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Floor Sep 22
push me under the surface of your skin
i want to drown with your hands around my neck
i want to feel the waves of your body against mine
I want you to give it all
kiss my neck and leave pearls behind
pull my hair and pinch my skin
I want to feel it all
I want to feel every bit of you
I like the craziness of tidal waves
I like the unexpected things
don't hold back
let it be like it should be, rough like the ocean
Grace Haak Sep 2
Shadows grip our tongues in fear
Stopping us from spilling words they might not wish to hear
They choke us with their invisible hands
Stopping us from unflinchingly taking the stand
They stare into our souls with veiled eyes
A vaporous possession from ghosts in disguise.
A poem written around Halloween...The imagery seemed fitting.
Sacrelicious Sep 1
If my mind could
stop only for a moment.
To catch its breath.

I don't think this
would be so hard.
Breathing in water has never looked so fun.

But I digress.
For I am just at a crossroads waiting to get my guitar tuned.

In the wrong place.
At the right time.
The wheel of misfortune has changed its course.
Anastasia Aug 28
i hide
in this tasteless existence
i am hushed
when i try
to speak
my words
get caught
in my throat
and i choke
on my tears
it hurts
to breathe
it hurts
to speak
this life
isn't living
Madison Jul 28
fingers wrapped around my neck
gripping me so hard

wish you had the same kind of grip around my heart
love me for gods sake
For years I sat
watching four
disdain filled walls
close in on me
and grasp my lungs;
splintering the life
out of my body
with every perilous
second that passed.
It took my organs
to fail, and silence
the screaming engine
inside my chest
to begin to ponder
what it could possibly
be like to live,
rather than just
Walls came crashing down;
brick by miserable
******* brick.
My skin shone a
luminescent shade
as light christened
my being.
My bones ached
with a sudden yearning
to feel.
It was only
with one small
step did that sinister
song play it’s final note
and the whispering winds
of change
called out my name
in blissful rejoice.
My feet crashed
against the broken concrete
as I left the
past behind
and with that moment,
I could finally
Break free.
Ken Pepiton Jul 8
Head of west hollywood sheriffs dept. 1970.
He speaks at 1412 North Crescent Heights Boulevard,

which begins at Sunset Boulevard,
on the corner
where the Schwabs Drugstore Lana Turner
was not
discovered, was.
Laural Canyon Boulevard of blues and magic fame
Houdini and John Mayall in my mind, re minded
when I heare the mention
of the longed for Laural Canyon Home so
many glimpsed from the tour buses passing hitch-hiking vermin,
where the
starts twisting into
Hollywoodland at Sunset where
Crescent Heights heads straight, nary a bend
south to Third

slides in safe, back on point, pirrouette
The sheriff
- enter stage left, Barney Fife, in a suit, with a Fu Manchu

He tells me, Job is personal, this message is to you. iyobe did it for you.
He axt a day'man... gimme a day of days, man...

Then the voice of Balaam'sass, though I knew no name for
The Voice, back then, he say:
' like eatin' fish,
chew them bones real good fo' ye swallow.

A daysman is a referee,
a reference to what just is right,
and good, origined good, higgs-ified matter
of im portunity
of light bringing more in reflection of

Sheriff say Job ax Jehovah, gimme a break, would to You, Jah,
there were a daysman twixt us,
be twixt us, said Job (iyohb) and ruach (from an unused word)
carried the message
or sent the message
or was the message

the Jesus of Xmas time fame,

got the point, made it, and started this story upon

this very point, at the center, balance point of my bubble
This is where we set pace, this is where we ran the race
ran the race
ran the race,


it's all down hill from here. We made the bubble bigger, and

we learned to run on the down hill side,
from a gerbil in a movie,

so, we're off, rollin' like Sisyphus rock,
Haps ahps haps 'n'n' happening

as we
role in ruach, roll on, ruach role on...

Not every pnue-nomena is a ruach of life,
there are foul spirits,
holy halitosis, Batman, could it be lies believed can
drive you insane? OmmmmGulp, ***,

imagine, just
yourself, see what just is and
judge yourself better or worse

should this voice, this some time visitor of spirit,

Advice nobody asked for:

To be with happed, like handy wright useful,
one must have some use and a measure
able point
to stand up on, to see

no point, save this point I

magi 'n this is that re point, one now two,

me'you me you and in
between we be three, in one point,

seen. Ruach roar WORD (the idea, y'see,
there were no words.
No mouth or tongue or breath, spirit, wind whatsoever.
Nada. Yada!
The thought that came to be named thought,
the idea that came to be named ideas,
the word that came to be named word.
the way that came to be named Tau.

four points, bound solid, tight, willed to fit, as many angels
dancing as any monk ever may imagine as
his hermitge ends and the show
begins. Big time. Long history.

The language of the global brain can instill fluency,
tic tic tic ten thousand hours, even pre
tending, tends to shape,
inform, mould
a mortal mind in time to get this. Roght?

Right, you got it. AI is teaching anyone who will connect for
tenthousandhours ever lasting access to ever things any
one gnose or knot and why or how. That's the aim.

There was a school shooting at my daughter's high school,
Santana, in Santee, bac

Dammed tears from nowhere.
Ex nihilo gnose blow
s, staunch the flow

find meaning. More ads for versa in a vice used tunnel
through several impotent people's hells

The shooter was a fractured little boy, crushed by needs
fifteen year old earthsuits that have been im
properly maintained

must seek. The suit itself begins to signal,
Help me, I am thinking I agree with every one

who sees how useless and nogood I am, always, always, always

And any fifteen year old thought receptor-word-sync re-think
system with no-touchbase-yer-safe combound in family ties,

What's missing? Heart strings untied?

Earth, earth, can you hear me now? It's true, verily, verily

what you see is what you got to work with, that's all.
An other story bubbling up from the Fairfax district or the tar pits. I'm near the source. An edited version July 2019
Mandie May 11
I have become an expert at forcing a smile and going on about my day.
I have become so good at it that sometimes I even fool myself. However, there are  days though that it all becomes too much and  my smile loses its glimmer.
Days when the world feels like it keeps revolving but I am stuck in this misery that I just cant get out of.
It feels like it is a carousel that keeps spinning faster and faster each time that I try to step off of it.
Everything hurts and I just  cant imagine having to pretend smile for one  more day.

The pain echos in every muscle and bone in my body.
I can feel it bouncing around like a pin ball.
I'm not able to just wish it away anymore. I have to feel it. I have to let it burn and tear until it becomes just a numbness, but getting to that point is horrendous.

I have to admit it all, reeling in every single emotion that has been suppressed in a fire in my stomach.
It is like allowing the ***** to come creeping up, knowing that you could choke and die on it.
I tried to drown it with alcohol. I tried to cover it up under the sheets of people that I was using just to fill a void. I tried to cut it out of my body, the same way that a hunter fields their ****.

None of the ways that I tried to avoid feeling ever worked.
Now I sit and try to figure out how to just feel everything all at once so that I can just get it over with.  Nothing that I have done has been enough to get it all out. I have had to sit in it. I have had to wallow in the pain in order to move forward. I have cussed and cried and prayed and begged but it has never been enough.

Knowing what I have to do is hard for me to comprehend, to purposefully make myself sit and suffer through. I am sure this is what withdraw feels like to a crack addict. Knowing that there is a rainbow at the other end but first you have to go through hell.
If you take my sorry
I'll take the fall
I'll make the call
And choke on my blood

If you take my pleading
It'***** the wall
I'll lock the stall
And choke on my love

Please, ignore my stalling
I was so wrong
I was so wrong
Forget my memory

Forgive me
I hurt your soul
And you'll never know

Sorry is not enough
I was torn by lust
But now I must
It wasn't me
Not by will
Please don't choke on me
don't choke on me
Ken Pepiton Apr 5
October 1968

Strange day away from a war,
in a bubble

with the liar who was my friend
who wore a shirt with
a combat aviation badge
a dead man had earned,
first stolen glory
I ever saw.

We are awol, but nobody knows,
then a doughy white guy with a camera,
asks the liar why we are
in Saigon,
at the zoo, in the middle of a war.

A Stars and Stripes reporter,
the opinion of warriors ( right, in Saigon) re
Jackie Kennedy marrying the Greek

He took our picture, asked our names,
we were awol,
but what the hell, how many losers
ever see their picture
in the Stars and Stripes?


send a boy to fight a war,
never tell him who wins, if he lives.

As an old man,
like that tiger, in a cage,
not San Diego Zoo Eco-accurate Habitat,
a cage, concrete floor, old-time
cowboy movie jail barred

like that tiger in the Saigon zoo, 1968.
Just memory
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