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Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
Subject enters trance
Subject enters trance state
Subject enters entrancement

Entrance word opens mind
Mental kind
Mind kind, man kind, male and female

see that fe,
see iron, the processed bile,
from certain ores -  see a detail

allowed the ancient few who read
all the ancient writings, as we read
French or Farsi, today, we the augmental.

Augmented I, exo-mindful chooser bot,
software, with a calcium lattice frame,

any curious child could have been shown,
by way of instructions, seldom read, ready

do the drill. Do it again. Do another whole
day. Being particular as to what use is made

of my pronominal reality state, my real estate.

Non moi. My ever after all of that. This.
These
times that try men's souls, since this means
of forming information along bendable old bones,

Once, in the dreamtime's local translation mindspace
timeless,
nothing was.
Nothing was evil, and that was good, a chain construct,

mind chain, prior to any sense we readers hold chains
to represent, closed torqued rods of iron, formed
on the horn of the anvil, the only known anvil,
for the making of such things was closed knowing,

must be earned, this epithet, honest, most honed,
among the dull stone scattered across my plain,

Mam, re, remember,
Mamre had a plain called by his name.

Terebinthine Oaks, con-secration acknowledged,

by whom, asks my little boy, who knew which oak
Jacob buried the stolen idols lied about under,
for shame.
For shame, he who wrestles still, with the will
to be the bherer of all my own shame, amen.

Nothing hidden that shall… should we quibble?
Known is known,
and should one choose one may make a plain
from a point
once,
stretched this far. And holding… ad in fun item,
Chotsky for any one to open worm cans with.
I make a habit of becoming something new, once a day.
Gerald Sep 2021
He is everything
I'll never be;
enough and appealing.

I'm everything that
he isn't; broken and
entombed. Put away.

But becoming - blooming.
c Aug 2021
There's just something romantic about cornfields and 3am
Maybe it’s just the optimist inside of me
But the stars are shining so bright tonight, don’t you think?
They are so bright, the sky is so clear,
and I can feel your hand pressed against my side,
attached like a name
Maybe you’re afraid of the cold too

It was cloudy, the light on the edge of the horizon
Polluting the stars, they weren’t that bright
I feel you pull my body away from me
It’s so strange to feel warm, to feel anything
You embrace the cold

I cannot save you anymore than I can avoid becoming
The same sky I stare at

The breeze dances across my stomach as you bring me closer
Eyes staring into a cold sky
As you listen to me ramble on
About where the big dipper should be
If the stars were bright enough to see it
leeaaun Mar 2021
make memories,
to keep memories
and then become a memory
face the phases of memories
Moises Garcia Jan 2021
We Will Always Grow Up Realizing How unfair Life Can Get.. But Some Of Us Are Tired.. Some Of Us.. Go Through The Hardships While The People Who Believe We "Want" The Easy Way Out Are The Ones That Blindly Walk A Road They Don't Even Own. Such Nerve.. Why Do We Suffer What They Deserve?.. Even Through Our Difficulties.. The Fair That We Deserve Is Our Hope To Prove Them Wrong.. A Taste Of That Sweetness We Lust For That Many Of You Bitterly Devour Without Love... Life Can Choose To Be As Difficult As It Wants To Be.. But We Can Choose To Either Accept That It Will Get Worse... Or Become What Needs To Be The Better.

~Moises G.
Andrew Rueter Dec 2020
Fall becomes Winter.
Time changes. Time rearranges.
Each season provides its own challenge.

A shaving becomes a beard.
The snow falls. The snow piles.
Snowballs gain momentum and grow.

A scratch becomes an ache.
I can't breathe. I can't swallow.
I won't last long but this will last forever.

The cold becomes pneumonia.
I have coughing fits. I have blockage.
Phlegm builds an island to be marooned upon.

Habitation becomes hibernation.
The animals escape. The animals sleep.
They wait for the light to shine on them once more.

Mitigation becomes migration.
The birds fly away. The birds fly South.
As they flee their wings push cold air down toward us.

Winter becomes Spring.
I have become someone else.
A man who has felt another Winter.
KHY Nov 2020
You are greater than that which you are named
Until that which you are named becomes that which you are
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