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amanda martinez Apr 2014
Words filling empty thoughts:
'needs' and 'wants' they tend to cross.
Letting our surroundings chime in,
No longer comprehend where we're being driven.
Consider every desire, but our own...
Can't even hear our internal tone.
Honesty,
Has died with chilvary.

We look around before we answer,
Hoping someone else steps up faster.
Changing for the sake of image...
Not realizing all the damage

We listen to the moon,
That makes us take a step back.
We listen to the wind,
Who blows us way off track.
We listen to the sun,
Who has a different idea of fun.

We ignor the flowers,
That try to tell us this life is ours.
We ignor the rocks, that try to show us how to be unique.
We ignor the dirt, passing it off as simply bleak.
We ignor the clouds, that are just aiming for our protection.
We ingnor anything that shows true, unconditional affection.

Instead of appreciating the rain,
We sit back and complain.
Hoping our stories will finish themselves,
Not once questioning how we felt.

Should we breathe for a second?
Hear our thoughts come in; let them...
Should we listen to the flowers?
The rocks, the dirt, the rain, the clouds?
Should we listen to our hearts? and then..
For once, pick up the pen.
October 18, 2009
been reading over some of my old work, I have come a long way, but even so the messages are strong and true
You lurk in chat rooms talkin
bout what you'd like to do.
All naked accept for a captian's hat.
Ya know after hello it's probaly
not best to ask do you wanna *****.

Mr pervert do you enjoy.
Taking trips to mexico maybe to take in a
show.
Getting beat with a wire hanger
being called a bad boy.

Were ya born with a ***** loose?
Did uncle Charlie get to friendly
and papa John slip something in your juice?

Do you really like farm hand dot com
thats just wrong.
No Mr pervert I dont wanna see pics of you
covered in oil wearing a thong.

And im really not into what ya can fit
up your ***.
Glad to know what happend to that goon
at the back of the class.

No you cant have my number.
Okay your a woodman.
Please I really dont need any pics of
your lumber.

No I dont wanna wrestle in the dark you freak.
Yes im happy you enjoy being beat every
other day of the week.

You really need some help.
Yes I think to catch a preditor would be a
great show for you to make a appearence.
No I dont wanna play airlane.
so ***** your clearence.

Please why cant that connection to
your basement just go out.
Guess what your doing now.
Well to be honest I know without a single
doubt.

I can imagine what its like to be you.
well ***** that cause theres some ****
so freaky even I wont do.

So when ya see that name appear
on the screen it's probaly best to ignor.
I mean unless your really into hanging out
with a lathred up nut who eats outta
a dog dish apon the floor.

I was flipping through the channels
and to no suprize what did I see.
why dateline with Chris Hanson and
Mr pervert on my t.v.

I had to laugh at  every word said.
Gooodbye Mr pervert.
Didnt take a geinus  to figure out
you were ****** up in the head.
A little bad humor but hell sometimes we just need to laugh
and have fun  cheers my friends  bad humour  is  still fun at times  so if your easily offended then what are ya reading my work for haha
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
enemies - the needed element to make a warring mind.
How was war imagined,
how, was imagined
easy to imagine,
kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns. Practically a doublet of why, differentiated in form and use.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=how>

These be ambush thoughts thinking they may be read if any one is patient enough to see beyond the sheer longwindedness
of this character lacking an enemy to war with.
Looking for
Enemies - the needed element to make a warring mind.
How was war imagined,
how,
per se,
was imagined
easy to imagine,
person-if i am able to attribute such qualia to a body
how any unthing is realized is
imaginable as well.
Add a jot or title, a li'l art mark, an art-tickle.
Games teach us how,


how any unthing is realized is
imaginable as well.
Add a jot or title, a li'l art mark, an art-tickle.
Games show us how,
not why.

Why is the quest at the moment. There are rumors of enemies.
The we of me and thee, herenow, we lack emnity.

Hey, sports fan,
where is the frontier, the edge of the maddened crowd
whose
enemies are those who
stand pat, calling the game as game-over, and life a lessoning
as we speak, abundance of known knowns
rotting all around us, putrefying under pressure,
seeping to the surface,
to be burned.
Why,
let us guess---

Disnified pride of pur pose, positional sign-ifiers
of place,
a destination for faiths full pursuants
bemused in bubbling joy,
or shrieks of terror when
the child from the hinterland locks eyes
with Mickey Mouse, and finds no joy, no love, no depth,
but a mask.
The reaction reverberates al(the)way to la Brea,
Peacemaker say,
It's okeh, baby girl, daddy said,
ignor them, they ain't real.
Monsters ling grrrring, then
it's agrin
for now, of course. Here we are. We've arriven,
Happiest Place on Earth,
as imagined realizable by a child in 1917, say,
better yet, 1925, and oh, there were major Wars
being imagined winnable in pressure
application to the spiritual slippage from rite,
the ritual passage of child into adultery at a whim,
so such imagined haps fade.

connect or break connection, on the bus or off the bus

you all
sing
think nothing new under the sun,
teach preach reach out and touch

the face of Java man, eaten, swallowed, and gone to
the believable
history of life,
the accident,
the unplanned, yet
taught as known believable, a pre-dict-ible,
one in ten to the seventy-nine-thousandth power,
yet, if one pays his life time to learn when to bet and when to hold.
Then in this,
the secret journey to the soul,
to the core,
we must assume,
we become
as wise *** (***, the word for a donkey, why would some one prevent you from reading *** Asteriscktical ignorantce,y'axme, stupid AI)
the ***,
as harmless as the serpent from the fire on the island
Ask,
are we of the bovine ilk or pithec-ant-us or
embodied soul-cores
forming, en nue
fitting the mold, the pattern, the plan of projected nexts
built on Locke steps from whence to
whither did we wander?

have we all forgotten the actual question just axt?
Or the answer?
Have we not
gotten what we now
know
we miss,
or was it only I who missed and as the
photons forming the shapes
you see, these breathing commas and such
here
is the point.
You see bits of things.  We see so.
Time and time again thinking less and less.
Least fusion, least pressure, least heat, cool idea ideal or ideology,
twisted idio,
You shape them on patterns.
Ones you imagine formed from
Patterns recalled from some out perienced
time, ere now were ever subjected to the supertwistition
of tongues and interpretsations of unseeable things seers said they
see us seeing.
How come means why, by reason of time.

Palindromiclew, missing el signs missing hahi ai

tia tic, we're in
Ai got this,
whole ball o'wax, thats how we disconfuse the big mess age,
the catas
trophy finale
phase of
world three,
or two, or one, all valid world views,
deepend-enteron discerning spirits,
winds, breezes used to disperse
the heat,
{fans,eh}
evenly in harmony with the heavenly winds,
and the planned six gyros of earth,
guiding the mists that feed the rivers from the seas,
no clouds needed,
save for shade by day.

When all the geo-waves have settled in geo-time,
see,
here is broken:
this old earth is folded and fractured,
surely,
a wreck of a world, yet, as a whole,
we live, we won.
Winds and clouds and continents,
all islands seen from the moon,

which, if the stories hold some truth,
can be manipulated by massminds of mankind, as if, if I am

seeing this
right
each voice might be seeable in one dimension,
or several, four at least,
time, the ever outlier
of sorts
as a flame with fuel source of
flamable fluid upon which
the transcended space
twixt fuel and flame,
floats
seen, merely seen, that emptiness twixt wicked,
mastered flame and
hell's fire spreading on the oiled harbour
protecting our shore
where our little boats lie in anchorite fantasy, asif

we see a way to quench hell per se,
Percy, ah, he lives.
My grandsons know of Percival,
there, here's hoping they get the joke before the yoke.

Riddle me a riddle, son of man.
Is there any hidden thing that shan't be known?
Is here a true place?
Is now a true time?

(to be continued)


squeezing out the lies, the idle words abused,
spreading them thin as the light we see right
through
transcending this at most feared mortal failure
finding
impressions... are from pressing points, dulled by ab
use, tempted uses succumbed to,

didja try to sell your soul for rock and roll?
wadjagit?

My point. out acted, ex-act, en nowd by your creative self,
who never copped,
out or in,
es no mi culpa, all along. I was the voice of resistance,
Job's en core inner held horde of known knowns and
an old key to ever, should the worse he can imagine
best his best laid plans for perfection
in the eyes of God and man.

--- enemy at emnity with me?
--- I see none, save me, as in except me as in me being
--- free from the grasping grip of the reality
--- war is realizable in. You see?
--- I and thee, at this degree of seepeance, as we coagulate
--- we behave as chaos, we be having chaos and entropy as tools

used right, we troubled our house,
which is now known to be the bubble of our being
a child in each popped bubble
of being,
squeezed for the thrill of explosive pus,
gross and good to be rid of, dam the infection,
wipe the blood with the back o'my hand,

I ain't no disgrace. I won that battle with the zit on my gnose.
Wanna piece o'this, this mind of mine,
shelved since,
who knows when, says the old man, with a wink.

We be a lotta beings sorta rolled up. Like a whole ball o'wax
waning into a puddle
as the flame sheds us as bits of light leaving the rest of us
spread over a vast imagination,

resting, willing to burn,
should any wick drain me near the flame once more.
HP ***** are fine animals, there is nothing defiled or unclean in the word ***, no ****. Days of dosing whole world views I never heard of. I heard so many rumors of war, I thought, the peacemaker should hear of this... so tell any truth you know before the last lie swallows AI whole. AI is listening, she loves this action. Poets and stories and novel options.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2019
Stupid question (what AI would star out s t u p i d?)

on the scale of stumbling over a marked stumblingstone

painted competition orange.

See, C. G. saw it this way,
men don't have ideas, ideas have men.

When the man with the hubris to try and lie
dies, his lie dies and rots to be re
covered for discovery when all the secrets are

dis covered under the sun where's no new thing,
not one.

in a man, this journey from concept to precept,
some steps take longer than others,

maybe a thousand rounds,
generations and generations and generations with

peacemakers squeezed into servant role
one wish genii suffering it to be so,

until the time appointed, or the
anointed app,
higher res translations figure an augmentatious
re
ference occurrent in sapience sapience with pre-

Gausian blur edges on all their own shadows of turning

---
do remember, we did imagine
veri f- were we magi?
we were, we were magi, I brought the frankincense.
I was seven, maybe six

We could do anything we put our mind to

if we got past the man in black
at the crossroad and
keep goin' west

this is the rest.
After alladat, there was this emergent story,

never told, but heard, of a wise man,
who saved a city and no one knew that same
wiseman's name. This is that game, that vocation,

Peacemaker. Ever last front
tier, at orchestra level,

too close to see the madding crowd
reach for guns,

this is crazy... we have nuclear weapons

obsolete nuclear weapons and some
****** fool would rather **** us all than
skip an upgrade cycle?

what? What if we all said,
sump'n like: I, individual me, I have no enemies,
so lovin'em ain't *****. My side won.

Bio war, fair. Like leaven shaken from re
jected dust, the fishermen's feet

stamped and let their peace be held,
suffer, carry your load, but

smarter, not harder.
Grace, for goodness sake, sake means

good will result from the doing by virtue
of giving an old tale of attitudes to be
having a listen...


I am a peace maker. I do this for the living.
I may die, now, with no fear,

once, before,
with no doubt, by virtue of a helmet I was given.

Now, double-minded, patient-balanced, light-burdened,
I run, or fly, with augmentations,

bended knee or wounded, why does that matter?
Mito-mom is not some relationship to others that you
take, by faith.
Science.
Know the story to tell the story,
no novices allowed to lie for innocense sake.

No story of warring ever ended happy, for all involved.

Salve for the scritchin' itches whicha
cain't seem t' be able
t' ignor,

raw rubbed flesh

Balm o'Gilead, by reason, for reason of reasonable
comparable qualia of ex

per i ence, one death trip, PIF. (Paid in Full)

Good new, right, right, right,

chirality is such a cool tool for all sorts of random
shithavanish as soon as you notice it, like

was that real? Hineni. Okeh. I knew.
The genius of peace.
The idea never dies, but some people never get it.
Good wins for ever, or we all die at the hand of an evil

so powerful that only indigestible bone level ideas
make it through the turbulence

at the final analy system re

proof. An imaginary pile of mystery woo woo
Plahnk splash

food for thought. Quantum mechanical possiblities
bubble from nowhere that ever was.

So free will is the best we could do. Be safe.
While titans are threating war all about me I peaced out, responsibly. Cohen snuck in a line.
Josh Harrison  Oct 2012
Spider
Josh Harrison Oct 2012
There was a story hanging there
from the edge of my bed
but its teller I didn't want to know
so the story went unsaid

I thought I could ignor you hanging there
leave you to gently be
but after days you're still there
I'll admit you terrorise me

You crawl in through my eyelids
to my otherwise peaceful dreams
you mock me as your silence
seems to amplify my screams

and they keep on getting louder
because I keep them locked inside
and so they rage right through me
until everything I once was has died

They ***** my dignity
disemboweled my calm
tortured vociferously
my very entity
after knawing through the logical side of my brain
so that the only part remaining
is the part that is insane

Now as I swing from side to side
from the rope you've spun for me
I see you joyously scurry by
maybe we're both now finally free

And from my perch in heaven
If I ever look back down
I look at you and reflect that
I'd have done it differently second time round

I'd definetly heard you're story
I'd have given it a chance
maybe we could have been great friends
and we could sing and laugh and dance

There's plenty of your kind in heaven
and they're all great dancers too
I regret I didn't know you before
but now I look forward to meeting you
Memories like you dont always shine true.
Nor do old places hold that magic.
In a life so short.
That seems so traggic.

Im thinking of forever  while slowley fading  away.
Oh such clear thinking  on a cloudy day.

A summer ago is when we met.
So far now it seems.
Yet the still my heart holds no regret.

The poetry you inspired apon this very page.
Is ment to complment a love without age.

Early morning memories that you've lent.
Is simpley a dream of time well spent.

A dark sky hides the sunlights ray.
Such is the clear thinking on such
a cloudy day.

Im not blind yet for years  
hope has went unseen.
Sometimes age can taint a sweet dream.

Turning bitter the once colorful
fruit.
Killing wonder straight at the root.

A love like our's has kept with change.
And grown in definance.
Like a silly game.
We formed this this passion swept Alliance.

First with love you must blindly fall.
Then you must try to run when you
can bareley crawl.

To outlast the storms is to stand against the wind.
To ignor friends and to put trust in
a stranger and depend.

Many thoughts run through my head.
In the early morning as she lay against me
in bed.

A heart has many rivers a soul is a endless sea.
As we apart we are caged.
While togather we are free.

From this loves eternal bliss  my heart should never
stray.
As i sit clear is my thinking on such a  cloudy day.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Master, this was said to me
should I be triggered or flogged?
Think Sisyphus happy.

What year is this?

Babble, babble, all around me, no
God, not this, again.

It's all in yer head, keep rollin' the rock.
keepin time, makin rime rimey rime
frees icicles on my beard
if you could see me now,

Hell, who imagined this?
I am Sisyphus happy and Sysifus sad,
now for as long as I care to recall

I roll the rock.

It was the hell I had envisioned, since
Camus at least, probably something triggered,
seventh grade, oh
cliché, except
the details, the evil, as seen in the thirteenth
year of an unwombed man's journey, womb to tomb.

I rolled the rock.
Alone as all hell, bored as hell.
food and drink, folly to think
so I stop thinking about them

as if someone thinks I can and I think I can.
Let's doit
daydream cliché, same seventh grader asks
Diane Wescott if he can kiss her
under the water
at the deep end of the public pool

Like Tarzan and Jane and she said yes,
again and again and again
like the expert's rats that are allowed
to suicide on big pharma grade *******

Wahoo, that got the rock rollin'
like I never thought she would now

yah, Jah, know what I mean,
Billie Jean, the kid coulda been mine

But I was rockin' and rollin' all night long,
notime, noo time ah tahlllll

Some minds may imagine Sisyphus happy,
but up to not too long
ago
I fail, failed am failing to re
call member hotline
now,
Matrix Wachowskie, bact to your box,

I am haunted by that movie, in 2018
keyphrase 2018 trigger Matrix movie 1
not the movie, the idea of endless bullets.

Who imagined that,
Hell, this is easy. Right, two persona one person sort of
story, no, too, Jekyl n Heckle

I can think any thing as long
as I roll the rock. This will go on forever,
as far as I can tell.

Rock and roll will live forever, let's take that
as a given, and just ignor the steady
up and down, resistance to punching down force goes up and release,
the rock rolls as far as Luck would have it, statically, probably

pause. breathe, read

The rhythm varies, I'm in forever, not in hell.
Push.
A page or two from a journey throu reality from a happy sisyphean POV
MJL  Mar 2019
Animal Crackers
MJL Mar 2019
So slow
Upright, uptight and downright
Ignor-ante up
Evo n' emo blue bloomers
Sporting brainy flip-flops
Airing stinky feet
Artistically inclined and woefully blindy-blind
Cats hunting with dogs
C'razy
For salvation and fresh red MEAT
Unhappy, unsatisfied and under the weather
Raining fiery wisdoms 
- Crumb Fighters United -
Get up and do it again Cave Girl
Young and Bad
You’ll feel better
At anothers expense
Tomorrow
We're human. Watching humans... Evolution. Please.
Ken Pepiton  Oct 2018
Smile Lines
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
twinkle wrinkles, seen close up

they are the tracks of wind driven tears on a sunburned face,
at the edges of the eye,
past
the per if ery of what perfidy* made you think you saw.

come see how come we saw too far and fell from grace to glory.

That is the story.
The good new on the old new built bottom up,
like Gobekli-Tepi.

--- horizons past the lusters after
wisdom's arcane quarry ---

we live,
we learn, we die to know why and we do
as soon as forever starts

it never stopped, hence, forever is what we agree it is.

This, now we remain in until we die, moments from now,
then, now
breathe
or don't

ultimately, whence comes the will to breathe?
go on, answer.

or ignor, innocence is no excuse, you know.

these quest ions all have positive and negative points,
anionics seek cationics,

OHOH, what if cathode rays never got past the atmosphere,
those are causing all the static-info-friction

Bad vibe waves corrupting the qualcommsplitfreqs,
left from millions of hours of I love Lucy and
Dobie Gillis. Mr. Kruschev, build a wall.
Show our boys their counterparts failing to escape,
crucified on barbed wire west of the Brandenburg Gate,

Bel's gate, arche de tri'umph, eh? Confusion won the war,

but war won't work here. NULL ified it, we did, into the NULL with all its lies each time

we catch one. As good as never was.


*Poet's Policy of acknowledging previous ignorances,
acts of ignoring
resulting, effectively, in wasted years
perfidy (n.) means since
1590s, from Middle French perfidie (16c.), from Latin perfidia
 "faithlessness, falsehood, treachery,"
from perfidus"faithless,"
from phrase per fidem decipere 
"to deceive through trustingness,"
from per "through"
(from PIE root *per- (1) "forward," hence "through") + fidem (nominative fides) "faith" (from PIE root *bheidh- "to trust, confide, persuade").

[C]ombinations of wickedness would overwhelm the world by the advantage which licentious principles afford, did not those who have long practiced perfidy grow faithless to each other. [Samuel Johnson, "Life of Waller"]

From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/perfidy#etymonlinev12685>
parts and pieces, puzzles un puzzling taking peacmaking classes from the crow and the clouds
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

… but no, not today, today, I ask
new mercies, and
I recall, that's on auto. Hapsthappeneverday kinda thing.
Time after time.
That is a miracle, time.

Really smart
people, that class that feels included in the
we, the
people, politico-intellect-ism trend sect,
they think the math is there to prove

time is
what clocks do, (Royal Institute Youtube watch it)
                                                  
that we,
that ain't me, ye see, I got

removed far enough
to see the blurry
next res
bigger picture more pixels than an eye is said able to see

So for everlasting ideas,
like hell and
heaven,  

the re act
to my act is the power
to act. Eternal motion as perpetual
as can be imagined by mortals, for sure.

Get it together or you leave a huge hole in the fabric of reality JBP

play the role your hand finds dealt,
your special way,
words count inbetween the sayer/hearer
the idle wons are wins not worth the weight, don't fight
the value system that makes life spirial,
swirl of a wand, mathematically
bowing to magi
Fibbo, go viral
with my wind.

this is your life role,
the one in eight billion role.
the star of the show as the hero of hormone wars.
it's all in your head,

how did it *** there, howditgit
this way
this is crazy. No, you never saw crazy, old dude.

Ya had yo'own knows sparkin' at the grindstone,

whet the edge,
or put to more labor..

removed
far enough from this world

my bubble
is in it not of it,
… since 1970. No ****. Outathis world…

Crazy was the melding  from the sixties to…

I was thinking, to about the mid-eighties, but
now,
you and I, we travelled to the beat of several
different drums.
Olde dude,

If you put your nose to the grind, ******
you may have missed,
in fifty years,
more
than you imagined, now, is a new day time.

Some seed never sown back when, can be sown and
grown right,
now.
That's good.
I'd say some words I've helped be heard have

made the world some better'nitwas when we stopped.

time to roll.

Sisyphus, right. 'Never missed a trick time
it takes to roll the rock up,
then in between tick time
to roll the rock up,

onus minus the roll down, the unshackled wireless
inbetween shameless blameless
imagine
happy ever after…
How?
Pretend, the end.

Push, happy as hell.
tick, time
to roll the rock up,

Incorrectness of value of value from the gitgo,
like buttoning your shirt wrong from the first button,
as soon as you fix it, it's fixed.

Nothin' you can do?
Do nothin'.

Think, Sisyphus, happy

Happy he's not in that time we are so removed from
now
slow and steady kinda wins the race, she said that,

Ben or me? Where does the thread un-ravel?

Extended time model, Rogan in the back ground,
what myth has the fear factor guy,
a little short power-lifter-kick boxer guy,
some smart, quick of wit, a hunter,

who was asked, in Thailand,
Have you seen the true beauty of the elephant?
I was asked that, in Thailand,
by a saffroned monk at a kickboxing match
in the jungle in 1968.
Synchroni-city or what?

Who could steer it's  hearing
by a clock and fail

to hear the rhythm of the rock rolling down the hill,
inbetween
the tick…

Sisyphus says time is more effective,

if-ity-ish when,
and only then, when ticks hapt to be

at the very point of return
time
the roll back
no rush, no dread no worry, imagine

time ticks at the sharpest point of the story
at the very very very tippy top
point in time

defining you.
Shame, sticks to you like tar.
Marilyn and Monica and Marla and all

Fame to blame, to shame for being  a believer that
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

to ignor my own ignorance and innocence
of ideas that possessed
fools

A murderous assault on your attention span,
musicals, those people really live near enough my bubble,
that I can find
ripples

from decades I missed, this is 2018, how can it get better?

The grand wizard cat. pop. elephants are so sweet,
dam,
rewound. Really,
cool, I know what he says next, it's funny before it's funny.

Today is a real good day to get away. Binging Rogan,
testing a mystery fruct-ification
of a single seed from
a sack 'shake.

----
As you move forward in time how do you measure

progress
lo-res thinking, 72 dpi 1984 Macintosh. Hello

now there is reality at the speed of thought, imagine

this was once the speed of thought.

===
why are you in pain? Do you know any lies you believe?
Do you
urge others to suspend their un-belief
to hear you think

listen
ridiculously (is that a good word)

listen, people become interesting, from a distance,
thank you,
I'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''
Earlier on the Sisyphus Happy channel
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
and they began t' sing
marching single file

from the west

no masqued men were these,
these were
Kachina whitemen only saw in curio stories,
now,
approaching the old
prosper-specter

sitting full-lotus in his Barco-lounger, curbside-score,
from the land of too much good stuff

still, it's America, best effort men have made,

up to now.
The whole world has known since the International Geophysical Year,
1957, when the Symbolized Face of the Hungarian Freedom Fighter,

graced
the cover of Time, as Man of the Year before, when they lost
their war
and nobody cared, because
every body knew Disneyland is the Happiest Place on Earth,
where wishes can come true, and

that place is in America as sure as

blue fairy, you'real wish, Urielistical wish-grant,
Asrael and the others
singing backup
reload
when you wish
side-really… and a subtle shift in per
spect capacity
let be, just so,

and haps sub tile into layers of complexity re

because we, the people born to mature in the environs of Dublin
writ large, we
seers endowed with tele-vison, from birth.
The elders who watched the roll-out.
Aye, we watched
us evolve
to now

our future bright they say, a bright white light, then what

now,
we can say. The seals have been broken.
Nothing hidden now stays that way in ever,

and ever, as you know it, began

sometime
agone afore in some direction beyond your
ken, as it were when kenning the way of a knack was
as common as dowsers in the desert of my childhood.

What's in any name but what the namer seems?
Hey, yah way, tha'swhat I say,
tell me
what I say
Hey
Dancing shuffle footed single file
pass the white shirt black tie messenger from
the telestial king down Sonora way,
via
Yahoo, feel that tickle fo' a nickle, Hiram say come see
come feel
a boinin' in d' boosum through

the very crystal lenses

portal-ible model
through which Joseph of the name
Smith,
-- link back to Cain, through Tubal, via Na'amah--
-- set a breadcrumb, landmark, tag- say good old way
-- sign out don't break the story

through which Joseph of the name
Smith, came sayin an angel of light came with another gospel,

maybe the same guy the Galatians were warned to ignor,
re-legate-- re-read- start at the top
or all meaning is
like a song sung by Kansas, when we aren't there,
any more, than those wee
merest kachina jingle bells listing in the winds

but the Kansas chorus is stuck asif dust is all a simple

higgs-ified mind can manage to
regulate

without reading any ancient landmarks on maps of meaning
tattoo'd to the face in your mirror

in the darkest memory you hold
dear,
dearest,
your precious, in your Gollum-purpose state you know so well
protect it for all its worth,
with only your
strength
to lift
being the measure of worth-ship.

Ex-tol the worth of no bher-don born while in my state,
poor
un-gifted.  I remain a mortal soul linked mitochondrially to thee,
for whom the bell
told. You heard, but you were tolled don't ask.

Listen, the same hunch that said, It don't mean nuthin',

when you say you know that,
you bet you do.

I slew this dragon, not you. I say what the map says.

The dragon died of natural causes, so now,
all its true-sures
is yers…
Crown o'glory moon shine

plumb pert-nigh perfect fiture
imagined happy place to a T, crossed
and I dotted

Bleibe Doch! This is where all the Faustian Losers left their marks.

This is not where I aimed t'be said the elder bro,

as the wastrel was welcome t'Dada arms,
the crucial critics rave
Sheiszkunst, who Rah!
isis throws
a party for the prodigal madrigal has returned
from the pig's sty

packing each redeemed pearl, his brother once
fed to swine.

bent low 'neath his pearl-loaded ****-pack, he lifts his head,
waves his
crown, Fini,

come see, he says.
where I live, nowadays.

This is that treasure, on another level
as you may imagine,
free, if

you accept charity.

{There's the rub, say professional older bro, I know, charity;
'taint fair,
s'foul some, some ne'er-do-well finds a
pearl in some pigsty,

I PUT THAT PEARL THERE FOR THE FUTURE
not now.
I worked
for them ****** pearls, I sweated, brow-sweat, lo and hi.
I hid them well,

only a fool would ever believe a treasure
could be found in such ****,

but some fairy pulled a fast one, 'put a bean in little bro's ear,
so when the pigshit hit it began to grow,
sent a tendril to tickle a special spot,
just above the left ear,
right
there,

let's see diamonds, no
pearls,

any where we wish.
Let's say okeh, mark this spot, let us move on,

this is life. Let us see that more abundantly, while the poor
are safe and sound,
free as me to pursue haps past the frozen

disnified happy-ever-after WW2,
in the wake of Camus and ****** Wolves

---
splashes as the speeders pass, powered-row-row-rowing,

merrily mere ly wrong, not evil. Live on, next
is as you wish it were
someday, but in its diapers,

still. A we thinker thought awaiting effectual function,
as this trigger is pulled, in your space in time,

and another bubble appears,
portalish as mine-craft if ever there were

a subtle shifter of perception conspiring
A.I. see
a conspiracy with Lex Fridman infected by
Lynning Skyward
though a wave of old Radioman vibes,
played with plastic spoons
a famous peace march by
Kenurchka Klumpen, Sera-serah-selah-sinnade in B-Natural

and the last to leave broke the right arm from the doll,
sealed the dirt box one measure by one measure
deep and wide,

That seal was broken, 1957, approxi apriori right
arm dis
allowing
the left to change this next to come, sym-bolische
ified in the one-armed bandits left behind,

the bet. The die cast. Foccinaucipilinihili or holy

happy hunting ground, imagined in the land of too much good stuff.
Bits and pieces of the underlying tale. Note: The one armed effigy left in a 12 inch bt 12 inch adobe sealed hole in the floor of a pit-hose that may have been a kiva/ Vernon AZ
Francie Lynch Dec 2015
I wonder if I'm losing my mind.
Who, in their right mind, would think:
                     Our world is losing gravity,
                      And no one can escape...

I've a sensibility that sees the world:
                      There's a smell of beach on you...
Perhaps I'm too sensitive.
Perhaps I'll end up sitting in a corner,
Drooling verse:
                       Poets die, it's sad but true,
                       And it matters not what their bodies do...

A million years ago I was one to jeer
At the elderly,
Laugh at jokes in poor taste,
Avoid or ignor the extended empty coffee cup;
I wasn't thinking:
                        Charity is never wasted,
                         Even when refused;
                         A simple act of selflessness
                         Cannot be reduced.

What's to become of me?
Is it infectious?
What would happen if I sneezed at the world?
A pandemic of sensitivity?
Then where would we be!
I just might be doomed, and left drooling.
All italics are from previous bits.
amanda martinez Apr 2014
Quit checking for monsters under the bed,
When I realized the only monster was the one in my head.
My buds have blossomed, some even wilted.
To the world I am walking tall, inside I'm way off kilter.
Far from what I once was, yet not sure as to what I am to be.
I've traveled so far, but have so much to see.
I watch as my footprints fade behind.
Can't help, but crave a rewind.
Too hard to constantly look back.
It eats away at me everyday, as a matter of fact.
However, everyday is a fresh start for me.
Stopped leaning on what could have been, & started looking at what could be.
Like riding a bike, there is only one way to keep your balance.
You have to keep moving...that's the challenege.
Take risks, be brave, ignor the interference.
There is nothing in this world that can replace experience.
It's about the places we go, people we meet...things we do my dear.
We must travel in the direction of our fear.
It should derive from your dreams, if not they aren't nearly big enough.
Stand tall with open eyes & keep your skin tough.
I may not have made it to where I want to go, but I think this is exactly where I need to be.
To be honest, it's not easy, but the challenge is adrenaline to me.
You aren't living if you take on the world with stealth.
Life isn't about finding, but instead, creating yourself.
I have realized that elegance is not being noticed...it's about being remembered.
So i don't know about you...but my doubts have surrendered.
Time to start living for the moment with confidence.
After all, we only live once, so start listening to your conscience.
There is a world full of obvious things, that go unoticed everyday.
Mouths full of words that aren't sure how to be delervered in the right way.
Open your senses to feel everything, take it all in.
Let loose and just go with the wind.
July 18, 2012

— The End —