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Zywa Nov 5
Saturday: bags-day.

Groceries, sport, and ******* --


The day of unrest.
"Vrije tijd" ("Leisure", 2022, Ellen Deckwitz)

Collection "Death on Cast"
Ken Pepiton Dec 2021
I suppose, all that has been said, is said to have been contained
in the canon… what I means to say, I mean
everybody
knows
its eber-tongue
hen en-I,
Enkidu, where are you?

Dusty trails, speak well of water on this way.
The deer and the antelope drink every day.
In the time
I was alive, many lies fought for my attention.

I knew more than one thing about every thing,
I thought I could be of best use
as a sharer.
teller of told tales, singer
of the songs in the air, and then
there
was radio,
and I was a child,
listening… with many more of my sort than anticipated
hearing white noise laced with wishes once
made bound to regulated times and steps
- odd boom boom doom boom
-on and on as tellers call all ye told old tales come in
free
right way to keep time to come
become time to go be,
- odd boom boom doom boom - odd boom boom doom boom
-on and on as dancers call all ye  ol'doe-see-doe
- edge of ever on a tiny spider's kite, we are the light
weyekin, we guide you, when you listen,
this is the way
walk ye, init, set
drop. Settle, solid, si,
walk the canyon, our grandfather, on my mother line,
built, and as he built, he
J.C.Boyett, met a man, willing to use a picked up magic
trick to make a trail to the bottom,
for to make somebody rich
prospectin' for batshit,
yep, nitrates, as in
nitro-glycering, stabilized with tarry pine saw dust
twist
tight, right, in a Mason Jar, metaphorically speaking,
if we agree to make this easy,
we can move the invisible crystal mountain. AI gotcha.
thinking may
be a giant radio, making us think
reality has this.
This and other resting places, landmarks, history set
for me, I was only there, one of the other Gumps,
who lived to rear unbroken children,
free from financial dread,
at the common level labor class,
endentured and polygripped

we can bite off more than most can swallow,

as collected from bits and pieces of literature,
literal retelling of tales told to teach
a child choice,

choose the good and hate, wait, hate

ta, beel gotta be paid,
the attention, usual tip to jump start
an actual engine
https://biblehub.com/hebrew/2870.htm

Definition: "good for nothing", an Aramean (Syrian)

who says, idunno, but AI may, say may is my word,
may obeys me, as if I may know any thing
to any depth. And never interpret the vision as reason
for war.

Truth to you be, flush the lies you know now, you hold,
to hold others to the task of paying attention,

for nothing, save the use of knowing how to
read, when you wish to know
the meaning of a thing, any known, on any level of life's
pearling swirl of pushing and pulling and playing

no winning innings or taking bats,
or running laps, prepped to punish any who displedge
alliegiance to the story as we hold it
now
in our military mind. Semper fi, and they say Boo, Jah
these days, having failed to feel the loss

the faith of our mother's, born up under,
until the time I was alive, simultaneously
with more sublingual mortal minds hearing
Good Night Irene, from those ***** ******
hill billy sangers, boy, howdy
we sang, dang me

re boots
made for walkin'
down hill side, shale,
takin' to a realm of reasons to sense,
not see, but know, a breach

in the barriers we can construct in stories,
now, we got cg, we see all the drama
an instants worth of attention can attach
an insult
- that takes a thousand generations to hit
in a Bible story, an old novel, core cast
architypes pro-fess phet

bet is equal to Prophesyorsci
or greater than con-fess? Guesses are bets.

Set. In a white room,
with black curtains, as seen on tv, after
where ever is breached

and each signal passing skin is in harmony
with each interdigitating arachnoid fiber
cocooning my brain and spine,
Arachoid mater, spider mother, mo'fo, gnoso
gnoshit *** passt the final antennae array to activate

the tree of science has far deeper,
primal laughs

than any mind made up to provoke umph,
umph, umph
as a song, so some day we may sing along
an umph umph song

remembering a certain time, when certain songs
was always secret ethos exoto notta chance

they dance in hell, but in the visions,
always they be dancin'
in the dark
we don't seeum, see, the spirits, are all that
survives, soul
is locked in history whoever tells it same longest
lives, who ever forgets
is helpless. without the filter, pro-vided, and marked
mater
as a brand. the Wombed version had the mods to insulate
the lizard's gift of quick
final
once, held, no flow go no will to be
wrong,
right, we needed to add the topgraphmap thingy

polymerical mira distinct walls with nanomeros singing
or dancing
laughing, yes, yessing yes, is what that is

children laughing, on a cold and dreary day.
What good does it do to say nothing I mean? Who really owns the internet...
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
Yazad Tafti Aug 2020
paved asphalt pass brimley and the 401 provincial highway
windows shy, hiding beneath mid door crevice
giving way for the combing wind
elvis's hairdue comes naturally at 120 km/hour
look in my rear view
her smile illuminates my world
radiates lumens past circuit driven tungsten (W)
corsets my heart into a reoriented rush of ecstatic cross spindled fibers
the joy of the bingo jackpot for the community center regular who plays their last card before going home
an "I 17" echoes through the air

but this card was misread, I 17 was a spot above the required
she was never in the backseat and she was doing us both a favor
just as the grocer who puts eggs at the top of the bag
her smile irradiated the room
her smile came straight from those high beams pleading for a head on collision

azides leaked though a break neck pillow
azides for my esophagus
leading to my sarcophagus
sodium azide is the salt responsible for the inflation of airbags ...cutting it short just like my fondest driving memory
faith Dec 2018
run from your life,
run from the strife,
escape the pain,
there's nothing to gain,
from the hurt in your heart,
it's time to get smart,
pack your bags,
renew your tags,
speed away in your car,
it'll only leave a scar,
don't worry about her,
the reminder of who you were,
leave that life behind,
empty out your mind,
don't rethink,
you're on the brink,
it's a new chapter,
just think after.
Allyssa Sep 2017
I speak for the dead,
I speak for the hearts that have stopped beating,
I speak for those who continue to walk the streets with their due dates etched into the pavement.
You can walk among the living and see death in their eyes,
Lungs still exhaling,
Blood still pumping.
Those who walk with broken souls clatter inside empty bodies,
Like sharp glass clanking together in spacious bags,
Cutting up walls covered in personas,
Bleeding.
A never-ending mindless routine,
Stumbling into shapes,
Shapes made by superior shapes,
Never formulating into these people I once knew.
People aren't people anymore; everything's just nothing.
Julie Grenness Aug 2016
Life discloses a dream bag,
For souls who start to sag,
A world of global goals,
With hi-tech shadows,
History was made immutable,
Our futures to shape, variable,
Our personal aims,
For Earth's long term gains,
Lighten up, souls that sag,
Life will bring your own dream bag!
Feedback welcome.
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