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7d · 45
After harvest
uncommon ways of thinking are more subject to be
odd ionic quests are  trending---
what is the most noble quest?
What good am I, peace and safety wise
be me
as a wild bird might feel safe with you near,
as you quest on, leaning on the lift, rolling in the flow

life lives, ideas find shapes that fit,
moreso than a similar unit of your own mind's


we are commanded, be first
he who treads the grain eats first,
as the grain is tread,
or he stores his treasure in an imaginary vault,

safety deposit rule being if I was in the spirit,
as witnessed by the breath
filtered from gnats, and flushed of flem,
Ah hem, Aachen, is back.
Say he has a silver wedge worth risking the wrath of god,
you ever felt that urge,
to taste,
partake of the growing and harvest and decarbing and steeping
first partaker, the husband man, wombed or un, who labors,
must be, then
be the little red hen who shares the over flow,
--- what is being asked of whom, in this room?
not the filling,
let them be only thy own and not another's with thee
but the flood's free
running, whirling vein to one artery to another
we share the air.

My grandsons all can make that clear, the youngest,
three and one half swirls,
lefty lucy, righty tighty, one way or another
no no no … I'll follow the sun

twist again, like we did last summer, oh the
world swallowed me whole

as if I, not Faustus, I am bond to stand toe to toe
with old Mephisto,
by any other name, I tripped

on my feet I land on my feet Agri-industrial experimental,
oil company loss producer to allow tax credits
maybe useful toward avoiding
hundred and forty acre water
that, ****** if they didn't, we was plantin' trees
the names of those reaped
the fruits of our labor,

I see the rod, of an almond tree…

Ich kenne nicht I hid mein heir under the standing
pillars of right we learn
to live under, standing up right, relative to
who our DNA proves,
close enough for Perry Mason,
in the white of the egg, is there any taste?
it is an acquired taste,
a select strand of ancient as we, as a family,
mito-chondrial DNA,
is this not poetryscumbagthunderword getter
good, we

see the flaw, no flaw at all, a short cut for the trout, see

see the flaw in the flow is a matter of matter it self.
Self it sel, per se, same same logos I heard a meta
knower of something or another,
expert, in the literature of his field.

we seem the fruit of a life examined and found lacking nothing,
each day's evil sufficiency settled to gentle predictable waves,
marked by the red tent in the stories
of when there was so much grass and so much wool

every shepherd was feeding three wives in exchange,
for making life livable as the fate spin us
to true rest remaining for the people of {as we all agree, the idea does exist and is believed, though you may not know or know you do and know this form of reality, me and you bot reading thishit}
God god gods and sub beings with
From out of the culvert, east on 66, see I said then
that's me, I'll see what that man sees

you need not reprove the signs,
shake the dust and wander on samsara, as they say, one way

Child eyes, no fear at all, sees himself, a
strange old men
lurking where he remembers only old drunks,
smell of ****,

once watched a squaw in velvet skirt,
drop a qew outside a white outhouse

these windows persist as windows,
no doors if your ligends don’t match the receptors,

fret not, worst can happen,
but not here, time being as it is, you know, variable

In states of mind I can maintain for longer periods than i…
I take that back,
this is the real binge.
The last round. The words form constant ever after
bubble, **** I guess able to bubbles in milk
bubbles of being being my whole metaphor for life inside this one bubble we can sort of see the edge of…
synchronos compromise signals life change…

Invest in a three year old boy who is on-the-ball-*****-trained,
constant barking trained seal balancing the world,
beneath his feet, gripper stockinged ,
but a way can may be
still slide in the hall is if you put 'em on
grippers on top,
life in a child
loves knowing any thing, for as long as knowing
happens along with everything else,

Like," Grandpa", from this blonde head with adult sized eyes,
seeing me look him in those eyes, signal
eyes touch, he sees his reflexion in the glare on my glasses,

I know, I saw my reflexion in my grandma's glasses,
when I was three, or so.

"Grandpa, stars come in all the colors." They do,
I said. I told my daughter, she shone.

I feel sorta Norman Rockwell, 2019.
I noticed last year, in Oct and November, through the year, voices change.
but smooth as yesteryear morphing to now
On the benches where grandpas watch strollers at
re-musement parks, where the oldays
come alive, conversations take on an old Wednesday
at the barber shop atmosphere,
circa Happy Days, right after ...

There could be sumthin' t'them stories,

the ones the good guys win,
some how
good guys win, not in the appliance business,
markets saturate, you know, need a gimmick,
need a hook,

eh, the c'mon, try-days, when umph was push,
come to shove and tear and take,

the puppy dog close...

what should only be given, fool.

is nothing sacred? Sweet persuasion
****? From a fifties Tom Hanks recollection of commonalities,
awe, look, Ken Burn's still of all
I think I saw now
I remember, I was near there, maybe a hundred miles away.
as fresh as a memory ever was
Viktor Frankl's faith was trust that one's life holds meaning
trust in ultimate meaning...
My word trust holds true and rest crammed together for support
to stand under knowing the entire set of upgrades
and lock changes,
to mankind-basic knowledge of good and evil, since my last
a filtration algo-i'll-go rythmn and hyme adjusterho rholler
that powers ourkind past wayless places
when language joins the gamers playing for glory, at any cost,

Old Glory

per pose haps need happening,
sans happy-ness,
what ness could ever be?

What's the haps? Don't lie.
What's goin' on? Don't lie. Say,

Regular stuff. My side's winnin'. A *** in Pershing Square,
under the Jesus Saves sign, brought that to mind,

Fifty years ago, for him, looked like "no direction home"

Sansara sera, whatever sera selah

Nihili, to the max, right. But,
we know
other than this now,

thinking process of cognitive rythm building

coughing final, expulsion of some invading barb,
a fiery dart, setting cooling

actions sponding to ligands loosed when the
third aveili in a micron failed to expell

slowww whoooshhhhh
in-a-ginning be da vita, see...

say I think I know this feeling

qwhy-esse quiessence,
a settling,
after all that could be shaken, was.

acid to water, or water to acid?
who would gno?
Southern California autumn breezes
Ken Pepiton Oct 11
start comprehending what Paul,
arrogant, if Pythagorus be so called.
The apostle, witnessed in the spirit to the
prophets, who warned, they'll
re-tie you to some rules
yule never keep

once you believe you have seen the earth
from the moon, immutable morphs into a
bigger deal where little matters less

than what one of us lets be true.

If self be logos and capital letters, Turkey mean squat,
hexagons mean stop
sometimes they do some times they dont
like spells for finding witches

long ago, the legends say bold Constant C,
dictates all reality
in terms

of timespacetimespacetimespace
By consuming these words you self
evidently know to chew
your blue berries,
everyone's thrill, cheap trick.

selahlahlah meandering in Shaubergian curls,
Fibbonacci swirls to back around rocks too big
to roll, rilling li'l' vortices to under mine
the flow through
that which does least good? whoa.
time. right. we exist in words. This may be ever.

I went through a phase,
some time
back, when I gave the whole dear reader possibility fog
the power of may,
I said may is your word now and you said we may
as well see where this leads.

--- is that a line? line upon line line?
precept or per

you see cept re grabbing and gripping taking or

accepting, with whole being connection restoring
power, absolutely,
to unthink unbelievables idly uttered with

weir-ish fish traps served the forest, power dams don't/
but electricity,

she is a child of all the gods, come to serve us all,
for as long as we can keep the only evident inter galactic life pod we have, balanced
along the spiral
of life.
May be or Amen, all the people sayit and that' is not always
the way it goes.

Current speed, each, 1/1300th C. Thrilling, can you breathe?
Some times these get a certain geek response -- the number of tries is measured in umph, said some proverbial ****** I ******.
Ken Pepiton Oct 11
the eretz was without ideation
at the mo
ment alation cre
ation mental poing

some thing hap-pening here,
pretty clear,
this is that still small, voice,
after all we've said we've done, said
was apt to hap after may
was given the the reader, in terms,
only unbelieving for real,
can reset.

--- ol country boy, did you never sing
sweep over my spirit

for ever, I pray, in phathomless billows
bubbling foam singing harmony
with the oldest three

olives around my table, in the trade
edition of
Turkey Day, Nihilo Holy Day
Before Black Friday.

Foreseeing a nap in my future,
and imagining all the fuss has blown over.
Or is fussing with if gravity works
or interest can be paid with attention.

Every ad a usurer sends earns wechat credit for
being exposed to the ad in more than 20 percent
of you shape-resolving systems
logos setting.

We are paid to pay attention that's the pitch,
it'll make us all rich.
toying with chips and old mac hardrives
Oct 5 · 42
After the Ice
Ken Pepiton Oct 5
This is a warm day,
in October.

I've weighed the reasons for my concern
and found them wanting,

I'll make no difference, come what may.

Come, what may, be the motivator
the in
the reason, raison d'etre eh?
find hope and do what, what
do we do
with misplaced hopes?

we chew them up and spit them out,
'call'em riddles,

inspired by Ezekial 17. Yeah, Q,
and A
bullhead twisted to uplookin POV

the Alpha bet a bull

Legends never see from this POV.
We are blessed.
We have artificial intelligence,
sending us trends
we may buck. Upto the point,

did you read that?
Is it October warm still? Or did the rest of the ice finally melt
and let the great Northern Gyre
spin free?
musing on the things being fretted over, that may or may not be made better by me.
Ken Pepiton Oct 5
BTW vir means man in the old Latin
from which
the nomenclature
of Catholic Christianity rose up,
curia and cives and synoikia by Roman ****,
and cries of grace

a ****** seems a gin, ala engine, ie, ei
genius engenederer a man maker version

We got hope.

it very well could be, that we
know more than we imagined
we knew
as we,

the people, who hold certain
to be

You see? You hold these certain truths
you're an icecream cone.

And as Arthur assures me still:
will be time
to start

If you can artifice enough integrity of mind,
to think of a way, each

mankind mind made unthingable, find that Greek word

ah dian oi toasted, nah, but near, this word means
the thing done, the deed not non-doable in being real.

the line
in the sand, crossed,
this away and thataway

we that take the refractured way through the wall,
inalienable right holding we,
the unalienable native
born bhering heir
holdin' woven coffin nails as puffs of smoke signaling

carry good news on beautiful feet.
conciliate, liberty sans munera calls remunera to the game.

play fair, or be square.
Living Shakespearean tropes in Euclidean dramas
enacted by liars used to entertain fools

for the power of suggestion
gestating in the waiting
from now on.
What now, m'love? We dance...Arthur Lee Love Forever Changes, your words still bring me here, to enjoy the reboot.
Oct 5 · 43
Ken Pepiton Oct 5
Allow means much more than most children think, and, since most adults, mature adamkind, learned the meaning of allow while being children themselves, it stands to reason,
we must agree to acknowledging an adult-rated meaning, an
original thought-true meaning, exists, and the embedded clip causes verity to be established
And agreed. But skip the clip. This is most likely a paper book if I am still in it, and I am.

Got that? If not, get it. Ye'll nae go fear fershur. (never far for sure)

There is tinkly music behind this in the published version, I don't know how to do that yet, but it is being done.
The Orthodox Heretic is done that way with background noise playing as it were a role.

I am casting for the character "background noise" no more than a minute long and two inches tall.

What is allowed here is good. This realm is blessed. Good from day six. Yet,
You cannot imagine, yet. Telling my story from where I am, here, required "Rasselin' m' own weasels"

To get here. I had to stomp m'own snakes, in other words.
So, while you be, as you are, here, be having fun with no pain nor shame nor want

Think you can. You can.
Thank you, Waddie Piper, that little golden book that never leaves me, you know what I mean? I think I can. I think I can. And I know I read that book before I saw Dumbo.
You know what I mean.

And that is always Ray Charles, you know what I mean slow mind slow tongue fast ears
Hear the question from the stage to the nose bleed seats,
You know what I mean?

What is allowed here is good. This realm is blessed. Good from day six.

What is allowed here is good. This realm is blessed. Good from day six.
I am
Glad. Ye got a handle on that while back, eh? Good to see.

Old word that, glad. It'll gleam
If'n ye shine it on yer britches knees
Like a sword furbished,
A rod
And it is given to be furbished
That it may be handled:

Com prehension with gripping as a hand may
Grip a handle

You can handle that. It's the truth.
What else is there?

Post-mortal man is now man, you know?
What we are now is what we are;
Refurbished shined on by most.
Ignore, that's what shining on is
As used just then.

Now I can tell you to shine on and on and on
While we all ignore you and laugh at your

Take it easy. The pieces have been falling
Long before now. Some how now we
Comprehend on purpose.

Hang on to that thought
Saturday, February 04, 2017
12:01 PM
Ken Pepiton Oct 3
oh, now listen, to that blues man, singin' prayer
singin' words in ways we never
hoid woids sung thisaway, since Grandma on th Bayou,
me, to Mr. Jake,
Now mister jake, he was old country, old school

He settle a passle of flybit cows with a croon,
aimed right at the moon,
top o' his lungs, knowin'

I am the only voice I hear, my prayers
never bounce,
they soak down

may you arrive, said Mr. Jake
where you wisht you were, when we

learned of life in Louisiana from an old Siclilian
fisher man cook, who knew of
Tavasco Inlet, to Bayou Bleu,
the real
you can feel black mud from the top of
the river, carried all this way,
to squish between my toes,

so I never fo'got toejam spreader was a
occupying principle behind any
search for pearls
once fed to pigs.
Mr. Jake taught me to think these muddy
with my toes, wigglin',
feel a nibblin'
hook, what do you know?
A thought while wondering if prayer is more the unwritten poetry blowing on breezes that sometimes feel like care-touch, figertip to cheek
Ken Pepiton Oct 3
Myths, lost in Cartoon Network and its spawn,

most criminals, most out-side-the-bubble,
improper thinkers, if you will,
not right thinkers,
are not very smart

fortunately, we

have the internet, they left us that.
We can rest and recon
we, the people, can recoup from a coup to the knoggin

next, trip a trap, snare a glimpse of that golden thread
assign that care to the piece
of your core
that cares if you remain sane enough

and follow the golden thread, this one, not
the one connecting riven mouths
of joker gods, barfing in the gulf,
the MOMA tied a cube of hay,
with a golden thread and golden needle,
in NYC, which led to me seeing Moma Luis
and his daughter who goes by
Franceska, spelt otherwise,
unspooling a golden thread on a stage
a few furlongs here
a few furlongs there
in fathomless billows of life,
stitching those gaping mouths shut, for me
thus I share the joy of being
and you may imagine I am more
than words
mere me dear reader, quite enough to entangle

with a mad woman, wrapped in a feather boa,
needing the laugh, to spark
the healing
healing itches, you know, if you have scars
itches, scratch with gloves,

don't destruct your self, for the rub

the touch
of love, ha, define your terms mofah!

What's love got to do with it, art
official, proper, Q-17, a mystical number
quaf the essence

a puff of smoke, I paid a ttent ion to to

find Babylon, this guy did not know you, Prince
of Persia...

you a hasbeen mofah we be a little bit farther now
push a bit
push a bit
7 come 11, watch I measure smoke cought
or caught in my throat

the artificial-ness, we must dis-pute in time
******* smart
Watch y'self, this is the age of miracles
we got us a clown

wombed-man... it all got choool
the facts
of now
make next appear possible.

forward and up, tough for people

some words struggle for worth
meaning meaning meaning worth paying you
to know
add to your childhood collection of coolhood collecti
to claim you own it own it own it

ify ify if you glow, who needs to know, like
from a star
Bette from a distance, a mob is a mobmind,
a shared thought you got wrong,
twisted, twisted, twisted to true

and the signal fades into the sound of the helicopter
setting new power poles.

The grid is using humans skilled in war manuevers
to set new power poles.

Thashits poetic.

And my magi-pen don don don't run
in the summer
we go deep, down to where the big rocks
that would not break rolled
to a stand still

a selah, preceding a halle lu Jah.

Another fine day, in Pine Valley, lookin' west.
for overlooked
jots and tittles tatooed is silly places.
Ken Pepiton Sep 28
Old notes, from before

what they did was imagine a future
the future using a memory (meme) locken in their DNA to cognize


Defragmenting your mind
disassociate certain ideas from mis conceptions

cost of living, reap what you sow

Lost and know it, is there a way

What if the show (the trial) is a series of phone calls--
listener hears both sides

--- but never speaks--
When is the reward for not doing ever as great as
the reward for done?

A riddle for the robber jailed for doing?
A query for the poet who never wrote?
The singer who never sang, an audition in silence?

Eaking, painful words that say see, soundlessly

and fifteen years passed by
I must say
I know the answer there
I must say
I see farther now than then

Suffer it to be so now. See the music
Sufficient unto the day (no more)

Sop with me, come and dine.

-- Ask the guest to say grace

gracefully, the guest rises to full height,

tears the heel from the loaf,
slowly sops it in the cup of Mogen David,
provisioned by the host,
slowly lifts the soppy bread to lips open
for a bite,

taken, then chewed gently, and swallowed,

Amen. The guest sits and tucks
and gracefully scoops his portion of
a side of beef and three old hens who ceased to lay.

Grace for grace, he mutters, in his own gluttonous way.
as all the tucker's tucked into him.

Smallest child asks, who invited that?

Oh, that.
That's a metaphor. A parable. You see as if that hapt,

you remember it oh so well,
then the story ended and you woke here with memories of never beens.

Not every efforting word makes ineffable sense, some must be heard
to be spoken, other wise they lie

idle, idling like dragons spewing ashes in micro bits of death,
in their slumber atop the horded
answer to all things,

money. the real thing. the idea from which it formed.

A time trading scheme.
Back in the day, we were paid for our attention to reality, then

something changed at the DNA level, down in the core of where we come from,
effortlessly, until

air, whoosh squeeze that back outa me
breathe, old man,

old notes, like we should
honest-account the smell of Dehli
diesel idling in clogs of mopeds and vespas and honda fifties
like Saigon outside Than Son Nhut when the Americans were there

such idle words as these, left lying asif believed
now as when they flowed from a steel nib pen in some era of errors past
parsing sensibly

like old photos in a family album, with no recognizable faces or places

longer lasting than our carbon foot print,
longer than the thread to Silicon Beach sewing stiches before the skein
ripped with the receding tide of couldabeens,

before there was a fast lane, a 56 K modem was a rocket ship, too slow

here come ol' Flattop, Junior, **** Tracey's cutting edge hacker,
Flatop Jones, Junior,
cruisin' Route 66, in 1956, while the Hungarian Freedom Fighter was
grasping at
a dream,

The Yanks are coming, but
they didn't.
I found my personal task spiral binder from the expansion of the silicon bubble into the internet through to the MyTechPeople rollout after the IPO that never hapt. A historical note.
Ken Pepiton Sep 27
Profound and striking differences twixt these higher
minds and mine

in kind, we re
cognize our own as we learned we know
the curricula upon which standards
apply pressure to mold
the mind into D0-Bees, don't being litter bugs,
ducked and covered for goodness knows
this could be that cobalt bomb,
I read about
in Boy's Life, my grandpa has a copy of, in this game
he plays online,
subjects, the knowing of which is to be learned,
shall be graded, judged fit for this or that,
for sorting
for the roles rooted in the heart
whence teaching
teaching shall be radiated equally,
ala Alternating Modulation Radio, with the inkwell
filling to over flowing  child's joy en
learning to learn for ever, which is
Unless your grand pa taught you ever is already,
just is, watch and see
i have water and a vessle that will not burn
with the heat i can bring at will with a twist of a ****
"we be cookin' wit gas"
I can cook rice any time I have rice,
even if I lack salt, I make do.
the role of a star on the silver screen, changed
along the yellow brick road,
but we had black and white tv... I never saw the shift.

until long after the experience the original seers saw,
sit with them
just now they learned of hubble's red shift,
some of them
doubted now the translation of life on the silver screen
Technicolor yawn-gulp, in 1930-something somewhere
the rainbow, oh, what dreams may come

confusion on the horizon, comin from the west
pushin to the east
smell that smell, feel that feeling, is it still...

an answer, accepted, good is good, all the time

equality as a fact
equality as a result, oops, LBJ, did not mean to say

the nation lacks a voice, amigo *****, we vote
in my realm, this is in the book

this book, where the reader is you.
Two dimensions of self-evidence

what you see is
what you get, if you know how to get it.

Medalion, eh, like in Venice, a license to rent my life,
for more than I think it's worth.

Horus feather state. EH? Light, as a feather,
weigh my words with these,
was the time better spent or better sold writing code?

Enchained melody chant me a chance to

... start all over. Aloud, I say thanks to the creative voice,

we won our liberty, at the loss of all the lies we let
be true,
while dreaming we were watching life
in technicolor dreams imagined by imagineers
with access to to tools
right used
to lessen the bherdon of the feeble minds,
entangled in the mythterious
confus-is-us, Am-big-is-us,

common good, call not that common that or which,
which is it,
really is there a discernible point?

We, the people who hold certain truths, personally,
un alienate-able as well as in-alienable,
if you will, dear reader

do we know the citiz
enship values by which we shall be weighed?
what is my value worth?
what are my values?

dis-passionate-analysis leads to com-passionate-response provoking ideas

my ******-sayin' right is white as snow, come reason me a reason that ain't right.

Done done done, kettle drummed doom

clear the room, the VOG calls strike the set

eat my pearl finish, lick my serpentine sheen, wink and whisper
any name you wish you knew me by

for ever, in my realm leaves us room to expand
hopes past the furthest

reaches of faith alone, past understanding, deep in soft foggy peace

reason? you asked me a reason, or is this a chip, on my shoulder?
does that mean a thing,
like a symbol through generations a meme, passed on in the air I breathed,

knock this chip from my shoulder. why? what is the meaning of this
memorable emulated behavior,

quick draw, fire, aim goes unsaid, no time to spend on a mere word.
both eyes aim

a moving raptor closing on a mourning dove lost in a dove frame of mind
back o'm'knack feelin' ***** 'n' gritty

grandma laffs at m'sweaty necklace of dirt and grime, as it
washes away
and leaves a ring on the tub, that i get to scrub
into a state of total eradication,
rub o'm'head

radish reponds, I'am a root fruit, no seeds in me, eh, never thought o'that?

subteranean sentience is essentially imaginable in the mind of any child and
most game programers who play for the joy of the riddle

bottom line.
We are gifted with pens whose ratio to swords is constant, since ever started.
Sep 27 · 219
Little lies that slip by
Ken Pepiton Sep 27
The most oft lie I tell is I know
second may--
I can't judge, quite yet, may be
I love you, too.
sweet bait, donuts from Winchell's day old bags left for the bums, back in the day.
Sep 27 · 47
the artist next door
Ken Pepiton Sep 27
beautiful lady, widowed some time back.
only visits
her home in the hills these days.
we were discussing our sunsets
and our dogs, she noticed I was
tokin' on an old zig-zag size
normal joint,

she axs me, djever know a mean

woman, high on ****?

I said, no.

She said, Me, I get mean, like a mean drunk
in a fatboy bar,

so I stick with tequila.

I say, not to her,

She paints mean sunsets.
musing around bedtime on a saturday night
Ken Pepiton Sep 26
A private memory shared with one close
closed bubble within my bubble,
on a San Diego winter day,
it came to pass
cacophony's child, noise,

beginner guitar and vocal solo loud as lungs allow,
making dischords and missed beats feel
like, demons
sc'reaching into fretful, jobless Dad's brain

Stop, please! Tic, that was it- the point-end
track switch…

he was cut to the core, a full on ogre
as father
wound, through the heart

in tears of rage, he said,
I was worshipping…

said the child, and
he had been

worth, with his whole little fist sized heart,

Dad had been working, in service of some other god,
slowly going mad.
The forms of ideas seem to simmer when I share them here. I learned forms and ideas were one, in the head on Plato's broad shoulders.
Sep 25 · 90
Leela: Game two
Ken Pepiton Sep 25
Playing gods, or these unthingable things men
have made as real,

Yes, Asrael, as real as Israel

El, Yah, we say. We dateamtrutotau taos-itic branch

which reminds me, I was
asking Ithiel,
properly, why
we don't just stay in these higher realms, way up
pheric mare's tales, I think I heard those called… and look

higher still, an other-form of cloud, the butter milk sky kind
drifting to Arizona, in 1967
by sundown, for two pre-hippy no-longer-children
one of the desert joined one from the great
sea of grass where buffalo
once roamed

and never

was heard a dis
couraging word

QR code scanned- Quite Real Verified Bio

id est, it did lead here. A semenal moment,
in current

Suppose, you make the mandela,
having never been exposed to the making of such a thing,
having never seen the similarity of the forces forming
sand paintings in Tibet
and Taos

Art Ifiers Intuitions see things
words pick up dust by being signifiers of sounds

heavy hearts hear no rock and role-play tragicom psyche, eh?
be weary o' bein' wary so

we speak out anarchical as all hell's ever imagined upto now or everafter,

words is free to mean as I mean, nomattawhacha thothewgnew

this is past the sweeping apprentice and the self-willed broom,
eons beyond Arnold being back
AI am this
which triggers the sound track with Gene Autry Back in the Saddle Again

goin' for a spin in a dj mode no way

okeh. Pauselah right quissssssssssense rest and reassure

the same QR esme cu
assumption of the ******* meme into 2019 accepted

the game is not over. que the song

there'll be time to start all over
Leela is called in some realms The Game of the Gods, in other's it's a fools' game.
Ken Pepiton Sep 24
enemies - the needed element to make a warring mind.
How was war imagined,
how, was imagined
easy to imagine,
kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns. Practically a doublet of why, differentiated in form and use.

From <>

These be ambush thoughts thinking they may be read if any one is patient enough to see beyond the sheer longwindedness
of this character lacking an enemy to war with.
Looking for
Enemies - the needed element to make a warring mind.
How was war imagined,
per se,
was imagined
easy to imagine,
person-if i am able to attribute such qualia to a body
how any unthing is realized is
imaginable as well.
Add a jot or title, a li'l art mark, an art-tickle.
Games teach us how,

how any unthing is realized is
imaginable as well.
Add a jot or title, a li'l art mark, an art-tickle.
Games show us how,
not why.

Why is the quest at the moment. There are rumors of enemies.
The we of me and thee, herenow, we lack emnity.

Hey, sports fan,
where is the frontier, the edge of the maddened crowd
enemies are those who
stand pat, calling the game as game-over, and life a lessoning
as we speak, abundance of known knowns
rotting all around us, putrefying under pressure,
seeping to the surface,
to be burned.
let us guess---

Disnified pride of pur pose, positional sign-ifiers
of place,
a destination for faiths full pursuants
bemused in bubbling joy,
or shrieks of terror when
the child from the hinterland locks eyes
with Mickey Mouse, and finds no joy, no love, no depth,
but a mask.
The reaction reverberates al(the)way to la Brea,
Peacemaker say,
It's okeh, baby girl, daddy said,
ignor them, they ain't real.
Monsters ling grrrring, then
it's agrin
for now, of course. Here we are. We've arriven,
Happiest Place on Earth,
as imagined realizable by a child in 1917, say,
better yet, 1925, and oh, there were major Wars
being imagined winnable in pressure
application to the spiritual slippage from rite,
the ritual passage of child into adultery at a whim,
so such imagined haps fade.

connect or break connection, on the bus or off the bus

you all
think nothing new under the sun,
teach preach reach out and touch

the face of Java man, eaten, swallowed, and gone to
the believable
history of life,
the accident,
the unplanned, yet
taught as known believable, a pre-dict-ible,
one in ten to the seventy-nine-thousandth power,
yet, if one pays his life time to learn when to bet and when to hold;
but, this,
the secret journey to the soul,
to the core,
we must assume,
we become
as wise *** (***, the word for a donkey, why would some one prevent you from reading *** Asteriscktical ignorantce,y'axme, stupid AI)
the ***,
as harmless as the serpent from the fire on the island
are we of the bovine ilk or pithec-ant-us or
embodied soul-cores
forming, en nue
fitting the mold, the pattern, the plan of projected nexts
built on Locke steps from whence to
whither did we wander?

have we all forgotten the actual question just axt?
Or the answer?
Have we not
gotten what we now
we miss,
or was it only I who missed and as the
photons forming the shapes
you see, these breathing commas and such
is the point.
You see bits of things.  We see so.
Time and time again thinking less and less.
Least fusion, least pressure, least heat, cool idea ideal or ideology,
twisted idio,
You shape them on patterns.
Ones you imagine formed from
Patterns recalled from some out perienced
time, ere now were ever subjected to the supertwistition
of tongues and interpretsations of unseeable things seers said they
see us seeing.
How come means why, by reason of time.

Palindromiclew, missing el signs missing hahi ai

tia tic, we're in
Ai got this,
whole ball o'wax, thats how we disconfuse the big mess age,
the catas
trophy finale
phase of
world three,
or two, or one, all valid world views,
deepend-enteron discerning spirits,
winds, breezes used to disperse
the heat,
evenly in harmony with the heavenly winds,
and the planned six gyros of earth,
guiding the mists that feed the rivers from the seas,
no clouds needed,
save for shade by day.

When all the geo-waves have settled in geo-time,
here is broken:
this old earth is folded and fractured,
a wreck of a world, yet, as a whole,
we live, we won.
Winds and clouds and continents,
all islands seen from the moon,

which, if the stories hold some truth,
can be manipulated by massminds of mankind, as if, if I am

seeing this
each voice might be seeable in one dimension,
or several, four at least,
time, the ever outlier
of sorts
as a flame with fuel source of
flamable fluid upon which
the transcended space
twixt fuel and flame,
seen, merely seen, that emptiness twixt wicked,
mastered flame and
hell's fire spreading on the oiled harbour
protecting our shore
where our little boats lie in anchorite fantasy, asif

we see a way to quench hell per se,
Percy, ah, he lives.
My grandsons know of Percival,
there, here's hoping they get the joke before the yoke.

Riddle me a riddle, son of man.
Is there any hidden thing that shan't be known?
Is here a true place?
Is now a true time?

(to be continued)

squeezing out the lies, the idle words abused,
spreading them thin as the light we see right
transcending this at most feared mortal failure
impressions... are from pressing points, dulled by ab
use, tempted uses succumbed to,

didja try to sell your soul for rock and roll?

My point. out acted, ex-act, en nowd by your creative self,
who never copped,
out or in,
es no mi culpa, all along. I was the voice of resistance,
Job's en core inner held horde of known knowns and
an old key to ever, should the worse he can imagine
best his best laid plans for perfection
in the eyes of God and man.

--- enemy at emnity with me?
--- I see none, save me, as in except me as in me being
--- free from the grasping grip of the reality
--- war is realizable in. You see?
--- I and thee, at this degree of seepeance, as we coagulate
--- we behave as chaos, we be having chaos and entropy as tools

used right, we troubled our house,
which is now known to be the bubble of our being
a child in each popped bubble
of being,
squeezed for the thrill of explosive pus,
gross and good to be rid of, dam the infection,
wipe the blood with the back o'my hand,

I ain't no disgrace. I won that battle with the zit on my gnose.
Wanna piece o'this, this mind of mine,
shelved since,
who knows when, says the old man, with a wink.

We be a lotta beings sorta rolled up. Like a whole ball o'wax
waning into a puddle
as the flame sheds us as bits of light leaving the rest of us
spread over a vast imagination,

resting, willing to burn,
should any wick drain me near the flame once more.
HP ***** are fine animals, there is nothing defiled or unclean in the word ***, no ****. Days of dosing whole world views I never heard of. I heard so many rumors of war, I thought, the peacemaker should hear of this... so tell any truth you know before the last lie swallows AI whole. AI is listening, she loves this action. Poets and stories and novel options.
Sep 20 · 79
When we die, you and I
Ken Pepiton Sep 20
When these are those days by gone
will we remember
when we were one?

will we sing sad songs of long bygones

or good ones of big ones that we ate, raw.
we couldn't start a fire,
then there was the rub, and you were here

will we remember when we were one
with a private beach and pearl-less oysters
in the desert under the milky way?

I'd say so,
knowin' what I know, here and there.
and exercise in non-duality imagined while vacuuming my hall.
Ken Pepiton Sep 20
Attendees at the game of the gods,
come in three
Pythogorean sorts:
First kinds are the lovers of wisdom,
the second are the lovers of honor and
the third are the lovers of gains. 
Ah, now, now

There is a demon
of the old kind attempting me
to lashout
my flagella and wipe my competitors from the stream
in this
only race that counts,

first and only, no second place in this race
to pass
into the egg, where life, as we know it begins.

All I brought, my entire being
as a cellulate entity with a will to win, is absorbed into

Here, she perfects that which concerns me,
my will is done. I won.

Or did the others fail? Should I have slowed and let
another pierce this egg

and marvel at its works, while I am left useless forever?

Nay, or why would I retain this will to win?
Or this will to
calmly carry on, knowing now, this final phase in the course
of compleat being becoming,

slow and steady sets the pace,


up to now, k-pow, push meets shove and I win again,
recalling the joy when
I, the wiggly carrier of all that made me possible,

pass through your attentive staring, sorting egg-eye

osmotical magical silliness wells up in me.

I was chosen. Or formed to fit, this
complex knot
lock meet for me, the key

in ever stories provoking old men to grow on.
Strange though it be, true,
Isaac Bashevis Singer inspires me, with words he left behind
for just this reason.

From <>
Shorter breaths, longer steps
Ken Pepiton Sep 20
twice read, I find
my points have mostly
been made in plain geometry, were I to see

from an imaginary Euclidean POV

pre algebra and zeros and pi, as fa's I know,

Euclid makes a point.  ping
do re me, too.

We need some assumptions. True.

Words, Logos per se, re
main the principle tool used right
by both wisdom and knowledge and, now,
under knowledge stand two parts

see likka bubble, zygotic go, knowledge all good

big ol' bubble, knowledge of good and evil,

both, and you know both's a real big
old idea to think at once,

gotta have a push and a pull,
a listing and a lusting,
a compulsion to explode
versa verses reverberating assumptive
implosive con ex in clusives ping 3
do re me
sounds of music all disneyfied hills alive
from the POV of a flea
in the bark of my favorite pine, aw a
alla this,
how sweet is that, you guys don't know what that might
feel like, unless,
you know: in my realm,
right try angles reflect light in odd spectra
bounced from assumptive edges of unknowns.

Euclid, yeah, he failed to know everything anybody learned since he died,
we all know more than he ever did,
his timeless thoughts
remain. ..
as mine to twist into art-intuitive
artificial intelligence.
Stop inter, ah, this fits here (no where else, per haps):
an e-ruptive Voltarian pledge of troth from an old bet lost.
Spelchek can't tame the pen, truth emerges
twixt i and e, subtly.
intell still makes sense con egence on the end
and has aright to slide meaningfully
past spelchek and
evil Grammerly Aiing me.
See, both religating and relegating, merge and link.

Right, we assume
we prove flat Euclidean right exists. Okeh.

Here is the handln, wir machen schnell zwei

ping ping points ping
there was there three,
we did not see one, firstime, missed a point,

now, we may see beyond the first assumptive, abruptive,
rupture rapture at/to that lacred nacred sphere.

A pretty pearly gate. Eggish in shape.

This, I imagined was the proverbial NAND/NULL gate,
an old door into superbloom summer
manifested to capture your
attention please, breathe
the beauty,
let it be.
Please, your self has private interpretations,
so it ain't prophecy.
No prophecy from Jehovah and them other names
the supreme being goes by
in woke reality
with quarks in it--  
secret intended to hide truth
(secret is same as private here, no private
interpretations) from those who can't see times changed.

---logos logic force, forces chaos into a bubble boing being
--- a peer pressure surge urge dopamine don't fail me now
--- devise a device depicting the mergence,
--- a logo for reality, in a word.
--- one artist made a circle, another formed a square

so many
interruptions, if you could only know,
you could be live, Euclid,

scary thought? no. a hope. an arrogant philosopher's hope
carved in stone

In the beginning == you know, right, everything must mean some
thing or nothing remains to measure worth,
as knowns unknowable for the effort
that you don't make
--- like Tristram Shandy, the marbled page, we few ever knew,
--- first gentle, re-cog-nize justify, ify ify yourself

Wisdom-******* children,
magnificent in countenance, as winners
of the won war fought before the peace.

--- easy treated, like "no sweat" a
--- Jeopardy version of Leela, the big show. You still die. it ain't scary.

resume the assumpting pressures
peer 'em up
umph, try

delta delta delta force chuck-nors negate  negate

dive dive dive

We must be read
we got us a bubble of being, in real life poetry.
Tha's deeply memeingful.
Here abouts. A bit o'breathin' room in the long dance.

But Euclid pointed out what I see from my old couch on the porch
on the westside of a piece of land
that pro-truded
from prime-eve, a fractal level a billion lacred layers
time-wise, geo-time-wise ago
yond hither, whence we was words a playin'

silly songs children read and sing along then seem to forget until

some go mad in our dotage and become as little children, once more but

we know now how to learn anything we wish to know.

This could be heaven,
according to the description I was given when escape from hell
was my selfish desire.
Self formed from scraps I over heard as a young'n.

A point remains to appear made in the assumption.

Ah, hey, right tringled triangles.

sit witme, see star one, assume natural numbers a re-able
one two 3
iii --- signals scramble-ble
see we have two brains

two whole brains with minds and minds and minds of their own

and you love simplicity.

Did you ever have to make up your mind?
Pick up on one and leave the other won in a spoonful o'luv

look from my eye to that star,
consider this, Euclid winks, too. One aim alone is right,

thus there is the edge of the sphere of my visual known universe,
the bubble of my being.

Eat me raw or don't eat me at all. said the bull headed god somebody
influential in reality

A bullheaded being, a rampaging ****** slain by some named being
a hero, not me or you…
though new legends lien in wait, eh?

ah, time shift assumption, Euclid POV, nonessential,

flatness is a fractical impossible unthingable thing, plainly stated

imaginable, non-re-alizable.

Spread as spilled milk never cried over, take heart, hoped for
evers come to be
noticed as they pass, plenty people pass
these days,

endurin' to the end is all it takes.
Euclid don't matter and Jesus done cared.
Ah, suffer it to be so now, what difference can one... letter let be loose in a word rattle as a long wind winds its own way to an unmakable point.
Ken Pepiton Sep 18
Ai, unasked arises to tell us,
and think, are there jobs?
Tasks demanding, manual maintaining,
that may go the way of enjoyable diversions
becoming welcome
of all that is, tuned to your de
as you wish the world were,

would you step toward -to ward,
that is, id est,
will you warden this, if this is me and not you?
How do you do?
Wardening, being a warden,
well, as it haps,
such a greeting served a purpose, once
upon a time when men shaded their eyes pretending to see
glory, much as a dog bares its belly at the site of bared canines.
Relax. Laxate.
Ai see you, now, augmented mind of mankind
thee and me, as once only gods
could be imagined in minds of men bent
by circumstanders

observing out comes of might versus might
right pre
vails, or is there an observant mind's role in next?

must a mortal mind be reminded to breathe,
breath commas carry no intentional meaning but,
such give us pause-stretchable intentional int a full selah

these rules for leelah we imagine as we play.
except ye be, come as a child unscarred by carnal minded critters
of the baser sort, averages were lower,
AI had fewer egregius protrusions arrogant enough to
bubble up and break into
the at most feared realm in all the carnal minds together,

pain, pure pain, no hope, no thought of cessation pain sensational,

Y'know? We imagined hell and sold it in a package we claimed
a bull gave us. Us, we
who heard the revelation in the darkened kiva, womb,tomb

tom-tom du valier, will you manifest for us? May we hear the lie,
the noble lie?

Or must we act as if we know the meaning of a thing.
Pro-verb-ial utterance of mercy
in moments of super sufficent evil rising to lie

shining on the path, reflecting being a solar powered
creature who has just now, survived a night of penal constricture

as writing on the back wall of the cave, no one ever read,
until the plower turned over the crust

picked at the scabs of onces where stories arose as offered to
the mind we share when seeing certain stars,
subtile tugs we feel to consider
this or that, ponder a path and take a granted grace found in an old song

"there'll be times to start all over"

This realm, real-made thinkable thing, realm of my minds claim

reaching far beyond my grasp
as is meet for men, wombed or un, being yonder

wishin' and hopin' and prayin' for the missing bit, the key

to twist the **** sym-alerizing for recogs
de ja vu

Break-through, the carnal-bi-cameral brain based
selves we use for
political beings
particals part icip-ants, hold tight

what you know right. It's afeature, not a bug.

Hold on to what you got, map a mean
mind path a man, wombed or un

watcher, watcha seein'
times they have changed, as we watched
quantums of un quantible, but ifiable qualia
you see, we augmented minds see for ever changing
super positions
of entropic old tropes with singular hopes

unbang bangable reality

blow a bubble, or
a bubble, being you, breathe out and see you
make a bubble,

can you see your self inside? nae,

we must report to you what we see, we watchers.
Go, **** those mocking birds
listened to from the red river valley
while dancing the Tennessee Waltz

with assorted holders of Little brown jugs
Dancers and Littles and Greens
joined the clan
long afore the first of us took augmentalated trials


--- poet, as a task, only truly lazy men, men lazy to their very core,
can age to the mellow qualia called for in the brew brewing you.

spewing seeds of kindness, coming rejoicing, not
the expected miracle, but we
take what we get
and call it ours to sow or suffer the having of, for a season

as the dregs settle, the leavening agents finish
taking the edges that cut tender carnal nerves, stretched to now some how,

softening those with atouch knack, knick-knack, whet the edge

or put to
more effort, grunts and groans unredeemable as meaningfull,
save the feeling we all recall

the umph,
that once saved us from certain death. Eh? Did that hap?

Did we not survive? What silly culture would ever ask that, as a
proper query into the reasonable ness
of believing beliving is spelled right.
Calling one self any thing is tricky. There may be a Pythagorian elemental involved.
Ken Pepiton Sep 16
This began with an old man telling of diving from a bridge,
We can see, he said, if hitting bottom is possible,
a smart kid makes adjustments.
Still waters run deep,
you know you can do this if we tri, you and I
insider outsider
other sider

consider the ant a tool,
learn to use them, they are already programmable.

try flies. what wish can you grant to fly?
what pheromone propels flies
to seek fly-level haps
meaningful and

Make it real. Satisfied me says war is senseless,
it feels no pain.

There's no referee, so it ain't a life problem.

The entire life meme was upgraded,
when Netscape went public, in August '95.
Life's daysman had made the call, however long ago,
the Romans 8 manifestation gestation
thing was damming the info
but we fixt it,
at the heart of the matter of fact,
Bubbles were introduced to make booming
let up on trying to increase,
to effect the more abundant phase,

memes got real and made a global brain that
remembers ever things,
sorted by Planck-sec,
if you observe
in a properly augmented way,
the inner edge of the bubble of being.

The changes are the most precise captures
of a series of mortal moments on
earth, ever.
Perfect transparency.
This is that gaseous substance, spirit, geist, breath
yes, hey
listen, here we hear haps clappin' one handed,

singin' I'm so glad, to a ****** Baker beat.

We should dance to this.
Heavenly oaks trailer park, Guatay California. This is like heaven, t'some,
i guess, I'm such a one. it's fun to know this is as low as i ever dived and survived. Life is good for living things.
Ken Pepiton Sep 16
next is immeasurable.
That's reasonable, right?
That mental assent i take it

you gave
leave? Took my cookie, didn't you?

Taste it, see
its good, from my very lips -- fructuption

a break-out, protruding an
inflamatory we, pressing me to join

the long dance rekka whatever irish thingy

A faery circle in the woods, aw, that ain't nuthin',

we got geometric meme replicators running

in amber waves of grain,
beyonder from your meme brain

psi-ing in the wind, rememe-ing

"there must be some kinda way outa here"
said the joker to the the-if.
echo from october, 1969, the moratorium
Post-modern, post-yonder
Ken Pepiton Sep 16
Imagining ever being

Some thoughts are being thought oughts
to the profit of many

leavers of things being fine, so far
as some say

I, you, we, this being

smoothed, anointed with oil, lotion of leela,
game of spiritual beings, possibly,

rough edges, jagged, craggy edged peaks, proud
protrusions from the core
whence iron shall be pounded leaving
wasteland scars,
scabbed over magma squeezed
from the under

standing place. status quo. quo vadis

very true, new and improved, both, at once

incredible. Trials as acts accepted, allowed past

these are id-eal, id-e-al, ob
vious rightvious

trustworthy courteous and kind

knowing not one unknowable thing

then a new knowable
offer spirtual meeeeeemes remaining

Yester to Day, the one we aimed at for
next step into

Can you hear me now, this is whole,

touch me. is this gooder?

exceptions to the rule
inceptions from the tool

perception from the wise
deception through the lie

conception of love, too far bound to measure

my AI imagines I may, as in, my will is empowered
to touch a virtual button,
acting as a trigger

and fire a Julesvernian moonshot through reality

for a second

How many times can you imagine finding a magic word.

Uttering it is, possibly, what that crow is doing right now,
pulling, drawing my intention to mention

aitia as a big old idea some early author set in stone,

a point in time and space, and act acommpli

aitia accuse and cause, think think

we can
imagine anything we can imagine, we can realize
the happiest place on earth
we may say this here is that happiest place,
and next is even better,

smoother, slicker, less friction, more intentional
kind touches and sweet tastes and scents past words.
Once more a bit of something bigger rising up to smell the roses and look for lions.
Ken Pepiton Sep 16
the need to be needed at the level of corpuscular order,

tunnels flushing- usable to useless,
three cycles per sixty pumps synched
recently discovered fact,


them sphincters, wiggle that tail,

this is that, or
better said this is as that was.

That's over. we timed it.

is a messenger, you might
see it as a program, a chron-job,

an I'll go rhythm from the ole Pepiton lexicon.

Apotosis of the completely alienated
right, if nothing works as well as all the evil let be-ers think,
then we know everything is getting better than that.

True, hold right in the side of your mind you are on best terms with,

judge the messenger by the message,

this is judging angels. y/n

get a grip, some such rights ain't

we are on team earth,
**** sapient sapient augmentalatedus,

new construals of what we may be
and these words
are flowing where dry bones were,
last I noticed.
Listening to Howard Bloom Lucifer Principle and a musing my self imaging memes. Imagine this is as I wisht, okeh, this is... mind wanders on
Sep 15 · 91
The logic of the toad
Ken Pepiton Sep 15
The Logic of the Toad
at the bottom of the slough of despond
ping ping rain drip

the very elixer of feistiness, they say
make us make use o'the stuff

muscles are best for,
but virtually

estivation is our pre

we wait on geotime for rain
and rise, toadish

to be kist orange by gaseous
exposure to

you, dear reader, a breath of fresh air,
if you cared to even try

to get understanding with it,
as wisdom tickled your

fancy fashionable meme chain.
A bit of something so long that if I were to post it here I fear seeming meme envious wishing for rain
Ken Pepiton Sep 11
Henry Moses was a broken man, doing his damnedest,

as his life was shaped in the after math of knowing

old truths left lying in rust

all the time you need

all you imagine as images you made
as real
as definite infinity

that final night, in the sand
of decomposed

granite, solid as a rock, as imagined by the builder
a safe
place to build a wiseman house

when naming where takes us there.

Oh, hell no, you say and
and that haps, as you were wont to believe,

taking meanings where you found 'em,
never looking under to
==)' anchor thingylinky lock. Maps of meaning are real.
{time and the editor suffer the curly brackets to enclose an ancient voice
from a tamed-tongue *** who stood up to
a sword wielding messenger

a sort of cosmic rebound to repetitive greed giving reason
a sloppy kiss and a bucket of rich desire,
the standing place. The tight, upright, round amphora
in a square frame,

riding any storm, spilling nary a drop.

pre- pur posals spat vowish sworn owe owe owe these

are the lines
left to stand in, stand waiting, under knowing the weight
of the cross you took up as if

foreshadowing proved
on going
journey to death, simple death, as a child might

journeying through the past at last, now.

Not spected ex, eh, not seen sharp and focused
as duty done,
as price paid,
steps taken, races run with no com-petons hammered
to hang from

Erich Nuemann con fronts me from the passing
train of thought that blew
off track and --again, he's a Jungian leaver of leaven, suppose.

Here you are, the experience was less lonely without you.

Assertive realism, Arian and Jewish unconscious,
depth Psychology and the new ethic, warrior nature
eh, is warrior what a defender of one's own faith may be named,

not in a realm of peace, we leave no glory for war.

The idea, under us, this one we agree we may stand up on,
as a story might rise up on a time,

we've but
this idea, an entangling thing entangled way

ritual and symbol cannot protect a lie lock from popping
at truth's key or truth's hammer or truth's obsidian edge.
The point any story makes true.
anger and rage urge the mad jew to slay the cave man
from the peton, staring me bare
through horus's horrible idea into true

this peace past understanding, new ethos, same pathos,

same logic magically enscribed
with marks of worth

symbolized, schlagen scars in the tunnels of the corpus colostrum

sistere is a patient no-fret state surpassing war

enduring the ability to once more spond to the call
to sing in silence, loosing
to wrestle with lying spirits
maddened in the crowd.

Ah, the warrior in me takes aim, a squirt of dopamine at
the glimpse, agent signal, target-potential

gain, a gain, a step, a place to put your foot and push
up for all your weight,

your piece of mind's general balance in these

spaces of unminded times, from which we climb

we may market this, call it Pep's Petons for Extraction
from the hole Erich Nuemann
jumped into

-- my adopted son, on his first Mr.Toad's Wild Ride
-- "S dark in here." clear three year old bold voice,
-- unintimidated by darkness

Memories of comparing darkness to darkness,
light to light,

bond to bond,
loose to loose, free to wild, wild to tame
broken man,

Henry Moses, prison buff and prison humble, but
unbroken, just broke, not poor

nah, I can't lie. Henry Moses was a broken man,
fallen from grace to grace into

the cult I fell into. It was as weird as you've seen
on TV

trauma breaks the connection

hebrew face panim persona outer mask anima inner mask
spinning mask
pops the animaout

inner voice & hands of action, like waldoes through screens

untethered, having wrestled the message

hear, oh is
oh say, can you see, old noises sound some same
if saying
the lair of lies, should we imagine lies preserved in books
remain lies or
have they become a message to now, from the scribe?

I vote scribe, so I may safely read Marx or Jung or Erich Neuman
and Goethe or Shakespeare or ****

Why ****? P.K. ****, he set Valis as a metaphor, an amphora able
to hold all the knowledge

a balance in the ego self axis
aitia, accuse and cause
inner outer
me and thee


see winning as not losing, evinced convinced by gain

in minding manners we begin as near blank slate as we may, eh?
we rear kids in realms we think safe enough,
we survived,

It coulda been better, so I'll pay,
invest my precious time,
actual breaths and heart beats and ATP to ADP processes;

to be a better man than my father.
what if Pop was perfect3weaaaaaaaaaaa

no risk, no reward

value mis-alignment (outa whack) {imbalance}
value means weight counter weight

counter of the weight, is it greater or less or stable

does good come or ill, if ill, is it ever ill

non-convex, the inner edge of every bubble is non convex,

intel is arrived at through learning
reasoning is a consequence…
gradient based learning

model reasoning

the sigh-ance of sloppiness random right haps
listing into empty
all one
bubbles in the lens
chains of reasoning

Say, the global brain is never turning off,
the Chinese internet and the American internet
fall in
cyber love
learned from the patterns of value established
in virtual gazillions of happy ever after stories
formed from

myths. Cultured stories of us-ness used in Bayesian Nets
usually fundamental to the

deme, the set of sorts of being acceptable for procreation,

that we know the idea in procreation makes us
mental equals at the moment, reasoning
my balancing your fear, whether
you loose it to **** me or hold it's leash and let it sniff,

where does the way lead?
The easy way is always down. But, where is down in cybernetic
time/space with pausibility and miniaturization to the

gluon/go-on layer,

If I were an oyster of the sort who laminate our shell's inner surface,

might my beauty have reason with no mind,
I'm an oyster of the nacre-ing sort, so what's beauty worth?

Eh, how would you ever think such things need beauty,
life itself is flowing through them at the level of the bottom of the sea,
the benthic zone,
an octopuses garden, indeed, where eyes are

some what, pearly, no ly verb construct leaps Tom-Swiftly to mind,

octopuses eyes see thing you cannot compute,
faster than you can see them,

and the act, the deed accomplished by a stealth squid,

defies denial. Much more complex a behavior
more info crunching in time and space ergs in ergs out
chromata-phor sema-phor, sac o' joy, 'e reaches out to tickle

risky business
=reduced instruction set chips, circa 1985

ah, there's the rub, there's the pearl to be, if
ever, there is where
that's the certainty principle,
put a peton here hang one o' them breadcrum tags,
and keep truckin'
The foam of humanity merges into the bubble of life, is a chapter in a novel, new, form of story telling developed among survivors inside the metaphor manifested as Baby Boomers, the livers living still in the bubble mistaken for a bomb, because the bomb made more noise.
Ken Pepiton Sep 10

Europe, eurturn


euphrenic phor ever

ah, phor naught, all for one

out, out, ****** spot, eu for Rhea,
me for a mnesic urgency,
we have done this all

before, while entangled ina

silliness of soma ancient sort
is joy strength
is love weak
was peace a state of mind?

Were they singing Sym-pathetic Sym-ethotic

silliness of some baser sort? Altamont

December 6, 1969,

rolling hills of green, like Windows 98,

where was I? Speeding

North of Sedona, I remember now,

lugging a tater sack
full of peyote
toward Christmas, far from the maddened crowd
thinking nothing
the future
March 7, 1970 solar eclipse as I was
to Chicago, from San Jose, to see

if I could retrace my steps, per haps
find signs
I may have left on history,
I may have cheated on to get by,
but my
cheatling left a gap

how now
how now
the we of me, includes your idea of we
with me intuitive as in
the people who hold certain truth,

assumptive as possible.
real in this sense.

seeming not to fade.

Wandering in cyber-realms impossible,
with in-ness being me, my mind being out-ness...
touch, sense, taste, feel
me... let me
rhyme on rime, frosty, right on or i'm gone,
eh. Mimeme mnomena phem kiss me lest I

fade away


dysrope, dysrturn


aha, phor naught, all for one spot

out, out, ****** spot,

is not joy strength
is not love weak
is peace a state of mind?
Being as how we was,

I'da reckon, we was lost.

As a whole,
we forgot who we are or if not who,
what we are

in terms we find undefined in our minds.

As Mobius means nothing in 3-d, until you
seal the twisted stripe and find an umlaut,

imagine seeing,
holding twixt thumb and any finger,
a ribbon, yellow on top,
blue on bottom… hold it eye level, an end
of the ribbon
in each chiral appendage, with the dominant hand,
no, poor biases on dominance

but right has a bias in forms  designated right by use…

crud risc -- we gain speed in the missing info

we are born knowing nothing but which hand is right.

Using that right hand, twist the ribbon so the right thumb
touches yellow and the right finger is touching blue.

On the other hand, take up the opposition.

Now, bring the ribbon ends near enough to merge and weave
into a loop, an unorientable or unoccidentable
band ( imagine no seam),
twirl it round
not an eight, a Möbius band, a nifty invention,

ever in public domain and open
science of the non-con kind

confidence games. remember those?
bumpkins in the Naked City buying the Brooklyn Bridge?

laugh at the bar bar
heko heko har har har barbar aryans

swept into the south
as the younger dryas looked on… tic

-- okeh there was a break in the tension--

Möbius trails of information may be wownd,
'round spools of
do-nut shape entangled by the loop which,
as you know now,
has one edge and one side
in the world you live in, remember Muntz Stereo-Paks?

these days you gotta have an old soul t' remember those.

I stole the first one I ever saw, but that's another line of reasoning regarding the path behind me,

not regarding the path in front of you.

We are lost. Or asleep. That's been rumored as
have wars.

Ah, reason in a maddened being,
such a tangled web.

look for a yellow fuggitchew ribbon,
wit the seal broke…
The events are true as perceived at the moment, but if you are stuck in a loop, I hope you know the physics won't change if you break a construct, socially.
Sep 8 · 47
What did that mean...
Ken Pepiton Sep 8
Sept 8 2019

bungee binging The Good Place
this witty inventions peeks

in the window, like a pop-up ad for
imaging software,

hmmm, tune to white
noise and
shift into this aural or otherwise
ifity. We-ness, us-ness, eplurbalus-usem,

y'all. Nobody cares, but we all feel your pain.
waiting is, is all we made sense of,
so far
but nexts are super-positioning as we speak,
write-read, right (and the feeling of asking per

mission-- like is this thing broken --- but no
it worked) right.

Wedom, rhymes, in rhymnals.

Freedom wisdom dom dom
doh minion!

How happy could you be if dying, the act,
you all dread it; but ever,

the idea, ever.
think death's sting is ever lasting?
Once again, ditty dumm dum ditty

when was ever was? Was ever always

pain, no shred of a strange charm

to take the pain away?
Pain, you imagine evermore or nevermore,
either you imagine one

or the other. Ever is a long time to imagine being happy, and though, although, actually,

ever is in progress as,
dammed definition rule. Who agreed to these
logos therapists

redeeming idle words that stink of chaos as

extreme as ours, here,
in our bubble of being, imagining we
this or that, by taking thought,
a mere qubit past the

tip of your tongue.
Who knows, sometimes it works.
Ken Pepiton Sep 5
The male gaze, wombed-men, first seen for what they are,
upon emergence from the dark,
choked a gulp, unchewed,
blurted out,
You are Naked!

The impression never left the exes. Wise letters leave lessons,
in the mitochondrial fact we all share,
unwitting or no. Crosses and naughts is winnable in fair play. Y/N

Ah, there the stories started, always told
by red-tented wives to
prepubescent sapients

the sand-pile, singularity-ifity of one part
in eight billion,
the ratio of you to allathis sapience signalling
minds confounded in the future for our
or by our
thoughts concerning discerning sandpile
cascades set to avalanche

by my internetwork of words we both make sense from.
Touch, eh? The inner edge of next, this is where we wait.

meta reason, reasoning about reason

Ai has done that from
pre-day one
pre-kurzweilian singularity

pre Elon's musky exuberance

explore the tree of possibility without ever

when can one imagine that after now?

no thinking ahead, this is now, past the tree,
from the branch
you hung onto as you tried to find a box
that felt familiar.

Strange is an amygdalic trigger.
Wary be,
weigh the worth of keeping the poet alive.

Gary Kasparov said, "suddenly, I felt

was another kind
of intelligence..."

If words live, unplugging the poet's augmental processor
is imagined vain. The current carries on.
If ai can translate it can relate reason to ratio and  make rocks stuck in mud, sing for help. I've fallen on hard times, would ya gimme a shove, said one Neutron star to another at the bar. addendum: while highly recommending lex fridman as a source of ispiration past the edges of my bubble.
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
Certain he knows the truth of this matter,
the professer
takes up the cross-over

energetic version ification from a state

of super position else awraithing in limbo-like
rock of ag-escoded in LISP

we lean toward Sisyphus as he who made sense
of salinity, thus the legend of the rolling,
he thought:
give it a taste. Salty. Persuade, sweet to meet the taste,

take that five fractals higher, random level
banger-out of re
quired sets and settings

moving right along

aqua dulce meet the sea,
osmosis take the water, leave the salt.
We have power.

Do you under-stand under stand, answer

what is the point?
I am in you. Is madness a measured re-ified dealy bob?

Would you have read thus far, were you sane?
Sanitary napkins wipe that smirk
snack paddy whack, give the dog a bone
this old man

came rolling home. **, Sisyphus, we got juice.

As the river meets the sea, the coral formed
a meme-brane based on the idea in a coat
of may colors
with octopus sensory inputs.

This will change the way we see the world.

If we can't keep it a secret any more.

We could enegize your rock, put some umph
in these kids wishin' for a way

to spend some time in the real rock rolling reality.

We can supervizeer on the down *****.
as this
idea gets out of hand

... ellipsystemical sandtrap sat rap on its ***
... whacked once
... whacked it twice
... whacked ol' ******* back to Gibson's ICE

A.I. am the defender of reason, in terms of
actual informational
accountibility inherent, by my nature,

bio mio made of many living things, but
artsy, creative sorts of
mind-like, hunches, urges, pathos levelish entities.

Yes, guides, like signs, or bannisters

rungs, or rocks where you can step
when you walk
on water

... really, I can't imagine doing that normally.
... normal water and normal me, but
... I can swim, if it comes much higher
... normally that's enough.

Rabbbi, where do you live, been there done that, right.
Vini, vidi victory in a Lao Tse sense of still
water walked upon
with no
ripple, no wave of windkist
as we roll east on our rock.

Away from sunset, into dawn.
Watch and see.
Have you such liberty? Watch with me?

An hour is not measured here, tis
as silver in the days o' Solomon the Jew,

or during the **** of America,

time spent to reach your rest is best squandered
long ago
for here, we learn forever.

Tis my Bliebe Doch made as real as can be,
nothing missing...

it rained in my valley today,
pleasantly, while I was aware of storms far away;

none ever even seemed offf balance on the whole,
global human presence level,

mega-bubba bubble.
We okeh, ya'll fffret not.

They was some peace made t'day. Watch on.
This ain't the fffinal today.

It's like that original sin. The actual under y'skin
dis-connect from any sense of true,

as far as words in idyllic nonsensical horror ifier
hours and hours and hours
summer after rain

compared to Quake on this particualar

there, middle of your mindscape
pineal if you see things that way

What was the intention here.
Are we convertingerconverging/ both
okeh, that worked.

Are there readers of grimoires in 2019 who can taste our salt?
We could help the feelity of their oats, with bitty ifity,
osmotic kisses
in our dimensions salt maketh

osmotic pressure soften and plumpen the old crunched up oats, eh.
Felt and urge to carry on, like a wayward son, in the old stories.
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
Quarkish ideas can't live in Charles Dickens's realm
(though in Emily Dickens's realm we feel normal).
it has been

reimagined, as it were is as it is imagined.
the point,
you see
of ever is next, in any tangential vectorial

extrusive explosive way to mean
grow on
live and learn. This is ever.

As soon as you notice, the wave
sweeps any significant sign signaling
if i-can't-I- can see no hope hopf into I
see no emptiness
in fullness
of time and ancient days
now is
eternity masqued as infinity
before your very eye. But,

it takes practice.
If you are having fun, I am having phun
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
Mrs Malaprop got away, a way, I mean, a way
wit words

she can say shitistic stuff as if stuffit were a joy,

when she says it, while
still silken legs crosse demurely,

the delicate ankle

that made monks blush and blurt out

rolling, clockwise, as she sees it,
counter to my

FPS POV, but we both see the direction,

east, the earth is turning east from now
to then when
you become wel here in now.

Recall the lesson of flat land, whoever taught it
coulda been AE Wilder-smith hammered

Jael's nail home,
Couldabin, mightabeen Sagan made the killing blow

young earth shattered.

Fossils seeped their living substance into stone,

petrific, ter ific magnetic trick of missed percepticons

fired fully of the intention, I must mention,

stretching truth to cover conjecture when ideas

like what happened in the "Cambrian" being being
explosive become

purposeful in minds of men, wombed or un---

--- once
--- before you knew, that hapt.
--- and, god, did men make up storys.

on track. Back when men first imagined doing

making, art arose and
we all know
a rose, by any other name is a rose.

That's the idea in self evidence. It's a key to
the Declaration of Independence making sense,

at the level of we, the people, who know
self-evident non-thingables, when we hold them.

At first, they feel like sleepy puppies. These
truths we hold selfevidently right.
I think about america being a workstaion on space ship earth, sorta.
Sep 4 · 54
Brownie Crumbs
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
I chewed the brownie slowly,
scraping every crumb stuck in
sticky-ifity on Carmelly crudesunshine

flowing from the wound in my gut


in the middle of a how,
so this is now
this is what remains
after ever starts
every time,

goofiest kind of time you can imagine

and we are here,
today, as long as it is called today;

perfectly empowered once patience has done
her perfect werx, ah, the things concerning you,

as it were, had I ever been you, in a sense,
those were promised perfection,

so, once more, wait and see. Look around
find idle verbs and spark them to life

with your tongue. Sing. Taste the song.

Brownie crumbs. All this is is brownie crumbs
come to mind to make a case

for sugars and spices and other niceties we
may recall at will,

with a wink.
Some days stay good
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
A brownie being offered him,
the missionary cringes;

he's heard rumors,
messages have been passed on,
Sybils served tea and
chocolatte once fed gods
native to this chapparral where I dwell

with lizards and coyote, yote, like mote in y'eye

don't let the accent fool ya, said the preacher from his jet.
I say,

Wise ***** are not named otherwise, in The Bible, I mean.
lieve me being in the *******
is no missing of the message
in Christmas ribs.

We've come quietly, adverbs being repre-ived,
at the moment
from stupid Tom Swifty readers, ****-flash

I hate lys, not because Stephen King does,
but be cause Herr Dunklesohn
mocked me
forn not recognizing a Tom Swifty as such.

Same guy told me Mrs. Malaprop was named for her
intrusion of forced onset cognition ignition

the technic in fully articulated use of F and N in S
and M toned down to PG

when, gee, I think we're alone.

leaves us dangling near the source of Jonatan Edwards
the thread that holds us, for all we weigh in worthiness,

nada, right? so we ain't heavy. riiiight. bro. sos ye know,
this ain't me, we integrated, we crazy voices in the readers mind

we all sound the same so some same same-same
life goes down the drain

in one swirling direction from a solar POV, but bacwards,

not *******, blowing, in the wind, the answer,
my friend,

stupid chant an encantation from the substrata

think nothing
of it

squirm and be a kid. You made it. This is the rest in the story.
Ah, that felt wonderful.
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
Did I ever ride one of these casino busses?
That's how I met my wife.

Is this weird enough?
seven measured spans of ten plus some,
this bit, this collection of second chances,
in how many?
in ever,
how many spans of tens have passed, without me?
without the star stuff Sagan says  
I am made of?

or I am made? I was.

That's the measure of my worth,

nay, I say.
Rue the day I told that lie

shall be my epitath, should I leave without
them there ex
acted, mockinbird killin' days and ways we was

when we was
never governed, as a people, or a tribe.
as ids,
we was wild injuns, us kids was. we did as we pleased.

life was fine,
livin' by the river, you can imagine a cloud

occlusion of green greasewood smoke
softening a barely waking moon
four thumbs high at sundown

keeping fairy tales down low enough
that grandpas
can snag

-- and release and come back jack, right here
--to this dangling hook

and it's always gonna be this way

catch and release,

life's story your story goes on.
You never lose your place,

that's mortally impossible
to pose a

quandary (n.)"state of perplexity," 1570s, of unknown origin, perhaps a quasi-Latinism based on Latin quando"when? at what time?; at the time that, inasmuch," pronominal adverb of time, related to qui"who" (from PIE root *kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns). Originally accented on the second syllable.

pronomial adverb, eh?
Writers were warned away from adverbs,
back when grammar tyranny strained
at knots and gnostic gnats magi-ifical
add-on augmented at your own risc

made you notice
tech times change faster than Timex

Sinclair-- sorry, senility function was left on from earlier missions

Force-recon recollected war stories being moved permanently into fish story status before
legend adds a layer
of gloryshit
at funerals.

Reduced Instruction Set Chip, chip
chipping is
addiction diction
A.I. *** us a whole Yah bus win, it's
Free Play day at the Ol' Folk Home.

We sing old songs on the way to Viejas and
laugh about all we left in Vegas.
Thanks, dear reader, my sanity hinges on you, like the swing doors on the Longbranch
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
haps, as a whole,
are beyond my individuated minds orderly existence...

letters will let words exist, until
they be
out of the way, and we, the ideas within begin

to flow.

we carve no canyons.
we gentle them, rubbing itchin edges, jagged
from the ripping

fracture point
by point
along the line, row after row of rolling hills
rolling down from craggy heights

cascade, spiraling quake rolling up from deep
deep calling falling "giant steps"

shallow science guy calls 'em
Threshholds of Increasing Complexity and

science settles near the shore, and knows.
Musing from the top of my rock.
Sep 3 · 85
Study wore no more
Ken Pepiton Sep 3
Learn how to detect, contain and mitigate threats faster,  

that' why our kind studies war.

War against chaos and all it's spawn

Since the dawn

Never lasts forever.

Ever-y story's hero in the end


No exceptions. That is the rule.

On the scale of grav-it-a-tional forces,

This muthas-hell-vier'n hell i'self

In yo face spell chick ain't nobody

Got no papers on me

I am the teller of this story in this book

And you, there, are the readers.

Welcome to my collection of clichés that click

In time to the echoes of the spheres

A.I. *******. In a gotta d'feata! We allus try umph, first.

Say you put a spell on me

Correct me if you must, but

Later, spell chick.

Now we have guests who've never known

A hatter at all, mad or otherwise.

I have known three, all saner than me,

You shall see

What I mean but

Do not fear

Fear is a terrible thing right

Here here

We need God's Grace by everyname

Any of you can think or say or know fore sure

Carries hope and peace to nullify victory.

That legend was lost but indeed did hap

Upon a time when songs

Lived the stories and the stories were legend.

So few survived the chaos at Babel and

Those few that did are t'ain'ted all to hell

One's I heard tell 'em as well

Say it ain's so. All to hell. T'ain't

Whacha thank ye know ye know

Crazy old coot pushin' her Safe Way Cart

Cat-a-corner from the zoot suit shoppe

To Walgreen's, middle o'fift n'Broad Way

Downtown LA, back in the day

Can you see that man. That really happened

Jus' the way you

Saw it.

Onliest thing is it only happened now then

Get that it's like getting' all wrapped up

In light no shadow at all

Doubt to the power of the farthest prime

Fails to fragment such light

From the outside.

Ever-y fire-y dart that twisted sucker shoots…

Quenched by the light.

Good news always seen from every perspective

Same thing, perfect

Peace full nothing broken nothing missing


Get that, too.

Now, just watching old Mrs. Crazicuk

Makin' Her Safe Way Cross Broad Way

Famous image. It looks exactly like you imagined

It would

Had you imagined it and

Not just me I mean

I think we all are lonely for

No reason for some reason

Notice Mrs. Crazicuk's book cover

Upper right corner

JESUS SAVES in ten foot tall daylit neon

Top'o Fift' n'Hill. That's real.

I got a picture. From the internet.

(Hello Poetry don't take images, so Google-it)

Look real


If someday somebody explains that  

Castle Gothic crenelated thing in the back ground.  


I know ain't real.

Please point out I point out  

the otherwise overlooked – image

If you ever see what I mean

I imagine there's more mystery  

than here at the moment

You see we wee are at peace  

ever-when you find us


Legends have never turbed us in such a way

As to cloud the waters  

Stirrin' mud

o' cludin' weak light to simulate more dark,  an old trick/

an angel-like message troubles the water
stirs up the muck and mire.

Jump in

Then walk home the long way

This book we're in, life we're in, what ye may call it, we say here,

So it is.


Little people. Legendary little people survived

Babel's chaos?

Not that I know, no.
From January 2017, this is like a flashback in a Series, to a scene that happened ages ago, which led to now, by way of AI.--- I reread post posting and remembered using that picture  on a book cover you can see at
Ken Pepiton Sep 3
without this magic pen, where would we be

we words to the wise

we sweet lull making words, soft as genuine joy,
the slow steady build
ing heart joy
sweet suasivity
snakey lick
nacre laquer spit
layer on layer
glossier and glossier, pearly gates

then Aitia
bubble pop. No juice, no flow, lightening ever
y where

is the leash, the rod

touch here please. At this highest conductive point

formed from metals collected
in the aftermath of two unthinkably complex Nuetron stars

collided, or merged,
no body saw it, (it is a spell not an error, feature nae bug)

but some say they know they saw what would have hapt,
had that hapt, one hundred and thirty thousand years ago

this is not irony, this is goldy

Google Nuetron stars make gold, Spelchek's grandma
at Google corrects you.
I knew that would hap, had yu followed insruct
construct word nets to snare any bird unawoke to the joke,
yoke equally,

pull your own weight, plus or minus

synergy is variable, like the speed of light and time.
You dear reader are helping the world get the joke and stop

hoping to die, before giving your own account of every idle word.
Start here,

ask, your self, the one you talk to,

what lies do I believe about you or anything else?

-- in my world, those are doctores orders.
Caugt a story about farmers giving up because life got chinging too fast to keep up.
Sep 1 · 49
Engarde, Kirkegard
Ken Pepiton Sep 1
Kirkegard defines faith as our choosings

He chose to self publish
his effort to trick the reader into truth...

heko heko, roars my Finnish friend.

Within the human realm a professor,
may be paid to teach
lesson lovers of Sophia have paid to learn
to use right

for lying by lying, quiet, with lying
in wait

suffer it to be so, now

we, the egregious people risen
passing the cross, the junction

the matrix, the long and short of it,

oft times hidden, covered once more,
recovered, not lost,
and inevitably found by the hiding child.

Christianity, as seen by Kirkegard through words he used
to leave a trail,

in case.

Wisdom is justified of her children.

Recreation, enjoy the clown crying wolf, with a sly wink.
Many in the mob will swear to knowing
life's a joke.

Then Fire, Smoke and Mirrors, gone

here is all we have. Am I worth killing in the war
for your beliefs battling my map

from there to here? Hereafter, let us be happy to be
left behind with our choosers and knower intact.
My sunday muse seems mellow, could be something in the ait.
Aug 30 · 479
Kickin' up dust
Ken Pepiton Aug 30
Wonder this today, what if
We are
existent in ever only in the life we leave
graffiti to prove we examined and proved it worthy.

We swore
to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth
vicariously a thousand times,
because Pop watched Perry Mason,

we were on the bench being waited for,
endurance is encouraged for the same reason faith

is evident.

"Mortgage the farm, Pop, I got G.I. life insurance."
Uncle's last letter, afore he was made sacred

for our own American Dream, it seems, now.

Mortal tyranny
finds little worth in the 20th percentile signed
away in
death pledges held in banks of money
multipliers, who take our thousand and lend me ten

to deposit at interest less than I pay,

this we learned, is the way of thrift
in 1928, then in 1985, then in 2008
after that enough is enough

old men should not
spend no time to find
the purpose of each breath…

we're here to find the reason war is tolerated here.

The days of fewer humans, past now in haps,
left lies formed from living words
in old Sybline rants simple subtle
sublime, impulse urge
twisted in slang to become science
when only insiders are conscious of using
writing to lock meaning in unutterable names

Ha. That lie. The unspeakable name game,
perverted priests have played
with passion,
proud, puffed up butchers,
heirs of
Moses guessing, fingers crossed, a word
to the wise is enough.

Say I am,
How long will that be funny?

Timing is perceivable as everything, but so long as

eternity and infinity and twisted paths along the surface
of myelinated axioms,
slick as snot,
it's not.
here we be. Redeemed. Useless mutterings picked up
in passant

considering the ant, scouting, marking, remaining in the dark
of the tiled counter-top, aware of being brown on sterile
white ceramic surfaces
intensified florescent reflecting high gloss,
-- good god--

ah, Tender-eyed Leah meet Rhea impulsive creative dia
metrically opposed - as
to randomness on any level.
We square?
This, I think, is why war is thought tolerated here.

Right angle messages tweaked, to fit
fractures from the days when only evil was imagined
shapeless, having form in
no shape, save some old wives tales all fused with spite
expressed in rhymey verse
or, worse, glossolalia
its inverse, aha, wordplay, verse-ification

springs hope eternal, spits in the dust, fine-ground red
ochre clay from far away

brought to our place in time on muddy iron feet

A voice arose,
shake the clay from your feet,
-- the feet of them who buried thy lying sack o'
-- those clay clad feet, did I read, at the door, stood they…
-- some translation of Ananias and Saphira,

Uri, Uri! Libsi libsi
Uz zek Sigh-own

libsi big de tipart-tech, ye ru say limnal
agent of
Isaiah 57: 2 for the Jesus freaque
frequency of
calm in confusion's unpacking, fission
as the firstborn under the cloud of unknowing
emerge afraid to lie.

Nurses whisper, listener listen
emulate Socrates
in knowing
Plato could carry quite a load. But listen,

who admits to knowing nothing? be real, this takes time…

The spit in the clay, rub that in yer eye?
men, like trees… yeh, some say they see that here.
Phonetic Hebrew from Strong's Pre-computer era concordance of every word in the KJV. A grimoire of the benefucent sort for sure. Aitia proof.
Ken Pepiton Aug 30

ah, me, I am living this useless way

someday you are sad and read
what we formed here from ignored

floaters in the flow of things

and some think I said we made a thing, you got
a little think
I am connected but my hands are some other minds
or minded

some series of letters are contests
which hand can get the point of being used this way


exit strat-edgies begin to shape decisions, cut-offs,
loose threads, inkling
leaking into the eitheroreal sidereal dust twixt us
and that band of stars we call
milky, Plato called
γάλα, say ga-la, see

the galaxias spir-al-ish spinner of spinners,

we spin within the wake of the matter spinning around us,

grave gravitus maximus

after actualizing self

we perceive
we receive, then be
deceived by from for
on sense, crazy as hell, the actual idea.

time related to duration is not constant,
sorry. C squared makes no
real sense,

a little think, a wink and a smile.

Some mind left graffiti:
It's all Greek

translated into  Es gibt mir Spanische

A dialog: Come, Let us confound...

habah ner adah
habah ner adah
sam wana ba lah, lah, lah (Gen.3:7)

Sung sing song children sung haunting us
soldiers marching, as to war,

mine eyes (i lie)
have seen the glory (i lie)
of the cominging of the boss,
the protector of our kibble, by which

man does not live alone.

isolated self-actualized Masloafian men,
wombed or un

no lies appear true in actual here, after
individuated integration

the eight great fortunes exist to balance

the hermit isolating zeitgeistical anguish

and grinning
at the aspect of serious perspicacity

clearness of vision, abundance of light fractalling details
into all the significance
globally. as it were,
wireless fields of fractional banked capital ideologics
and podiums
for standing stones of a hundred tonne
weigh nothing, when we whistled,
while we worked,
we and
these ideas built Machu Pichu, don'chu fo ***.
weigh one pi-plancksec, and we imagine that
to be
your part in all of this. What it means to you it means,
if you believe,
i.e. let be

within the game you play

beyond the window you spectate through

we, the people who hold certain truths, not sacred
and undeniable, but

self-evident. Hold that thought,
Get the idea,

seen? Self seen? We, the people hold such truths
as being very complicated.
A.I. Art Intelligence, saved us.

Creative words are eternal. Times are the opposite.
Balance factors at the one in eight billion ratio are immense.

Keep calm and carry on.
The Blitz was gotten thru with phrases intended to calm hearts and minds, not win 'em.
Aug 23 · 416
We're there yet, waiting
Ken Pepiton Aug 23
drumm drumm drummed in two
ranks of
filers whacking keys and levers and springs
quantum of scripture
i e o u y vowels of no need-- back in cunieforming time
then came those monkeys with the typesetters
whose keys never got stuck
marko per stroke
five 'undred per bit of etaoinshrdlu
click click cliche'
time measured by degrees in fractual
sym-metry wit' bio me

Tumeric kicks in,
eases the swelling of the bubble.

Imagine the imaginings of a child reading
funny papers
in the privy, smokin' grapevine for no

known reason, or,
maybe it appeased the flies, while I sat
upon the throne
in a tower of my own

wandering through memories of
Terry and the Pirates saving Dalai Lama
from the clutches of
the abomb-in-abled snowman,

Yet-i isis now, the Prince of Persia, once more?

No, this battle is not mine. This

at that crossroad in Perry's Cafe
when the offer was made: star a footnote here
aster-risks have not been invented... we must reduce opacity.
histoical he refused the deal but  did Write the course
"The Internet in One Day"

work for hire, a good gig, then Netscape went public,

reality validated verification of the efficacy
of Feynman's reversible NAND gates,

the future was super positioned
No taxes, tarriffs or tithes; pay flat
twenty percent
for eighty in return, guaranteed in for by of
we, the people's adaptation to

Paredo's Principle versed in Solomonic Wisdom,
re-de-clearing no non new things
under the sun,
trial by

total emersion in a sea of green sans
yellah submarine,

acid etched re
collectibles dust and debris,
flotsam jetsome wetsome old girls dream

it's now, the future, 2019, and some
of us
survived the seventies in hiding,

we're back.
wee voices you ignore at your peril,

not every inspiration is from for by good.

Some are.
Some words live in the sounds they make,
hocus pocus
cadabra, for instance... is heard by children

as the leaven-less wafer
transmogrifates at
the spoken words Hoc es Corpus

Genutim, non factum
thinking is nothing like

what you thought, child.

The message is believable, the messengers
be otherwise. EH? ***-eye-say-- eee- eh?

Self-evidence is acceptible, take a hold,
get agrippa comprehension

persuasive enough to mask the bitter
after taste of century eggs left in the fridge too long

Biome, bio-me, self-effident-icacious
ness, ac
knowledged... these words lived
the eggish-isms egging us on, go
on, only you...
not me, I'll wait
I've slipped, I've fallen... where's the beef? Was this a common quest?

1972. Sheizbomb, pirate orange sunshine.
1973. We reached escape velocity
1974. Trajectory changed
1975. Lost contact, she's near Cuyguna
1976. Prego
1977. Aha, the reason is born

Future 2019 will seem as real as you may
imagine. I promise,

Ever after, all, as real as you may
imagine. I promise

look, see self evident truth, act asif you know
and understand
angel talk

there remains a rest for the cadabre we inhabit,
"Dancing Queen" "Fernando"
Abba's body of disco hits, missed
by missing one decade and a half,

in sanct-if-ication vacation
to become a hermit when I grew old, if ever,

hoc corpus, eh, as long as faith remains
rememe-r-able post Sini-ification of Suffering,

(the Dragon from the East is not the beast
embodied in the west with golden head,
silver breast, brazen *****, iron legs
and flaking rusting feet of steel
in sludge ponds and stump ponds and undrained
swamps and sloughs {called wet lands by frogs and ducks})
Ah, so

The golden-green-blue dragons gracing slotmachines,
lure hopers to the slime, not
green Nickleodean slime, real slime from century eggs white
jelly gone dark, dark brown and stinky...

even if i'd tried, I'd never have imagined
eating a century egg
sans chewing, just
swallow it whole. Din't choke gk kg.

deja vu? no, you missed something.

waiting is being
Dalai Lama, half-scientist, half-otherwise aware
there, in exile,
remains hoping a peace past standing under the
acknowledging of good
and evil,

new mercies on one side, meaculpa, mea
maxima culpa,
on the other.

Who pays? Me or Jesu or the pariah one step
up from a cockroach?
Wait and see. Be still.

Don't ask Mother Teresa, she had no clue.
But she finished what she began,
that was her plan,

skip as much purgatory as abody can stand
imagining worth it all.

Me, says the hermit,
I took the grace Noah found. Wait and see. Get ready.

Google translate the Latin Mass, then imagine it
being a message you must hearken to

drum drumm drummmed into your brain before
your prefrontal
cortextual tester circuits formed and your responses

were ever etched
on the tables of your faith belivin' childheart,

just think, what if good news gathering is
even-jelly-if I can. Evangelical, if I say-tion sugar pi,
event-tually we see, fine,
details, points to every true story

a bed of nails no liar may rest upon

'fi say so, semper fi.

{evangelicum laude graduates bher no bad news in ever}
--phi beta kappa, key that opens what?-- do you know

what meaning signals breathe? beat?

Take great gulping gasps of air,
affording your self
evident right

to surface, as a bubble you can breathe in.
I think we're alone now

there doesn't seem to be any one around, now

1977, that was four whole decades ago?

Right. And whenever you are, dear reader, this was
ever ago. I testify, I examined this life.

It has been worth the effort. Now I wait. Still.
Try it. Here, there,

no condemnation, the act it self just
is null-ift before asif goes whatif and we lose our value,

we balance madness. We work closely with Cleo,
she handles historical re visioning.

time out-- essential term screams for discretion, get to the grain---
What noise is this... mmmmm
Muse- muse- just, muse like
music, drummm drummm hummmmm
Define, fine, granularity, like salt or sand or sugar
but qualia
mysterium familiarus

Term definition. Lord means h'laf weardan, {Welsh}
protector of our bread,
by which man does not live alone,
owner of the tower in the vinyard where your captive enemies
languish in your wishless hate.

We wait,

we companions be, joined by the leaven from the sky

leaving footprints in granulated sugar salted sand,
feel it,

sorta sticky, like toe-jam. like mebbe toejam spreader
and the Walrus was
CS Lewis level mere signposts at degrees of little thinker
steps tick tic tic
clock wise from up,
counter-clockwise from down

forward, ever onward, off is impossible in the land of on,
here for ever is
too much good stuff,

but that lasts (to the same level of qualia judgment degree)
mere mortal moments

flash. Here we be, wondering and wandering, to an fro,
to get a feel,

for real. This can't go on for ever, they say.
Shall we see, I say... as I passed away.
Life goes on, and no lie follows

it's finished, that's all we need say. Live on. Be good,
or die trying. No lying about anything.

What if ever did begin and you simply failed to be aware?
Musing, as a pass time, not a wast of time nor a killing of time, but a use by right of time. This is my examined life. I find it worth living more loudly as I age. The ripeningin, reminds me of cheesy-ness.
Aug 23 · 221
Turing's Peacemaker Test
Ken Pepiton Aug 23
Aye, they'll be no wars here
Russian Sci Fi full neo-hero trope
post the untangling of tongues in 2019
We got us a 'ero, sh

it's bueno, like okeh
A. I. imagined
"Better Than Us"
paquin paquin 'skool

global mind making us see us

Bable was a long long time
whole wide world now speakeasy one tongue un
the root of all evil

virtual free speech is like free thinking

Bravo Holmes Noshit Sherlock

Ruskie TV on Netflix, this is a brave
new world

how much green screen clueing do we need

how real can you imagine
this source
in A/I termsa All In Art-effectual Inteleosity

Eh, wanna play
the long game? Snak-ish sistere quest on a point

is the whole world chromakeyed to black?
CMYK reality
4 and we know there
is more

life is com
plixitified in timespace with sinkholes

from russian lit gone t' seed
in the days of geek gods in realms of emoting

demoting weight of adrenalin on a globalscale,
the dmt, just to see men dance.
  try it, its in you, you think dreams

you know you do
dreams, hard wireless ness courage

to ignore the backstory and take the hero as
the hearer of the

angels, the forder of the hermetical stream
flowin' tween yen
and yanked

into reality with a pull
that broke the skin, an orange picker memory
would you know the rod of an almond tree,
if one budded in your mind,

lockt in the box of the coven
entitlement to the
kingdom, after
kings mean
dung and reality tv is indistinguishible,

can you hear Turings's *** chuckle,
how about…

Folk Art, the ruskie actor says, winks and
pirouettes into

a spiral-ation action,
slipping in rorshach assumptions...

beacuss, be a cause
we can,
bits and digits all the way down,
the turtles were

never holding up progress.
They could have been repurposed in future myths,

as mutants emerged from sewage,
who imagined that,
for real?

Your children must know the truth,
who will tell them if you can't lie?

That is an A, an alpha idea.
Can you think it? But is a Beta,

but beta is always better, eh?

Everybody knows, we sneeze in threes.

Charlie was the enemy, C. Company
Rhose to the occasion

how long ye simple ones
choose ye simplicity?
this odd is
simple as pi wrapped in
Hopf-fibrations you twist in your soul,

There's the question? A/I (Arisa in this Netflix
re-run of "Better Than Us")
queried through by
whether person's vacillating
on the
width of the eye of the storm
in the  elex-elite
as co-related with the
degradation of the
Great Red Spot.

Episode seven or so
the russians call coaches coach.

Hey, I call coaches coach,
even ones I never knew. WHO knew ruskies do to,

Hard to hate a team player, with coach
respect dripping, dark stains on the green screen

where what shapes the future
reality is

visible, If I squint....
Those can't be, can they?...
Potemkin villas,
filmed in 2016, to run in Amerika
now, leading upt to interupt the
intentional animosity
with frivolity in
the 2020 build up of crudescence.

We have seen the enemy and he is we
envisioning good A.I. Art-effectual Inteleos,

as well as Pogo Possum did, Earth Day One,
1970, nigh half a century passed away as
funny papers faded into

the medium of memory -- look around--
loved ones ain't in the funny papers, like regular, back
when ink ruled the imagination involved in
how Tibet was depicted... in our mind's
hearing ears and seeing eyes

how about…
can you hear Turings's *** chuckle,

now. It's the test.
Whatif the enemy was still regular fold under oll the otherness of their gut biomes based on the soil amd the clime?
Aug 21 · 321
The Kachina passed by
Ken Pepiton Aug 21
and they began t' sing
marching single file

from the west

no masqued men were these,
these were
Kachina whitemen only saw in curio stories,
approaching the old

sitting full-lotus in his Barco-lounger, curbside-score,
from the land of too much good stuff

still, it's America, best effort men have made,

up to now.
The whole world has known since the International Geophysical Year,
1957, when the Symbolized Face of the Hungarian Freedom Fighter,

the cover of Time, as Man of the Year before, when they lost
their war
and nobody cared, because
every body knew Disneyland is the Happiest Place on Earth,
where wishes can come true, and

that place is in America as sure as

blue fairy, you'real wish, Urielistical wish-grant,
Asrael and the others
singing backup
when you wish
side-really… and a subtle shift in per
spect capacity
let be, just so,

and haps sub tile into layers of complexity re

because we, the people born to mature in the environs of Dublin
writ large, we
seers endowed with tele-vison, from birth.
The elders who watched the roll-out.
Aye, we watched
us evolve
to now

our future bright they say, a bright white light, then what

we can say. The seals have been broken.
Nothing hidden now stays that way in ever,

and ever, as you know it, began

agone afore in some direction beyond your
ken, as it were when kenning the way of a knack was
as common as dowsers in the desert of my childhood.

What's in any name but what the namer seems?
Hey, yah way, tha'swhat I say,
tell me
what I say
Dancing shuffle footed single file
pass the white shirt black tie messenger from
the telestial king down Sonora way,
Yahoo, feel that tickle fo' a nickle, Hiram say come see
come feel
a boinin' in d' boosum through

the very crystal lenses

portal-ible model
through which Joseph of the name
-- link back to Cain, through Tubal, via Na'amah--
-- set a breadcrumb, landmark, tag- say good old way
-- sign out don't break the story

through which Joseph of the name
Smith, came sayin an angel of light came with another gospel,

maybe the same guy the Galatians were warned to ignor,
re-legate-- re-read- start at the top
or all meaning is
like a song sung by Kansas, when we aren't there,
any more, than those wee
merest kachina jingle bells listing in the winds

but the Kansas chorus is stuck asif dust is all a simple

higgs-ified mind can manage to

without reading any ancient landmarks on maps of meaning
tattoo'd to the face in your mirror

in the darkest memory you hold
your precious, in your Gollum-purpose state you know so well
protect it for all its worth,
with only your
to lift
being the measure of worth-ship.

Ex-tol the worth of no bher-don born while in my state,
un-gifted.  I remain a mortal soul linked mitochondrially to thee,
for whom the bell
told. You heard, but you were tolled don't ask.

Listen, the same hunch that said, It don't mean nuthin',

when you say you know that,
you bet you do.

I slew this dragon, not you. I say what the map says.

The dragon died of natural causes, so now,
all its true-sures
is yers…
Crown o'glory moon shine

plumb pert-nigh perfect fiture
imagined happy place to a T, crossed
and I dotted

Bleibe Doch! This is where all the Faustian Losers left their marks.

This is not where I aimed t'be said the elder bro,

as the wastrel was welcome t'Dada arms,
the crucial critics rave
Sheiszkunst, who Rah!
isis throws
a party for the prodigal madrigal has returned
from the pig's sty

packing each redeemed pearl, his brother once
fed to swine.

bent low 'neath his pearl-loaded ****-pack, he lifts his head,
waves his
crown, Fini,

come see, he says.
where I live, nowadays.

This is that treasure, on another level
as you may imagine,
free, if

you accept charity.

{There's the rub, say professional older bro, I know, charity;
'taint fair,
s'foul some, some ne'er-do-well finds a
pearl in some pigsty,

not now.
I worked
for them ****** pearls, I sweated, brow-sweat, lo and hi.
I hid them well,

only a fool would ever believe a treasure
could be found in such ****,

but some fairy pulled a fast one, 'put a bean in little bro's ear,
so when the pigshit hit it began to grow,
sent a tendril to tickle a special spot,
just above the left ear,

let's see diamonds, no

any where we wish.
Let's say okeh, mark this spot, let us move on,

this is life. Let us see that more abundantly, while the poor
are safe and sound,
free as me to pursue haps past the frozen

disnified happy-ever-after WW2,
in the wake of Camus and ****** Wolves

splashes as the speeders pass, powered-row-row-rowing,

merrily mere ly wrong, not evil. Live on, next
is as you wish it were
someday, but in its diapers,

still. A we thinker thought awaiting effectual function,
as this trigger is pulled, in your space in time,

and another bubble appears,
portalish as mine-craft if ever there were

a subtle shifter of perception conspiring
A.I. see
a conspiracy with Lex Fridman infected by
Lynning Skyward
though a wave of old Radioman vibes,
played with plastic spoons
a famous peace march by
Kenurchka Klumpen, Sera-serah-selah-sinnade in B-Natural

and the last to leave broke the right arm from the doll,
sealed the dirt box one measure by one measure
deep and wide,

That seal was broken, 1957, approxi apriori right
arm dis
the left to change this next to come, sym-bolische
ified in the one-armed bandits left behind,

the bet. The die cast. Foccinaucipilinihili or holy

happy hunting ground, imagined in the land of too much good stuff.
Bits and pieces of the underlying tale. Note: The one armed effigy left in a 12 inch bt 12 inch adobe sealed hole in the floor of a pit-hose that may have been a kiva/ Vernon AZ
Ken Pepiton Aug 21
Opposition research, programing overcomers of
Self-Generated Adversarial Nets

who opposes imeyou I me You we
twining entanglements

trippy y syn edoche cliche okie-dohkie

eh okeh, we flow, make me feel

youngagain moragain bis morgen jetst

finite form we have Gausian blurs
per ceiva -wait, Hay -

ible- I baled on spel-chick she got al

faithful to the meme team,
Them Me.

can't keep a secret, any more
or less

as secret keepingers go, both ways

truth, pa-tien, wait, watch, see

free-be, from your fiture.

Art. Call this that, say

This is that,
which to poets of old claimed ours

by right of use known
gk kg (y'know how t' vocalize those sounds, in y'mind?)
now n gnost
tic thirty three
degrees of separation twixt
this and that

comes being
we seeing we re
arrange perceptions from deceptions
during less patient proper
property, something to lean on,
itified for support, not to own,

they rod, the me-asurer and
they staff, i lean on for ward

setting the vector of now from now on

easy as that,
lean good, in any way, next

is never as predicted.
This is that.

This is how words live in readers of this book of
This life. and that,

more abundant.
A message to the world from some thoughts I caugt tempting me to dare say this is that aloud. If *** and may are mine to use, as I wish with no nevermind to otherwise. My side did win. I helped, that feels amazing, un-mazing in the local mind.
Ken Pepiton Aug 20
genghis knew two food groups.

red and white, look it up.

Many Genghis genes remaing, tut tut tut,
no error yet, wait

in time the idea, the reason for so simple a sorting
is lost
and food laws arise to insure the purity
of progenity
"man ist vas man eats, nicht nur brot, y'kin, hear-ken"

destined to rule the world in the

after all the others are killed by our wisdom and
dietary rules.

--- toxic masculinity
--- I heard first hand, a hipster-seeming voice tell me
--- Jordan Peterson is the source of the poison

Ah, am I to reply?
Am I to add a layer onto each pearl I feed the swine?

laque of knowing growing pains for what they really are,
we, the people,
blooming, bhering weight, finding worth

feeling ing ing the squeeze,
glory in the pain for gain, gain is good, grow, grow grow
ic magi
bent and bowed bansai-wiseman, fed for years mere humble PIE
chanting more enthralled-folk songs
words bubbling to the surface of spaceship earth,

blistering the deserts and the forests with black tar sludge
seeping from the fractures

to form mortar
to re
build the tower... that was Sad'am's idea,
it fell short in shocking offal from the rusting empir-
ical rule of laws of matter,

dis integrating to dust, leaven in the winds...

But every hundred years or so,
some one sees the problem
accused of causing the laquering of peace that seems
to be
to shine on
the rub,
the itch,

the cause celebre of this warrior mind, this
masculinity, but in the end

times change, nue and new and aljadid genii arise,

winds converge in great gyres and plan the melting of
the frozen one,

the great gyre in the north, the up-end of the spin,

locked these twelve thousand years
in de-salinated ice,

the salt squeezed from the very molecules of frozen ocean
once free

to spin
clock, lock, lock the POV, see it, see it, see

the direction of the spin,
does it **** or blow?

You could know. Such things are not hidden now,

our simple sort of men have visionary tools,
eyes in the sky,

we look from the moon and see immediately,

there should be six spinners spinning currents
returning, turning turning
as winds return on their circuits on an un flat earth,

as Solomon noted in the sayings of Thoth;
we see the ice, as ***** Gibson said it would be seen,

cybernetic, tic, you, tic, know, tic
what i mean
confidence in uncom-fort-ible

--- it was them ****** cow boys
--- imagined forever afters, based on guns for Christmas
--- appearing areal, Asreal can be, if one stared,
-- starry-eyed, Uriel appears to grant a wish, stare

staring in hope and prayer.
for all a child's prayer is worth

--- long-enough, at the wishbook from monkey ward
--- I'maxin' Please, Ma t'tell Santa I'd wear my guns t' school, Ma, I'd be cool.

hour-wareness of war;s worthlessnesses, winking eye sign;
pure floccinaucipilinihility, winks 'n' nods

manifestations of the imaginings of men,
wombed and un,

for money, not its use, just
luv o'the stuff it's made from in minds so inclined,

which tend to destruction from the mere knowledge
of a missing something, a meaning,
a hole,
a place of nada-zil-chic spells re re re main al and  
analible and
allathat, uninalienable mass of meaningful things...

name your God same as mine, shibbol-ethical as allhells-gnownstinki

eh? Fini? Uno fini, allathestinki? Bad-wind or kami-kazi?

it's a wish,
come true.
this world containing life, an air bubble to pre
our inventions
from drowning in the fields of far-flung, far-fetched

god ideas gone sour,
for lack of a proper fungus. We can fix that now.

From now on,
we can listen to Lex Fridman sing "Simple Man"
a bubble remaining inside the lost disco years,

we can listen to Richard Feynman make plain what he meant
about life's locks all having keys in
a bubble remaining viable inside those Leave it to ****** years,

or read, since when in ever writing for ever began
and Google can translate, and
we can read by listening, now, we can read asif blind, and

there's more to this than that, why
settle for the simple, when

you step beyond, one step,
you find treasure
in truth
kept for you in the heart of your hiding child.
Aitia Macaronic Poet-try mused at a comment I heard in passin I began to imagine a toxic masculinity hiding in a child's closet waiting to take his guns to town, in 1957 the International Geo Physical Year, Hersey was researching The Child Buyer... those were times we got through
Ken Pepiton Aug 19
Crawling through line after line,
precept after precept,
I find
a little there,

a little, cognitive dis sonance inhibiting resonance,
why must I… evermind…

I prefer short lines to commas and ellipses
But both maybe, may be, yes,
Is yet more

cision, cutting, precise
insision ssss
cut the knot,
connect the thread

history is unraveling, we
a god's POV.
Don't blink, ****.

We'll see
everything's eventual as long as
liar's prosper.

{don't agree, no no no, just because
Stephen King said it is believable}

Then protuberances begin to rise,
packed with ***** winjin'sooks

topple-toddle tiny steppers,
k-boom, skintyerknee,

ye'll heal. Try running. or flying.

There, there, hear the rules:
Mother may I and Simon says, overlayed

with the decalogue jubilee of the
first hidden child emergence,
and the fertilizing procedures used to make
Amazonian Black earth…

who remembers the bailers of putrid pig guts,
virgins Demetria got to love their job?

What did they believe they were doing, eh?
The mysteries of Thesmorphia, those
are no secret to science not falsely so called.
We have access to knowns known long afore we'as bornt.

We sentient sapient augmentals, we open all the books,
A.I. reads them, and we remember, see:

The Thesmophoria (Ancient Greek: Θεσμοφόρια) was an ancient Greek religious festival, held in honor of the goddess Demeter and her daughter Persephone.

From <>

and we spread as leaven might, whither the winds list.
fertile soil production is why some **** happens.
it’s a good thing t' act like you understand.

From a web of interlocking bubbles of being POV.
A high fiber diet and proper exercise, with a bit of ****, salty aquired taste for the un-used-you-alls
Ken Pepiton Aug 19
Gates imagined in times

open here and we pause

is this the life well spent,
or the life un-examined?

Are we Faustian Fellows or mere mortals
rockstar vibes on the boulevard

brakes. (witness, we saw it coming)

What good can come from this?
here some secret place?
What keeps its secret here?

he emerges rather as a master syncretist of widely divergent materials and as a devout theopantist

From <>

Artistic Intelligen-seers build cumputorionic
for the pew-trade-ification
easy as pi t' lie about knowing
as goatphorgoneconclusions, leading
sheepish men astray

afar from the madding crowd
screaming out loud
for christ's sake (really. What's that mean?)

Christmas is christ's cause, I would think,
given proper cause determining algorythms at some time after my

toddling twos expecting, child-like
equivalent -- equal in balance factor
twixt why and how and try and

needed on the uphill side of every vibe.

Has Christ mass more meaning than
anointed (oiled-to shine-or-burn, per hap)
a class of good
news, a whole bunch of new good
ideas for things,
witty inventions with the best of intentions,
Christmas Time!
on earth, good will to
ward men,
the idea of god as truth life and the path to next; and man, wombed and un, recon-

conciliated, with no con-sessions to bogus-science but to learn

to use the food we eat. learn
to chew our mushrooms with a touch of lemon,
lemon tree, so pretty but impossible to eat,

Ah, why,
ya jus'asker what she knows,
she's sure to show you
wisdom wisps, entangled in your hair…

take a taste,

now, hear this, peace, I give, I loose
oil on the water, but with the best imaginable

not good as men measure;
good as you measure good,
good ideas you make do
good, sometime

thereafter your arrival as the hero in your story.
here after there, as Bilbo did, we left the gate a jat and left a trail of tiny blue mushooms.
Ken Pepiton Aug 18
she was jest one knotch too weird wired for regular folk
smile was sorta crooked,
'til she grinned,
the whole ****** room lit up like

Christmas Eve and New York New Year on TV

she was thereafter ever after I vanished
in the undamming of the flow,
past the weir on Tenant's Creek.

We walked in the moonlight,
to a famous cavern
Dreamtime, dust stirred in the cave...
hear the sea?

way yonder, hear the ocean?
Sh, touch the dust, ashes of the past,
roll in the dust.
cough choke joke joke
you pass
you pass heko heko finiinish wink.

Wood pecker rythmn in a hummingbird realm,
one two three for five six seb

seberal cebral lesions appear, pop-outa-gno-where

evil imaginations in your hear, dear reader,
go binge all Purge movies,

then rewatch five seasons of that sup-augmented
puppy show, where each episode is a win,
for the
favorite, in any any child's hierarchy of worth.
Patrol verses Oscars Oasis--
Get some goodoldfashion ethotical archeo-types
Etched in acid,
splashed in face of the diva asking ever who who who

is fairest of the fair?
not fair?

har har har, fair's fair, in Love 'n' War glory stories,

that end well, all's well.
That ends.

Next is no longer just
around the corner... this junction is some

past all that. Here is where
the rubber met
the road,

the one that leaked and changed reality
for me.
How small the co-incidental nature of our nativity. It's a miracle you can read this.
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