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Ken Pepiton Mar 6
time seems to pass
in spurts.
some days take for ever,
others are infinite from the start.
Rules and reasons for commas and
periods where entire thoughts screech….
to a crash, hit the wall
and bounce
ellipsis-missed stuttering futures all flash
in a wink,
we think
better to wander among lines integral to life,
than those that tie our hearts to the lie,
the big one, thou shalt not
die. A subtle metaphor for ceasing to be
all you think,
in your core, where courage faces curiosity
by way of the oddly bent nerve carrying
intention to a tongue…

say, hey
the idea of anti-locks, for slowing the selahity--
ABS- fixes that --
those locked-up brakes scenes, in dreams
where you are about to hit the wall,
these days those are
set in the genes, like falling from trees,
you notice,
you never hit the surface.
You always wake in a nearly identical reality,
as when you last passed from awake and aware,
sleep, maybe with dreams, as it seems
there is no total recall, after.

Today we face the future, again
we imagine we
know many common things that everybody
knows, as bodies are
by nature, complicated things. More
complex than reason allows, thus

the urge
to slow the motion imagined, scrunch
each sphincter on the chakra ladder …
jah, wu wu, come up here, bunkuum bi yall,
be a me and thee, hooked to a book
swallowed whole,
when it ought to have been chewed real,
all your life, cha cha cha;
you been thinking this is how if feels, if, yes,
to be just right.
Just fine, thank you.
Fine, technical granularity in the meta data
of life, arranged in time and chance
to dance in an idea all minds name beauty,
poetry and song,
all flow into the lowest valley
where, today, we wake and
find a slew of beautiful ideas malingering,
I say I
that ain't so. The pond where those old knowns
were settled has dried,
due to the dams, but we can look up river
along the meandering course all flows carve.

We can find where those bemired beautiful thoughts
sprang from the first fully myelinated frontal cortex,
capable of gramary. Enchantmental
{magic-tech intuitive spelchek}
hexes and spells that repeat the effect
in gestures and words, once known
to have made axe heads float,
and fishes to multiply,
and vast armies to die at the river,
laying down sword and shield,
shrugging off the mantle,
leaving Sisyphus to keep things rolling,
whole armies, flags to bedraggled ******
in the rereward, muttering incanticles,
we have over come,
we have reached beyond the grasp
of all our knowers,
yet they lie, for a living, to live in the lie.
Knowers who settle
in a slew of beautiful ideas,
un beknownst to them, the misery of e
spiritualized truth, sealed in idle words,
deemed good for nothing
until these days,
this day, perhaps your first
of waking with one, only, uno, uni
verse as long as life,
per se.

As we ramble on, branching,
ever, where the pressure within pierces
the field opposing…
am I worth as a word writer compared
with Coleridge' the addict,
whose story lacked the wonderings of Cain-
Wordsworth, lacked the knack,
of knowing Cain,
murderer in the first instance, ere degrees
had words to make sense of them.
Not knowing the story,
the idea
left these novice evil thinking boys snared
by a musement of the classical
spiritual sort, either real
or fantasy, we call it
art, intuitively being attractive
to the curiosity
living in the knowing being -- you know,
you say you
tasted the Son and knew at once,
in a word holds truth in a way,
we feel
touching each chakra, if you stop to feel,
each valve clampt to hold the surge,
urging up up up to
fill the face with bright acknowledgement,
acting as known in a whatifery sense,
tasted, felt, not seen not heard in words
roger, acknowledgment sent.
ditty dum.
Free verse is worse than what,
would you say? Given a will that is wild
by nature, as you imagine nature
being, a force in physics that goes bio,
then logical,
lives on as long as any knower wishes to know.
- Crime of the mariner?
he shot the albatross for the reason…
I can, I did not know of the link
to generations in the morrow,
twixt the twisted
real real alone alone as though a spell,
seeps from the story,
held with glittering eye, strange pow'r of speech
I know the man that hears me,
You know as well.


Time loops and worm holes,
time and again
the story follows plot to points we knew were
coming soon,
end of
all that was, then
this is new, reset, next level, literal game of life.

Grown out of all the dung counted
worth the recollection.
Yea doubtless,
and I count all things
but loss
for the excellency
of the knowledge
of Christ Jesus my Lord:
for whom I have suffered the loss
of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ

Wait a minute. that was a quote. "Winning" Christ is where
I draw the line…
tell me, if I know the truth, and the affect is liberty,
that is excellent knowledge,
Paul and I agree,
but what's to win, bro? Where is winning done, once
the destroyers works were destroyed?

That is the story under the headline of the ages,
It is finished, say witnesses at the event.
The Gospel is back, set in second coming Times Roman.
We won, peace on earth, good will to all who
take the grace as granted and ask what good can now be done.
We won, said the anonymous peacemaker.
We used the knowledge of good and evil, through deep
simple conditioning, over eons,
augmenting mental effort here and there with a genius off
the charts
measurable in minds that imagine infinity is impossible.

In the early 1980s, Nobel laureate Paul Dirac
told Princeton University theorist Ed Witten
that the most important challenge in physics was
“to get rid of infinity.” 

From <>

-- Disneyifity, wishery wu, to infinity and beyond

New times, new tropes, lose  slay-the-dragon,
loose distribute-the-hoard, hope to shout,
it all works out, and Jesus
fixes every thing…
soon. Soon. Many sons, wombed and un, no diff.
on earth as in heaven… always answered,
nicht wahr? Immer so, amen.

Or is ask and ye shall receive,
speaking of the signal to reset your mind.
To get past infinity as a physical problem
that mortals must solve.
But what will happen to our craft?,
hear the institution groan.
What in deed, February 2021.
That passed and you barely noticed.
Not much changed among the Promise Keepers
crop of Christian Warriors marching,
as to war, with carnal weapons at the ready.

Now, as you may see, on TV, is the time to sow,
seed faith, {prove me now, pay and pray}
Yes -
All the riches to the glory of God,
building the Kingdom Now, for a while,
as it built the fabled Oral Roberts Disciples Network
of Kenneth Hagen clones clad in Lutheran sheepskins,
hiding scapula knit from Iberian goats
whose hair, twisted to itchy yarn,
made the shirt of several martyrs,
for whom towns and universities are named.
Such secret scapula
remind the faithful, fame is worth any price,
pre-pay shorten your stay,
and now functions as advertised to envoke
itching to die for a try to win Christ,
by killing the enemy we love,
for Jesus… who
sent {SYTF} the comforter, to soothe the itch,
to break the bubble shaped like a tetrahedron,
for some phosphoric oomph, spilling
the golden oil -similar to the effect Aaron felt
poured on his head, dripping from the corners of his beard.

{there is legend of a prayer:
Abba forgive those who know not what they do,
I confess there was a flaw in the nature of man,
I came to fix it, and I did. Amen}

Bless me, must I know the meaning
of every thing I ever say?
Is there no easy way?

Look up. Yes, anything you wish to know,
seek and find, weigh with care,
find the measure of this to that, eventually all
leads to ever, but not hell.
Actual consciousness faints long before hell
is realer than men have made punishment.
Cancel this variable with that probable, consider-ate
conscience, desider-ate desciency in constancy
- set the standard at good -
C is something other than imagined, thus
at Feynman's suggestion we swept infinity
under the rug.

Knowing all things,
It'll blow your mind.
Unsafe at any speed, be lief is the re lief…
bileave, one source claims is a noun, not an act,
a state of mind, bounded by
"confidence reposed in a person or thing;
faith in a religion…"
{granularity of substance assumed}
We can hope.
But that's after all sorts of lies have come to life
as institutions to shelter the meek from the greedy,
who then must wear this dread atop-- your's, yes
your head, wears the dread subjecting
all you know to ******* in service
of the Authorized Truth;
remember hell is as real as any place you may imagine,
given years of proper education
in the liturgy of survival
during next.
---------- seal it.
{Same yesterday, today and ever after - forever
is so ambiguous- }

Gnathite seaton, right - that means
bug lips, no I was thinking Know thyself
in Latin or something
aca-deme-ware-ish, to push a button on
the whole truth
and nothing but - beginning as  belief released
as an act of will,
accepted that in this bubble
each emotion has
cause and stands accussed,
with a touch of pride
to expand the contention confidence and convening
soothing the rippling surface on the ocean of opinions
'pon which we bob
up and down.

Bait-taken signal to pull back on the tug,
set the hook,
feel the yelp and then the anger, of a fish
I wish
were that magic one, I never really caught.

-- I laugh, in disbelief, relieved of lying metaphors,
miss-labeled cans of worms from experiences
not common in unalienated minds.



In the realm of recommending AI,
the pro
stitutes told the institutes ***
sells and sells and sells, but smack holds
their loyalty, violence
givem hell,
makem pay seven times seventy,
each child a slayer of his ten thousands,
-watcher set-
pay attention to the empath,
watch it cringe,
something words fail to convey, temptation
to defy a lie locking ignorance in place,
never wishing
to know all things
to prove a prophecy, such,
is only tempting if time is a factor
in the dis
cussing of certain concepts regarding the after effect
of an anointing on a lynching,
after a drowning,
and a burning while all the people sang na na
nawnaw nananana

and when the battle's over, we had lost the edge,
- contention comes from pride, and
- winners is proud, such pride has offspring
- messin' wit'cha mind… win Christ, for dung…

Covid binging
the point, but after all,
we are here and all who opposed us
now enforce the worth of words
to the wise.
It is written. So it is.
Consider a self, rich and sorrowless.
Be that a bit.
Gramary is magic, Psyche is spiritual, at best.
Ach, Scheiz, not Grammerly, no, but a segue
I just did a product placement
for one of Spelchek's kids.
Gramery is spells and hexes in letters and signs…

And on TV is Osiris and Isit… bait for next
An amusement ride, not a catechism...
Amanda Kay Burke Nov 2020
Let's not forget the way we were
The happiness we used to hold
Before the seasons changed on us
And winter turned your heart cold

And bones crack from the drop in temperature
Surprised at your lack of emotion
Sharp details of each moment clearly defined
As if you are moving in slow-motion

Stillness more than I can stand
Sometimes you are as rigid as a statue
Like an exhibit in a museum
Impressing all who view

Storm of chaos brewing inside
Kept under a silent veil
I try to pry a confession from your mouth
Ultimately I always fail

I know your body in and out
Every inch of your flesh mapped in mind
But you won't let me peek underneath
This perfect mask you hide behind

Eternal conflict is my burden
Faced with an impossible choice
I should respect myself enough to let go
But I'm addicted to the sound of your voice

Reflected in the mirror are mistakes
In the form of scars on my skin
After 25 years on earth I know better
Yet still partake in bittersweet sin

Life is just easier with you there
I can't see it any other way
We may not always get along
But I still choose you every day

I miss those times you'd stare at me
Love prevalent in your eyes
With every teardrop adoration drained out
Your dilated pupils now show only lies

And the moments of intimacy shared in the past
Get further and further away from what's real
But no matter the distance between memories
I'll forever remember how you made me feel
I don't care if I never see you again, you will always mean the most to me.
Traveler Nov 2019
It's not actually a flower
It's a painting of a flower
No definition beyond
The flower's we see
Out on the lawn
Merely an image
Paint fumes replaced
The charmers scent
That once
Drew our mates

An orchestrated opus
Of wayward heart
Galaxies of lyric-less
Wayward stars
From who knows
Meaningless poetry
Is all we are

Why do morning dove
Insist to sing
Meaningless songs
Birds of prey scream
Blinding beams of sunlight
Reflect off mighty seas
Blinding our eyes
Yet still we believe
What meaning has
The giant ancient trees
Majestic mountains
Purple beauties
These impressions
Of nature only define
Meaningless poetry
That beautifully rhymes
traveler tim
George Krokos Mar 2019
The depth of space isn't really confined
but along with infinity it is defined.
From "Simple Observations" ongoing writings since the early '90's.
He is so deep
wE forgot who

he is so deep
keep me

let my not be
flesh's circumstances
that I may be


word of love are to love
words of hate are to hate
side by side lines
how easily
our crooked life's
Niobe Sep 2017
The whole world is wrong.
Wrong -
     defined by not being right,
     defined by people who know themselves better than I.

The whole world is at my fingertips.
My fingertips -
     wrought in rust,
     wrought in hues of iron butterfly wings,
     wrought in the language of dead, forgotten things.

The whole world is somewhere in the universe.
Somewhere in the universe -
     lost in the void of space,
     lost in the void of time taken to meet ourselves,
     lost in the void of where lost things look real,
     lost in the void of what could have been and what could be.

The whole world is wrong,
The whole world is wrong,
And it is right,
     Wrong and right, full and empty,
     Timeless and running out of time.

The whole world is gone.
     It was never meant for me.
;Cheating defined.:
1. "Anything that I do
that does not involve you."

2. "Nurturing any part of me
that does not satisfy some part of you."

3. "Satisfying any need i have
that seems illigitiment in your mind."

. . . At least, that's what I've come to understand. . . .
i wish i got to re-write the dictionary
loggi Jul 2017
Whose heart is mine
When I'm defined in emotions?

The way people speak,
Make me a different shade
And those I meet and leave
Have left their mark
To display.

Whose heart is mine,
When the world
Erases my fault.
Juniper Zed Jul 2017
Happiness is simply defined:
The absence of humanity's natural depression
That which binds all human life by rightful sorrow
For our disconnection with our mortal purpose
And our delusional yet rational will for the advent of tomorrow
No man, woman, or child deserves their next day
But the intangible emotion of God guides the way
So in that sense happiness isn't the absence of anything
Rather, our internal need to survive letting itself sing.
softcomponent Jun 2017
zero in on that second when gravity
takes a small dive into the contrast
that is nothing.
you are left comparing what your
senses still reveal to the soft blanketed
blankness of no-thing at all.

an absence only apparent because
it has been

the numbered becomes numberless
when there's nothing
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