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Being Ready Makes Patience Pay

Here before me

is my attention being,

my attention is being

paid, I am who is paying,

 

I am pushing myself to think

using tools adapted to slow a mind

 

determined from some long ago get go

schema pattern form in long ago gotten

information distributing letters let go be

t-

goods and services, unsellable, never sold,

as when we went about winning souls, we bet

 

our very lives that all our active words would be

usable to escape sacred wisdom hierarchies, evil

live wires shorted out under a gnoshit-ton ice load,

 

weather works whether we wished or prayed or not

 

too cool for school, old dudes, on that, Gene Vincent

first wave post Korea popped culture, rythmn 'n' blues

 

aside from me, tell the folks, how I remember Gene Vincent

and Sgt. John Whykill and the Kaffen kid, on clarinet,

 

clarifying if I ever was saved, or not… same idea

 

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

We' re be we all ever so many as now,

U know, we never really thought about it,

 

now, some days, we do, think a while, for nothin'

 

just be that kinda guy, high and lonesome, old school

monk in a cell fasting from forgetting remembering

 

joining fluids pounded on old solid anchors, amens

too true, we did expound freely we received, amen

 

so seems written, as it happened to be, so it was

 

musical memories from brittle 78's the greats,

and the great pretenders, we all could play the roles

 

certain souls who won parts

in my after life, include

some loser small town girls,

all a lot like standard model

 

fifties mom got pregnant to win her catch, her match

was struck, got pregnant at fifteen, her catch, never

to live like we did in Wikiup in the Forties, not again

 

that girl, she never wanted no baby, she wanted out-

never

 

wanted things

to be this way, but baby, I'm broke,

and I break things, if I lie, and say I never meant to

 

take what was not given, fair and square, I paid and

felt I did my best, for no good reason, just feels good,

 

to do it darkly almost as if, there remains some good

 

in life's generally commonly sensed mysteries of good

begotten by chance, fitting the genre to the t crossed

dotted eyes, chance focusing general intelligence at us.

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Written by
kenpepiton
77 / M / Pine Valley CA
Published
Jan 23
Lines·Words
50·389
Notes

No, it was just a title for the price of the patience I used myself, while waiting to relate to all my chance met ghosts in ever after once, where it all started over, from scratch, same old song, we said we'd sing in ever for once

Tags
#once#again#ever#after#right#now
Permission

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