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Adam Schmitt Feb 2022
We're living a Dangerous Life,
tiptoeing on the Edge of a Knife.
What will come and take you in
The End?
Will it come from Behind
Or from Around the Next Bend?

Are We Here,
Really Here
The Everpresent Present

The Eternal,
The Undifferentiated,
The Way of the Eagle
The Way of the Sun
The Way of the sweat
of the Toiling One.
The Way of the World,
The Way of The Track,
The Way of the Scorpion who rode
                                                    the Frog's back...

The Ways of Old We've left Behind
                          The Ways of New We must  
Now design...

The Laws of the Jungle
And the Laws of Gods
and Men.
The Laws of Those Whose Land
We're In.
The Laws of Physics and
The Laws of Time.
                   The laws of lawyers and
                                                      of Organized   Crime.

The Uncaused Cause,                                   


                 ­                   And                                  The Uneffected Effect.

The Unpolished Flaws,
And the Unfinished Project.

The Unwritten Rules and
The Unspoken Code.
The Unwitting Fools and
The Untraveled Road.

The Final Frontier,
And the Promise it gives...
The Things We Create
and the Life That Outlives...

The Dawn of the Century,
The Dusk of Mankind.
The birth of Something New,

Of a limitless Mind
                              Or is it really New?
Or was It done before?

And who is
the Ultimate Authority                          
on the Universe's lore?

And is Novelty
all that we aim to adore?
What about the Nothingness that came from
Did it have some Great Big Colorful Blob to explore?
Did We sunder the Stasis
Is there One God,
or an Infinitude?
What does it mean
to Truly Be

"The Dude?"

Maybe the Many make up the One,
And from the One All
Things flow?
Have these Thoughts been Thought before?
How am I to know?
How about We Just Be
Good to Each Other
Help Each Other grow?
Just freshly written this morning. It is what it is. Depending on what your definition of is is
Ant Nov 2021
the greatest heist was pulled
when you stole my heart.

when you said my name
i lost all my senses,
which is when
you took my heart
and scribbled your name.

you gave back my heart,
but now all i think of is you
and to be honest
im not one bit mad.

when i close my eyes,
i see your inviting smile.

when i close my eyes,
i feel your warm embrace.

when i close my eyes,
i hear your joyous laugh.

when i close my eyes,
i smell your flowery scent.

when i close my eyes,
i taste your loving lips.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2021
Part 2 read first leaves one wondering tense…

Plucking seeds from threads so twisted…

Division deceptive guess I know
you know

I know a man, caught up to third heaven

on behalf of this man, this sentient being
living in me, by fi
do or die,
- I shape as story formed from facts
- as mirror neurons bher witness,
- yes, we saw, as fate
- might have it
- a mote in one's own eye
- detected with the beam in the gleam
that bit herein
therein sof-ein, tic
we are in
the book of life, as opposed to one of the
books in life, though
as we know, although, you may doubt,
knowing doubt is so good, it is hard wired.
whether in or out of the bubble we breathe,
I have no knowing, un re prove able,
as a witness of truth being known, I know
nothing of the daily habits Plato had,
or even if he hated that name, it signaled shame,

what if it were not shoulders broad,
big ol' Hoss Cartwright
or Mean Joe drinkin' m' Coke, big as an Ox.

A castrated bull, you see, in a world lit
only by fire, every boy knows how oxen
are made
to pull the plow, bulls are made for cows,
and hides.

--- okeh, reproven, this is that, we have
a salty trail forming,
tear tracks.

These, in ever after ever before,
these lead to lost souls, soulds, sold ones, yes

this is the good we may do, should we wish
Tom Cruise never replaced
Marshall Dillon's brother, in the Mission Impossible
Drama reoccurring phenomenon, we see it
the impossible mission accepted

Great Red Spot, drifting in the swirl force
upon it
as a point in a sub-known-use of story per se,
si, no, se we know,

---- real time, long past, save we know, all things
and defracts, signs found in faces or traces of tea,
we make up what we wish you
to leave
be true,

do, and say, I did. That's done. Amen.

And Forrest looked behind him,
-- in the future, we have links, you may see
what any true heir of wind would wish to see

View of Monument Valley in Utah, looking south on U.S. Route 163 from 13 miles (21 km) north of the Arizona–Utah state line.

From <>

however Fustus wit' d' Mostus namesake, a fact
I was aware of due
to John Kenworthy, who played ball with Roger Staubach,
and was a clerk-typist Marine in 'Nahm, he stressed,
while telling me of learning the knack
the key to the short story, which is

Know the story before you tell it.
Covey, the Mormon guru of success habits, said
Begin, with the end in mind.
In mind of that, I think, I remember Brenda Lussier,
had a meme, in the form of a poster, same thing, really.
It says, as it remains memish once it functions as a meme:
If YOU aim at nothing. YOU will hit it.

compliments of adult children of alchoholics, non-profit
meme makers aiming to make it all better. Small print.
New medium, new means to inform ways. Practice unceasing being, until I can't imagine more....
Ant Oct 2021
Take a trip into my heart,
What might you see?

Idk probably some blood,
Maybe some veins.

Potentially even homemade stitches
From all the tears in my heart.

If you’re lucky,
You might even hold it.

But beware,
The barbed wire may be sharp.

Why is it there?
You ask.

Let me tell you.

Some of us need protection,
But it usually just hurts me too.
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2021
Say something
Prove I'm wrong
You have an argument ready
Mess up perfect break-up speech
This is headed south already

You excel at sounding smart
Realize how little you know
Compliment me
Flatter my senses
***-kissing you owe

Are you fooling yourself?
Got nothing going for you
Walking away
It's what's best
It isn't easy for me to do

Dang dude
Grow the hell up
So immature it makes me sick
Lame in a multitude of ways
Including a tiny ****
Hope no one is offended by this hilarious yet brutal poem
Ken Pepiton Jul 2020
2020 - day 193 part 2

Sunday, July 12, 2020
2:54 PM

We all have won, more than once. We know
the waay it feels soo right.
Dare and do, theyoostasay,
Jah, today, I ask
what gives,

what takes away the fear of death the young ones hold,
as their, from your authorized sen' ones, human right,
right by
righteous statements, SOP
standard op procedures,
like war on TV, in the sixties.
to face
five fold ministers, now all prophecying doom to me,
the heresy shaping up,

for war with the hated haters of him who hates

iniquity, hates
a false balance, hates
a false witness; and it stands to reason, here is safe.

Here is no condemnation, by virtue of you being here.
Were there condemnation here,
could you imagine Jesus's will, in you, being done

out there,
in the open, no walls, no closets, no phobias, no neurosis
not psychosis

okeh. This day, this far, we agree, we are alive, we are finding
meanings common all our lives,
meanings we knew were lies being left to test our will to

use the freaking force, LUKEOUT!

Never works, nor do light sabers,… words work
light sabers never better than lightning,
except in weapons that may be imagined, if any thing is possible,
you know it is, '' before you believe it is.

This is war. This tuning in to feel the fear of death shackling children,
with the same old stories,

amplified by more than one could think or ask,
once upon a time.

Wish to catch the magic fish,
lust to find Allasdenof readers who knew Mohammed
never learned
to read,

they say, I wouldn't know. If there were no history.

There are still stories tucked just so into stories,
everybody knows.

The experience, we being, being the crowd for crying out loud,

we got it. life is good. we feel… we feel… wrong
we know
ever is never like now… somehow we
think we do, inky do say
the story is the story you tell, you know.
push and shove, twist and pull

patty cake, paddy cake, baker man, putemintheovenfasasucan

the religious thought was linked to truth, eu means joy ye ken?

eudaemonia, as a state, is governed a we, a we we may see as ours

- go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways and be likewise

Take y'given tangled web, 'twas gifted to our fathers,
by others who did not know
the blessing in giving more, taking less. The spirits
in the gin,
then in the ***, then whiskey, rye whisky in little
brown jugs,
I wuvoo
I do, little blue legal chick in 1970, just before
biome me mem meme fall

all ye outs back in. We got a session with the judge, it seems
there is an accuser, after all…

this maybe so sayer say Jesus is a liar, like untrue to you
if yo u never swore to never be foresaken, left
to witness the workings of chaos in order effectually see-ing
all things
all thing functioning as was this one day, today, in my future,
yur jes' now

just so, 2020 tech can do this trick. Watch

misty? as the angel was heard to say, with a stutter, re
read {could be latinate, its no code, just words
be-a-ing being as human as humanly possible,

while standinderundersogreatacloudof witnesses linked

to this one idea. Truth is free.
ሴ ሴ ... _ .
ሴ ሴ ... _ .
ሴ ሴ ... _ .

Never ending quest, is that thought a curse?

Your answer changes next.

These are words redeemed after my 69th year breakdown…

we won. That is the good news. False witnesses project reasons
for war;

we remain the evidence of things unseen, ignite a spark,
ignor it only by lying to the bit of you

that has the knack to imagine striking a spark,
in the darkest dark ever described,
fitted to fear receptors liganded to legendary necessary lies.

There was a war where there was no blood to shed.
The war for the power to make history,

History of leaders followed for goodness sake, goods to take,
stories to modify,

Balzac claims tres bon, 1, 2, 3, 4… ave maria oh, weahhh

out in the fictionized foam of all the stories ever known

being Kevin Bacon linked, 6 to 1, the magnificent seven

so 3 plus 7, 10 to 1, better odds, take 3 chances 4 times.

If any thing can fall it falls.
any thing that can shake, shall; and so on, amen.

Magic words spoken with no sense of any power having

master and commander authority to utter an actual amen, and

see this is as we say, what we got. Many idle amens, it’s a mess.

2020 the great controversy creeps up - I refused to catch
the magic fish bait,
I am open to any temptation

I say, with all the awshucks authoity awoud fuds

The grace of goodness itself--perse the real deal, does not fade away.
ሴ ሴ ... _ .

Three is the ready, steady, go,

steady accumulation of attending to take
the granted

virtue to effect trans formation
chaos to order algorithms

rhyminwhyman, whykill… whykry radio
five by five still alive

four point solid-ity it-ness

stack the stones, edify edu cate, straight
as model in the pat from first point
second, to third to you
through the wall that never was there

point, game set.
Any triggered hate, fires the alarm.

The idea that is the accuser side of
aitia ai ai ai loops,

is as the thing the ancients name the
accuser of the saints.

The "you ain't nothin'"
Then come the bots in legions of oughts
overcome ing one
you had to have seen it
ሴ ሴ ... _ .
ሴ ሴ ... _ .
Wonderful day, start to now... hope you know the feling
Yazad Tafti Feb 2020
the dichotomous tree which branches
out; line by line a descending waterfall of ancestry
C'est une histoire excavated from the roots of its emergence
trickle by trickle
sibling by sibling
heritage by inheritance
i look upon to see the branches which all led to
this great fortune
Yazad Tafti
here i stand
waiting for my spring to further blossom
the branches which beg for my approval
a new valence awaiting further bonding
baileys truffles did it
chemistry lingo
Max Neumann Dec 2019
antwone the gang leader always
be like: imma make a call; two
minutes and they here

regardless what the issue about:  
antwone always about dat
(and they always come for sure)

me? i ain't made for that
me just tizzop
ain't belong to antwone's

even if i wanted to:
they wouldn't let me

dem dudes roll heavy
while i note down outsider dreams with white ink on
black pages
you feel me?

antwone's dudes addicted to
i'm deep inside; yet no part of that;
my handz not made for glockz

my hands are made for pens;
i'm from the ghetto; who cares?
my hands are made for pens
and if i'm broke i will
write with sparkling fingers

that is for certain therefore my death will be silver
my eyes be shiny like gold then
god is always by my side

you feel me god? good cause i feel you god (HEART)

last breath: tizzop's dead body will be floating on air
because a good man does the right thing (i want to be good)
dead brotherhoodlums be munched by icy blacktop
you feel me?
eternally doomed down there without air
i won't be there  

i am from the ghetto
who cares?  
my hands are made for pens


Mind dem families in the projects who sleep on the floor cause they don't wanna catch dem bullets.
To some
He’s born
On the wrong
part of the world

To others he’s above
Prime amidst the odds
Intelligencial murr
Diamond in the ruff
A young god
Or more

To some
He’s nut
Who knows not
What is right and what is wrong
Opposite wise;  probably curse
By the gods

To others he’s just a dude
From the hood
Who walk around with fade blue hat
On stitch rag and sewed bag
Striving; even with his bruised heart
Trying to rebuild his confused path

To some
He’s a dawg
Who dresses poor
Whose sense is bore
Whose thought needs cure
A piece of junk
Lilly-knight of the lost

To others he’s tore
Been through a lot
Take a trip to his world
Through his sea and shore
You wont make it back bros

To some he’s dumb
Somewhat numb
Paralysically not
Senserable to hurt
But for real; he’s just a boy
Who doesn’t need to be judge
For what he is or not
Can’t you see his strug'
He’s just a boy from the slum
Trying to make it to the top
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019

Europe, eurturn


euphrenic phor ever

ah, phor naught, all for one

out, out, ****** spot, eu for Rhea,
me for a mnesic urgency,
we have done this all

before, while entangled ina

silliness of soma ancient sort
is joy strength
is love weak
was peace a state of mind?

Were they singing Sym-pathetic Sym-ethotic

silliness of some baser sort? Altamont

December 6, 1969,

rolling hills of green, like Windows 98,

where was I? Speeding

North of Sedona, I remember now,

lugging a tater sack
full of peyote
toward Christmas, far from the maddened crowd
thinking nothing
the future
March 7, 1970 solar eclipse as I was
to Chicago, from San Jose, to see

if I could retrace my steps, per haps
find signs
I may have left on history,
I may have cheated on to get by,
but my
cheatling left a gap

how now
how now
the we of me, includes your idea of we
with me intuitive as in
the people who hold certain truth,

assumptive as possible.
real in this sense.

seeming not to fade.

Wandering in cyber-realms impossible,
with in-ness being me, my mind being out-ness...
touch, sense, taste, feel
me... let me
rhyme on rime, frosty, right on or i'm gone,
eh. Mimeme mnomena phem kiss me lest I

fade away


dysrope, dysrturn


aha, phor naught, all for one spot

out, out, ****** spot,

is not joy strength
is not love weak
is peace a state of mind?
Being as how we was,

I'da reckon, we was lost.

As a whole,
we forgot who we are or if not who,
what we are

in terms we find undefined in our minds.

As Mobius means nothing in 3-d, until you
seal the twisted stripe and find an umlaut,

imagine seeing,
holding twixt thumb and any finger,
a ribbon, yellow on top,
blue on bottom… hold it eye level, an end
of the ribbon
in each chiral appendage, with the dominant hand,
no, poor biases on dominance

but right has a bias in forms  designated right by use…

crud risc -- we gain speed in the missing info

we are born knowing nothing but which hand is right.

Using that right hand, twist the ribbon so the right thumb
touches yellow and the right finger is touching blue.

On the other hand, take up the opposition.

Now, bring the ribbon ends near enough to merge and weave
into a loop, an unorientable or unoccidentable
band ( imagine no seam),
twirl it round
not an eight, a Möbius band, a nifty invention,

ever in public domain and open
science of the non-con kind

confidence games. remember those?
bumpkins in the Naked City buying the Brooklyn Bridge?

laugh at the bar bar
heko heko har har har barbar aryans

swept into the south
as the younger dryas looked on… tic

-- okeh there was a break in the tension--

Möbius trails of information may be wownd,
'round spools of
do-nut shape entangled by the loop which,
as you know now,
has one edge and one side
in the world you live in, remember Muntz Stereo-Paks?

these days you gotta have an old soul t' remember those.

I stole the first one I ever saw, but that's another line of reasoning regarding the path behind me,

not regarding the path in front of you.

We are lost. Or asleep. That's been rumored as
have wars.

Ah, reason in a maddened being,
such a tangled web.

look for a yellow fuggitchew ribbon,
wit the seal broke…
The events are true as perceived at the moment, but if you are stuck in a loop, I hope you know the physics won't change if you break a construct, socially.
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