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Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
Pushing back occlusions,
opening the shame shed,
I said, If I could, I would, love my enemy...
Our... inspiring wedom myth or mystery
bring your least worthy self, knowing
only we
prayers, never having heard me prayers,
save from dying folks on telly,
------------- times and time, and a half a time
memorial days to come,
during some poor soul's error,
finding I am as alive as ever was,
thinking we imagine life without us
is as if no life were, but we know better.

Ersatz Earth and Star maps from Griffith Park.

Life with no beat, buzzing, humming cicada rate
when do we assume the mind frame, cicada rate

cycles subterranean, staggered emersions, cosmic
clocks synchronized, some when, once, aha, we all,

us cicada, concentrations, thinking we don't have
cicadas where I live, so my ears are in a realm older,

if, in fact, fiction is not an art, fitting future hope
where now, hate and envy and incredulity hold hostage

truths we never speak of in church.

One way I have told the greatest story ever told,
the story bound within the covers on the book of life.

Lo', a bystander waves, signaling all clear. Tabula rosa.

Right on, some where, higher on the pain share meter,
O, Danny Shapiro, the pain, the pain, a toothache in 1873.

As the conditions were, but for a rural farm project 'lectric,
one light bulb, one refrigerator, one resistance coil burner.

A rather Spartan lifestyle, as reported,
in the Washington Star, the Moonies Newspaper,
sa sa lederlin sa, we lost our way in 1983, woke here, as
with python variables accessible by original Hypercard scripts.

Imitating Life, the entirety of living things, non-infinite things,
onces upon times,
not this one, then those days,

solitude, subtlest fortitude, iron cage, bricked in,
put away in penance in some hyper holy cult of killers.

Here he comes, to save the day!
That means that Mighty Mouse, is on the way!

Who financed Snidely Whiplash?
Who floated Wiley Coyote's single satisfaction source
of never ending creative means to fail, for a laugh,

Slap stuck without the embarassment you see in comics,
assment so wise it feels too cheap, freedominion wedoming.

Give me the children, for three hours each Saturday,
I'll give you certified boomer level consumers, trust me.

Three Musketeers was big enough for you and two chosen.
Who is it who gets it,
the girls, boo, old advertising boom repercussing, whamo!

No fee poetic licentiousness' eh? Free for the reader's attention

in the realm of musing minds joining when winds tighten
to force a flush from the wetlands to feed the fish,
who feed the people who feel better thin than fat.
This is a real effort to not demean the art involved in giving verse free forms.
It never works until some time is spent to read this far...
Zywa Sep 2022
Eight pumps Premium,

one pump Regular: the world --

is turned upside down.
"Wonderland" ("Miracle Land", 1987, Jules Deelder)

Collection "Specialities"
Carl D'Souza Nov 2021
Claire is cleaning fragrant poo
off her baby's buttocks
and she feels
"this experience
fulfils my need to have children
and makes me happy
but it's work!"

Claire's husband arrives home
and she asks "How was your day dear?"
and he says "I've had a long hard day at work,
and I'm tired
please give me my my dinner."
He does not asks how her day went
and Claire feels
disappointed and unhappy
that her husband
thinks that she does not earn money
and therefore what she does is not work.

As Claire
puts a white plate of steaming steak, peas, carrots, potatoes
on the dining table for her husband
she says "Would you ask me how my day went?
Mothers work too."
Carl D'Souza Nov 2021
My economics textbook says
resources, products, services are scarce
and should be distributed by market-relations:
those who can afford to pay money
get the resources, products, services
and those who cannot afford to pay money
do not get the resources, products, services;

But I think
my economics textbook
has a scarcity-mentality
which looks only to the short-term;

I think
the human aspiration
should be
over the longer-term
to strive with optimism to achieve
an abundance
of resources, products, services
distributed by market-relations and by any way
so that every person
can get enough to be happy.
GJLT Mar 2021
Helot today, and every other,
Go unpaid, go unmade,  
A broken body of myself,
Living in every possible way,
Save for my own,  
Always selling the soul,
The time that’s left,
Piece for price,
For profit, for my life,  
But yours to rent,
If you pay, please pay,
And it’ll be yours to store,
A deal nevermore.
Man Jan 2021
on the stream of life, i was a water lily
and on it's street, the heat
that rose up from the railway

in the hazy spring, newborn fawns
that bucked and singed
a thousand unheard of songs

and in the time in between
i've been far too many a thing
for it has worn on me
like bricks chipped by the cold of winter
or yellowed grass from drought,
a finger with a splinter

i'm not broke
though i am poor
i've got so much planned
so much still in store
Carlo C Gomez Nov 2019
You know the economy is bad
When they begin foreclosing
On tree houses & sand castles
Shlomo Oct 2018
Emerging economies.

What they’re emerging from I don’t know.

My guess, the depths of hell.

From the frying pan, right into the fire, or worse; a well.

A deep hole stronger than gravity, the force.

To be forever under the thumb of remorse.

A modern era of endless acts, policies and bla bla bla.

Shut up with all your platitudes.

I see what’s really going on. Aha!

You speak of sustainable development.

Nice to know that you’ve led by example.

Carried the mantle for all these years.

Centuries of ruthlessness, now veiled in sheep’s clothing.

But you won’t shut up. Because you don’t speak.

You never have. You just do.

Each day that goes by, you carry on anew.

Behind all the talk of hope, equality and more progress,

it seems the wolves are lurking.

Cooking up the next tool to subdue countless.

This time, not behind closed doors. But in plain sight.

It’s scary to imagine such spite.

Each year that goes by it becomes clearer that you never cared.

You sold guns, drugs and all kinds of war.

And each time, you kept coming back for more.

You’ve built up antibodies that ensure your survival.

But sometimes I wonder if you’re alive at all.

But what do I know?

Maybe you’re more alive than ever.

Doing what you do best but always more clever.

That not even the most stable of geniuses can evade your pressure.

A strong enough foundation that each break makes you stronger,

So strong that not even the Gremlin can take you under.  

Against this dreary background, foregrounded is nothing short of magical.

Beyond hope, prayers or a thoughtless radical.

Or maybe this is all just fake outrage.

An attempt to evade the boredom of this endless monotony and baggage.

Or maybe, the term is out of date.

Like every other, that makes me increasingly more irate.

In which case, this poem is at least ten years late.

Or maybe there are too many maybes’.

And I’m perfectly suited for this time of vague uneasiness and indifference.

In which case, my imagination probably needs more sociology and less a lesson in rhymes.
Piano backed narration @
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