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Politics and religion are all I wish to talk about.
Define your terms in balance with mine
and we may converse on equal points
where such delicate touch means
balancing seen and hoped for
reality in times of
such interesting
side realities,
-- screentimes, verily virtually real at the level
of sub-myelinated signals from old
WHAT WAS THAT quests,

layers of visionary invariables sift us to this

appearing as real as walled people in the
memory damning days, as paper was
seen to burn at Fahrenheit 451,
and we all saw The Tattooed Man
had the Pawnbroker's face and hands.

What forms the mob, if radio were never real.
How would we agree we know one thing
alike as an overture, or a rag-time blue
feeling story from both sides
in one song, y'know?
Am I lyin?

Tell a story like Micaiah?
Eh, lead a king astray by leaving him believe all he wishes
were true? Long live the lie, must I say, in silence,

to what effect?
How great a fire can one tongue kindle?
Can a tongue tamed and reined, rule itself,
perse, make a word
mean
power. See said is seeing read, hearing read,
being told to see said things as the sayer said,

read, the words we say we write informing awe
one we, away…
--- every story has an arrow in time, the archer aims,
the arrow flies, see
silver bullets are useful when wooden stakes
seem as splinters of truth repulsed in ***** efforts
to remain un impierced…
at the appointed time…

-- it sounds like science fiction, and that is normal now.

Hiyo, Silver…
how deep do radio waving ripples go,
in shaping a child born down wind of Nevada…
sleep learning seems to
have evolved evil in to a state
of being where nothing good can ever happen,
- dreams cease and deep sleep ensues
so we wake to find, just as we expected, sufficient evil
to force our hands to clap,
our fingers to flex, and our will to see goodwill be done,
one day, at least,
today,
I made may my word, and I noticed your reading
gave my may to you.
Peace out, we yoostasay.
May your best you rule
this day.
Have your own way. Remember:
Doing evil makes your self disappear.
All innovative players are given that one clue as a rule.
In my game of life, I never tire of testing for sanity. Who cares if this means nothing and nothing is something that never makes things worse?
Wary Oct 3
After his exit from my heart and my life
No contact no text nothing from his side
Suddenly met him after so long
My heart skipped a beat when I hugged him a long
My hands trembled when I held his hand and looked into his eyes
I got frozen when I looked him just tears rolled down from my moist eyes
Heart asked; so what did you come back with
I replied; his fragrance in me
#his fragrance in me always remember me of him
Anna Sep 28
I see now, what I've done
And there's not a word I could say to use as excuse
I see why they've done me so bad
And I see why it never really mattered that much
All the events, and all the meetings
The feelings and the screamings,
They're all around one single reason,
I'm still here.

You'll see me as a violent drum,
Or a tempestuous sea,
Maybe a bitter licorice,
Or just a stone in your shoes,
But none of the ways you see me,
Will change_
How I'll still be here.
Ken Pepiton Sep 12
A gad fly,  a drunken blue fly, and I were
discussing
the curse of being a fly, if men were the measure of all things.

We rise as riders on winds,
and raise
dust when we land, ignorant of sophistry,
but knowledgeable, i.e., read-up
in classic biblical
knowing. {you know, as Adam knew his wife}

Yeah that idea,
essentiality and haecceity, causa sui,
per se, in other words, we could
insert and
still mean
mere words {digitized wisdom begins as words}
reading words makes them animated, not live, not living
being
words, reason essence, point of truth being

the answer to why there is a memory of nothing,
and not nothing now?

Idle words accounted once, are ever liable to personal
interpretations, thus we have classes in
ifity.

We learn via living, that every thing, even the matter the
newborn whatever is made of,
all
was here before me.

I am why history occurred, so far as I may say.
I am the point being only this

hominidiotic thought, they call an ideology and I am sure
I think it means some impossible to realize,
Leave It To ******  sequel, where Eddie Haskell is the cop,
who squeezers the life out of a man, on video
we witnessed
enmasse, right we saw and were we to not believe
deep down what we saw could have been stopped,
if that camera had been in my hand?

Yeah, like me shove that big old cop, he shoot me,

Yeah, make ya famous. Name abridge too, feryerass

Maybe, but I heard and seems I seen its so,
many's the wish gone wanting,
for lack of a man who will try.

Say winning is done with warfare, no fair, child say,
bully child, was reared in a bullied home,
seed of some Minetaurical idea for rearing kings,
feed them bull hormones
and lies frome the wisest of men, men of letters,
many undicipherable but to the
survivors of the mazing,

The Amazing Grace and Pledges of Allegiance and all that,
nothing spiritual, only inspirational national pride,
very carnal minded stuff,
on the surface.

Hmm, gadfly, or blue, give us some perspective.

We seem to be marching,
as to war,
keep in cadence to a bull horn -- gnoshit this is gnostic alchemy
jungina ju ju wu wu wei

we must be making this up.
You the enabler.
I be the artist, who gone be the accuser?

-- games, y' think first, thank later,  as each lesson teaches
this works, that don't
points add up, bit by bit, we begin, be-re-sit, ctrl/alt/del

blue screen of death.
ahhh men.
imagine we was once as **** as we imagined,
and we have the grandchildren to prove it.
imagine
we could leave these bodies behind,
and not lose our minds,
or any of the roles we have played.

This is like that. Today. It’s a trip, not a journey.
I'd take it from the top and feel safe landing here.
Perspective is everyting. pop. everytime
Your eyes smiling at me
Your kisses tender
Your words heartfelt
I am imagine being with you
Loving you
Making you happy
As we rule our Saudi Arabia








‎عيناك تبتسمان لي
‎ قبلاتك العطاء
‎ كلماتك صادقة
‎ أنا أتخيل أن أكون معك
‎ أحبك
‎ يجعلك سعيدا
‎ كما نحكم السعودية
rgz Sep 7
Here I sit, encompassed,
The sun doesn't rise;
For me, it is no bliss;

A red sky is taken as warning,
a danger,
not known for what it is;

Forerunner to growth;
A path to the skies;
A bridge to a clear blue stream,

Still, I sit; a pale stranger;
Hope in disguise,
With an ashtray full of dreams.
wow I wrote something down for once
Ken Pepiton Sep 13
Es tut mir leit, wir müssen immer denken
ever after all
we think
It never gets old, but we do, think
we find.
we do. All our thoughts pass on,
once more
to be discoveries imbued with subtle joy.
A smile,
after a while.
I lived.
Ken Pepiton Aug 18
Mollify-ing the effects of
The ******-logical Damage from beliving believed
Lies. Falsies called True, True called False.
The words working madly to make sense fail
Wishing hoping praying
define praying we know how to hope and wish

but praying, more than asking, acting asif
the prayer is a sayer of something
a doer of somehow someway deeds of deliverance

Hearing heart hear me wish I knew how to
receive the answers for earth’s wealth to be
used as rain is used.
This is me praying this is not me looking for human feedback in the form of funds,
I am asking my father,
who is where the kingdom of the creator is served in equity,

Where is the kingdom of heaven?
Who do you think knows?
Whom did you trust to convince your vincible mind?

Do the ants and birds agree with your opinion?
Have you considered the lily,
really?

Is this life on earth a foraneus state of mind for mankind,
wombed and un, beyond the bounds of our higher
realm whither message bearing services
do the work of angels and runners
in ancient times.

Subject me to your order, your rule, your common sense
that you know what I mean

I speak in spirals, twisting vortices in all that ever mattered
or ever shall, as the I’ll go rhythms tic

tic
tic
today, the day
to do da day, jubilee believe me, truth known
truth be known by some
simple minds.
Ah, Teusday, I waited for you
next to never (a pair of ones)

squeezed between nuh-uh and fugetaboutit,

is that long gone notion in the nation of concepts,

like one true love, the connected lines on each of our

bodies, certifying we are a pair of ones, a strong hand.


there are chores to be done:

reread Guy de Maupassant,

delete two thousand unread emails

cry for my so lost children

let Walt Whitman wash over my body like oil

kick the guy out of bed so he can make us coffee.

a ton of stuff to do, good thing, we got a strong hand,

that pair of ones.

which I am now informed is called a pair of

Aces.

Who Knew?

7:51 Sun Jul 12
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