Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Where the wind ruffles my hair
The rain kisses my lips
The sunrays embraces to keep me warm
And the serenity makes me break into a song
Or just a simple humming and wiggling
Where I can lie on the grass to catch my breath
And for hours watch the birds fly
And watch the kids play
Where the innocence once more beats in me
That I run up to them just to taste the shear joy in playing
Where I can spontaneously plunge into a river and then decide Whether to drink it's purity or drown in it's abyssal depth
Or just watch my reflection on its glistening surface
And drift off to distant thoughts with the shepherd's kulning
Where the farthest stars lead me to my deepest emotions
Where the silence of the dark night awakens my soul
There I'll make my bed
On the grass under the sky
And not sleep a wink
For I'll be already living in my sweetest dream
Ken Pepiton Feb 3
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.
Ken Pepiton Jun 15
Remember?
The first secret no one knew, but me and you?

Was it secret from Daddy or Mommy?
from boys, or from girls, or the rest of the world?

Did we agree to lie to keep the secret?
Is that how it got sacred?

Do you recall what that secret is?
Is there some rite we must redo?

I look around and think, if life were the secret,
it is leaking.
And I seem to have forgotten what parts were sacred
and what parts are not.

Are you still here? Is this sacred still?

Our secret place, quiet place,
where peace
seeps beneath a sludge of lies,
under which
the hidden source of all we ever hoped
would never
be exposed, lay in secret innocense,
pure as a child's promise,

more precious for its being hidden all these years.

A seed, you said we'd see fruit from
one day.

Wait and see, I heard you say.

But I am blind, or this is night.
Hmmm, wandering through old I don't knows, I think this ...

— The End —