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Ken Pepiton Nov 10
Incorporeal,
in bodiless form, in spirit
in truth;

from out, looking in,
from now, seeing then
from whence all laws arise;

thinker thoughts,
tinker toy's and dams,
tin solder solutions

"Solutio!" or did he say
"Salute!" loose salubriety?

Endlösung, wholy reforming

all the whys in Userous tyranny,
all the reason in Balance of power,
all the mastery in War against peace…
knotting
strings
of coincidence crossing the wake
of where we were truer sets
of posed causal effects,
twist and shout,
your own salvation,
in the end,
work it on out,
when you live ever after,
what you gonna do?

If it's up to you, of course.
Unbraiding dread knots, loosed from mortal coil, then what... there being
after waking here once more, to offer a thought in the empty after math.
Omnia Algundy Oct 30
Failing the stages of what once was realities,
Then decided to escape to Dreams,
Trying to give senses of scenes,
What if it turns into a nightmare with endless questions ‘n’ means,

Holding hands with yesterdays,
Falling in love with tomorrows,
Trips long gone in Milky Ways,
Shooting stars in far beyond galaxies,

Now you’re the star of tomorrow,
Tomorrow you’re the star of gone,
Living in fake until you reach the sun,
Nothing relieving in a loaded to shoot gun,

If dreams failed the meanings,
Our feelings gives it leadings,
To reach what’s called greetings,
Don’t worry of a temporary bleeding,

Now you know whats real,
Do you understand how it deal?
If stitches failed to heal,
Will be making you a skin of steel,

That happy ever after will,
Among those dreams to be fill,
You need to stand still,
Don’t wait for the far fars until,

Look at those flickers,
Beautiful but only in presence of liquors,
Hold your breath with all considers,
You now belong to the highest
worshippers.
Feeling is the state where you give a
‏meaning to the meaningless
Jeremy Betts Jul 28
There's a want to be wrong
Wanted for so long
So long it seems like a folk song
Rather than a foregone conclusion
Just another drawn in lexicon
A childish tantrum replayed like a sing-a-long
'Till the real "want" is gone
And I have to admit I have no idea what's goin' on

©2024
[Hermit]
/ˈhɝmɪt /
A recluse; someone who lives alone and shuns human companionship.

One last promise of a kiss; but who hears the words of
someone’s misplaced lips— Memories are all archived, those
experiences, a treasure to bury deep in the chambers of a heart
And any extra time: an excuse for me to procrastinate…how I
choose to express my reasoning, is an explanation for another day

for the all the memories we had, will all remain locked away
our experiences a treasure I’ll never get the pleasure to
saviour in their worth. and any reason to chase after them
all in a day, becomes the procrastination of tomorrow…
our story ends here


In a thin book of divination; the conclusion of a love
that had the fill of a loaf of bread- here we are- with the
crumbs, holding onto what’s left. There is no grasping it.
All climaxes eventually fall into the obscurity of being
an old familiar harmony; the laughs of many, soon becomes
the quit chuckles of one who sits later alone. And all joyous
songs must play their very last chord

anticlimactic will be the story of us, painfully laughing ourselves
to sleep— those fortunate enough to sing our once beautiful song-
the words, chords, keys, and harmonies are all gone…
our story ends here


I am something inadequate; a follower to the gun,
the bullet that led me astray in its cold lead. Still don’t
lend me your sorrow; shunning the idea of love
For the gun that killed a benevolent concern, was
a gun I had pointed at myself.

                                          …Bang!
I value the lips to a modest dream
The fresh lipstick – outlining one’s imagination
In soft brush strokes; as the dreams of my child
Are quite distant nowadays, still silhouettes to a recent age
The metaphysical footprints of walking in faith, the path
It’s… so narrow on the trail of yellow grass; the sun is on
My back, like a long-legged shadow in this urban darkness

Questions bring up less of their answers- my life a riddled
Experience on a dusty path, where manure litters the street,
Pretending the smell is all so vague- but those **** flies!

I am alone, patrolling the ideas of one’s calling, beneath a
Crescent moon – from youthful screams, too loud to hear
The purpose to all my chaotic dreams: perhaps now,
I’m finally awake in the world, to see what it all means?
Jeremy Betts Apr 30
If I can't hold on
If I let life slip by like you said I'd do all along
As the tiniest violin plays my theme song
Would you lose faith in me as a person?
As another flawed human?
Or is it set in stone as a bygone conclusion?
I've begun to become withdrawn
So it shouldn't be long
If I must let go I'll aim for the lawn
And you can sleep well knowing you were not wrong

©2024
I would've loved to meet her.
The sweetness you spoke in her honor.
A gentle breeze in a month of freezes.
Electric, connective, explorative.

I would love to meet the next.
The sweetest of peas.
Only bluest when being overly fruitful.

Reflections of trekking tower of the familial tree.
Expectations of expecting in introspect.

Forgive me for being greedy, wanting to be involved in your life.
Forgive me for involving my love.

I shall let the resting rest, the ones that need rest to get rested, and give my mind and soul a rest.



Ifeanyichuku Okoro © 2023
October 24th, November 4th.
Sonorant Jan 2022
I would have sculpted you a shelter from my bones.
—Never yours.
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