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Leave the inner world
for the world outside the walls,
procure supplies,
then, return again.
That's the plan, Stan.

Feet meet cement block.
You remember the last time
we took this walk?
As well as I do.

Insert a line I've used before,
commenting on the violet hues
of parting suns, painting the
skies above us as we go for bread.

Instead of hidden knives,
I pull a hand and offer it
as we cross the overpass.
If you're scared in day,
you're terrified at night.

Without a pause, you're reaching out,
grasping for a comfort, now.
Easy, is it? I'll bet it is.

If life has taught me anything,
the most important change
is that I learn to zip my mouth.

Joy equates to nothing more
than what others see in store,
and go on to demand of me.

Lamb's Bread from The CDC
replaces intensity
I've lost to love, with smoke.

Light it up, and let it go.
Desire Mar 3
If you’re hungry, you can’t be lazy.
You must listen, learn, work, and read
in order to make the means to eat, and feed,
your appetite of aspiration and opportunity.
Satisfy both your stomach and soul.
feed me more

@desire.is.dope
0116HRS
20190303
DAILY BREAD
@desire.is.dope
0116HRS
20190303
Desire Feb 24
Give me this day my daily bread.
Allow me the strength to stay ahead.
May I obey and if I fall or fail greatly,
may your grace surround and sustain me.
[Your will be done] Amen.

@desire.is.dope
24 Feb 19
0121HRS
In the Morning
@desire.is.dope
24 Feb 19
0121HRS
as jerry's
belligerent brung
his ***
to harry
her cheat
she sat
there in
lav and
really acted
amazed and
with her
blazon chest
that she
showed upstairs
was prime
of her
life now
I saw a man fumbling
stumbling to his knees
I watched his prayer loose it’s wings from his lips as he begged of his God for release, for peace,
for a piece of bread
or a comfortable bed
m Jan 1
the glass spice jar of rosemary sits in the corner,
bait to prying fingers and
warm dough rising.

a set of hands banish her from her home,
open her up to greedy senses
and hearty-moans.

and then suddenly,
her graceful throat tips,
grinds of rosemary fall into buttered flour,
and she settles around moles of dried cranberries,
specks of shimmering sea salt,
and passionate, cherry pink fingertips.
I'm baking bread with the sun out. My heart feels clear. I can breathe.
Hoisting the boulder,
Legs tremble beneath great weight,
Ant brings home a crumb.
Eleanor Rigby Oct 2018
Pear on the coffee table
Apple on the counter
A loaf of bread
On the unmade bed.
My heart in your fridge,
Half broken, half dead.


-- Eleanor
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
This is not where this idea began but it ran and I

missed my mark. Mark sin. -1 deficit reality quotientcy
currency. (Press Sure, to let the bursting pressure equilation expand at will)
Score.

That fine a level of reality demands more attention than I have to pay.
Patient agent wait and not or see if/then

you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing?
All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are some of those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins, since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is, but it is silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for these meta-gnostic moments? Is it?

Dejavu, you believe that, what if it is your memory lying by ignoring time
attention ratios determining the observations stored in HD?
What if it's just a glitch?
Blue screen of death.


If you suffer, is there ought that I might do now
for you
that these words are not doing? All I am is words, in a sence, sense, since

we come in threes, we are those sets of thoughts tangled in complexes
better left alone.

Untangling twisted knotted realities is what we do best.
We've been wadding up proteins, since God knows when,

time's less twisted than people think it is, but it is silly to imagine
time's arrow is a metaphor for the meta-gnostic moments?

We come and go. To and fro up on the face

messengers bearing news in both directions, watch
the trickster, Jacob, in this story, he sees the messengers from
heaven bearing leaven thither and hither

upon the face of the earth.
the wrinkling mother, smiling now, chuckle head
I ain't no ***** saint.

Jah, I know. Joy is my dance, this is my song.
Is it good Grandmother?

---- on the porch facing my west gate ---

fences don't play exactly, out acted, the role of walls.

The idea that something there is that does not love a wall
has frozen my pond

the stillness beyond the sylvan **** crowned head
radiates through the medium of the message to me in time
to you.

Miles to go, you recall the feeling of feeling miles to go
before
I sleep.
That was yesterday, and you know yes ter everything's gone,
roar.

Aslan can pierce the barrier between mere Christians and me,
how would be fun to know, but
knowing why would help us keep the story interesting as life goes on

Who controls my peace? Am I a mercurial sheen in between chaos and order, chronus and zeus?
could be, ya thank so, ye know so less unlessed as

unlessing means nothing to you, that means you are visiting here.
Visting whom, vis it ing whom? Who's in charge, where's the power
short

age, wrinkles in time, cute, ****** costumes, beside the point here

we were dancing with the thoughts emanating from Mr. Hick's
Critique-technic-magi action, post mode'r'ism at the point of Dada und Scheizkunst,
the unmass-que, the line of lies awaiting unbelief,
idle words lingering,
hoping to be noticed and added back into the story book of life,
such a simple wish.

It should be every child's, should we think that if we can or may,
sometimes I'm still,

confusion troublest the water,
it seems,
then another hurt is healed, another r lies is gone and life goes on

we won again, this never gets old, I do love my opposition, pressure pump
pump pump. De-us-me-can-onbeoffbeyond

five years ago unmasking and rhetoric meant nothing to me
the purpose of learning forever and never
knowing anything beyond all things

our bubble is metastisizing, a mercurial film forms
informing us
in its reflection,

this is the ying yang thang in 3 or 4 d, HD+ chaos one half

order the other, sharpest imaginable thing
me trick being mag ift just if eye winged show

how beautiful are the feet of them who bring good news,
you see, it flows, sweetwater flows winged feet
whish through leaving, leavin' leaven…

unleaven that which has been leaved? Fat chance, all who
eat this bread and don't get gas,
they are our same bread people. Companions. Vectors of sour dough.

bore,pore, poor, pour

in to it ish, that idea, an opening through,
trickle down good gravity leveling stillness, gentle rocking earth
roll round and round and round

the pythagorian version of euclid's point in his mother's story,

the point of this song? To know the point you must have been

to the point of in-forming the point on which we dance and you recall

we come in threes, and just, we are, just, if it, that idea,
rests in your
back roads, gentle on your mind. We make peace.

Being young is easy from my POV.
I've lived in my future for sometime now

I can't say how beyond saying aloud, this was never hidden,
in my accounting of idle words I claimed
upon hearing the stories each contained

i'da swore i hear that wise *** o'balaam's abrayin'
Braindeem, deemed 'eem. Wham, uptheyhaid. Relig, fool,

or chaos wins and no hero ever lives again! Drop anchor, wait it out.
let patience blow her nose, gnostic snot caught in the nets,

nonono nothing's wasted in patience work, we make glue
from gnostic snot that patience sneezes
when reality grows cold,

that has happened, you know, temperatures are just now,
oh, wait global warming bad dam,

Script, bust it, leveling is essential to eventual temperature
equilibrium. The heat is on, the bubbles are forming, informing one to another
below the surface
greasy tension, slippery slopes putting pressure on chaos to conform to the curve

Ying yang, mercury film upon the sea of time and the scene of chaos
in this bubble of all you can imagine real.

Hows' that feel? Why?

You want that? What are you standing under? Does chaos win?
You are, as we say, cognisic magi we-ified,
practical magic at
the moment
the point
is made, then the creation begins

and not before or is this all
unrolling ex nihilo, no magi ever knew…
come, let us reason together,

why am I empowered? To live, first thought wise, that's good but
evil forces me to think again and I see the pattern

life goes on, John Molenkamp, Sam, soldier 4,

never in a thousand years,
'cept unbelievable is one of those lies I came to **** by strangling on bile while
rescuing every idle word ever involved in the infection

from the point in the absolute center of the bubble,
objectively, you see everything
that is
seeable

but would good prevail if evil had no hope?

I know that one, yes. why?
evil has no mind, soul some think
same same medium message spoken spelled chanted danced
who care's?
*** 'er done. Life has a chaotic side, the churning creates

number one from none, the cult of one divides itself
go do be
we three we three we three a wavy song ding ****.

Aware? Awaken? Avowed-wowed-wit-wise, fullcomp, retired
Peacemaker. Me.

All my hero's imagined or real, were Peacemakers.
Just now, peaceful now, mindful now
we remain
the same blessing promised in the package of yeses
stolen from Cain by his older sister, his
bride,
keep that quiet, eh?

Secrets made sacred, always
those are lies, no lie is of the truth,
all lies are about the truth.

What empowers you, poet or poetry? Right, you know,
God, good god knows, resentment lives in lies

the rotting idle words deemed curses at best, secret at worst,
those idle corrupting thoughts sparking as if absolute annihilation were thinkable by rational minds

of ---wait, there's arub, a sore
ex nihilo, may the whole world perish, may you all go to ****,
the mad man wept his ****, and imagined his curse,

not mine,
I don't have one. I did, but I went back so often to find pieces of my heart that now I have an Elysian network woven through All-****, the big idea that broke loose infecting the mind as wisdom's leaven builds her ****
inhabitation
placenta
stem cell informing builders empowered, pressure empowered, what must be but is not verse versus
us, the we that be
we must
choose,

let this be, come and see,
life goes on.
Agree, or empower us as we bubble by and takenallwecan expanding gobbling bubbles,
good
by ye.

Once we flushed the Dada poison and let mito mom instill the patience gene with
epigenetic peace we can pass on with a touch or a word,

we've never woven lies for no reason, if a rung breaks
and they can, last straw and all that weight, you know

there are automated steps, algoryhmes of reasons to repair the broken rung
with a reason to believe the rung has been repaired

paired again with the idea of meaninglessness masked in create-if-ity

good enough. okeh. don't believe lies.
Don't pass undigested lies to see if farts burn.
Listening to Hicks Explaing Post Modernism after watching Tenant's Voltage Within spark a fire. This reality is storyteller heaven.
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