Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2022
Here, the coffee got cold again. But
so what
not every thing is historic, until it is, or isn't.

Literature in the clouds, data last stop, the top.
This is where traffic exchanges reason with war
for power to mine bit coins
burning desires to know, whence come these winds?

Time ghosts, ancient ideas, these symbols, most of these,
were lies,
Uncle Mike, he had a cadre of couples,
something of a cult, a marriage class that spake of oral ***,
tre' taboo too hint at,
when he was your age, and had not watched TV - no, addicted,
rub it in old man, Huey Newton, meet Jimmy Dean, the sausage
version, dressed al el viz fi'itin' t' fly,

past reasons to pretend, earth is not where, all ya'll who did,
prayed the father of Jesus, who claimed mary's baby

would hel p you sell a house in any market, St Joseph,
from any manger scene, bury him, upside down,
head first, right. Do that, you get your asking price,
any peaceful place,
you make worth more than most imagine,

--- yeah, you were Catholic. You heard that.
I thought the guy was the crazy uncles kid,
we had kids like that, special ed, DIY.
Faith in relatives met at funerals
Ken Pepiton
Written by
Ken Pepiton  76/M/Pine Valley CA
(76/M/Pine Valley CA)   
338
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems