Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Poetic T Sep 2020
We are just words that sing upon the page,

                                       but some never touch.
Singing in our thoughts.

Repetitive and with meaning, but never
                       do we write a word for us to cling too.


Always humming that repetitive metaphorical tune,
                          that  completes a hum down the line
                                  to a verbose culmination


and we still hum it even now further down the line.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2020
A gad fly,  a drunken blue fly, and I were
discussing
the curse of being a fly, if men were the measure of all things.

We rise as riders on winds,
and raise
dust when we land, ignorant of sophistry,
but knowledgeable, i.e., read-up
in classic biblical
knowing. {you know, as Adam knew his wife}

Yeah that idea,
essentiality and haecceity, causa sui,
per se, in other words, we could
insert and
still mean
mere words {digitized wisdom begins as words}
reading words makes them animated, not live, not living
being
words, reason essence, point of truth being

the answer to why there is a memory of nothing,
and not nothing now?

Idle words accounted once, are ever liable to personal
interpretations, thus we have classes in
ifity.

We learn via living, that every thing, even the matter the
newborn whatever is made of,
all
was here before me.

I am why history occurred, so far as I may say.
I am the point being only this

hominidiotic thought, they call an ideology and I am sure
I think it means some impossible to realize,
Leave It To ******  sequel, where Eddie Haskell is the cop,
who squeezers the life out of a man, on video
we witnessed
enmasse, right we saw and were we to not believe
deep down what we saw could have been stopped,
if that camera had been in my hand?

Yeah, like me shove that big old cop, he shoot me,

Yeah, make ya famous. Name abridge too, feryerass

Maybe, but I heard and seems I seen its so,
many's the wish gone wanting,
for lack of a man who will try.

Say winning is done with warfare, no fair, child say,
bully child, was reared in a bullied home,
seed of some Minetaurical idea for rearing kings,
feed them bull hormones
and lies frome the wisest of men, men of letters,
many undicipherable but to the
survivors of the mazing,

The Amazing Grace and Pledges of Allegiance and all that,
nothing spiritual, only inspirational national pride,
very carnal minded stuff,
on the surface.

Hmm, gadfly, or blue, give us some perspective.

We seem to be marching,
as to war,
keep in cadence to a bull horn -- gnoshit this is gnostic alchemy
jungina ju ju wu wu wei

we must be making this up.
You the enabler.
I be the artist, who gone be the accuser?

-- games, y' think first, thank later,  as each lesson teaches
this works, that don't
points add up, bit by bit, we begin, be-re-sit, ctrl/alt/del

blue screen of death.
ahhh men.
imagine we was once as **** as we imagined,
and we have the grandchildren to prove it.
imagine
we could leave these bodies behind,
and not lose our minds,
or any of the roles we have played.

This is like that. Today. It’s a trip, not a journey.
I'd take it from the top and feel safe landing here.
Perspective is everyting. pop. everytime
Jules Anton Sep 2020
i remember for a long time i was trying
i tried to remember your smile
and your words
i tried to remember your laughter
and how your fingers skim over skin
i told myself
i will never forget
but i came back to those soft-pressed papers
just to find you
again
Your eyes smiling at me
Your kisses tender
Your words heartfelt
I am imagine being with you
Loving you
Making you happy
As we rule our Saudi Arabia








‎عيناك تبتسمان لي
‎ قبلاتك العطاء
‎ كلماتك صادقة
‎ أنا أتخيل أن أكون معك
‎ أحبك
‎ يجعلك سعيدا
‎ كما نحكم السعودية
Ken Pepiton Sep 2020
Es tut mir leit, wir müssen immer denken
ever after all
we think
It never gets old, but we do, think
we find.
we do. All our thoughts pass on,
once more
to be discoveries imbued with subtle joy.
A smile,
after a while.
I lived.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2020
Mollify-ing the effects of
The ******-logical Damage from beliving believed
Lies. Falsies called True, True called False.
The words working madly to make sense fail
Wishing hoping praying
define praying we know how to hope and wish

but praying, more than asking, acting asif
the prayer is a sayer of something
a doer of somehow someway deeds of deliverance

Hearing heart hear me wish I knew how to
receive the answers for earth’s wealth to be
used as rain is used.
This is me praying this is not me looking for human feedback in the form of funds,
I am asking my father,
who is where the kingdom of the creator is served in equity,

Where is the kingdom of heaven?
Who do you think knows?
Whom did you trust to convince your vincible mind?

Do the ants and birds agree with your opinion?
Have you considered the lily,
really?

Is this life on earth a foraneus state of mind for mankind,
wombed and un, beyond the bounds of our higher
realm whither message bearing services
do the work of angels and runners
in ancient times.

Subject me to your order, your rule, your common sense
that you know what I mean

I speak in spirals, twisting vortices in all that ever mattered
or ever shall, as the I’ll go rhythms tic

tic
tic
today, the day
to do da day, jubilee believe me, truth known
truth be known by some
simple minds.
Ah, Teusday, I waited for you
Garrett Johnson Jul 2020
Oh does she.

Last step.
Shirt caught.
But she doesn't care.
Boots.
Through mud.
But she doesn't care.
Eyeshadow.
Looks up and down.
But she doesn't care.
Hair.
Blue.
And.
Brown.
But she doesn't care.
Sweater rip.
I help.
But she doesn't care.
But then she cares.


Garrett Johnson
Like ice adequate on hats, beenies and so on.
Poetoftheway Jul 2020
even temporarily, this day, your emeralding grass handkerchief,
equates our dispositions, so differently identical,
your name, our initials, in opposing corners, embroidered,
your grass tapestry upon this troubled earth, a scented, joint, poetic
remembrance, that though it’s but words that bind us, we! we know!
the songs we sing of ourselves, we sing in synchrony harmony.
time passes
as seconds
when we meet

but it slows
as the mount carrying burdens
and in its holes filling with loads
when we are wide

when i saw you
i forget the world
except your shiney smile

when you go
my heart is off
and escaped after you

it is your prisoner
and wish it lasts for ever
the meeting times between lovers seemed to be good and passed as blinks, but when theu became wide it passes so slow
Next page