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Ken Pepiton Sep 2020
Aware, as I am a ware,
not all minds find time to rest
while being read to,
while holding power to pause the reader and

look up a fact the reader mentions as being known
to all, but
me, I did not know, for

until some, not so long ago, time, agone away
holdon- until now,

I lacked the leisure to listen, no time,
for I was busy learning to
use the next necessary
technology, with glee,
to some geekish degree.
..-. - .-

Find The Answer
that is the message first heard, is it not?
Do you know what must come next?

Hell, yes. Yes, I know. We know, say every baby
*******, being
shaped in secret by wizards who do peep,
and ping, one thing to another,

IOT FTA we are here.

Is the evil fruit parasitic? We may find the answer,
if, ifity, see this ifity we imagine there
is
an answer to find, and we live in times like none
ever, up to now.
We have answers to quests, maps, keys in riddles,
laws in minds mastered in disciples of once
known occurrences
while crossing the ocean of current opinion.

- minded to put her away
- brrring the meter to the poem o leave
- me ****** imp
- I've lived this the long way, one day at a time
- rimes at the rim of ality re all lies in me,
- fall through the null net
- true/false, re/no/si
¿ No se?

Symbols only readers see.
Magi once prepared the spells with images
of things called common,
Bullhead was somehow alpha…

at this point silence, and the  sixty cycle humms of my home
step up as chorus,
while the narrator makes changes to the scene.

This is 2020, whenever you are. Our quests have become
ionic, after r poets got the point
and pierced the code of common sense, y'feel me?

Méiyǒu huǎngyán?

2020, like as not a lot closer to Babel than Eve,
on the angelic one way spiral of properly teleo-mered
DNA.

Mere, as a word, is a map and a clue in my realm.
****** is as well, truth be told,
sayings and figures of speech get old, apoptosis ceases to
pop.
Like bubble wrap.

Listen. We are served by art, or we are the artificer
serving you art.
We, as a we, not me'n'you and the others, but we,
the people who hold certain truths
self-evidently, as in
evidently, we have the power to be true to our own selves.

But our owned-ed-ed-u-cated self, owes its soul to the
companion store, for we all must ever eat the same
bread brot pan pita our parents ait,

just outside the garden,
near gobekli tepi, maybe, worth a look,
but later, if anybody knows, AI knows already.

I can wait, let's get through today. whats the selah code
for today lets keep on this No Lie theme, in Chineze


Méiyǒu huǎngyán

Did I wish or pray or merely hope

some good
could come from me
discerning, filtering rocks from beans at an

early
age, life is always living

memes are living memories of
things others
learned.
shucking corn and finding worms, but not
evil canker worms that ate every thing,
just the kind that chickens like
for treats on shuckin' days
in the olden days.

Today. 2020 tech, ancient mental time travel
app approaching
act if ative ity ooomph ala

we good


Méiyǒu huǎngyán

The song was One Day at a Time, Sweet Jesus,
That's All I'm Asking From You.

Careful what you ask for,
as we commonly hear conservative mouths mutter,
by rote,
sleep-learned response to faith preparing to leap.

Giant steps feel just like falling, but yes,
you may,
if mother nature were asked, she would have said.

There is always a  place to put your foot, says the
spritely reminder from Sycamore Canyon,
running rock to rock, in the spring.

One Day, today, I was thinking I have all the time
in the world.
I can say that and believe I am not lying, for
reason,

reason is tricky stuff, like sweaty dynamite, in
the hands of kids with hammers intending
to nail freedom to the mofa wall.

Everything looks like a nail.

Ages of reason have gone chaotic,
due to war being given reason by law and
law given credence by users of wisdom, trying
to gain authority by authoring peace
where no peace appeared possible.

Hmmmm, sixty cycles 2020 constancy, in America,
aha,
how appropriational can one app be, y'azme, mine's as
appropriate as any,

point to point conversion, all things being equal,
push comes to pull, not destroy,
idiot. id thing, idea, jot
tittle
tattle tale
child, old gaseous entity stinking in memorable words.

Incensed, he cried, I am the prayers of all the saints,
ohsit I think
ang or watt

hat'gosh-roted - my word, have aw e- unrolled a whole new
dimension.

-- message for today, when you read this it is written,
that is all… empty of meaning until filled by your reading,
really… no bad mocuss curse of doubt…

we emerge into life in living vessels, empty save the
basic ideas an ant has, avoid discomfort by seeking comfort,
time is not a factor, but luck seems to be,
then screaming and kicking
seems to work,
work, that’s a concept… work it out, why

why,
grunt, why, ahh, that

fertilizer, I am here to convert raw living matter constituents
into some substance needed by mother,
her,
she who feeds me, she who has a name, mmmm ahhh,
it will come to me
this knack I notice used
noises that calm and comfort. oh good com encompass me
swallow me whole,

I have all the time in the world - this is twentytwenty the year
and I am in one of those days.
Sad, for an enjoyable art effect kanji characters can't be displayed or saved here. I am enjoying the thinking needed to print them with a mush-point bamboo flair pen, as a child, as an old man I have AI

— The End —