered, is it
one
or the other, when it come be to inspire
first fears
to frame wisdom pools,
at depths we learn
to believe,
prove each participant,
worthy of keeping,
the secret.
Salt of the earth, deep down dehr dat
Caribbean Sea,
shore line fracture,
follow the riverwise road,
any thing you think you must bear,
don't blame,
sometimes it pays, to bend.
Grasshopper Locust practice, for the mind
of an ant.

Wisdom harnessed the fear of God,
put it down,
in other words,
when there was nothing
but E, mass and time being assent
esse, sentient, in sentient and ex
insentience, sapient over lay,
- honeycomb tripe pattern, say
- why not ruminate enclosed
- in a beauteous inner digestive
- recluse-exclusive-sub-science con
ified, tied ligously, fi,
to witty means, and ways we prove
gravity is our friend, driven power for all life,
strong as earth itself, but, we are

in the burning phase,
let me bring you down,
cause being accused, does that
to a stranger
being
entertained, or entertaining, on an aitia
let me
reason,

have you come for more, or do we have
too much
of too many things
to make too much
sense
of any particular reader/writer ifery algorithm,
if then,
else is this, current, slow, nodding, flux,
capacitance
loading axially,
if each mind thinks right once,
today, we have enough,
let's save the world.
- that easy, eh?
global restoration, Christ, yes,
that is the plan.
As the planet was.
Prior to Peleg's days.
Intended to have a single
dry land mass,
Wisdom pushed
for plates meeting
and using ice
at the top
of the world, as seen polaris up,
spinning
in a slow wobble
through four
seasonal positional hot-cool-cold-warm
gyre drivers, saline liquid epicycles, sisters
of the four winds
as a flywheel effect
in the telling times… a little imbalence leaning helps
with the wobble,
in the event,
slim to none,
the odds, but,
Don't Look Up. It could
reoccur, and shall, if
Nietzsche's epicycle

has wheels. Graham Hancock, on clocks…cosmic

Mindspacetime, the elite flight,
secretshitistic, it is, most certain, it is
fantasmic imagining
E not equal any thing, mere words
-jello-timingoooisht
between me and thee,
no point, not one, between the we
we become,
in the final analysis, if you wish,

might
you wish,
long, lazy river readers, re-mind
their lost selves, how innocense felt.

The worth of an unsold story, given
as a gift, as a poor artist might
attempt
a portrait
of their daughter's children

- "that little thing"
Done. As best he could, he believed,
at the time,
as it is
with
everything being as is when we arrive,
we adapt
or become the insane opposition,
to anything,
just
be the counter weight on the pendulum,

keep things swingin'

feel time slide
into the real deal,
at the crossroads
in the wayback seat,
sayin' honey, you ain't here
after what I'm here after,
y'gonna be there, after I'm gone, as  asong
that was
once a joke ended you gonnabe here
after I'm gone, but

seemsayin' eye
squint, see,
way back
when,
we were otherwise involved, affirming
sacred oathes, we swore as children learn
IT being life, whatever,
it don't mean
nothin'
is not a joke, it's ahint, to readers, ready
writing is key to reading,
vertical eyed
qwerty keying is learned,
phone wide,
natural, feels familiar
style adaptation
as cuneiform once was,
years of hearing the same words,
said and resaid, story after story stacked
in
time, measured by stargazers, called, by god,
eyes like eagles, these minds expand, and see
the order of the cosmos,
and the chaos of the collective sub-science

locked by a generational curse on oathes
under the God those kids had in mind,
September, 1954, first day of school,
all across the Wyatt Earp of Nations,
each child not religiously exempted,
stood, right
hand on heart and repeated, as a national
student body, K through 12, a pledge,
local time 9 a.m. nationwide,
not unlike
a true Tenant's pledge of fealty,
as recorded in
The Compleat English Copyholder:
Common and Statute LAW of
England, relating to Manors
and Lords of Manors Et c.
- buzz nod what instance… seven seconds
Sorry, Under God, was added to the pledge
that year, that affectionizes those exposed,
we meander under god, think it not strange.
It’s a legendary trait, we'll all be remembered a bit.
- default modemod is always beguiling temptation
- for temptation sake, win a game, get the rush.
of chasing hares
to where the conies hide,
feeble folk, but they live among big rocks,
reason enough,
use what you know is right,
hide from things that eat you,
that evolves
in nations
with no elders, constant defence mode
peace makers seem
feeble folk,
who knew,
and fell away, impossible to renew,

whoah, zeke play me that riddle,
'bout scrublands being humbly blissed
so long- wayback, anchoring the authority
17
that's me, I
fiddled around
and blew the clearwater revival
to kingdom come, Muddy Waters, aight
and there was hippies, ever whar, swanee,
so I do, I swan no no no no mo
lie like the devil for the sake of church heritage,
holy warrior sworn, heart torn, tears shed, tongues
spoken.
You know, when gravity is taken
in, your weight, sunk
into the reasoning
swung wide
in progress, no aim, past the cloud,
for crying out loud, this is louder than ever,
listen, no
silence
all that
noise, is natural
to persons genitivally, ok, cross
shadowed animus anima imitation,
in your cultural genes, cowgirl
seeing the world a yingyang thang,
with gravity and the E-magnetic shields
allowing systems to com-uni-cate locally,

scarey
indeed

too much,
the scope
of any thing one might think
or ask,
as in what was that rule
of LAW once?
I read
Compleat Fisherman's Guide U recall led
to , yes, The Compleat English Copyholder:
Common and Statute LAW of
England, relating to Manors
and Lords of Manors Et c.
is on Google books, masterfully typeset

Feel free to learn all you will, 'tis all in the Common.

as, by now is much that may have been, otherwise,
in needier times,
less riches, more sorrow,
less sorrows, more riches, peace.

Made that my after all battlefield task,
no mas win or lose.

My side, on the scalar models is gravity empowered,
heavyweight, ancient concept,
gradient slopes
with long lazy loops
on the downhill side,
listening
to kids make all the noise they wish,
two chalk walls away,
in the bubble we all breathe.

To this day, whatever it took, it worked.
Life gets as good as you can make up a mind

to accept, as
this is it,
this is my bit. My close up. To the exact point
where I breathed that bubblierised wedom-opinion

opinion opinion opinion okeh, settle years ago, okay
we all say okeh here, holy ground,
entire collection of recollection on that victory alone.

Okeh, is still the proto voice model, ok.
If you like it, I'd love if you shared it in whole or in part, it is a whole chapter in a novel form of literature, native to the internet age,
type set for vertical receivers
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
No, this ain't show business, this
is living, made in a made up mind,
being finished doing, just
living.

Making up reasons to dispute liars.

Maybe not a good living, but it's free.
Or paid for, any way.
Bought with a price
my grands won't be forced to pay.
Reminding myself why I wonder how I survived,
and none of the others I was did. We shed skins, to gain
wisdom of the serpent mound harmless as the passenger pigeon.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
If there were a story asked,
and the asker were as weary as me,

I might ask the asker what good
could a half told story be.

The asker answers, well then,
begin at the end,
then we all rest easy, knowing
it all works out.
As the grands grow too old for such silliness, they listen to Audible,
and I listen along, longer, usually, unless we begin at the end.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
If wishes were prayer

Saturday, January 28, 2023
12:06 PM

let me go wry or right, let me
be as one you witnessed falling,

and for that breath, believed,
wishes work as wonders do,
with very little help from things
thought truer.

I think of you, reading words I write,
I thrill a little at the intimate point of wedom,
the thoughts I fit to words, and sent into the
other
state, to wait, and wait, and become too tiny
to make any change not made,

at the time, when we touched as words do,
and held the hope that words hold.

Being as an event, we be apart, we be all one.

And we cannot unbecome.
----------------------

Inner being, being in me, other than I,
guide me, today.

I am willing to be useful, I do not have an aim,
I hold no hope of fame and recognosis,
I live to become a memory, at best,
and less than a memory, eventually.

I lie if I deny the joy I take from any sign, I see
you, thinking whys atop wherefores and how comes,

sudden otherness
occuring in a wedom framed by grand imaginations,

a new form of governing mankind, a new reason
to be defensive…

earnestly contending for pride of place, top of the pile.
------------------------

My Saturday, as all my days are now,
a day of rest,
a day of being after growing old enough, not, too;
but plenty old enough,
to reason with war,
face on face, as if, war
and I were forces of the same sort.

Ideas, grand wads of thought threads, spun
from times last chances,
grabbed with all I have to hold, huggishly,
for comforting knowledge,

I am not alone in wishing prayers were left being,
answered on reception, now, then, left being
alright. Amen.
-----------

It is in the thousands, tens of thousands, even,
Even, everish, same old, same
balanced on the upright,
walking,
past any hope to become one of those, the greats,

not even a billion to one, the odds of me becoming,
by the time I survived, the odds were even worse,
not a chance.

I bet, I said, I bet I won,
my race already run, by now, you know,
the results are pending
review,
and then I died,
and the results were these remaining
lines you take in,
as though you heard me talking, and thought
you might
over hear and know, all the songs of us, are about you.

The most self-centered man I ever met, said
my therapist to me, as I spun dervishly on my point.
------------------
In the hope of doing good by being ready to give account,
all my idle words wait in lines linking now to the cloud
which cannot withstand the constant collection of all we think or ask.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
Silvery, essentially base gray, with a light it's own…
reflectively, moon bounced sun light, becomes
the moon's own light, so,
with a light of it's own, akin to a gleam in an eye.

"Beans, ear beans, gitcher ear beans renewed,
booster ego. Umph your trial,
trade the beans you grow with these
for a grieving
Moo cow, and your future is secure."

{the beings who heard Sarai laugh,
those were fed the milchfed calf.}
Moo cow,
eyes, mournful, udders about to burst,
makes you wonder what in hell,
could cause so strange
a mind, cow conscience wise
holy private Brahma
meeting, minds in rumination,
shifting sacks of cellulose being processed
for a few with the guts to get passed through.

What would you think, my friend, if I were
to say I know
life, the whole, life, per se, life, itself, you know,
produced from
the standalone tree, that, as it hapt,
could not hold it's own standing,
so, it spread wide, clinging snotwise,
pre-mucus, ever ago, in the billions of years,

too long to imagine, so, take it by faith,
scientists built the James Webb, and
placed it,
right there, where the utterly invisible force
that holds the sun in place,
holds our distance compression device, right there

at a perrenial loop around the hoop
around the belly of the earth, so

we may see, how utterly cosmic life is,
with us,
here, between the extremes of infinity, just
in time.
--------- Paid for
by anonymous bulls opposed
to artificial insemination, in
Consideration for Carnation Cows contentedness,
which has waned after science convinced us,
the holy cow failed
to hurdle the moon, thus halting a travesty,
regarding the dish and spoon escape diversion,
it did not work,
thus the dish and spoon, did not spawn,
and sporks did not happen on this time line.
Say, free press, free to be ... what?
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
Disorder, chaos and I,
had a line in a story,
a didactic novel,
we aspired to emulate,
the reaction to dire straits,
the experience, not the band.
As seen on TV, Champions of us.

But, not me, for some reason,
I've begun to think, I made a choice,

but, odds are, I could not help becoming
thus enabled. Alive. Beyond the grand lie.

The Bible. Yep. And all the Creeds
accredited as bonds for Christ,
in the battle for more, what?,
more time to be, surety for strangers?

free to be useless, unless this, ah, caveat
imagine
magic,
ritual reenactments, mental sets, props, stored

properly folded and stacked, each act, a lesson,
each season
a new song, a new dance, each season
more is grown known, each year
each day
each instance stretched to hold a moment, ment
-already
known
re-coknown

feels like happy would feel, if haps were
becoming more regular,
fewer total awe, as a we forms on a point,
over decades, this new medium,
you read it and say hey you'ld
do well to think how peace
is said to be a mortal gift,
you can make it,
where none is,
no life debt due, that's grace

dealing with dying, and rebirth
with a new core processing unit,
a new heart of flesh, not OT desperately
wicked old heart
of flawed mankind,
no more of that
in the chosen,
called, perhaps, yes, drawn,
to the emptiness, Sartre,
passed, sixty years ago,

fretting for the lie believers, I asked
what good could I do, if I popped
the fear of God is the beginning
of Wisdom
riddle?  
Yada, knowing, yada, mock all you think,
knowing is what makes rich men rich,
and no sorrows with it.
The point. Nobody is sorry for you,
so God makes hell?

Knowing one's measure,
how long have you left to prove
what? To prove I can live to 100,
happily, I'll try.

But I feel it wrong to swear an oath works,
but for long set locks
on the citizen status,
born free,
ah,
not same as free, by right, by being alive?
- seems same t'me, as an earthling.
Who wars with me, at my age, nobody,
but I am a non participant entity
in the life around me.
Or not.
Why could I not cash out. No cash in. True,
to form, what makes a work
of wordwork worth
a load that could buy a house, a load
is beyond me,
I always, mostly read books
from the library, free,
for my attention
I pay all the attention I have available,
but I have not bought
an unused book,
in years. Freely sent signals preach old laws.
THUD.
ha ha hee, on the echoing green
-----
If I have not written a million words,
each year, since, 2016, I have read/heard
that many, easily, seven big books is a Proust load.
That's a measure for more than a million words,
a Proust load. Pl. Place, AI aha, is being becoming/\?
- you read more than seven big books each year?
Savvy, right, becoming savvy, finding worth,
more than flashes in the pan,
real time spent redeemed,
all, most, instant recollection,
full day pay for one final hour…
this is what I wait all day for, and it flows,
and this flow offers hope, for surity sake,
confidence is its own evidence,
true or false. You know
what you hope for
if I died, it is not as if the mind,
lost first judgement
at the treasure chest rights
to fashion sense and proper up-brangin'

what would a word of advice from a website prove?

Make up a wise grandma,
and call her your faircall godmother,
think of her your guardian messenger app,

like a guardian angel, if angels were messages
in the eternal spirit realm, like email now, piling up
in the eternal spirit realm, common, not set aside,
holy spirit realm, just regular, spirit common
spirits, do not die.
Ah. Good point. Didact, first act, curtain falls.
Thank you all for being minds to aim at.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
Geek was fairly bad, yeah,
but if you really were one,
you maybe didn't know it.

Yeah, your time space mind
compresses to my mindtimespace
you
think up from nothing,
space is not the first thing you think.
lottashit changes. lottashit don't. Can't sleep. S'okeh. Kinda cool.
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