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Windows down
I'm back in town
Ocean in my hair it's only been an hour
Laugh and cry drives friends talking 'bout our lives now
Favorites play off the LANY album
10.12.2020
Carlo C Gomez Sep 30
I dreamt of lighter fluid
As desert rain

Matchsticks
Stricken against the wind

Building into a phosphorus
Shower

A smiling inferno
In the fast lane

Hot cinder rims
Giving joyride the third degree

With fiscal intentions
Of burning this

Highway
Right off the map
This mountain pass is an important link from Los Angeles to Las Vegas.
Ken Pepiton Sep 10
Proof, tongues spark fires.
As I burn in indignant
rage of uselessness.

But if I could I would make all houses fireproof.

Fireproof,
my house could be buried.
It would be fire proof, but I can not pay to do the job.

I can imagine it done.
I can imagine living in a mound I paid to have made,
I can imagine finding funding in a lottery ticket that blows by.

In my chthonic dwelling place,
I might imagine forging peace from scorn,
I might imagine shaping forms for horns and bells,
I might imagine making hate bow before darkening my door.

Fireproof,
in California, in 2020,
in the September like none can remember. listen:

Some say san'ana win's be blown in spite,
of all them prayers and they prayers,

Peacemaker sorts, say, not t'night.
Wounded warriors wisht redemption, gimme one mo' shot,
I got t'tell, t'*** outa hell. f'free, {humming birds were singing}

yeah, free, for the troof.
seekt 'n' found,
settled down, watch 2020 vision in 1963 mind,
at the Stardust Drive-In, on Route 66.

Kids, I cannot lie, I was a liar by trade and inclination,
so I do know how, and why, liars prosper.

I lack the knack.

I suspect Plato had this problem.
Nobody will believe me if I say I know this, but
IF
I were to say Socrates says he thinks this
or that,
I could talk to myself for hours, if I were Socrates
and Plato…
I could carry on trial-tri-tryag'in-a-logs,
make a joining thing
attack a subconning science, see a mental canker worm,

at the core,
lusting for more. And swallow.
--
Try the brandy, we perfected the tekhne, in 1263,
the very essence of a satisfied mind,
we captured in patient perfection.

Faster fasting, 2020, see, you ask me, I say, go slow --

look around,
some things happening here, there, where my words
are where you are,

and that's
kinda kool.
We come up to the Kool taste, all
gnostalgic gnshit.

Why so serious, seriously, if Schiller says, to this day,
our kind are at our peak in states of whole
heart and mind harmonized play.

Nobody blows my horn, see,
I move the needles, shhh
sing a song sung in pines,

say, sighing, I know, softer, I know
softer, still, I know

I heard
Little Boy Blue, come
blow your horn… yeah, pretty sure…

The brandy, right. I knew some things changed.

Fireproofing plan, began to take shape
and was buried in
details,

yes,{yes, yes} the rub, the scratch on the glass,
rough diamonds
find that act
vibratorily
such a rush, ping, the sing, ting - tones spiders feel,
while kiting over grand granite domes
protruding from Baja to Reno, and beyond.
--
A wise man built his house on this rock,
and I bought it, on credit, by God,
I declare I am no man's slave,
I owe no man, but to be a true and noble friend at all times.

Naturally, of course, in the flow of all things,
as AI has guessed it might look
from a distance, we see

we are a very tiny bit
of everything at once.

What I think I am matters, just exactly that much.

-- and on earth, in reality,
I thank God Almighty
and the best of luck, for firefighter types of minds and bodies.
Wishes work, I believe in the overall goodness of intention. Hate is so distracting from hope and better effort, invested in the future, from now.
Ken Pepiton Sep 7
Aristotle at my fingertips,
not locked in soliloquies I may perform,
but heard from an Oxford don I have
in my pocket,
as I lean into each lesson and trudge
up and down my morning
constitutional,
where the firebreak meets
chaparral alive with cottontail
this morning, when I almost said, "it's too hot."

C'mon, walk a mile with me… like
on the road to Emmaus, but Christ, no;
this character,
a soldier in me, about to salt out, bids me,
walk a mile, "not two, one
does the trick."
The thought comes
as a dare from the Ralston Purina guy,
and I stepped onto my trail.
I dare think Aristotle's thoughts after Plato's,
thinking
I could have known this when I was younger,
but not to this degree,

if I had not dropped out, and never knew,
by rote,
to pass a test, that
"All men by nature desire to know."
This is
Curiosity, right? I suspect it is a gift.

The joy we find in sensation, proof
offered the gainsayer,
I say again, that which is good for nothing
never
never
naturally exists, so
what tool forms an eye to notice that…

see, through the window
of my poetic-pathetic e-thoughtic soul
a feathery
family of phoebe birds, flits by,
if that is the proper name
{Tufted-Titmouse, my AI replies},
tails reflecting a smokey blue hue,
they swoop and flutter past;
I see
in a non-imaged flashpast pattern
from a time in the summer of 1969…

Disneyfied trails
from Cinderella's dressing room
scene, not seen, but reminded of seeing,
the pattern, in this phantomind dance,
being witnessed now, as
this old soldier once saw it
performed by bluer birds than these…

Time skipper
shifts to another bubble intersecting mine
and

I hear a worried neighbor fret about the fire.
I almost say,
"One of the benefits of being
backedup to the cloud,

nothing to lose."

But I remember, she collects purses and shoes.
Ah, I share an edge dwellers accent if I talk about tech to myself. I suspect I always have sounded like Little Luke McCoy, and now I hear Walter Brennan.
Grey Sep 7
We sit by the pool,
staring at the bloodied sun,
and watch the ash fall.
9/6/2020
This is a true story. The CA fires are no joke. I hope you’re all staying safe <3
Jealous of a person that I don't even know
Angry with the person that let me go
I hardly recognize who I am anymore
Never have I harbored this much bitterness before

Walk me through the differences between me and her
Like walking the whole distance California to Virginia
A task so vast it seems insurmountable
Tell me what it means to you to promise things in double

Do you take her to the same places you and I would go
The thought of her tainting our lookout is enough to make me burn
Take her hammocking in our tree in the park close to school
At galaxie view remember when it was my body lying next to you

West Beach, Thousand Steps, Newport 56
Huntington, Laguna, San Diego for a switch
There is nothing new you possibly could do
Drive the whole coast searching, but you and I did that too

I hope I drive her crazy
I honestly hope she hates me
I hope I cause you lots of problems because your dreams still portray me
Realizing on the daily how you mistakenly betrayed me

I hope when you're with her you feel haunted with regret
I hope the thrill falls flat and conversation lies dead
And you walk away painfully aware
Of the fact that what we had was rare

Not every girl can take the late night thoughts you gave me
If you write her paragraphs past midnight
Then you're downright ******* crazy
Playing house with every person who is duped into the role play

If anyone asks, jealousy made me
08.31.2020
lk ode Aug 26
I carry it on my back
when I'm here, I'm not really here
parts of me are scattered in different places
it's a little exciting, but mostly unsettling
I never unpack
my mind moves, and sometimes my body can't keep up
I am in so many parts that sometimes I lose some of the pieces
it's hard to keep it all together, especially the tiny bits
I don't live here, but I'd like to
I take the 78 to the 5 to the 405 to the 22,
the 405 to the 710 to the 5 to the 101
and I'm off at sunset.
I am trying to build something,
but it is hard without a foundation.
it is hard to build something out of a suitcase.
Ken Pepiton Aug 22
It is true one mind sees bloodsport in the heavens
and cringes in dread of feeling
kindly, like if that were me, what would I do but die?

nada, right, pass on

thank y'mam, feeling kinda woozy, ever after
seeing
2020 on TV…

Google the violence, ohshitnoknowknow we all know
enough evil to know it don't work like on TV, ever
after one burn, you know, fire works, every time,
to destroy at the touch

thunder, such a holy sound in the desert summer moment
on earth, around the middle,
not too cold in the winter
makes too hot to work in the summer, just
fine.

That's right. Life is like that, if you live in the right state of mind.

Back to the Future, once more, it is
always on or in the library,
ask libby, who in the whole world
before

my generation… we who did not get
stuck wishing we would die
before we got old…
who among us now is we the people minded?
Post war knower bubblers expand
until we pop like matured
pods of what people can be if we live this long.

Trouble your own house, inherit the wind,
as part of the meek inheritance agreement accepted
with the weather.

Earthlings all, hear ye, severe storms are part of the deal.
Free ticts to ever after on Bucky Fuller's spaceship,
Sagan's pale blue dot,
live to tell

we learned no lie may be belived and be survived.

We first saw earth from the moon.
More boomers blew minds beyond their
own imaginings, back then,
listen in radioman's
morphic broadcasts
from Khai Vinh,
the fishnet factory,
legendary - now ifier loosed for the attention paid

do you hear what I hear?
did we know the meaning in happy Sisyphus,
or did we find it known and tag along?
Like a rolling stone.
I heared once the Rock thunders as it rolls past the apex of a cosmic journey
TJ King Aug 21
Underneath a sun baked deck in San Jose
A flower was born.
Sun dappled, it unfurled its small green hands toward the lawn where
Globes of water still sat on the shoulders
Of green grasses to catch a glimpse of the sky,
who's cool breath had so recently whispered them into being.

Every day, as the sun peeked through the
Slats of gray wooden decay, the focus of it's impeccably golden eye would enevitably fall upon the delicate petals of a small blue flower.

Where had it come from, such a flower? Fallen out of its sleeve on the way to the garden? Had it been blown astray in one big gust? Where were the other flowers then?

They are gone. The Partridges disbanded long ago and left in their place a corpse
of tortured cedar, concrete, and angry hot metal. All now home to one small blue flower, who dances whenever given the chance in the spotlight of it all.

I only tell you this because because I watched that flower die this summer. After a gaggle of men pealed back the carcass-home, a flood of light came tumbling down upon all that had unknowingly benefitted from its protection, mostly weeds.

I should say, the lawn was the first to fall, well before the house itself, though it fought valiantly.
Hoisting its mystical morning globes skyward, like an offering. Golden death still spread like a flood across the lawn, catching every unshaded corner until all was bleached and unremarkable to look upon.

I remember how odd it must've looked, one blue flower shooting up from the grey mounds and yellowed grasses. How excited I was to see something so small and beautiful set free. How long I lingered there waiting for it to die.
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