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Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Taken, gotten, or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything…

slow
Slow think,
make real

re-al-ize
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
try,
it is not a test.

Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
outa you,
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
this. LOUD?
listen,
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?

or the light brigade,
CHARGE?

thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,

Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait.
Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.

Know why? They forgot it. In the war.

Duck'n'cover,no
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?

Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
enough pre-sure-sup
poser-power

War, as a game, has a reason.

Battle, hitting, slapping

stop touch, stop now slap
slap back

or cry
oh no no ma

waddayahsay?  A theist or atheist
who started this war?

space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Wiles's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1

Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth

1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me

ABC to
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he

inadvertently, began
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
meme,
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
Radioman,
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days

There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
a new,
as new as

a novel-state of water, H three Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…

like a poem

at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,

but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,

is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
agency,
that idea….
wait for the sign….?

By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.

Press your point,

whetted edge,

slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
in participles
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
unbranded, wild
bucking ideas,
whip-twig, slap-face,
tanglewood  thicket, catclaw and mesquite,
willow,

wait.
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.

A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.

-- and that was a different time
I got lost here, bucked up…
maybe
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
we ain't marchin', as t' war.

D'thet mean some sign to pro-phet -ic take?
Tophet?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
a moaning
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
knowing exactly
what a war is for?

Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.

Nullify
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared hell.

Loose
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,

shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.

But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.

An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying

powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
triggers,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,

his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
which un
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
idle ideas,
rites of passage, as it were,
Pre-bat-bar-mitz vah
as a fashion
like VBS,

to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
mea culpa,

the holy place
Here we are…

On Vacation, leave a message.
-----

See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need

to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that

don't scratch, listen

listen

60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
soft, deeep.
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,

one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...

can you feel that?

hummmms, all around us, since the womb.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,

We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.

We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
possessing
minds of Adamkind,

is that a secret or a sacred?
Is this
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?

Ah,
novelty.

Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?

Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,

haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
I saw
shiny. Crow-like,
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...

haps happen, I'm not sure how,

Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?

Reserve judgment.
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.

Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way,  'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh

someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son

Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed

hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,

but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund  
mound

wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones

begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock

We made it.
I know where this is.

This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,

Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.

How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?

"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.

You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,

pull-tight,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.

Get back on,

see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
spirit wind
sign
?
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?

Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait

Pay attention, watch, you shall see

imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream

in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner

the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was

Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots

dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?

Did that happen the real real?

-----
Battlefield Earth, oshit
scientology ology ology ology

allaye allaye outs in free

WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we

We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,

Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.

Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.

We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.

Shall we imagine

more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)

or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.
A continuing examination of opposing forces when good is the goal, who could be against that? The old word war is festering, inflaming evil to start a try, therefore,  I whet the edge and swing wide
Gigi Tiji Oct 2015
Oh cute little thing
I like your contour

you look pretty funny when you're cold
you get these lovely wrinkles
especially in the middle region
nearly dendritic
more like the cracks in the earth

and your satchel breathes on its own
like a brain if it had lungs for itself
but more like an amoebic celestial body squirming around in some primordial goop
I think that's pretty cool

you're a pink and brown mushroom emerging from a forest of black wiry moss

concentrated around you and
all growing in your direction

almost lifting you up and out
and then further away fading

the way the water gets clearer
above a sand bar

and then a great convergence
a crashing of two great waves
against each other

forming a wall of spindly tendrils
before the whirlpool
Francie Lynch Jan 2015
(Warning: This poem has been de-activated on another site. You must be 18 yrs. old to read this; although we were only 15 then)

Way back then,
When we were
Post-pubescent
Boys,
We sat in a circle,
Not a **** ring,
And rhymed our things
Like this:

You make my **** rock;      
You make my thing sing;      
You make my **** stink;      
You make my log throb;        
You make my stick thick;      
You make my chub rub;
You make my ******* long;  
You make my stump jump;  
You make my pole roll;        
You make my wiener leaner;
You make my bone moan;    
You make my man stand;      
You make my limp primp;    
You make my rod applaud;
You make my spear smear;    
You make my peter sweeter;  
You make my one eye cry.

And all in unison:

You make my *******.*

We'd continue with our lines,
Til the case was as empty
As our rhymes.
Them there days of simple joys,
Post pubescent
Boys with  toys.
Send me a few and I'll add them. Could be a rap song by the time we're finished... and more meaningful. :o :)
Robin Carretti Dec 2016
He's singing
Bergdorf Blonde
Conde Nast Traveller
Rude or ****
Explode Bombshells.
He's singing I'm getting
married
Such a Pushover puppet?

Slave over the silken magnet
Oh so swift and swell let
the show begins

Those ritual love sin's
Miss Polly String smile say cheese
He's the Maneater enticing grins
His Trump Tower bell?
Oh! Hello Poetry
People like twin packing
Playgirl smooching
her lips pillow talk

The puppet stalk
their suitcases, but surprisingly
she falls down and trips
Play up your string's
Love act of rings
Her killer lace went into his face.
They all had a puppet inside.

A daredevil ride
Nowhere to hide
Las Vegas Nevada,
Like no other place.
She was in her prime
Diva,
Donna so Dollie, he had
a craving bank her they all
had to thank him
The foursome the Follie's
Do him
Torn to be so trendy
Such a spendy

Walmart of walnuts
Two amazing dollies
She's the magazine of
Italian Fendi.
Pulling her hair more flair
The whole shebang cashew's
Pushed by his split so
picky pecans.
How it went to her
Big little liar nephew's.
Like puppet curfews
  Hello, Poetry New.
The white wedding blue's
Magnifying big lip's.
He needed a Holly-doll
The next clue?
Silk strings taped up
That puppet took a mighty
long trip...

Did I say plastic puppet is real porcelain skin faces?

Playgirl's cries needed
a dominating diet
Hefner smoking jacket suit

What a demonstration,
pulling on hemming mini
skirt trims chances
dangerously slim
So condemning
caused a riot.
The other crowd what
Oscar Meyer Wiener.
Going to the Vet doggie collar he
was tied to be fit silk suit
Las Vegas show trainers.
Who got caught with the puppet
Honey tricked peanut butter playgirl
Puppet show went all hobbit
over "Twitter" mixed whirl
        
What a nut sometimes you feel
like a nut
sometimes you won't and she
knows you don't

The rest going to H---.
Must I B dreaming?

He's singing I'm your puppet man,
Elephant nose cleaned out the planter's
Such a big spender and tipper.
Brooklyn his name Lucas @ the circus!

Like a physic knows your inner thoughts,
hanging on a string.
Everything that comes out of his mouth is two!

I have a puppet surfing the internet
wrapped her around
Felt an undercurrent_ it was
like pieces of glass
soundproof,
his crafty fingers.

Is he doing the best he can?

He's pulling her madly
Puppet computer search
Penny the dreadful
He expects us to jump when
he's oversexed active
looking for his puppet chair,
in the back.
A ****-day puppet!
He's the pig face twilight zone
muppet's
Well doing the can-can two
Playgirl's
hit the fan
The puppets became
the Gentleman

  Playgirl's shuffling "Rose" deck
   Hollywood screen bedding
    Puppets skillful  making

        The Poem Day.
         Puppets pray
         String cheese display

Obsessed stories Puppets.

Playgirl's color gypsy Rose Leah  
Miss Natalie from the woods preach
Silken Marionette.  
So wrapped like someone's gift
But used thrifty bed
He's in his red-hot Corvette.
Instead of roses, his thing french brie
Stock market up and away tie
I rather have my pasta bow-ties
Swiss, the air she's the playgirl
  Swiss Alp's skiing
he ripped his pant's Swiss Alps hole.
Marilyn Monroe playgirl presidential
dancing on the Christmas pole
Love tropic Pineapple dole
  The bed red hot Corvette. console

Instead of roses, his thing was cheese.
"So Swiss" with holes of lace my face
I hate to burst your cheese,
He dragged his shirt open

Twice the fun playgirl she eloped
I became his string cheese pet!!
I'm not your string cheese.
Hello Godzilla, puppet collection
Bella bella Genie mozzarella

"Puppet overpriced sales
All your friends are a puppet male.
Make a wish blowfish

In all the year how I tracked men's nuts,
she had to string together nut job's,
eat a string cheese.
Polly didn't want animal crackers,
Groucho became like a ******.

The puppet master showing
his game piece
and pull on someone else's
This is kinda playful and with quite strings of an edge
Tdragon  Mar 2013
Sheepy Nights
Tdragon Mar 2013
He found himself with painted walls, fish tanks, and a wiener dog.  A place to sleep, a place to eat, a fine couch to rest his feet.  A barbecue that was sturdy and new, a fridge of craft beer the finest of brew.  But aside all the comforts and things on the walls the one thing that was most comforting of all, was a little blonde who would follow him around, who turned him right-side up when he was upside down.  A girl who was worried about only him; and tried everything to set him free.  Free of a troubled mind that could not find the time for anyone but him.  No matter her struggle, her talks, or her love, he would not cave to all the above.  It came to the point where she had to go, she'd lost the person she loved the most. She left in a blink with her head in the fog, taking the pictures, fish tanks, and the wiener dog.  The girl that knew him oh so well could not save him from an imprisoned hell.  The self-inflected wound that would not mend; but conform as the standard of life he led.  A blank canvas is all that he knew, no pictures on the walls, no new barbecue.  No more snoring at night or meeting for fun, this fairy tale was finally done.  It passed so fast and looking back was it worth it for where he's at? Is this the place where he should be?  Two job's, school, and a shattered dream. She was his love, his hope, his home, and now it's just him all alone.
Trevor Gates Apr 2013
V.


Ticket please?

Ah yes good

You're right on time

Please, through the double doors

Now for the main event.



A boy in his bed was sleeping
he slept throughout the night.

Until the door to his closet crumbled like ash
Exposing the pitch black darkness of his fears

He wished

He prayed
For more than anything for it to not happen again.

This happened too often
And he wanted it to stop

But it wouldn't

The stuff toys on his shelf gaped their mouths open in terror as saliva dripped from the ceiling

The walls inhaled
then exhaled

A woman moaned from the depths of the closet

The boy wouldn't look

He couldn't

The air in the room fell hot and humid

Arms with massive hands crawled from underneath his bed
Trying to take the boy away.

He struggled to fight them off until a loud noise was heard in the closet
The assaulting hands stopped and retreated

From they darkened closet emerged a man covered in black oil.

He walked out

He had no eyes

No hair

No ears

He walked up to the boy

He grabbed the boy and dragged him through the closet
The boy was scared

He didn't want to go

He was forced

In the darkness he felt the return of the hands

They touched him

All over

He didn't want them too
But they did

The boy cried and screamed
But the hands covered his mouth

The boy's mind retreated to a place of relief and comfort.
He laid on a wide grassy meadow atop of rolling hills

His lovely, caring mother laid next to him
It was the way he remembered her before she passed.

She laid next to him

His favorite teddy bear, Johann nestled between them

The valley below sang to them the echoed phrases of Schubert's Ave Maria
Played on the mother's record player

The twilight of the scene eased the boy.

But the nightmares would return

The snakes and spiders
The worms and roaches

The clown with three faces: laughing, crying, screaming
Unison

The boy recalled all of this, all of these terrors
in the midst of adulthood

Where the boy becomes a man

The nights are the same
But
Even more
Nefarious
And ominous

The halls of his mind stretch to ceiling-less masses.

Portraits of noir faces looking into his dark, encircled eyes
Blood oozing from underneath the frames

The eight foot tall man in a body suite of leather with no face
The woman crawling on the ground with eight legs and
Hands where her eyes should be

The pile of decapitated dolls rapidly performing an **** of devilish coitus
The limb less girl with maggots crawling out of her exposed ***.  

The sleepless nights
The screaming nights
The tears shed
The blood drawn

The boy that became a man
But
A man who is still a boy
From his deepest fears
The boy that was touched and taken
The man that was touched and brought back
The evil that was endured
The evil that was served

No song is sung
No music is played
No painting is painted
No paradise is found

Lost is he and so are you
Less so than him
But more free are you
Than the boy
Who claims to be a man

The man who was once a boy
For all men were once boys  
All plants were once seeds

All death was once life

All that were forgotten
Say be remembered

Here

There

Then

Now.


Thank you.
Please dispose of your 3D glasses in the bins outside.  We'd like to take this opportunity to personally thank all who made this possible:  Masks, ether, cough syrup, Chuck Palahniuk, The Koran, the Iliad, Virgil, Freud, Dante, John Milton, Stephen King, Mp3 players, chain stud belts, eye liner, food stamps, Russian women, electronic cigarettes,  Uncle Tom's Cabin, Wolverine, wiener dogs, Anthony Hopkins, Roger Waters, Emma Stone, Olive oil and all that I should mention but won't (they know why).
This is a free-form writing exercise. Comment if, aroused, annoyed, disturbed, offended, *****, inspired, discouraged, enticed, flattered, impressed, depressed or simply curious
pat  Aug 2014
robin eye
pat Aug 2014
toaster strudel makes me doodle
eggo waffles feed my poodle
sriracha  hot sauce makes my gut toss
taco salad tastes like farts.
smarty thinkers with big wieners
clear the way for bathroom cleaners
dangerous pokemon in the sky
teach me things like how to fly
supple ******* against my chest
your ****** is hard and so are the rest
eat this pear
munch with care
put those shorts on
watch me stare
take a bath in tasty grease  
my wiener is small to say the least
now let's race inside this tub
we'll see who get's out first
should we get out?
at least 50% credit goes to my friend Rob who helped my write this.
Randy Johnson Mar 2019
It pains me to say that my ***** is only half an inch long.
It's extremely embarrassing because I have a tiny *******.
I never use urinals while out in public, I only use stalls.
I can not let other men know that my ***** is so small.

I got so mad at my ex-wife that I wanted to beat her.
She was going to tell my friends and co-workers about my tiny peter.
I said if she exposed me, I'd expose her baldness and that she wears a wig.
My ex-wife had our marriage annulled because my wiener isn't very big.

Women say that ***** size isn't important to them but it's more important than they admit.
A blind date started making fun of my tiny wiener so I started making fun of her tiny ****.
When it comes to being successful with women, I don't have a chance.
If you have a small ****, don't let anybody see it, keep it in your pants.
L Smida Dec 2012
If I were a guy
Would it make life easier?
I often wonder..
More people would accept me
That's for sure
Because I wouldn't be a sin in people's eyes
I'd be able to flirt with any girl
Not just the gay ones
Because girls date guys
That's the normal thing as the majority goes
I could wear my baggy jeans
And cut off all my hair
And no one would stare at me
It would be normal
I would be normal
I'd fit in
If I were a guy
I wouldn't have to worry about the things I worry about now
I could get married
And have kids
I could just relax
More opportunities would open up
If I were a guy
All the stupid ******* would disappear
No more whispers going by
"Was that a boy or girl?"
And all I can think is
"***.. I'm human. Does my gender really matter that much to you?"
And why?!
Why should it even matter
You should treat me the same regardless
I'm a good person
Just because I'm a girl that dates girls
Doesn't mean you have the right to get up all in my business
So my heads ****** up
Deal with it
Just be glad it isn't happening to you
I mean,
Don't get me wrong
I'm proud to be gay
But some times it's hard
Like when ignorant people say we cant get married because we're the same ***
Now that bothers me
It doesn't make sense whatsoever
Love is love
That's the simple part
Why the hell are there even laws about the same *** not being able to get married in the first place
What's that have to do with anything
Who cares?
Like why is it a big deal
I've never figured it out
The government has much much more important things to do
Why do they waste their time making rules about what gays can and can't do?
People say God is the reason
But **** that
You go and cuss up storms
And say that God is the reason gays can't get married
You go and judge the **** out of every person that walks by
And you say that God is the reason gays can't get married
You go and cheat on your wives or husbands
And say God is the reason gays can't get married
You go and drink till you puke and get angry and beat on people
And you say God is the reason gays can't get married
You go and make all these mistakes
And you say God is the reason gays can't get married.
Like if you're gonna stick with God about that then stick with him for everything else
Don't be a **** and a hypocrite
Seriously, quit making up excuses
Let people live and quit worrying about everyone else
Because honestly you should be more worried about yourself
Anyways...
Who doesn't find girls attractive?
Come on
In all honesty
I don't want to be a guy though
Because that would be contradicting
It might make life easier
But it only leaves me wondering
How different it would be
Better or worse?
My head would probably still be ****** up
And I don't like wieners
And if I had a wiener
I'm not sure how I would feel about it
I'd probably want to have surgery to be a girl
So in all actuality
I don't really have a gender
I don't like being a girl
And I don't want to be a guy
What else is there
God probably didn't know what to make me
So he just went eeny meeny miny moe
And girl is what happened
You should see the differences in how people treat me
I've tested it
I'll dress girly one day
With make up on
And go walk around the mall
Smiling faces look but don't stare
People are nice to me
Polite
They say thanks and excuse me
People open doors for me
Or hold them open for me
But heaven for bid
Someone open a door for me when I have baggy jeans and a hoodie on
All hell would break loose
People don't smile at me
People stare with confused eyes
You can't see my cleavage so you're going to be a ****
Just straight up rude
I do not understand
I DO NOT!!
I don't like how this world works
There are too many stupid rules
There are too many people who **** things up
There are too many things that could be so simple
But too many people make everything more difficult than it should be
I wish things could be more relaxed
Everything is too up tight
Please don't comment.

When people ask me if I'm a boy or girl
I'm just going to start answering "IDK"

— The End —