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Ken Pepiton Jul 2022
Wars and rumors of wars,
plagues and questions of reason

sames we see,
times and seasons, sames we see

reasons to wonder, seasons to think
may be so, maybe otherwise, too;

same as me, and you.
Different almost always, still the same.
Sun showers, nearly always, this time of year.
Bipolar Poet Jun 2022
9:15; a quarter mile away from truth.
Conversations are boring, all about what we've done for today.
Innocence of two kids before their moppet words find their youth.

Texts get a little deeper, a minute past ten.
All past experiences, and mistakes are; with heart and soul
expressed. Their companionship sees the other more than a friend.
"I like you," a quickly deleted message, but has been read.
Emoji eyes; "I seen what you wanted unseen," the eyes seemingly said.

Awkward silence, awkward silence; both sides typing and clearing
their response. Nobody presses send; while there's a slap on the
head exclaiming; "not like this, not the beginning of this
relationship's end"

"I didn't mean to make things weird with my emotions.
I'd like you as a lover, but I love how we are as friends in the
open," a brave text sent out of one still hoping.

"But I like you too," the next reply came around late.
Phew! What a relief; least for now. But what happens next,
I guess is the pending question of staying up this late.

It was best to go to bed by eight...
"People are more honest during late night conversations"

jǫrð Dec 2020
Brought the 62
Eight of Swords burned in carpet
Told me you'd bound me
The History: 'If circumstances were different' but they're not.
letters to basil Apr 2020
dear quinn,

a magic eight ball
will never
tell you how
to be okay.


i hope you're well. take time to breathe and make sure you stay hydrated. you are a lovely soul, and i hope you appreciate that every once and awhile. thank you for spending a part of your day reading my words.

have a good breakfast <3
TIZZOP Dec 2019


Dedicated to you: My baby.

Youtube: "Radiohead Reckoner"
TIZZOP Dec 2019
"hell yeah?" the burglar asked the pusher.

(the burglar: wirily, ambitious. plain appearance, dressed in black.
the pusher: wealthy, strong and well-conditioned. sumptuous leather jacket.)

"hell yeah", the pusher answered. "now i got what i like and you got what you need."

both grinned. after a day of extensive work, they relaxed in a hellish pub. it was visited by diplomatic creatures whose faces were recognizable like shadows.
this pub was called babylon 8.

the burglar and the pusher touched glasses to celebrate their deal. they drank.

"nothing to be written down",
the pusher added. burglar nodded. voices of the diplomatic creatures surrounding them; satanic sighs; bold laughter; their sentences sounded like orders that are dictated by judges.
snakes and rats. gravelpitbulls and red cats. creatures with excellent memory. guys who swallow their plans after they had learned them by heart.

a while later, a lady entered the pub: adorable like a man's fantasy; imitable like a woman's strategy. her hair color was your desire; her skin color the color of your dreams.
her name was fantasy girl.

suddenly, the lights went out; suddenly, a lightblue sun illuminated the room. no one noticed. everyone so busy hiding something that nothing was hid.
the creatures of babylon 8 therefore didn't perceive the light.

fantasy girl ordered a drink. she told the bartender: "i need freedom. that's what i want from you, the people of babylon 8."

the bartender a giant with a face full of shining scars; his right ear missing; flashy shirt; an ancient first name; speaker of all world languages combined: the omerta.

fantasy girl took a sip from a silver brew which had been served to her by the bartender. she took out a single match and there was no box; a long cigarette between her unknown lips.

bartender looked at fantasy girl. without saying a word, he turned his stubble cheek into her direction. fantasy girl lighted the match.
lightblue fire. inhaling. smoke. iceblue cloud.

the burglar and the pusher had been looking at fantasy girl all the time.
fantasy girl held a white fountain pen and took a black sheet out of a green handbag. she began to write.
To be continued. BABYLON 8
TIZZOP Dec 2019
our car is burning and there is nobody
to drive it
our car is going in circles

tizzop's infinite journey
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