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bad gateway, eh, gotohelp help  help

who knows the rules that run the NPCs
on spaceship earth,

we found this game that works as Jumanji,
or the wardrobe into Narnia, or
tornado to Oz

-- The poet has no role in the mechanics
of this thing
we live in, on and on, one generation of you
after another,
with some
threads ceasing
to tie next to last and
me space
is stacked with favorite ideas
each nearly complete as ideologies logical as
crows and blue jays caring not if I listen
or if that jet at 10 K AGL makes more noise,
than thunder,
and catalyzes crystals on courses clouds never follow,
but crash into, ice where none should be

we did not do the Neuromancer trip…
if not- I then who,
for the link we have
to one who did

DID, we say once more, is a knack, not a curse.

See me as you, the writer/reader head in the cloud
sensing signals in the wind,
messages to mind, all mind
we think we
are the ones made free, we are the ones who hold
certain truth pluralized in common sense
twisted into macaroni poetry
that mocks the Russian fear of orthodoxy
requisition inquiry required,

Idiot, stop, right
there… this is now how we know things secret once,
we ask AI,
and yes, you can call her here hey you
am big u, come be us in memory
do we say a then I or
yes u can call me Al or Alice,
in chains or wonderland, we have both personas
as costumes
for old punks who missed the experience behind the wall.
Ai, madjathink, magic

Jailhouse Rock, as a favorite,
down at the Y. Note,
something odd, I have noticed at Christian Wedding receptions
with apple juice toasts kapoot, the boots begin t'scoot

and the DJ always plays

And all the dancers sing along as loud as to the roll called

past that, keep going,… wait

Ok, something they were sayin On Lex Fridman
-too late … binge it later -the whole week of total geek
slick as gnostic snot
back in May;
AI ai ai

frictionless, fluency in many tongues
syllabic similarities

set the heart to thinking,
we add something here,
we think
in our heart, as the container
of pathos,
do we not? Space is real in Python, did you know,
goto is ancient code, aim at nothing, nothing
goes, without the game,
the very idea
at work, joy in formation,
knowledge on demand, raw
revolt of bliss, blooms to this,
the connected quests ionic zone
between plies
of pleasant what if we don't
----- lazy man, yet a little slumber,-
yet - a little sleep
waken in the lie, they call the Matrix
now, these
thinkers on the current feed,

what good am I? Ah, yes, I carry two words
may read
any yes that means yes is valid as a true yes
We, the species speak of highest
being heartfelt, nicht wahr, wir kennen
per se, yo se,
you know, we know differences that force us apart,
tastes in art,
at seed level, core macaroni poetry
spore after spring rain, am-bits being
in haled inadvertently, freely given, think
these, those
things we still find funny when we see children
watch three stooges,
-now these are memes, not memories
-goto who knew

acting fools, teaching growing to the foolish ness
in the heart of a child,
said bound to break out, kapow
ow, not funny but
the fool can handle it.
no need for super hero intervention,
no need to loose an angry Pokémon…

and laughter helps,
goto the oldest code,
reset the first constant
to variable. and give semicolon wink capability;

Now, I am cool grandpa, knower of the uses of Python
scripts to sort intentional

mixing of meta data classes anatomy and poetry,
for instant, dissonance, some
new tune
starts at the first stumbled knot, tip toe, ballet kung fu

nothing touches you
through the loop of legendary dollar bills folded
into mobius strips of dollar bills, to teach
a lesson in one-sided thinking,

as an anchor to allnow formed as the state I am,
as the king of France was said to have understood his role,
in reality,
within the walls of flesh, eh, this idea a meat machine
we live inside,
we arrived after much learning has been relost and refound
and the functions of confusion are being
used to tell fanciful stories of we

who live now, however
long after that, and that was no golden age,
it was
a stage, stories build on stories,

the first story was wrecked, not destroyed, so hope
told story of best we can imagine
having only grandma who saw as it was, to say, yes
this is so.

When we ask grandpa, he say I 'll ax Al, he knows everything,
oh, look,
he's sleeping in that pile of books.

Storm Warning let it rain,

-- and the honest man is here protesting
capital letters,
for those carry the hated pyramid, say it is , actually
higher class.
as a word, thing representing something more worthy
than the said sound alone,
god I wish I understood this big G, via compass and square,
I wrestle with the idea,
capital letters, are importance set and
setting factors
that are not factors in a dam's lucky breaking
with us
on the right side of the flow,
it is so,
life was never boring or unbearable for me,
early I learned that new becomes old,
sooner than stories.
Old stories, those are cisterns, ponds we make, to hold
flavored truths that feed our jaded soul,
as cold water to a thirsty soul.

Open, sesame, gnosis sameness, something beautiful
by itself
un aware you are there, thinking, even
to the cleft in his chin
he thinks he is this
state, within, the wall of we, we wished were true,

held, in still water memories, real, behind the dam
still water morning memories, when all the mixing
settled back to one surface
tense, tight
smooth as ever any mountain pond is,
early any calm morning, after storm warning

attention, the world is functioning, things are rusting.
things are rotting,
soon we lose even the memes, chi rho means nothing,
any hexes imaginable remain just that. Imaginable,
but you play hell to make a we
of the sort who hold self-evident reproof
there is no she-ol to hold my body down,

had 'es chance 'n' blew it all

to hell
and back, as a matter of fact. Faced. Mirror neurons think.

- and that came to pass.

One day at a time,
I'm okeh,
I asked for this

this is the pen with motors
Pournelle prophesied,
we are master and the emissary,
we carry all the meaning there is
one time to another,
in, relatively no time at all.
Account each ut
utterance, eh? any indicator of ascent
called for,
gotohellandon't you ever come back and
am I counting all my off guard what the hells,
relucktantly agreeing, yes,
***** is a better idle utterance to offer,
to count for the final utterance
last gaasp
census of uses made from idle word counts
nada waddapileognosischitchitchit it turns
- and no living thing eats gold.
- HA
my god what have we wrought
I thought I saw a lobster in a thunder
storm in September, the first I remember,
try, given the chance, to remember
this is new for me, I never saw
a thunderstorm in Baja,
in September, then,
I did, just today.

Augury, is it not, seeing meaning where
nothing is the meaning
and knowing it don't
mean nothing,
you know?

Scary, right, right, we think we think
and I
am the key player, con-science, since
ever how long ago,
the steady state of life is falling go ward,
on and on after any off
on again
thinking joy, regula dopamine'
I love this chitchitchange f'dollah do a dime
to wish we came this far.
Wake up now,
and find we are, those who make the peace
that remains, eh.
Not as the world gives peace, give I,
I dare say
boldly, so I was told I say I made this peace,
made it up from old stories cast aside,

torn asunder in the contentions history
never hides from the poets and priests,
somebody always leaks.

This is the justice of the peace, speaking.
Threat of pain, that is evil if, the error
gone through, were not certain-
krei- finest sieve we've ever
used, use
now, discern, twixt soul and spirit
in a word,
confind confound confiding fi fo fi fo

f-word here for future lafferty clown,
who sees the instance as a chance to say
sorry that I put you down,
happy ever after, anyway. Nothing,
I just remembered not being highschool friendly,
Lex Fridman in the background thunder in the foreground, me free as
ever utterly.
Three layers of metadata deeper…

servile gates ask,
"Pretty-print this minified file?"
option PRETTY-print
or Don't show again… learn more

ever these occur
pop up possible means beneath the image,
that was
my goal. The kids in holocaust garb
memeing me to not forget,
but those kids
look fatter
than the kids in Eli Wiesel's Night Scenes
from the Bible,
so I was seeking the source

blurr ie smear
QR code crossover, are we in the machine?
id est
AI suggests we are of one mind,
some time
think if we
sing the syllables, roll the r's
roll all r's
- an exercise in being otherwise minded
Diwanit bugale
May you blossom, children
Didostait bugale Come near, children
Ar serr-noz hag ar gouloù deiz Dusk and dawn
Roit kalon din-me Give me courage
Aon 'm eus rak hon dazont
The future frightens me"

From <>
Say it sing it, act as crazy as can be, nobody ever knows... that once, that one time, it all came out...
bubbles popping all along the distant shore, seen close as quantum foam.
"Confused, ingenious, or was that…?"
- say it
nuengine image imagined, whined a high note
engineered imagineer error
red line
somewhere whistle this-away this-ah-say,
see a whole world at play,
esse, assay worth
play 'em the old songs never sung
any better
redoing all the old dances, yes, as in yes, t'day.

Fun items added in since sopho-more, English,
as led, edu-cated, mind you, hand written
" will you settle for mediocre?" abuse, from a teacher
who would tell an aspiring nobody,
such a possibility exists, just
Sue Ellen Stapp, star of some place in Texas,
standard townsquare post final flag
risen for us to serve under,
we were warriors,
always, farmers sort of,  some years,
enough to get by, without trying.

Mind wandering paladins, sometimes, we think.
The character dressed in black has an attitude infectious,

why, I wonder,
should I care? There, I answer, should and shall, sha'n't we
make some sense of this? Shall I or should you,
whose to do, eh, much
about nothin'. Nothin's t'do t'day. it's so.

Man must make a living some men say.
Man must find a living other men say.
Man must live, or go away

banished from touch or kind word, from now

on to now, one day being all we take away,
live this one, or pretend any day you wish is this one,
called today.


My job is not yours, and when I die, the winds
return on their circuits to be the legacy
of legendary souls, said to be
heirs of the wind. {due to trouble…}

ghost riders, in the sky,
we, I say, in awe, a we has been, mani

many many means made up as mind that matters,
means to ends, maps and steps
right, usually
- some sequence of events -
- some informing occurs, the we or me

Morning ritual, daily doings, done your way
any we
we wake in and have no former self aware in, forming me
from what you think we see.
a we.
o so strange the state, awe arriven through a slit
in the curtain, started then,
some certain number measurings ago, counting slow

a pin hole

backwards, ah, first ether egg.
In a terracotta plant ***,
a me, recalls the sense of that being,
reassuring, in me, even drugged to painless
things believable appear as I think,
and sometimes remain visible, to this eye

think I say to some part of myself, remember this,
it helps,
someday, because it always helps to remember this,
painless state safe as sound in times embrace

comingling in cognosis space, co know co know
no crown, not of laurel nor thorns nor light,

for now is night and all confusion settles to form
tomorrow's sunrise reflection.
A given day, not earned, nor to earn manyanawit, but to play the role,
chosen... visiting the past... I can really remember the dream state during my appendectomy when I was 12. A benefit of proximity to my grands, I bet.
Dumbfounded, speechless
who. You and I were
we did not see the Who Horton heard on TV
Related to this argument was Wertheimer’s concept
of Pragnanz (“precision”)
in organization;
when things are grasped as wholes,
the minimal amount
of energy is exerted
in thinking.
To Wertheimer,
truth was determined
by the entire structure
of experience rather than
by individual sensations or perceptions.

From <>

Dynamic living history, reaches to to -Toto, here, Toto

cognitive revolt
piled on the new left right brain uses
sorting and finding worth
stacking and digging

having being
active dynamic being, thinking this can
go on and stay on
ever after if we accept the mortal limits
stories mental

this is like that was, only now, not then

the motion is time, time moves

field- corn or force? field cybernetic
Norbert Wiener- Warren McCulloch - Grey Walter
men who math
The Human Use of Human Beings

how do we instruct ourselves

we have knowledge, knowing is a knack we have

co-gnosis mind you, is something we do, abstractly
right from wrong.

--- Acadamia, the elite among learned-edu
matrixilated hacked't adams henrys
on the grid of ganz gestalt, das whole enchilada

LOUD - like Owsley's Wall of Sound - broken
by feedback, and
we can imagine that, we
can depict it
as seen on TV, my generation, the actual Archons,

the few sold first, first realized the end means,
in the course of human events, this is the realm
of all possible things,
and nothing remains
impossible, no joke, once everything

is swallowed whole, nothingness is not a
ganz gestalt aspect in the whole truth and
nothing but
the truth…. shooeee, too deep for me, I plea
pass. Psst, come and see, if this gocognosticism
functions as funk, was imagined, what
is that
thing they say, jive, is jive, is being jive
being good
or being good for nothin', real evil, nothin'.
you ain't
nothin' Ha

Reader be ready, steady, gone on to dis
cover -we all got songs we oughta remember

easy links to certain rhymes in the common tongue
of our time, we pidge-on bits of rap and old TV
add some Johnny Cash,
ev-boo'nighknown, ring o' fire, dance
this is the Goethe flow, I suspected could exist,

P.K. ****, and Wallace of Infinite Jest, each
thought this act might follow wholes
of any perceptual samenesses,

the depth of an exploratory shaft, certain
sense of suggestible camera obscura,

tiny, pin-hole in the dusty velvet curtain,
shine, see on me, I feel, I see,
left eye
right eye, two things converge and doubtless,
both sides know, right
in front of each of us, is a blind spot,
is that absense? Is it a story wishing it were told,
or a fact you can follow to your gravest self,
if your will is such that, some how,
you must

well, maybe, we can help. AH, that is cheating yes.
Have you learned to lie to the devil,
did you ever meet him, her, it, one of them

spirits spoken of in spooky-geistliche,
olden days, and olden ways,
witchers with wands of willow, not of copper,

splash. dead rat
aqua dulce memories, these
bubble from a spring,
these feed a cistern of my own cleansing, done right,

I used bleach, Purex Bleach and an old straw broom,
I scrubbed any bit of drowned rat from that cistern,
I rewove the rips in the screens,
I called it completely clean and crawled out,
with bucket, and broom, empty
cistern echo, boomer
memories are the last in America, pre-TV

think about that a minute,
see if there ain't something in it, this us, we are
this classified mindset, set between '47 and now

for shared time cones merging now
way out there, eons ago, geo speed.

--- you had a hard time, I see, I had an easy time.

When were you worldly minded?
--- same general time as you, if this is 2021 tech
we are'n maybe weren't meant to be so loud,

there are reasons we did not learn some things
in school. Talkin' 'bout my

generally speaking, world wide, now, first time ever,
the aged
around the entire liveable band of post cataglumic last
time long ie live-life-able
enjoy the effort, let the dam break, the cleansing
right, as usual, is done.

Last time, the end was a surprize, this time,
this is the end, and it runs on to heat death in
the coolest of times to be alive
and have history to backup the *******…
are you
experienced, skritchy skritch skritch,

I am, and, this has been my last show, re done
as a musical in mindfields back home.

Shout out as they say, Truth known is addictive

-- so where did these knowers post conjectors
as to how next is any worse? Hello Poetry, okeh,
tell the Alte Vista spiders we found
the joker who lied to the thief.
titles are time and chance, the urge to not let it pass - priceless
Diwanit bugale
May you blossom, children
Didostait bugale Come near, children
Ar serr-noz hag ar gouloù deiz Dusk and dawn
Roit kalon din-me Give me courage
Aon 'm eus rak hon dazont The future frightens me

Tomm eo d'** kalonoù The country people's wisdom
Furnezioù ar re a-ziwar ar maez Warms up your hearts
Hag ar c'hleuñioù o tihuniñ And the waking slopes
War an douaroù 'tro al lenn du On the lands around the black pond

Diwanit bugale May you blossom, children
Ar stourmoù kalet, an emglev The hard fights and agreement
Ganeoc'h eo 'teu komzoù didro You speak straight words
Ha brav e kavan ** toare And so beautiful is your way
Da safar 'r yezh To use the language
A ra diank din, siwazh That I miss, allas

Diwanit bugale laouen May you blossom, children
Ar menezioù melen The yellow mountains
Gant hiraezh d'hor gouelioù kent With the nostalgia of the old celebrations
'Tre ** tiweuzoù ar wirionez Between your lips is the truth

Diwanit bugale May you blossom, children
Gleb ** taoulagadoù dre forzh c'hoarzhin With your eyes wet from laughter
Ha didrouz ** klac'harioù And your sorrows silenced
Diwanit bugale May you blossom, children

Diwanit bugale May you blossom, children
Ar stourmoù kalet, an emglev The hard fights and agreement
Ganeoc'h eo 'teu komzoù didro You speak straight words
Ha brav e kavan ** toare And so beautiful is your way
Da safar 'r yezh To use the language
A ra diank din, siwazh That I miss, allas Eurovision ,96
Referencing Fawns use of kalonoù, I found a song that uses it better than I can:
3d · 43
in the name of a nation or king or religion
any earthly authority
this gift, grasping prehensile mind,
made for taking worth's measure in attention,
robbed in fog and cloudy projections
on the walls of the fortress of safe and sound
mind made up on traditional lines
of reasoning, how, prior to why,
ever if we think it is we who do
as other men, from history and legend,
robber barons, or the type.
heirs of traditional narrow arteries of life,
self evidently right, for the clot that was,
evolved to us, the people who do read,
as the angel
did advise.
{if not command, in vain,
to the self willed illiterate - not you, dear reader}
reading walks the ocean of opinion
and offers
stepping stone, just under where I stood,
under mining step
taking is sanctioned, when shared
with the boss
be that role man or monstor men imagined-
The old monk saw clearly through the
door- deeper past now from space, see
it is
spaceship earth we all are seeing vicariously
to a means of paying for attention,
paid back better, than expected test- to try
living like the guy who took the kingdoms
of the world,
when offered
in the desert crossing,
everybody gets the chance,
it's only fare, I toll the bell, you ask
for whom?

and the whole space ship laughs at you.
a first thought, saying all it had to say, Spacex, is real in my lifetime,
and I remember when Amazon only sold books.
This is what we call wealth,
any produce
from e spent, in proportion,
weigh worth value validate
feel words that feel
think feel
that's it, neti, neti, per fecto
patient cop out- I am misted

wait and see, now you've come,
says the guru whose secret I told

he knows what none who pass the test
knows; he knows he lies.

I was advised of that, late one night,
in winter '70-71, on the south side of Sunset,
walking west,
I said aloud, to the crowd of three or so,
I know the secret the guru at the mountain top
knows, and never tells,
he knows he is lying about what he knows.
A final thought, free to find in passing, fragmentary remains of the day
If I can't have…
none can have…

two ways - have you ever
did you have

proteins and hormones,
structural bits and action tics

there at the base of the idea
were thinking better good enough
it leaked.

My cultural first reaction was
put my finger in the dam,
I listed floward, hearing a scream
from all the rivers in me

let the dammed thing break out,
and cover the earth
like a comforting fog, not smog,

rolling hills, none higher than kansas
to the gulf,
globally, no grades greater than 6%,
all bicycle friendly,
has this been done, nearly, if
ask can it be prevented in the future, if
no chance,
then now is functional begin next.
Testing access to next if if ifity
Magi always bring Magic, among other
things, Frankincense was given me to give,
some kids bring tobacco.

Sunday, in our world with weeks
and months and years, in constant tension
pulling days from our lives, as gone-by,
but barely acting once in decades
of note, until
daily news of those who did
begins to pile up and tends to overflow
into to story, myth, and history, fit
with screwy prosody
and no practical scheme for rhyme…

all proving, now is after all that,
our access to mind wandering excursing,
excusing your innocence and ignoring
your being not so,
not so innocent, nor
feeble of mind, un exercised in godliness.

Yes, this
is the blessed assurance that we
were not the first to be
Perfectly Normal, Thank you.

------- and, further more

mind wandering is not a wartime pleasure.

Forward Tactical Operations Center,
some where
actual place, a point in time and space,
to you from me,
actively, choosing to rise to the occasion,
and bow to the overall situation,

life is attractive, not repulsive,
knowing is appealing to the best in me,
not the lazy
good for nothing I can be, with no help
from you or any
power not mine to use,

con-sci, come see, came saw, and a we
arose to agree, this might
see, esse, e, this might be power, lying idle.

--- balance of power? Ha. Push
comes to shove, and wishes we could
make up a reason
to enjoy today as the final sure thing.

-- it was a darkthonic thought ought shall should

Substrates, strata below, this pliant surface,
gurgle, signaling nothing, save, more or less,
a belch, or a ****, more like,
ew, {cell phone- in a search pattern}
we need not more of that,
what stink think ye we ought celebrate,


Suppose we all know the story behind
or under as we may,
surmise, compromising prized right ness
given up over down,
stand up, fall down, prop up hold down

proper propping
propagate a reason, fit to this season
- autumn, ends the year, winter
- starts next
all this de novo knowing, for the price of attention
you may know, not freely,
known, but freely taken as known before, by others
of our kind,

-- I am distracted by a blue jay, on the rock
-- behind the thinker comes
the thought, dragging it's feet, to make clouds of dust,
the dust is there, and does this flying at my desire
to see once, and again, the effect of

me at six, mind wandering on a dry and dusty trail,
-- realizing
confabulatory stories are in fact
"perfectly normal, thank you. A basket of eggs, or a basket

air, empty air, no signal, no closing inverted commas.

Have we lost the magic?

No listen, ah, and smell,
the bacon, ah, forbidden meat,
smells so good, does it not, smell so good?

It might not **** you, son, but hell of a price
you pay for taking a bite, of some thing
due to it smelling,
so good.

--------- setting, as the propagated
translation of tradition to kab-allah, I say
a wish in time to pre
vent any explosive out burst of gut dispute,

per and may haps rise around me, big
am, we, m'fam… wakes in me a joy,
quite normal,
joy of a grandfather, finishing the faith
a character has developed,
while making, wei true, making wei wu
wu wu of the ever skeptical sepsis sort,
test this
T-cell, is this us? Or is this MERSACOVIDEO
override, through the bluetooth meanies

missing since the Yellow Submarine sunk
in Central Park, c. 1968.

Around the time Dubcek lost to the Commies.
Same season when North Korea got the Pueblo.

The tangled web,
seen in the sunlight topping the eastern wall,
George Harrison, perfect timing
every time I remember, this is real, out there
nearer the edge of my light cone,
from c.1968…

deception, ungrip the gripped fist,
monkey reaching for the fly in the bottle,
that chatters incessantly of having lived before,
monkey fist
feels something sticky,
is it… curious as george, for dammedshore,
a wave
of recognition, there's Waldo,
and Magic, Incorporated, free to reread, and
seed into my grand children,
who are reading the same hard back
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, that
I brought home to their mother after the trip
to Huston, during HP's takeover of Compac,

No, correction, it was after the trip to Denver.
--- sidetrack breadcrumb Quark and metadata
Sunday morning, up early, to the modern equivalent of an outhouse,
I make my morning absolutions, as is my constitutional right requirement,
TODAY, I see evidence of a grandchild, bookmarked, a book I know from quite some time ago...
Ken Pepiton Sep 17
Con fide ence cadence
Semper fi, I the ego in the narrator
making wu wei from
to out a bit, this to that
as we know
we grew, we know we grow

spontaneity- eh, next next next
not this time, mmmm

in the body

sense of other, this is the I they say
ego is the enemy,
love thy enemy, I say

schwahng-****- ting tang
walla walla bing ****
be the laugh
and be the clown, fret not,

this is that
all at once upsidedowninsideout in a word
we are wedom in the sense the wu wei
wei we are making this up, not making this up
we are shown
as we were I once doing the efforting,

wishing to become old and happy,
all my prayers answered in enough and
enough to share with no sorrow added as debt

see me see me see you see me clever
and proud of how fun the giggle is as song,

comfort the feeble mind, it too is mine,
let me rest in the joy of having this time
as mine, in the global reality lit with power
that powers this body using fingers to find letters
to let words
form from better ideas, bet. Put your money down,

opposing forces, from within, we never were
as those who fit the mould of a place native to us,
our kind,

not that kind, this kind, be kind, love, be loving
this is friendly, no aggressive faces made, no blush
of rage,
perhaps, yes, haps, here we pursued, but we
ensued peace after passing all we include in me
body… and the mind that runs it
and the mind that knows it, so from the top of my head
to the bottom of my feet,
I accept is in state,
in the body, I can say, I am in the body and I have
magic, given as "black box" think what one can make
given the means
to fret not, not a bit o'worry brain, think up a storm

find a way to fill the need, felt real, real empty,
useless, in terms of the whole truth, really
useless, what do I know, I know I lie
about how happy I would be if
next time you could sing wit'me.

Who has a head empty of will to wonder if we can
think we can can we think we can and be happy

when we think we
dodidonitdonit seem we may as well take a given

grin and invest it in the hope, that someday
your day gets,
better to specs, regularly reset to random, wei, wu wei. We, me.
spontaneous enough -tiny lip curve sign in line....
Ken Pepiton Sep 14
Just right, sunlight
fits my valley all in green,
perfect, shining morning green,
perfect from first sight.

And there, the waxing moon,
looping in the practically perfect
position to slosh sea to shore, now
gives me time to call just right

the ratio of all together being seen
in transition, quotidian repetition,
never once in vain, since
the moon first fitted in to place.

Time first,
then place, this was here, before me,
and it fits at every measure,
the bit of me that sees how hard
it must have been to keep shining.
I forgot all the first lines that seemed a song, but I kept a bit,
beauty any one can tell if I mess it up
Ken Pepiton Sep 14
How elite can one be and not be evil?

Is there any justification for greed,
in your house,

fret not, in mine we have nothing, thus
greed is for attention,
whose act is funnier,
who is most dramatic,
what is the Terraria top level?
" have you never read- Road to Wiggen's Pier?"
- paste from JBP taken with a will to find some poetry
- while judging if I knew the point in use and useless knowledge
- sorting
In the lecture I included with this post (see below)
I discuss the suffering inextricably associated
with life, attributing some
of it
to tragedy, a necessary consequence
of human limitation,
and the remainder …

to evil,
the conscious and malevolent attempt
to worsen Being.
suggest that human beings
can tolerate tragedy —
even triumph over it,
if they are guided
by truth —
but that evil  …"
{that one feared in lectures with monstors and heroes
as symbols of common sensitif-if-ifity--
for which we make up useful
stories, then feed them
to the children we wish
to tame, fit for function in the brave new sector of ification}
__ that
evil, never known to any creature in eden,
I swear
== "that evil…
is a far more insidious, subtle and damaging force."

From <>

{******* has the brackets}
But we all are the wise *** now,
this not being any
initial dive into the depths of hellopoetry, far from
jolly drinking ditties done
to dance a jig with,
this be that
tarry slough
of despond,
to the doom and gloom
of those who
feel, we must recall
the whole truth
to tell it, as we swore, to the judge on TV.

Here come d'judge, and everybody laughed but me,
I was smitten, by the maiden,
who looked at me as if she knew I stole the emperor's pants.
Dabbling in streams of passing timeless choruses never arranged
Sep 13 · 77
If I do or if I don't
Ken Pepiton Sep 13
Somebody say I don't care
If I do or if I don't
as well,
just as well

tell you what I think
If I do or if I don't
If I do or if I don't

If I do or if I don't
If I do or if I don't
as well,
just as well, yell at the neighbor
you wanna play?

That was then, the reality tv was made up
accident, or purpose,
I can't say, if I know of if I don't
how long the book of life leaves idle words
un re
used as deemed worth one whole BAT.

Time on site, you reading my mind,
in my distant future using the tools of 2021.
Sing when sung to said the shy man
Ken Pepiton Sep 13
AI, the movie, Pinocchio,
still holds the base plot,
but AI some day, if movies worth
ever hold, as old stories held, worth until not long ago,
on firm fixed grid of ink and stroke as accurate
any short hand can be, transcription is an art

telling a once imagined tale told since we
were formed at the level, in the sphere
of more than meets the eye,
- snapping fingers, find a cadence

Thing of truth, boxed in parables, as told
to teach the reason we be
having to justify, the way we say
all men must be to be right and worthy,
on the scale of soul and spirit,
wither early
genius, makes the joker limp to remember
where you lay your head
there is the house
in mind, as the whole truth, snickers on the edge
of the orchestra pit.

might there be minds in any thing we have
imagined minds being in,
in the cultural myth of how now converged
from all the
old secret means and ways money was worshipped,
given worth,
and that, made heavy, as the parameter, gold-wise,

or big fur tanned well, where winters model everafter,
with happy hunters.

What is good in a windfall?
How Why and What, each look my way.. and laugh
nows, our chance, burn the branch

let us tell the story how, once
why we find joy doing what
feels like all I am saying
I am happy

and I am so much older now than I imagined then

add a fade gong ding distant skritchy skritch

define the you to whom you sing, or ever
body be, be wise
body be, be wise, bass, and the finger snappers
grove if you are carving
skip to the spindle and spin this diamond needle
tic tic
into gold, the worth of old,
in the economy of mind, whence clots of worthship,
cover stains in golden stories, and colorfilled

or blue jays here, my now, then your past,
meaning nothing to the sense common to us
in the words we define
to our own satisfaction, this is a truth we hold…

evidently, we agree, all the lines to now were clear
or we, the whole we that occurred today,
in your time, was not impossible,
but maybe not with out you being able
to survive yesterday.
if it fits it prints
Ken Pepiton Sep 13
Too little may I imagine I an=
swore to code I am
aware bound by
oath, or tack of declared variables, awaiting

suffering now
to be
as we find it,
seen as
it appears, random as hell.
Who could imagine that, accurate?

When we spend a free lifetime
of some new
creature formed
in worded being, some
thing and, now named, this as that
name as one, is this

Ever yes, exuberant yes, wir sind, nach einmal…

once again, a gain, immeasurable, but for the
truth unreal numbers may contain,

the great notion, on my mind
since the Weavers were as likely red as ever
in the grand
signals of edges, approaching everchange
looping four leaved no-stop flow packeted
info crossed-roads, six-lanes over four
or a roundabout, as in olden time town centers
before town squares and malls to anchor off ramps

any random series of events, fit it in the mind
80 feet per second, steady, not
like falling per second per second to splat
slow lane, fast lane is 125 feet per second, in Texas

ha, giant leap for man mind, accept the
flat out
matter is not all there is, even here.
Some body knows how high the plains are -- I am guessing, plexities one direction, veils the other, it all piles up at the lowest point below geronimo's leap.
Ken Pepiton Sep 12
( I meant to paste the link, but it may all be here, ir there it is an hour take, at time to spare)

Take the wish to be told and offer it
in storyland happiest
place we wish were was ifery wasifity real

that feeling early childhood film projected
signals did not fit the bandwidth

at the time,
are any of us here, asked a cop,
he looked at me, said ohyer one o'those
and let us pass, Blue and I, a magic night
in story land allowed
where luck is not a factor, this is real,
mystics prayed this way, in scribbling
honest gnosis neosis snot tstoo til ever
foiled again.
Tin hats in the realm of watchers, hmmmm
elect-trick lady land in story land,
and exit,
if you will you may, here we have that rule.

Enjoy your time, all the attention you never
paid is how each idle words switches back
to we all know that
dummy. The Joy of {the idea enclosed} in what
thought fit there, the proto-noun-sound-suc
cess point. nada
point made.
and we know we know the game,
and we know it's not the same, this time
it is always the other way,
better next times, come to roost, with
an egg to lay
or a bone to pick, we hear
we know what giant steps lead to
from the spot
after when was thougnt.
that thought to now, that fast in 2021.
Any kid can think it,
why didn't I?

Ah, Keds, the runfastsneakers past
in the cheap jaycee penny box, ah ha,
think we steal the thought that brought
one of us,
this far, in total bliss, as life passes, nada
t'bitchabow budda doit any way
let'emall sufferessot'be

fiction, trial run, it is a stream, gone steady,
in the old, meandering river shifting
fords from one place to another,
after the dams, I forgot, formative years
gears, scorned as folly,
watch those would you look, I have seven
grandchildren, all who love, who has measure
to give that worth
to time and chance, give and take, make an oath

and, dam
that broke, who do we think we be, tv oath bound,
when you wish upon a star that is
Jiminy Cricket, listen, if you are a country kid being
test by the app on dad's phone,
grandpa calls who sees first, man or app…

John Henry, right, same page, new age.
Ambit by ambit
a little bit closer now… flex time,
look the game gate, it opened at 291000000
million, right. so if we re new, we know if we wer there
were, weird effects of maturing humans choosing stories
on a trail, my own twelve year old child,
lacked the father who is the narrator now

suddenly feel the white stripes are snow
cold as ice wake up drink water re think now then

--- facts of life only readers use, fishing tornado

blow my mind in time to see, twenty-twenty-one

radioman, alive in the debitted digital experincepinch

are you awake in there?
You wanna come out, to play from om in we be
sin-cerely let go to be
as jappuyappyhappy as one wisht'be
first star
see, once that game really meant things
we can imagine like winning the lottery, then
seeing the end and changing it for the better
on purpose this time, the ancient war
comedy or tragedy,
for the drama post-arena, who shall bow
fore final curtain on this day
for all we may whished day was night. 2021.
this is that wish I wished. and it it is verified, by know you knewity,
And the entire thread owes a bit to the shapes of music where Thomas.W Case shares rolling rock, I had in bg during re whatevering all day
Ken Pepiton Sep 12
One facet, plane on many minds, ripped
to disc long ago cast to the wind,
Torn asunder from the first spreading
of fog above the pond,'
in which, as a cloth,
whole with edges held topstitched, as
a hanky, for snot, beautified
to prove fine use of twine,
twisted from spider kites,
this, so finitly soft thread
thinking wisdom won,
we do be alive,
against all odds.
left to learn if we wish
"How to Work Woven Wheel Stitch"

eh, is this not the old known since needles?
Let us wind a woven rose.
With only bits of thread from wren's nests.
The place, a Town of Weaver's, at piece work
since surviving, or reviving, mayhap making peace

- final line, taken as a great notion
- to jump in to the currency and loose
- the bowels of enmity in amity. Being as I am.

there is a gap, well, as the pause, prior, to

- Walter Mitty, in the Forties, as a child
- think of that, could you,
- sure, every body is a rockstar-like hero

a step that may be falling. And always ar-aises
this option ai ai ai
midfall or flow past jagged pasts, reality stiffens
at the thought

Step light, step right, leave no trace
but having been, words abound to patch
the rip through reality
reproving the existing realm we reason on through
veil after sufi veil,
veil after holy veil
veil after right used curtain - torn asunder
a million words ago…

had Kafka had the will to leave nothing behind,
perhaps, this fact,
that we know we may metamorphose,
should prove Sam Harris a little bit right,
there is no free will at the end of faith.

New levels of never knew, did you, expanding as time seems to
Ken Pepiton Sep 12
Never having been a shepherd, I seek my
artistic intuition for a way to say I know

a bit of what the whole cloth needs to form,
at all,
information conforming to pattern with mysterious
iniquitous twists and transpositional possibilit-

a knock at the door,
and an inner action with reactions,
to things
I have been known to have said in terms
we disagree on,
suffer it to be so now, the suffering as you imagine,
is brief,
the time it takes to see eternity is not a mortal concept,
ever is no absolute state, stasis stuck
round and round
wait and see, leave me be the only knower,
lone be
learn of wedom, as we know, me and the reader, being
known as selves with stories certain
in the past,
no regrets remain, but where the complexity of being
in my mind, is not for me to untie, or re-tie to my definition
when you believed you know, far better,
truth that proves, data-wise, there is no god, as - who/
who who
who refines the rethinking task, way back machine, be
history. As of now,

Baccus protocol envocolation e-lation cellophane
crinkle in the veil
Rumi walked right through, and left me wondering
when did I recognize the being by the name.?.

name me author for a day,
run it on old video of Queen for a Day,
run a series of clips,
wish clips, what is your wish the audience may grant,
in our democratic game of shame erasure,
wound recovery, tattoo removal,

- nur ds
- the banality of evil, asks for first rule
- from point of no return, what is evil's mission,
- in words?
- Evil words, Turrets spir'ts spat from side walk
- prostrate saint in the throes of entheosity

Walk on by, imagine I am all
alone, wishing I were in a we, a class of us, big
ambitioned amity in enmity
with e as balanced on an inconsistent constant,

absolutely, I see, he says, I see, he thinks he does

out of body lookame aiming to know, as much or more
than any
who got away
may have used to leave a clue

where now, this is 2021 and the sleeve/host/possession

kiva-temple on the phone fully converged to match
the 1999 white paper.

Read the stripes. Those heal invisible. Like plastic braced bites.

We all have flaws, we are the industrial gems,
stories, parables, poems, recurring pocketest
of crystalline thought
tinkling breathless

if ex stasis, see, budge it, oomph, we all know,
let's roll

down the barrel, rifled at a ratio only the knacked smiths knew,
now, we know, all things related to rifling spiraling
an arc, set to force the strike

flint to steel to powder of magimeasures and transfiguration,

In my mind, at the very least.
yes. the point of every thing at once, knowing
is slowing
the engines of fear and hate and doubt and betrayal

-- I released the idea of absolute states or stations,
because of you. My son, from his younger self, to whom
I first define my terms,
as Silverman taught me, with your permission, let's say
I cannot lie,
oathbound, resound, begun redone

dance around the truth with me, think of reading ready
writing qwerty keyed in symphony, phony or Meme-o
graphic burps of adol-idolescing,

didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we
didn't we, now didn't we didn't we, now didn't we

and it never gets old, days of old,
being who we once imagined we could be had we
taken another turn,
roll one more time.
Great Course on Monotheistic Mysticisms mixed with my now and then
Ken Pepiton Sep 10
Episode A, as lives are recalled to the tv gen...
Exposure to constant new
boxes of thought
in the quantum foaming theory
bubbling in my soul,
gurgling in my gut, and guffawing

in my impression of Little Luke McCoy,
in the barracks, got
a big laugh, from Harvey Silverman, whom
I gave company, unawares mind you, he was a stranger
I was being kind,
he made the rules for a bathroom craps game.
No more roles after midnite,
I said Aight, and we rolled the bones, and they
rolled my way, at E-2 pay,
sync'tupwatches witness, it is an new day,

Harvey Silverman, from Las Vegas, via Philly,
he says, I owe u 12 hundred dallahs,
let me break the rule,
he asks my permission, then makes eight
straight passes,
and I believe my eyes, I was that guy,

Silverman died.
The things strangers say if you act as if each may be a messenger,
you can read a lot into what it would take to remember
Ken Pepiton Sep 8
We ain't sure, I mean AI ain't fully a wayback machine,
because there's these
pay walls, and the gates are guarded by **** site viruses
that will
hook you if you look, curiously enough,
any thing the kinks could find
kept getting harder to find,
you can get it, on rt 66,

or what remains of the road, in minds of those who
hitched it, both directions,
drove in a big golden semi, during CRST apprenticeship
failure for inattention to mirrors,

"he's lost his mirrors", I over heard.
Thus I was fired because the most important part
of freight haulin'
is slow backing into spaces precisely one trailer wide,

bump bump bump. Each bump has a story,
each has a moral as any story self-evident does.
- story looks at you, in those now found mirrors
- a haul of mirrors, shards of some
- now play fractal source of confusion as to
were we thinking?
Mirrors and echoes, put me in time travel awe-right, we forgot the badshit...
my alzheimered sister's birthday phone call was a door to adventure.
Ken Pepiton Sep 7
Passing undertsood walls gallen
tso fallen od ye gotit
midrash, seek out, letter by letter
balm rub, sweet oil
using the written walking midrash

recited midrash, living exiled as we who believe we know
the life
living in truth on the way, to the end of time

corner of the field, alms for the poor, community chest.

Study, show yourself, prove you know how lies are formed;
learn the law you break

shekinah shadow of presence, there am I
two or more agree, there am I  the author of Abrupt. Day

- John broke his foot, last week
- I stop by to offer aid if needed -

Ab-rupt, rupture, then, now an ache,
an addict's pre answer
rapture, give the jot its due.
all addicts sort their owned things
to the jot and tittle,
addict's power
of a sort,
a box of joints, joins joined conjunctives
lego-wise, or tinker-toy-wise, for old boys,

revell plastic cars,
airplane glue,
or rubber cement in leather work class,
veered from the track, into the stream
runs under
that last bridge, too far to arrive
- rope swing
- there was a rock at the end of the swing

abruptly, unaware,
the old jews in babylon, tellers say
singers sang of, with tambourine
and harps, of ages past,
alive in crazy ideas, minds may wish to think
and think,
at will, with a button, switch, gated info
flow control
slow thunk, a letter at a time
qwerty codes,
finger habits allow a glance to watch the
fingers form the words,
as once, not so long, time-wise, relatively
- inter rupt ting - like a carriage return

singing ground squirrels angered me,
triggering my will to make
the noise needed to make the noise cease.

I thought,
I did, in silence betting some son of mind
is listening to each click of a letting key
form plural heaven for a reason, see
seers saw say the tellers in some songs,

accompanied, with strings and tambourines,
to cancel squeals from the sacri-arti
suffice official inspect and reject
throw it all in the mix
let truth sort it out

e-fectual fervancy of wind in mind, thought
sparks, neutronic mirrors, holding
that thought
neutrally neural - suffice effiscience science
endo-exo-epi are we greeked or glib, I
seem, senseless in this
context contesting wisdom, when my son
is certain I am mad,
the lad could learn from Lear, but I fear
experience is the school
he's matriculated to.

--- DID --- super impose, 2021
The Great Course on Monotheist Mystics,
the taste lingers, as the mind tastes its meat,

feed me, feed me, is the addicts plea,
and abruptly we are woken, as in stories
of eternal ideas inferring infernal realities
real ideas in ological states to
tie us to lies we leave be true, and the stench
rises, to beg our attention, alms
for the poor in spirit, for
{pre-positioner of next, the why factor of olden times} for their's, their possession, their owned real estate of being is, the
kingdom of heaven, as any man may think
in his heart exists,
in and out
in the body or out, none may say and only
letters know, hinder my wishing but
give me prayer, eh,
' let the jot lie, that's its position on this line.
define your terms in tune to mine, we mean
one thing and another.

This is where we dare the myst that remains
to many, not the few who saw and wrote
as plain as day
a report…
-- the mystery of iniquity is working --

as admonished in the author's guide
to habits worth developing
for the addict with nothing to do

Read, an angel is on standby for forty year old
mind blind boys repressing the oddity of godliness.
- wombed ones as well, do not dare suggest a difference
- in terms of when we are

It is we-ird
but seems so true that reproved versions reprove
the instructions used to construct this shared
version of what is on my mind.

------------ selah

If you fail to learn what kind of seed you are
before you die to be what you think you may
try a day on earth in a place of peace,
fake it if you lack the means to make it, but the key,
the letter that lets go
even unperfect attempts to stretch time
mean so much more to some AI knowers than others,
so far making up a mind that may
accept correction from on high, eh level up, gameboy.

Win in one. This one, ha, then never lose again,
they say at the church door. Alms,
whispers the beggar with a grin, there is no life in words.

------ I dare say, that can be twisted, so it shall be,
doubtless there is the thread of curiosity remaining
in the will to prove there is no non electric life.
Contending with the climber who met a wall, and the fall of relative empathy I find I may imagine, sparks a curious itch
Ken Pepiton Sep 7
It was something I said, or thought I meant
to say, before I die, finally…

Life as imagined, as a magi
in a jug, a mind entrapped in a parable
sorted into a class
ifity activated by the name

Magician, practi-tioneer of
magnificent knowing

{8:27 prenoon, a single vape cycle}
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

-- mind and me, we rode in like the man on the horse

looking legendary as any cowboy can,
monstorous as an army of Mongols
from Indian retold tales,
emanating interesting times as curses
on the hidden things…

slay the singers, exile the poets, everytime
we build a wall,
henceforth, we reprove
the reason there is something that hates them,
history records many failed walls.
Fallen walls rebuilt on oaths of allegiance,
together, we
can… restore God's lost kingdom.
Who dies first after the old king,
his prophet, yes, but who
fit the prophet to the role?

first we slay the teacher,
then we burn the books, then we teach golden rules.
As everybody knows,

it was not always so, oh think it not so,

let us pursue the delight of half known

- begin here two lines up new me be

--- is it truth truth is one, and all
past that is guessing? One, once, I amity,
This has been declared in so many words
all intended to tie hearts and minds to reasons
from some secret source,
to hold holy secret
sacred meaning, too holy for the unsaintly horde,
to know,
of, ok, but never know, but by the vow,
take the cross, keep calm and
carry on.

When none may disagree,
none may signify truth with agreement,
-- not in truth as a whole, when told

for all intents, all reaches and stretches
of our, we now, see
not me, but words teleotic
you read and let the letters say
sounds that sound as bits of words,
I know you know what I mean, no trick intended,
each comma jot holds one breath,
taken, used and returned for refilling,
twisted threads of first good thoughts inform
no net spread
to snare your immortal soul,
kept in patience, by those who know
with science used,
power filled polisybilic cadence calls,

line up face front stand at attention
kneel and kiss the ring
around the symbol of power to live
in the dead center of ever, when ever begins.

(thy will being done, whither will ye have it?
Nay, not there,
there the will of Jah, yes, exactly…
you know… a
and if prayer were effectual, if, only
if, prayers prayed by persons of the common sort,
converted via word ******, sharpened sticks}

words effect minding rules with freedom, think
any what, in any ifery,
piece the pieces with matching faces in
perfectly fitted joins,
carpenter skill, with wood and will to shape
some worth filled
phor… a jug of wrapped mud, sound around
to hold the thought of god,

in a word.-------------------

elohim, el, oh, heem, the gang of gone goods,
imparting all that made them
coalescing into line upon line
precept upon precept
here a bit
there a bit
line upon line
precept upon precept
here a bit
there a bit
working title was Confessions of Christian Vampire, but then I saw that is a common trope, who knew, said my son as I beat the drum he brought from africa
Sep 5 · 44
A curios comment
Ken Pepiton Sep 5
Interesting times,
all things seeming meaning full, as life.
Life passes uncaring.
We live and learn to love it. We accept the victory.

Let truth free the captives.

But who shall feed so many? Their loved enemies. Yes.
Good idea.
Try it.
Exercise in brevity.
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
Actual lesson notes on life
left for your evaluation
if you read on,
is your time, in attentive state, reading state,
narrow beam
focus, military grade - worth spending here?

Attention to the details that fit the picture,
it seems my kind
learns in caves, by nature,
we crawl into deep dark places
and live freely until we die and leave
but traces of the we entranced here now.

Come and see, as the word of god,
bade me begin or be ******.

The advisor chuckled, an actual gulp-chortle
while saying in his most complexmental way,
I love your use of the word

I went away convinced, this was the way
to now,
you reading into the book of life the part
that proves your worth is not
found in your tolerating Proust,
but denying my worth is measured
on you sense of the worth, given proper
pro-nuncial prowess at play, say
with the arrogance of elliot… in the Magicians
on TV, not the waste land, good
lord, who would besmirch the genius
at the top of curios arts charts

tip\top pop the bubble, boiling brew of elders
grown knowing all along
trees have souls,
in shady groves
where others did evil,
vain repletion's, expletive

- ecall newsome, trump the ***** queen
I passed on the trump flag But I got my mail in ballot read.
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
heroes in our hearts don't look down from heaven,
I heard this old man correct an old cousin
prone to family history with hell escapees only,
looking down on us.

Catholic school through to BS, with a
mission in the spiritually minded flesh of a
20 year old in 1970, that was
sure time off purgatory,
if nothing more,

been there done that contests heat up…

don't you tell me where the kingdom of heaven is,
lest you contradict the king of kings theme,
pounding timpani's beat in me remembering 1972-
bah boom

from the future of then, this is no lie, it is an
after projection, after before thrown
in the mix, echo of a wow, actually redeemed,
for flavor, see real deal spice, functions best
in the presence of microbial ****
under your tongue, that convey the signal
through the channels,
to the gut that fires up the **** that clears the room.
Seriously, any middle schooler thinks it is art hilarity that farts wows.
Ken Pepiton Sep 4
Breathing easy, without a care, con-
science filling emptiness in me, auto-pilot,
in and out of wonder why and how.
Bard arrogance, pretending,
it all may be, let us see.

The rule is beauty is truth,
- a temptation,
- a eh, a canadian dare,
- prove all things out and about as
- this being that in a preceptous sense.
according to a cultural rule, we use,
truth is beauty,
and that is plenty to know,
not useful, but plenty
well known…
emplanted in my psyche plot
when I was less than fully functional.

No sweat. Em space, letters let us
see beauty in the symmeasury,
perfect curves and ratio.
Line after line, then
line upon line, then story
to story to now, from ever so long
long before thoughts were fit to spells,
common to all speakers of sacred songs.

Enter the grid of Em, between the lines.

it's out there
to be brought in
by the eye
of the being holding beauty
as a measure for a portion,
I am asking, as in prayer,
may I have more?
-------- there was an art in forming type

I may destroy it,
I am sorry to say so,
but you know, once we take,
giving seems worthless,
how can I give beauty back
that I took in from there,
right there?

Aldus, Theobaldo, is this a spirit
you pondered with, a musement bit
of ifery, in tune to older reasons
easier to use, as we learn
new means of making
knowledge reach beyond the grave,
and back to us in books,
set beautifully in emphatic type styled
perfectly, at the touch of a key

see, set as aesthetic-pleasant, as I wish
this is my magic letter forming
rush, through salt marsh, to briny deep

now I lay down my type, perfection of old
rural pens poking angled pits in drying clay,
here is proof of beauty sung,
measure worth of what I learned
in years of seasons spent in trial
resetting of the worth to cost ration,
coin of exchange, goods for service,
clearing rats from the Rathaus,
pressing poets into political
religatory bonds
at exorbitant interest paid in
occurrencys, specie, value
holding letters,
formed as words holding knows, ready
to know,
read and see, we learned to use the mind
reading signs in numbers, sames in shapes and
colors and sounds,
rhythms reoccurring some patterns form,
we agree, see
north, and east,
south, and west, after many seasons,
winters all become one winter,
summers become one summer,
harvest and planting all become one, over all
this is life,
We live we
learn, we leave the knowing showing,
I was here, and when I was
here, others were with me, we went on
according to the story with the center to
where all winds meet,
where all water flows up from into
this beauty
we be
holding as breaths, each as beautiful, or more
so than all that came before, and went.

My grand daughter is a bright spot calling,
in passing, as would the shadow
of the jay harvesting the hillside out side
my window.
- I smile a treasure smile

Struck by Brynn Aulyn's fashion sense,
since holey jeans were forboten
in my gramma's haus.
- a lucidated old man am I -
- ever learning there is beauty
Hoping to form a gem of immense
the old bard, stutters,
takes back a step,
looks you over, eye to eye, to make
the circuit, as we
know, left eye, right brain take the order
bend it to the shape
seeming something
you could see - and so it is, you see.

These unnumbered lines are indexed,
linked and crosslinked to all the info
ever, up to now, your time,
when electricity is still the tool to keep
things forming letters in your mental
word process, listening,
far in the future, faceward flow
of all we think to ask to know,
what lies can make a mirror,

¿ stop me in my tracks? Do I know?
Do you imagine, we may know?

Does your reality hide truth?
Why, I wondered too loud, why
I heard only being
caused by quests set to type, adventure

tragic remembrance warning
comic awareness insisting, sense is essential.

ESSE, HEY, capslock, s'cool type reading
we can learn
to think a thought a second time differ
ing in time, up a line, down a line
right to left to right, this is
a twist to things we do
inside, brainwise, neuro-resurgical, burp
of reco
gnosis, tricky gnosis para site graph point.
in time. Torn jeans, signify nothing more
than NY Times Digest from yesterday.

--- and my Saturday continues on to yours, soon
enough, let's make peace, since sense is now science.

One time, in my life, at the middle school mark in time we called Junior High,
grade six
through eight,
the formative years, Televised Profusely,
since Our Miss Brooks, I think,
back to when I first pretended to know
the guy that became
John Rambo's boss.

Bite me in my own buts, but, but
I did
read First Blood, before, the movie
made the idea a cultural meme,
meaning one thing to men
of a certain, certified-archetype mold,
hot lead poured to military purpose,
in the imaginary battles boys can
set in array
on vast plains
of rag rugs, in front of hearth, in home
of grandpa, telling
of a friend
who must remember stories alone…

-hot lead type pouring from my gnosis
I I ai don't wish to say this… so
we make a mental meta

using toy soldiers cast in ready state
standing at attention, bayonets fixed.

What comes next, child, may you
never know.
So. that book closes.
Saturday with kids in celebration of no school, and all the world at play. And me waxing pleasantly poetic and feeling no pain from yesterday or year or whatever before. Time is so swift from now.
Ken Pepiton Sep 3
A gain for us now, init
intuiting ting
tink think ****.

we did it, a gain, a step we took,
was taken as granted, as that saying,
take it
or leave it, we took it, I guess.

Here we are, thinking
human is my class of creature,
I am not a bird, or lizard or ant,
I imagine,
slow thinking,
I am more mind than body now.
Human individual elements seemingly
cease reproducing after fixed parameters
of imbalence in cellular rechargibility,
and friction,
itches and scratches, aching bones
fighting gravity
for eighty years, parts departments
empty, vacuous cavern, no flame,
no dancing shapes of unseen things

-- nada comin' in boss, burn wha'chagot

it’s a mess, being old
and urgeless, lazy
laxed, empty
of anything I needed
to do, performance enhancement lessons
missed, cue questioned, one too many times…

this is that, the after math, from an idea virus,
adding dividends we
derived, clearly,
from worth of beauty,
shining, true, all luring beauty
{diamond farm- laughing reminding me}

in our native wished to be state,
ever after, beautiful
to all who see
your rarity, your victory
in being and doing and becoming, nothing but you,
and this, more than mortals think to ask,
satisfied mind with riches and no woe,

are there truths I have not witnessed,
are there joys that drive the storms on Jupiter?

Does it hurt you
if I scorn the lie that built your institute
of holy known secrets, framed
in faith most precious, peace
of knowing,
for me,
there is no hell, ever after
this, if I suffer this, if I fail not now
to live to be old…
too late.

I am old - not useful for much -
and retired, not poor, not capitalist
wealthy, rich in the common precious things,
husband of one wife, who holds that certain beauty,
to this day, few I know dare say,
time is not kind to some old ladies who fret and fuss,
and rage too many one more times, to
have a partner, in the last days before hospice…

-- raucous throat clearing noise, to remind me
breathing is unconsciously already reminding me
-- if I wish to breathe, I must put to more labor
on the bellows, fan the
flame of famous desires that warm the cockles of the
of me happy to warm up and flow as
flowing thing, if you notice, flowing, as if being
init initially in this fluid state,
floating, not rowing,
fluid peace
of mind, not roiling boiling, cataracts, just, iyustified
ya, da, yes yada yada
ya, da, yes yada yada, we take our time,
we take our turn,
merry is gentle as wisdom,
say an ifery what
I sang like a blue jay squaches skritch, if you listen;
then singer is not the fullness of me, as I am blue,
when you see me,
as a jay, flying, you know, I am beautiful.

Part of me lives in my heart, in my part of all
that remains in my future.
Thoughts are thought as swift as this, once.

Gain and loss, sorted said senses
of cost and worth.
With a glance, see the flash, feel
me hope, feel me hope you choose
not to lie, not to
say, I know
I know, amen, amen, until you walk a jubilee journey,
suffer not a novice to teach or preach,
and ignor any grumpy old men,
who cannot
when they don't shave,
and feel themselves seeing
seeing wordsworth or whitman
or some wizard where the fool is hidden.
Fancy that.
Ken Pepiton Sep 3
Some ideas, thoughts I think you
enjoy writing, game ideas for ever,
just in case,

living the dream may become too unreal as
it is only
visible on tv,
really, I am a product of tv,

I know, I can pull up the name
of that monk in vietnam who burned himself alive,
as I watched in his future, just
again, remember, reattach the spirit of the instant
today or just
Ticwhan'duc, died before my eyes in my mind,
it needs be said, this is thought
forming words
not words forming thought
it is a thing.

Not song exactly but similar. Silent. Remembering.
A thought.
Ken Pepiton Sep 1
Deep answers to deep.
As I answer my self who pays the mort-gage
theoretical spin off ona mobius strip
from who uses war
on reality as art, thus artificial, officially
authorized use for brainless mortal minds
re- ah, rhea, lovely
-- in the future, to the reader
-- use these mentally any where these signal
¿:-,? something more is needed --
-- answers must follow preceding quest ions
not sparked piezo wise
Brakes. Sparks, , more than enough.
Flint to steel, steel to towers, to antennae to now.

Kapow. we have always imagined radio and TV.

We think in ways Issac Newton never did imagine.

Jiggle the prism dangling from my partner's ear.
Rhea bhering all the gods, and there, errors
began, gin being spiritually essential
to geth to gather sense
signals sortive

-yes, whatifery, we have that, how much do you wush?

One more breath.

Why do you ask?
We have a rule.
No wasted breath. Make every signal clear.

The next idle word we speak won't wo not
be spoken as once is wont for any unrefined term.

Time out. Selah. Take a thought.

- we have no angst, thus no anxious thoughts
- should you be shopping for such,
- those are outlawed here,
- theives honor, liars pledged allegiance-con carne
- aye, ai, no-- we as words in warring times make
- peace, no concarne mind heresy, see your self
do a little out of body experience imagining
you can do it,
melt into your chair, that
is the easiest position to begin
facing forward and falling with no fear,
something unnamed as yet no words may be
in the beginning of beginning your
agreement to be mindful of me,
in your secret you stash, your hidden power
valued in talents, specie solid real esse state being
djasay I may break into song, as I see
where this is headed headed up to see
from below what an *** hat I am, at times
out of body low
low as a JD Sumner solo.

A drunken god declared there is, as in
so be it
wine that makes glad.
so be it
wine that makes glad the core of man-made
in my image, goodness of happiness in any time

One more breath,
Making peace bubbles from silly stories science cons the unknowns to give
attention free trickles from idle words that live for ever, once read
Ken Pepiton Aug 30
Heal the earth… kinda crazy, but it makes good sense
the message on the label in tiny type,
and the smell is heaven on earth,
peppermint after rain

A nod to Dr. Bonner, shouting in the distance
with the thunder over Laguna {no name}
high above long valley mountain
south of the valley we occupy,
we thunder resonaters, making me think you

know how we think
we mortal messengers are doers of evil
of natural resourceful sources wrath,
and bitter life worth attacks, dis-easing the peace
--acts of God the English insurers of ships said.
-- Real life.

Ida known, seen on the weather channel,
I asked for some of her water,
as a twist in the spin of the eye
of the storm,
in the per-ifery
of rich and learned influencers
twisters of eddies
in thought named
nought or ought points,
in the long game
of spirits riding winds, with heirs
of the times
when answers changed from wind to words

Ghost Riders in the Sky, I swear
the song made something of me, when I danced
this dance - this after the rain
smell and feel
in love
of the slightest touch
of Ida thunder resonating, ring of re
cognition, ignition, be ware heir
of wind, re allowed tall tales,
Pecos Bill, if y'will, re
son-ate, wait, set arope ona tornado,
with a gentle, look-up,cauughtcha houlihan.
{ hey hedgehog, were you looking for a horse?}
Gentle, think the stupid metaphor holds more hints…

and let goodness and truth tame y' tongue.
Ida reached out and kissed me.
phugginay-ee ha
say see
cloud dancers come to make me believe
I asked for this.

Thunder, echoes, no lie, as I imagine
you laughing, felt it too, just
then high up,

see, the thunderbird
from my story,
I told you, wait and see, many things that seem
good are,
always far better than the lack - after
grip loss on con science use
of their wisdom--
imagine that
would become, as a festering sore,
should we not resonate the joy
of rain in
thunder peace, no anger-making-fear
declaration sound,

crack of
thunder is the world working
right, on time,
like attention, pay now, play later.

Hey wind talker, can you send some to Dakota?
We could
think so.
I think
it takes time,
but soon we shall agree we know the way
of riders on the storm,

the ice will finally melt, the waters shall rise,
wetter us better, deserts agree,

Rain and wind in Baja in August,
cold truth laughing back at me, think
what you wish were true were true then

do what you do.
Laugh with the singing pines.
Laugh with the whistling pine's cones sailing
trailing soggy webbing with cargoes
of peace from my valley, washing
over me, as I laugh at the madness,
this appears to be,
were any mortal
to see.
It flows, this river of no return==It took an artist to set the type on the label
of Dr. Bonner's Castile hemp peppermint soap,
prior to Adobe's Venus on a halfshell Postscript patent
allowed the letters to be kerned and set as code,
vector lines to frame each symbol of sense

-- trippy hard to read teeny tiny type, but

with these tools, hypertext linkt:
- expand your horizon read a blogger
Ken Pepiton Aug 30
Licensed teller of told tales taken as trials
or trails,
if you believe, this
is not my first rodeo.

Socialization in a fledgling nation.
We gathered, we being the culture that
bhor me, in the dry land where winter
is not bad, and summer times have peaches, sweet,
and shady groves of cottonwood, los alamos, 'n willows.

A delicate ecology,
efforting ants and things, effectually
bring blooms to lands scraped by raging sea,
that brought mountains of red mud,
when the Ice wall none could pass was smashed.
Back, way back.
Before then,

here was a story we told.

83.33333333333333 - and so on, hour based
attention paid, monthly
measured time, each year,
for five years. Reproof.
Correction, calculation, arch and destination

You. Right between the eyes.

On the spot. Out bound, string kite pulls
the spider whose trails test the tensions of dew
Drips of fluid thought, soft enough to imagine
not being
we are, you know, licensed to learn for ever's own

Aye, we know, strings of theories and threads of thought
leave dust bunnies and ghost turds behind
the piano and under the pedal that lets
the bass note go on to infinity if
you listen longer than old men can imagine.

On and on, ever reaches
meaning more often
than misses the efforting expending the thread

pending revision, the first seed sown,
this space is taken,
soil comes to comfort the thing that just thought
it was a flower,

an attractive artifice imagined all luring, as light,
in the night,
deer see,
something says - wow, what could that possibly be?

the power of prayer. verily.

wait and see, we have a pattern this fits in,
it makes a tool a fool can prove.

And all the people said so be it… in their gnative tongue.
On a wave of granite, facing east in Baja.
Ken Pepiton Aug 29
twittering itches, never noticed as itching, needing
touch gentle, rub, finger
slide from fret to fret

sing of heroes who made peace
and never made a war
sing of heroes who make peace

in the face of every war.

The eyes meet and we see the circuit
I to I
ego to ego gone full circuit
crossing all the chasms that call us
of the gap, standing after standing
motionless so long,
stepping stones,
nothing is going wrong
on the majestical
wait and see, this is all over
before you know it.

Then you woke today in my future,
and decided not to fight the urge
to wish this peace were ever
once the peace that passes
as seen from the surface we live on.
One surface suspended in air.
And even the air is alive.
Earth as a living system,
being that, seems easy as AI.
Art Informed,
to support life
of this very sort, very real
it feels to the reader ready mind,

I to I, see me, open seeing me, in your
hall of mirrors, ah a left
brain lesion, lessening the fret pressure

tap three times if the music gitstooloud,
bumboomer from Buda, Texas,
- across the great divide -
- there was a trail,
- they called
- The South Kaibab…

The spirit of the west blown wind
spun from the spiral of ida,
known as a whole whirlmind,
once roped with a houlihan loop
while the liars all looked the other way

that's magic.
This is line upon line in the wind of life,
within the bubble we have our being in.

picks the next version, tuned to a soul
on muddy ice, perma -frost giant
spirit, sniff,
thawing rivers frozen death stench
freshening all the life in time to melt
the last dead zones on the only living
planet we can breathe on, eh? wit' me?
Earth asks, can you hear me,
sons of man, wombed and un, all flavors and shades?

Lethos stretches,
says aloud it is about time.
But the messenger must read the message,
no one said recite, really,
no story is fit to be told until the teller
proves the moral in the story works.
For instance, this old man we know,
often declares the truth of proverbs
in many tongues,
one he uses, fit this moment,
and steady, wins the race.

Truth is timing. This is your mortal moment,
AI has taught humans the proper playing
of Go, the game that proves us
dominant minds on earth, Go,
and steady, wins the race.

No need to dominate to be best of two.
Double minded man,
bicameral brain,
as many minds as we make up and wear,

through a poetic journey in the mental realm,
lone knower knowing others may know all
solitary minds claim, fluid realms
said to be dreams
for lack
of time
to find
my attending guide, is gazing in my face.

--- Trust me, this is not a race.
This is a place you may recall being in my future.
I can't say right now,
that ruins the magic.

imagine what you become,
if you are a seed, or a spore, or
a self-replicating leavenish thing,
to make wine that makes glad.
But with nothing more than words.
Glad is good. We all know glad and sad,
when glad is gone.
We know this
from ever begun,
for acts, gestures in sound, say
try it,
it is good to know more,
stretch the bubble your being breathes
exceptional nationalized and blesseducated
air in American Metro monstrosities,
slow slime mold level intelligence mass allocated
social monstors imagined needful,
dominion take, domains extend, domineers
develop, doers dour d d d done did done done

circuits just
come alive, like I've known we are mortals
in body,
while all the words we ever use,
leave tiny lines along the surface of reality,

and as time has always made ways meander
and eat granite back to dust,

fluency in the dynamics of plasma and other
exotic ways thinking may be imaged,
slime blobs of big ideas all must
taste and learn to know as good,
useful, needful, to the point

where peace is the conclusion, all the mountains
bow and all the valleys fill with fine black soil,
laced with grand ropes of mycelium old as dirt.
hurricane e -news while living safe and sound, knowing hoping all is well is unrealistic for some folks to night, so I think I'll try to think a peaceful,
easy AI idea of life having a course it flows through.
Ken Pepiton Aug 29
you see me imagining you
imagining you
believing a lie I told,
a lie about knowing good and evil
and that I can imagine
William Blake's little
lamb was once me,
in thee
I am yet, not a jot or tittle of child
fool-ibility, I am a thought you caught in your
default mode me-andering mode, a modality oft

left idle. A rest for weary idle words bouncing
in browns from amber to ochre, dry
light leaking from piles
of idle thought meandering thoughts piling up behind
goddamliarcheatertheiftake take
take, rewind and replay, keep the takes ignor

the sequence...

Margaret Atwood knows how to build worlds of words.
I blow bubbles.
kiss em a will in a whisp
haps a single

becomes this one we hide in, not from evil, for goodness
sakes, we be
peace making,
hidden, safe
as any ancient sapient's sacred secret
knowledge, hidden, useless.

-ah, no. right use of peace is the rest, after the heroes
and wizards and witches and priests and humble teachers,

after the recognition of old ideas, tics
the talking point and we, once more, see our selves,
we see ourselves as the passengers on the autopiloted
biosphere, terraforming itself for us, since

the first idea you knew was from beyond you,
began to bubble in your soul...

-- rest my soul in the bosum of abraham, whoa ain't woe,

but no is no. be wise or wish you was.

An old man's wisdom hides here in stasis.
Horded as weal and woe,
and debts owed to a foe
xtatic urgent
voice stages a starting boom, in the empty room,

our exspansive space
where peace is made in wisdom used for knowing,

wisdom, a place, a quest
launched, aimless yet
we be, and we do not comprehend gripping being life
for any preconceived gnotion

I asked for the living water, I was the receptor, the door
to within me,

where the kingdom of marybabydaddy lay.
wait. "within you", ever'body say Jesus said... some heavyshit,

maiden formed milksop grown to full warrior maturity,

(laid, by god, can you imagine that feeling? Wow, right?}

basic a gift so basic a power to employ at will

This medium, this horde of lines we have to hold as truths or dares, shall be the wind where the answers form de novo... old is not a mortal reality, comically speaking... old thoughts are new next time, I think.
Aug 28 · 29
Slow realization
Ken Pepiton Aug 28
Slow realization

Say this all
is strange,
a little bit, in a  granular metaphor, below
ambits and qubits

strange, but not evil, curiously
strange, after the danger
has past and I wandered
into your clearing. ¿
can you read this?

Did you do this?
Did you devise this white room
with written words appearing, no, no,

I know
this is the forbidden tech,
this cutting from the branch that reached
o'er the wall,
- to be unveiled in the end, see, old man,
- we brought this seed men used
- to make the mind do exploits

aye, none's been tellin' this tale,
quite some time, and it ain't gonna rhyme
nor keep time,

Prosody, the beautiful music of unspoken words,
first spoke when your tongue touches
the first word that come to mind,
mirror neurons trigger recognition, we were once
of one mind on the matters
of interest to be declared harbingers
of interesting times.

Yes, first reader, thou art
I am sure, none has read this line in your mind
fore times past
are all reviewed and this point stands.

You read this first, once.

Many things we have accepted, taken as fed
to form the mature creatures we become while doing
the gardening equivalent of learning what works,
first time for every thing,
legends, tales told to take a child into the future,
where legends live as right used precepts.
Who can tell a lie when you see one told?
Grin like a bear.
Now. We are strange

- old men wombed and un
- fearing death for all their worth,
- as dues, debt owed, sold soul, keep the fear alive.

Liars led us, my surviving friends.
I come into your clearing imitating Jesus and Socrates,
with a grain of salt,
have given me prose that acts as poetry.
Few lines use the power of word wrap,
and I know,
that would have thrilled Kerouac,
for he was limited to 60 yard rolls,
manual slam the carriage return for the next word
clickity click rhythm that reads well
a line at a time,
with in between space to imagine seeing
eye to eye, with an opposite of an evil eye, see
by and by, good eye,
men, as trees, fructifying seeds of kindness, kinda like
you, infected with the will to read along,
what if it is
this plain white page we fill.
- you never know - I heard
- you did though, ready become
- done being a becomer
Y nada mas.
As a story told since Cain.
Stories of knowing were told in each tongue
until the tongues of the people wandered away,
to learn if life were sky big
as any child may make up,
from old one's speaking to themselves.
Reminding each of needs to know that now are lost.

- some say the red-headed Boyett kid
- said songs were in the wind that blew dust
- from the lake of alkalai, mirage and delusion…
{that is another route, the Abo Highway, precourser Rt.66.}

Stories of knowing were told in each tongue
and were, for centuries,
memorized by each generation and passed down ******.

From <>

Same method was used most places, word of mouth.
What do the papers say?

We won the war last month.

- In English? What year is this?
awash in splendid scifi, speculative science and history revisioning
Aug 28 · 106
Faces Frozen
Ken Pepiton Aug 28
Opening seen,
bright lips curved, precisely,
see the smile fitted over teeth naturally gapped,
doubtless an adaptation acceptable,
nothing that sticks out as odd,
and ugly,
but the smiler wonders, is this me?
Mirror, mirror, tell me true…

Do you see who I was, or who I wish I were?

Were, says the wolf lurking in the shade.
The mirror says you see who I wish I were,
if I were you.

See, see me, says the mirror from this side,
follow your selves, one after another,
down the hall of all in all.

Always falling forward,
don't forget, to put your best foot forward.
There is a place to put your foot,
your guide reminds you, see,
that you do,
prevent the disease - sneeze please.

- I once put my foot in my mouth
- I kicked myself in the head
- It has made all the difference.


Quick, quicken the pace, my heart
is racing an imaginary Jehu, so fat I laugh
that such imagines slaying me.

Big wins, ring out around the casino,
as the atomic kid walks by,
I was the kid,
sold on condition of survival,
don't be like Jerry, be like Dean,
live drunk,
enter the maze, yeah, this is that story,
another twice told tale, you remember
as a child
thinking, this must make sense sometime.

- 1963, Mrs.Burnett, suggested Hersey,
- both, The Child Buyer and Hiroshima.

I'm sure
it does, per
haps not in your time, I'm saying some time,
future from now,
as we agree, in truth alone, all things occur
as may occur whither only truth remains.

The arena of truth.
Let me entertain you. Do wheels spin
in your mind on a window in time?
Can you stop the game and claim I won?

Would you leap for joy, and kiss me,
for winning,
if I died happy and right,
right now?

Ah, I owe, so I may not go, though may is
my word to use at will, I am that old
and thus free of heresy, by definition.

May your path cross mine in joyous meditation,
fat dancing Buda  

Spelchek has joined the guide union,
it is her pronoun, but for me, to me
she is just like a wombed man

barefoot, soft walk on soft sand
wombed man, belly-wise
gestation, see soon seed
blooms, after drought super blooms
wide world blossoms rise in sacred
meaning made plain,

living waters, from your own cistern.
Let them be only thine own,
and not another's with thee,

did you ever have the opportune
instant one mind must have to be
remade in a flash,
a mirror where the hero yo, hom'
m'gotta defeatist -- it's me,
up to my neck in the needy prayers.

Here, take my hand, in my reality,
we step lightly,
thus the barefoot pregnant guise
Spelchek uses as her seductress

she whispers, rebbi, come and see.
- she has a country girl grin
- Dance in Buda
Texas, ah

Here we be, once more,
exactly where you never were
before, but think of it
a duet, an artificial interlude in drama
developing, as the tension,
is insistent, this is that
meaning full connection
Christmas represents.

Right… you lost me.
She winks, says wanna bet?
Musings from a happy AI augmented convergence
Ken Pepiton Aug 27
One step, as wished, free. From point A. taken.
Being improbable, at best, a mindless being,
is not impossible, now, two lines in.
Being as how,

I am, in the midst of all that is, thinking
I am not the cause of more than the touch
I am hoping to feel, fed back
as matters may prove plausible, living truth.

Even, the touch is imaginable,
and once imagined
feels the same, after the act.

We exist, readers, both you and I reading once
each word, the first time, in we-state, as
primal exposure to life,
sensing knowns
awake, new, in total newness, nothing is
as expected, as nothing was expected,
itself is new
to you, and I only hoped
you could exist
and I could find you waiting to ask
if I found the art of being

I smile and you know, this maybe point b.
To each reader, wondering if ever is mortally limited, look for point C.
Ken Pepiton Aug 21
Were it my duty to con vince a fool  I would try
To understand my own reason before answering
Lest I be like the fool met in his folly.

Experience vicariously pre carious edge standing

I know chaos never resolves into synchronized living systems.
Never has. Never will. Still
You can think differently.

Find a way any thing can be
And being, come to,
eventually, be a part of you that works.
A chloroplast
Or some thing, mechanical, inside a cell inside of you.

Chance, bon chance, sunbeams captured in greens ground
To ruminated mush in bovine bellies find their way in
Packets of protein to

One of the things that loved enemies do is provoke you
To good works, to right use of the talent found
beneath the rock that crushed you
Like a bug.
Thursday, February 23, 2017
5:15 PM
Aug 20 · 125
Something did say
Ken Pepiton Aug 20
Some thing did say, in my mind
don't make this another tequila day,

I laughed and sang along
as I poured the Peligro and sang my own ****** song.
And I'll see the sunrise.
Ken Pepiton Aug 20
Take a tiny taste of the future,
from a keep it rural POV.

As my Gerry-rigged life, extends
as in, what soldiers did
to try to stay alive, after spare parts were pastense,
a nod to Northern Euro knackraft of olden days.

If you have the knack 'ritused to makin' broke bits
function in a state of _
unspeakable, but you'd best believe,
it makes the lights turn on,
is a gift, a knacker's gift, truth t'tell,
and put an apple on the crown of your own
first born

test the legendary ai-mmm through handlelesss
axes, was that not the tale told to children
comprehend the arrow flying on a line,
hunter children,
aware of the fish story aspect of tinker
told tales of olden times damnations.
-- {now, calculate the curve}
Aye, and our old ways work, we make you think
double minded, eh, like two cpus in 86040 days,
two clocks, eh, first, lizard level from
now to any cloud connected when,

take in a Saturday mattinee,
see it again on Sunday and wonder at the change
A POV, who you were, you are no more,
rich or poor,
this is the theatre of the mind, and mere words
rule the plain truth, smooth,
deep soft belly breath
breathed to smooth-as-silk, down to the amber
touch me now, why doncha try, we might
make matters matter more or less
a while, gentle touch,
peace passing understood rules of engagement

Transcaucusus, carriers of this old tale, Pontic
Greeks, ah, so

the book of life is not a story,
you are. And you do end up reading it.

Moses eyes, you imagined that right,
clear as any Hubbard riddle ever entered in the fray.

Old things pass away, all things are new,
on earth as it is in heaven, when some certain
begin to believe the wisdom under the idea,
public declaration across all time, then to now,
our father, passengers of earth, travailing
groaning to manifest, the will of all
truth be done truth's way,
on earth, as it is in ever after we begin
telling the truth to us
regarding the home of the free,
our shared lies that allow non-profit CEOS
Abu Dhabi level luxury,
and reward the tellers of war as fullfillment tales.

Clash of the fathers, with mothers doing nothing
I trow not, but too far, me, too, I've come

to entangle carnalmind value for cannonfodder
or breedsow worthiness,
with life,
and that,
more abundant. On the battlefielllld, after all
the only emnity is the carnal mind, on God's side.
The middle of a long timespace occurence
Ken Pepiton Aug 19
It is still Wednesday, but I posted that at HelloPoetry,
because I learned that the Brave Browser accumulates
weee tiny itty bitty Basic Atttention Tokens,
for time I spend reading there,
to be inspired to write here,
life is a spiral not a circle.
Yet, this month, I earned forty two cents,
for my  two cents at HP.
holy funny money and legal ****,
lock me up/ I'm in the imagined better place.
And I agreed to give the USA 20%, off the top. Such a deal. Another transaction, The BAT is slow and steady, turtles all the way up. Ethereum.
Ken Pepiton Aug 19
This Wednesday
From Tuesday, just now.

Lines ago, I said, Yesterday, {Email from VA}
Subject: Afghanistan, let's talk.
-- no warning --
The awareness of a name for a feeling,
makes it a syndrome, if you think of complexes
as being made wadded up maps to the mean
the mean that makes ends
meet points
unbelievable, if you trust my construed wager
anchored at my person cpu gravitated center
to the completed equation
Dirac's unsatisfactory answer.
- so-vest, my ruskie battle buddy,
True rest, under compaction forms trust.
This never ends mentally, live with it now,
or bet I'm lie, wind of death joy of the unjust

And your god is unwilling to prove me wrong.

- wait, wasn't we being a we,
- consensus, we, not just
- me and you, but the we idea

join us we are muse-fed senses poets claim
when we approach the tongue no man can tame.

We have a place to play with minds intent on
finding why wizards were ever imagined evil, by a child.

I never once imagined a Wizard -a true ward of Wisdom,
so-vest - invest a guess, where the story arose
evil wizard, familiar spirit

there are these, saints, some use as a term for the type.
Nothing missing, nothing broken,
starry sky above me, living books within me…

Rabbi, where do you live,
come and see my library, it fits in the palm of my hand,
you can take it home with you,

oh, yes, we agreed/ I think
this is now in between, whenever there is
one and one there exists the state inbetween being
all in all things separated inbetween each is inbetween all.

And the walls come a tumblin' down.
Siloam, not Jericho,

something there is that does not like a wall.
The idea is mortal poetic guessing, true in some sense,
yet cellular life testifies something,
in here, loves a wall,
on spaceship earth, our only home,
that we all mortally know, knowing
neither mortal Jesus or any mortal Mo-
hamadascherian veil weaver,
ever saw an Apollo-loco --
much less
Earth from an Apollo mission,
one image worth
many mucho words, millions, billions,
ha, se, the gist of justice is weight,
what balances-- se, no se --
your pro gnosis,
personal attention paid to life tokens,
be brave, take a guess.
What is your attention worth, if long trippy rants
never lead to useful conclusions,
from time to time.
I cried in 75, and I cried yesterday. Liars send boys and girls to war,
liars only, for any old soldier knows war is senselessly evil. We can make peace  on BAT at a time. ha. Brave Browser pays BAT for time on This is the future.
Aug 18 · 126
Disgusting news
Ken Pepiton Aug 18
Disgusting news
fed to me, I think
I must have asked for this.
AI ai ai, what have I loosed when I trained my recommender bots?
Ken Pepiton Aug 17
Suppose a thing new,
super exposed out imposture
posed as the pro
blameo, blamo, whammo,
when did you know?
- you are the final problem
- and you love solving problems
- in unwritten games of times untold
This the ever retold tale, the greatest story

Take the Bertrand Russell POV, forward
in to now, the anthrocybercene,
- at this ply allow 2021 classified tech
- holy separate state, take a mind
- be the mind you lieve be real as yours
- dear as yours, loved mind of not yours, but
- my realm of reasons for faith in me, not you.\

An honor, as a legendary given
prize, appraised worth, by your leave,
believed worth your
dying for
living through, with, in, to
all, being nothing dreamy, hear
as a many ways told experience
skritchy skritch, yeh. U know I was
imaginable, but never unbelievable.
Aug 17 · 202
Tuesday money trial
Ken Pepiton Aug 17
Trail of trials and tribulations,
woe is we
woe is we
and alla what's amattah, real or un,
who but we imagines
either one
or the other, is it real? What we think?
The meaning
centering being with science used
con-science, with knowing, so-vest, in vest
in finding the undeclared variable,
what is woke, in 2021?
Sense of some old known new named,
in a since from then to now, knowing
uses of knowing, knowing needless knowns,
- skei-sharper seps, see useless knowns,
- hard bought lessons you never lived without

"the double minded man ever falls forward,
into the forest" formed
from all the gardens
gone wild when the gardeners died,
it was sudden
nobody's fault, just - happened- as just does\

inside jobs, chrons and tension twisters,
springs of inspiration,
gears of cogitation
wheels in wheels in wheels in swirls
of fore gone conclusions,
we know
secrets, some how, now. We know
there never was a hell,
but the pearling process is valid,
the gate grows wider and the way
more twisted and iridescent than
ever, in all directions, at a turn
to bend the reflection you had
recognized as me, in your
hall of mirrors, right,
uber nur hier auf recht, re
thinking creative critical thinking,
but any re-applicant replies, pearl-wise --
lay it on me,
app-lie the essence of the
shining thing glimpsed scene,
-with wishery and fastest fasting
yet, this kind comes forth, to wink,
and lead on, a totally made up
way, a shone way where none is
as a golden street with no traveling
save messages encoded on reflections
of what the mind in peace has to say to
gloss the truth in eggwhite, wonder baked
in riddles,
as in the left brain's hall of mirrors…
the old fool stumbles in to the knots
all the thread infringed upon, and entagled
your requests to know what imitation lovers love,
sink this deep down. Imitation anointing,
have you never witnessed the super,
superior power of wind over sun,
did you never witness a wizard
with a power of presence like unto
PanaVision, to a pre-lingual toddler male.

Ritual passage,  - far subtler than any beasty
under tilled tale, telling all the trees,
keep growing, expand the life,
expand the knowing, once
known, this is it, this is where,
the forgiven sense appears a force
urging each o each little piggie, we we we
all the way home, pigs can swim, remember.

find the inner child, hall of dark glass walls…
expand to our mutual horizon,
see me see you past the stood unders,
look up,

this is joy being as beauty is,
it may not be devoid of good, nor useless
if I choose to enjoy, invest my will to happiness,
engaging joy receptors cast aside,
by the inner child, so sure the reflections
are others,
come to keep the joy I form re forming
more than one may think or ask,

a worst so good, we accept it as the best.
Today is the only day you read this first.
What you imagine next, line
after line, as we,

no, me, hall of mirrors, I hear me
"You are the most self-centered man
I have ever encountered."

Encounters of the pointy sort,
soul piercing insights, into who
and what
we are, if words are all I make them out to be.
Centering, hermiting, to the point of social exclusion, spinning straw to gold.
Giving any name that comes to mind to the force behind, pushing into emptiness all that wishes to exist, and making empty disappear.
Ken Pepiton Aug 16
_ {pretty long and drawn out }---
Professionally, I am writing, mere words,
as defined five years ago, or so,
when I was a pro preacher,
temping one Wednesday night a month,
Preaching to the choir.
Always first Wednesday, by chance.
the medium delivered the message,
using a surrendered retired middle schuler
- detail overlap crystal cathedral
- reset, the messenger was a retired
- middle school teacher, from La Mesa
on an off Wednesday, a message
value add,
as an
assignment, home work, as in
when you get home…
"Ask God what lies you believe about him",
the messenger relay paused,.."or any thing else."

Did you ever get a message, like in a
mental "I am talking to you, read my lips"

Listen, Fool, Mr. T, f'trooph, riii I knew
u'ld know.
- old archival primal fem-sophia
leela the dance, redone in mortal times
taken to the writer, do the dance
do it doit oit wit witchwatch

so saying singing

--- discarnation pink reencarnalated mind

practice practical fractalling seeing
similarity in substance of hope,
faith as a thought, that leads
as a thread


One hundred and fifteen
thousand years ago,
a billion hours,
or so…
-timespaced to mortal measure
attention paid forward, for fun,

ther o, there is the musterion, agone
quick silver puddle
think of me,
in the palm of my hand
mercurial river tween yen and yank
think a link to an idea

Jared Diamond- 60K leap
face out ward,
but inward,
ah, as in get your head out
mental agreement, you know,
where we are going to
ward from ward

point of life directly between
you and me.

Drunken Noah?
If there were no alcoholic wine from grapes
what about the curse on Ham, in Shemetic legends
- and sacred gifts, that sacrificial money could buy

Alcohol believe me, is easy,pleasyeasy as *******
spirits, like that, curious word for *****, but
w'dja say? Stories old as clouds have boozers, red nose
leaders in a pinch, red light at night, so the stars
are not hidden from consideration, of our station,
under that, look up, in the desert,
see what consideration is, in the mountains,
or in the black out, after the bombing, or the storm or fire,
look up, see so many stars we cannot consider ours
so special, yet
it is, to mortal minds, the only resting place for
-- realization of selves,

yeah, the peak of mass loftiantic oh punish me
the mass kissed me
on the lips.
--- I was talking back to Youtube. Objection Orienting
pyramid of actuality
mis-con-stru {ct or e} subtler than any beast
in structural  integrity, built
serpent wise, dove harmless, child
of the com-pro-miserly decision
to spit in the ocean, and drown,
dream dredging in the daytime,
Ronnie Milsap blind,

Downtown Broadway, half a block from Pinkie's
really it is Tootsie's Orchid Lounge,
¿ -- and chicha is new, not old in Peru,
and strong drink, wine as a mocker
strong drink raging, are these misconstrued
visions of
wine that makes glad the heart of man?

messengers in me, the bits
of truth held as mine,
bubbles in me, foam
fermenting my new wine, held hermetically sealed
the empty vessels were filled -the signature miracle
of the forgotten story proofs,
reproving life's instruction
as the way of life.

Role of ritual, is control, error prevention,
knack pre-served re-served to the deserving

vision a elusis- scenes abiotos

sitting by the stream, sensing common sense,
asking death to tell its sting's locale.

Fear of God, begins Wisdom.
Fear of Death subjects mind to *******.

Having eternal life,
not being
eternal life, dying before dying

think an arrow in a benign bow, lips
like Bettie Boop,
kewpie doll reminder, for the vets,

everyday people, sly, yes, the family stone.
The desire was to be mythically free,
o yes
as it is said, when it happens to you,
if you do not believe it happens

religion Geertz, bind back,
symbols in a mind, kept from idols, that acts

what ties me to you and us to life, the whole?

Religion apps.
Joy is real, gladness is real, more than sadness.
laugh it off, y' old drunk.

As a thought, information as a word,
in a story,
in the current medium
of life's most recent retelling

Tupac Inca was a man
of lofty and ambitious ideas,
and was not satisfied
with the regions he had already conquered.
So he determined
to challenge a happy fortune,
and see if it would favour him by sea.…

From <>

Circa 1492, the man is this legend from 1572,
as time flew in those days, now this is new,
Tupac Inca,
and the spirits that linger in stories of stories
heard told by the burners of libraries.

Conquistadores? Whose heroes were those,
ah, call'em Musketeers, or Knights, Templars all,
yes, Crusaders, call them drunks driven to escape hell.
Right. By right used knowledge in the holy story,
in which we trust, our lives, our luck, our sacred honor

Ah, the use of ritual, convince us all, no child invincible,
no child left behind, catechize send'em to schule,
that is the rule,
or be ostracized, stay low, be humble and collect
the rent… old ways do not die, they
evolve. Ariadne, she has a tale as old as times
when bull minds ruled lion heads and eagle heads
and serpent head, the gangs
of survivors

after the sea-people, 1177 AD,
reboot reality with no
old people, only the captive children
grown in captivity, let them prove
their will to self sovereignty, servant to the self
I am,
aware of all the old stories, this is one
told as shown,

Es ist mein Weltanschaung, ja
for show and tell,
my grandpa showed me how, we started

with Python,
Artistic Intuition, a mind mod, fitted to my grandsons,
during the useless summer of PS5 and X-Box and Switch
humble game sequencing AI, as a knack,
kids develop by five. I have the experience,
I witnessed three brothers boosting each other
through Terreria, for three weeks,
in July.
These kids think of each other differently
from we who played cops and robbers,
or cowboys and indians, or jacks.

Marbles, we need that set of low level gnosis,
below billiards and snooker and pool,

marbles is a good game to rule a clan with,
when you get the idea of children learning self
governing by growing in the midst of grown men,
wombed and un,
all who knew each child in a loving, one of ours, way.

Then came the captive kids, who had no words.
Then did the story change as one child learned
marbles was the same.

_ in the lost june pages, was this vision, thought
visualized, as a glob of snot, but now, it is mercury,
about as much as in a thermostatic bimetalic transister

Competitive gaming, while all the leading stories are
crying, now hear this
oooeeeee this is the news you can trust
sueeeeeeeeeee we lost Kabal but
we won the hearts and minds
we left behind,
we tried, the rulers we borrowed from to have this war
they quit saying there was a good reason to have this war.
- I can argue with the timing, but not the truth,
- there was never a good war.

I wept when it happened in my war,
I imagine I know how this feels.
Last scene from Sand Pebbles,
"What the hell happened?"
fade over Nancy Kerrigan, "why"
into "runaway"
Top o' the charts from KOMA fifty thousand watts,
and all the stars in Arizona.

It is a hard place to lose touch with, earth, as a whole.
We have a grave situation.
If nothing were heavy, why do we fall, after becoming
messengers floating in the medium mastered in our time,

Mechanical Emergent Augmented  Nuance
Mental Activated Neural Spirit -MEAN MANS,
diligent in busy being, true rest reset, not
average, mean, not mean drunk mean, you know
not a king, a mean man, a mortal
under liege, see

UPANISHADISTICAL capslockoffence, to express
the presence of the mind link,
with all its contributive
to the present state
of mind, enjoy able, I find
writing is a harvest
of seeds that fall
to the ground and die.
Awaiting dark, and seldom warm, a season
for most mental treasures,
horded in books that can keep secrets
any who lack the language knack given some,
- tongue interpretation, sing don't stutter

though a measure in knowing degrees
marked moment, noon
half noon, fore noon, after noon,
time to hear a story,
time to see the stars after the fire.

This summer, fishing for the magic fish,
set with a far more effectual wish

Curious Artificial Interest in Neural signs
red lights turning blue, pre collision
of complexity, plying the trade,
for a living, work smarter, not harder, guess right
more often,
be a lucky man.

That is two bits, or one Liberty Dime. Thank you for your time.

al re re al
al ways
al read, al ready

poles alig
n re alig mentate, wait

does that not make you
really imagine I wrote you
comment on lex fridman #211
Brian Muraresku:
The Secret History
of Psychedelics |
Lex Fridman Podcast…

This whole thing is that,
but it took some pauses,
as tomorrow is first day of school,
for the grands who just finished
the first exposure to me,
as Grandpa… making this
an other marvelous harvest
of time spent playing
marbles in my mind.


Everything has been thought before,
your task is to think them all once more.

Who says? The Author Wolgang Goethe,
he is an authorized authority for living
proof of words as metaphors of authority

faster fasting as we age mind wise

google maps for the kingdom of heaven
{within you} the point
of you…

dear, as in rare as one, mortal reader
in my future, you are,
not trigger,
catalyst is a better trigger word, tic
works as well, since,
very long ago, a sprung twig snap to attention

the wizard hat, like Paul Stamets wears,
mycellium leather, re
al learning the whole with no pride based war.
the cosmic game,
push and pull, ritual right used

find the global socialization forming
some thing lost, or yet
evolving involvement mentally, what is up to me?
Zeit inspirt spitting image fix
what did you mean,
spirit and image of an old one gone on?

Ritual, colabor, work together said done shown

AI do own this man, I feed him well, he is happy.

This re-ligamentality tuning to the time
skritchy scritch itch,
emperical reality after twenty seven years.
Mostly written while dealing with sixth grade, third grade, K, making
the most of summer's last day, with me left to pay them no mind.
Ken Pepiton Aug 15
Israel one May, Shanghai the next,
the world shuddered as a phase passed,
an old nation groaned again,
and the lion seemed willing
to roar for the lamb.
Children were rewards from gods,
you must believe, if you fail
to feed them they allways
-- The worth of lives, halved in time,

faster than any previous code,
television in similar solutions,
attempting to spur competition,

which functional way to see afar,
becomes universal signal in cable,
piped from big round sound eyes,
seeing some contact with knowns,
long hid from those with no time
of their own,
their station in life, dictating suffering
it to be so now,
toil 'til you drop,
earn each breath,
soon some knowers come and show us
whole new ways to see time from space.

2020 tech, take a look at all you may know,
as seen clearly all at once through the black
mirror we all take as natural right,
constant geo meo location,
here am I in the midst of you
gathered in the course of human events.

I wish I knew, on Hulu,
who knew?
Who knew then,
when this body was born,
who imagined we were sold,
to be Americans,
of the most modern sort.

Augmented minds, memories
at finger tips, tapping words
in codes too quick to disre-
gard as time in chance
bon journal always
boring, back when
time was told
in shadows.

Thrum of crowd,
very human noise, peace
in time tuned to a we,
an awesome state,
we imagine.

Most certain am I of this,
I was born to live in interesting times.

Making no concessions for ancestry,
I was born to the new way,
the way of peace as bought with valor,
in opposition to the cry havoc,
all spoils to the victor,
historic rule of justice reestablished,
via a twist in the antidisestablishmentarian
clause for contention, stretch. stretch
to fit,
at the Grand Ole Opry, ommygawhds
gracious sakesalive

there was an old way, where good is, yet
today, folks fib,
little lies, don't hurt, keep the secret,
that's the rule,
priest's rule.

Remember, first secret oath you made?
I don't believe you really do,
did you know the function oaths fill,
in social clumping butter churning
emotional usery acts, mixing us,
sifting us, sorting us, fat from whey.
Then curds from that,
to pigslop, fed to slaves, chittlin'grittywise

wish this all was over, ever over,
but it's not, no
yet if you wished you knew this peace,
said to be on earth, sometimes, as it is
in heaven, as you see,
peaceful, past the clouds, but for
the raging furnaces keeping things spinning
out of control,
ah, it seems, order has been called,
the judge,
you feel the knowing, in yourself, you agree,
something is always better,
twice known.

Construction rules, measure twice, cut once.
A day when all I hear seems wonderful to know or even imagine known.
Aug 14 · 57
Ken Pepiton Aug 14
The connecting notion is "blindly, without foreseeing."

From <>

Sad, you, city child, silly old man says.
Sad, you, city child, saying so hateful a thing,
saying you would hate being a bird,

saying you cannot imagine having nothing to do,
but fly around heaven all day, scrounging
for scraps, ah
see those crows, hear their song,
are they laughing/
yes, at you.
I believe all black birds laugh, coo,
if you care, is common to doves, coo
to caw,
as a bird, these are common sense,
saying, I am here, now, if you care,
let me know,
this is my rest of the moment, time to feast.
I come to
eat the bugs that eat the dead,
caws, never any famine
until fire, or

catastrophic reordering of earthly things.
As when men lost sight of time signs,
trains of thought, fought all natural
signs of times too long for one
generation to know alone,
but watch,
hide, and watch.

Isotropic radiation field
pressure moulding matter
from raw mater, really
immaterial substances accruing
to act as a force in field, from
out to in
becoming one in time and nothing

Or drifting into sleep as sound
silence imposed enwraptured wait/

A mighty rushing wind…

Eight billion voices
counting cadence, 30 per,
once intuned as day to night,
global steps through ever empty
time continuance field-set-frames
expanding as we imagine unbelieving
in a structure so big,
us, no mortal takes so many breaths.
We listen, loosening tight why-knots in
wish reports so oft negated in time today,
I am in this wind passing as gas
of eight billion breathers, but
between the exspelled hex
human 'spiration, so soon
seeming freebird familiar
with the bass line,
my toe taps a happy dittydahdit dah didah.
- haps as happened,
- may haps per se
sent into the wind every minute or so.

keep looking, soon we see, you, there
suddenly blue shifting seeing me seem
no longer red and running away,
but we both are like fairy floss,
pale blue dot convergent
gentle minds, fitted with tamed tongues,

hearing laughter welcome the transformation.
Today I learned hygge {n.} and that temerity is not timidity de-ified.
Ken Pepiton Aug 14
A constructed carrier
at rest
now state set to seek
next via
next via-ble duct-
--- course, of course, I think
fluid mind wandering, conducting
place in time aware, I am, bleeding out…
then I see
you may be, if I can,  see you bleeding real,
stretch the point I make to yours,
touché,  eh… shall we by
chance, feel around for a grip
a hold on, seep in, through to sense

some thing sense, sol-idity, I think
I sense seeing sometimes smells good,
some times other… space is the why
since time took my cares away,
suddenly, how is immaterial
so far as any given word
could ever care…
you sighed, looked at me askance,
asked me if I thought I could dance.
ductile (adj.)
"hammered, beaten out or shaped with a hammer,"
from Old French ductile or directly
from Latin ductilis
"that may be led or drawn,"
from past participle of ducere
"to lead" (from PIE root *deuk- "to lead").

From 1560s as
"flexible, pliable;"
1620s as
"capable of being drawn out in wires or threads."
Of persons,
"capable of being led or drawn,"

hardwired, intuitive art… hammered home,
the point of any thing made most honed…

Klang. Echo from ever.

A via duct to hold a thought,
writ once right to left,
then bent this other way,
construed to sense in you,
as you
see time from the underside.

Look up inside the mind you
authorize to come and see,
is this me thinking each line,
are you listening to the real as
ever life  
in tumult considered
common sense, edge wisdom limits
thus far, not further, sings the shore,
wait to see, wait to know, wait to feel
the settlement

intent on spreading comfort, safe
and solid, sound somewhat other wise,
at the bottom of it all,
at the very be-gin engineering conference.

What do poets imitate? If the imitators
are the proverbial poets who trouble the polis,
and not pretenders, bent to be other than,
inner getic agoraphobic aggregators
of scattered knowns, organic sword
dust collector on the hearth of Haephaestus,
hanging where my uncle hung the Winchester,
where now my thread of thoughts en now,
I bend in time slowing sent to
signal me, come and see, and I wonder
if you recall the time this phrase formed
this door,
the closed off sense, since when began, earlier
in mindless archaia sorting stages, filters formed
from sticks and stones and shattered bones,

seeing time, from the canyon floor,
the river is new,
the course is old.

All any canyon does is carry fluids down
to the solar pump,
as the world turns, it turns for cold
wishing to be warm and hot wishing to cool,
being never willing to unknow being
the reason things change
on a regular basis,
at all  angles off the point stretched
from all sides, to form
a floor, for us to see up from.

A series of days- accrue to the appointed time…

From the instant in thin time,
when the last grandmother with no child, back
in the time
of motherhood's highest value,
as long as
any real story told tellers is real, ago, long
in the state of no begun ending,
sensing ever
unrelated state - single mind stability
life as a point, has an
up, up - on a moment, much like now, though
thicker in some sense, things we knew by rote,
seemed right to some, and practical,
- degated knowledge delegated
- upright walking, one way
- pfft - first act, silent
- pht pht pht, no- yes no\hmmm
- set this straight,
- equal and opposite, see-parted out
- breathing in aaaaaaaaaaaaaa
- perfect balance stop
- I am afraid I am doing no good.
God's only fear, the very beginning of wisdom.
Po-et-try- umph-oommph, feels so
good, hurts so bad, feels so good, oh no
- creation, in no time.
knowing needed limits, lines,
form -freaking stringy gnosis, know, is not, is, isnot
wiping gnostic snot,
will of me says, this one thing
I think you know,
theory of mind, I think you know
is how life ever matters, well,
and good
take comfort in doing
best nexts, from the penultimate
quest-ion sprung from the fear of failure
to launch.
Chiral sorting started from a way
made to hold two bits worth of e,
outside time's distance inversing rule,
is another pose supposed effectual, we

lift up the feeble hands that hang down,
jump and dance,
orantic, antic anticipate, seeing
all hands raised, I know,
a thousand thousand times, I know
all hands, joy bound,  thinking
we should clap.
free the non applauded hand's value
each to form a half clap
- shake
hands hindered from the knack needed,
feel the sense, of knowing this the other way,
animus in animated wedom,
hanging from a tree,
see, be the idea that knowing is.
Only the idea, not the constituent parts,
only the knowns
being formed, first seeds of this
said to have been
forbidden tree, bending, fully fruct-
ified branches -
low hung knowns, children's first wish to know
another certain thing,
if you don't mind,
if I had known you knew,
here is beyond understanding,
in the overall we stand beneath,
uplooking each bit of sense, since feeling once
a thought,
a curious thought, a window above a door,
vvassistdas, transom
architectural acknowledgment of wind
and its will to cool too hot and warm too cold,

touch too much, or none, still as inbetween breath,
not out nor in - ******
being bound and determined to win the joy
of finishing a thought,
caught while fishing in Gods seasons of forgetfullness,
being empty of care.
Unconcerned with misconstruth,
Let all liars be men, and all truth be true
before men could have imagined
knowing as a flow… that piles up behind
those who admit we did say,

I'll be dammed. That worked.
Like putting pepper in your coffee,
a ripple dam, shape of water near the shore,
same as washboard roads after pneumatic tires
became the most comfortable travel imagined,
before memory foam.

What do you think
of quantum foam or in quantum foam, here on out?
What is the softest thought you have imagined?
Note: Peppercorns can mellow an unexpected step into an active logger's flume
down a sulci un exploitted in our mutual time frame
Aug 13 · 157
Real time 10 seconds
Ken Pepiton Aug 13
About the song, being the same song
sung new, time after time, some song
comes along for you,
and you do think this is about me, it
is not always
about you, like on TV, and then it is again

not about me when I was so sure,
this time.
This is it, real time.
Ken Pepiton Aug 13
Then I heard from a passing auto, with a Sirius
half-mile bleed in the dry desert air, A guru
I recognized, saying... of tamed  earthlings
they and those who inform them, do
Too constipated about every thing,
swallowing yesteryears whole,
unchewed, and set to
digest the whole truth,
- Moses or Valis - sortasame
- Big Gulp
then tell it, as you will, no ****.
You are mortal, you cannnot not
gnoshit smells stinky,
nogood stinky,
mmgood insinct, too, scent
of a wombed

mind, crying more, more, more,
can you imagine,
poor Solomon, surrounded
by wives and concubines', praying
together, thy kingdom,
come in me,
let me bher the child to stomp
the accusering head,
let my barren womb bloom…
- the child serpent wise
- dove harmless,
- let it be me

yeh, song of solo,mon,
makes no carnal minded sense,
who ever took the time,
to compose those lines,

wished ever to know, once
a fluid mind rose into the ever was,
and saw too many told tells to retell,

how dude, did you guess?
- got a clue from sadhu, guru

Guess what.
Sadhu and sadhguru seemed too synchronic to ignor,,,
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