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Sara Jan 2019
I'm writing less
but posting more,
confusing what's
sure and unsure.
I'm missing windows
and shutting doors;
in vain, for all that's been before.
f o r w a r d
Ken Pepiton Jan 2019
The son of Jung, Achilles

(This is after and during a second or third time through
Jung, by Anthony Stevens, via Hoopla brought to me by LAPL)

libraries with online audiobooks,
isn't that closer to perfect? Imagine
knowing CG Jung's dad was Achilles Jung,
epic, knowing that
back when only real, material-real, rich folk,

(they could not have known, but we can, on a smart phone)

of any sort of the many there were in the co-fusion's aftermath

much of the world may agree with things once hidden in tomes
being eaten by mindless worms, now

no known thing is secret, by right

truth makes free and it's a system.

dynamic
free true free true free

We ident-ify it or id

what ever I and d


these ids (letter i and letter d as a pre
fix identifying us, u'n'me but only I am re-alified,
set to iseate

(is-e-ate is individuation for an idea, this or that, which may be verbalized
prior to re-alization)

t' be for a while, as long as you wish, t'
be fixed ideas in the minds of all

minds culturally touched
by this particular
point of
been
as
in been there done that.

Time is nothing at all
like mortals think
ing no no nothing is re

alone is rare. For us, my pieces of the unum,

we are here as ever.
ever is our role.

guides are made
however, we have noticed a scarcity of read writers
aware of pin points of light expanding

on the walls of his nursery window, nur turer, real mmmmm

screen
really must we be limited forever is ly lying as in

acting positive while being negative and being

entangled
in your self for ever, never for now,

you don't know how.

do you?
ex
per
ienced, per se, are ye?

be yond. yes. be

yond. practice makes perfect, bact to the top

erie canalic real

tote that veil, hide that barge
camptown lasies sang some songs

wrong, as did the ******* minstrels
and gamblers and bedroll
cowboys and hobos
and plain bums,
like us.

You were curious. Does yellow mean anything
to you?
Murrillo, with y's for ll, maybe? ¿ se?

--- un told stories ---

none remain, in re al ity, if we agree

nothing is ever impossible, even
for sapiens sapiens, how much
more, the us in the unum

previously pluribus,
scatter-brained,
that is.
id est, at its best. Muse.

Homeostatic balance,
hot to cool, cold to warm

round and round
twisted in the middle
by Van Allen's belt, or Orion's?

I never asked. I could,
right now I COULD WISH SO BAD THA I'D

not notice allcaps from the teenage wasteland,
(mea culpa, I bury all my misses there, take one, free)
as I,
the grown up number two, I mean,
I was saying I could stop this flow, interefer, dam it

I could ask Google and follow ath
the real thing either real or
otherwise, yet

wise, still.

How well will we be? Should we not

agree, un agree disperse the mob?

become a one, with a mind
we may share, at will,

reason, count, measure, make, see, seek how, find how, learn how

now,
why are you a ware of me while I am
ware of you.

An unread, unspoken spell. What the hell, right?
What the chaos, entropy, dis
integrate
wash away, mud to dust to twisting spirtis seen dancing

dust, this highest part of the dust of the earth,
time will tell, the physician must heal himself.

---
the art of letting things
haps
hap
pen, pen or ready-writer mode,
we can do this, but we must

be leaving the ality re all o'this reality.

And it has been fun, un done
fun is never the final goal.

be yond that. Search okeh. It was
intentended in tension-ality

to be the key we
as u me mist

when we
lied about being
experienced in the comunicito, (wee ity bity)
do you know of
the transfiguration, I was asked that

southside of Sunset at Laurel Canyon, by
that TV kung fu cowboy guy's dad,
Carradine, the old man,
from scary movies,
circa 1960.

that was fun. it happened. nobody noticed,
but me and the elder Carradine.

Real, as best as my memory just
ifies me right there,
that day, there
is where

this point was proven to be
memorable, a point
of a pin, 'pon whose head
merry messengers make nothing of
darkness, shadow, thin light.

Member be, re member
we see you saw
re all ity-ness is fun, if you find time to do it.

Typical assumptions of a man born in his time
and so
cial class. Social, is that a joke?

Follow me, don't be ignorant of a fine refined use,
right use of ordinariable words which have
born the burden of the ages

patiently, awaiting meaning,
on your scale,
the me as sure of the other in the unem,
the measure of a man, any
old man, still standing

under all the knowing Eve ever knows,
hope and time and all this took.
The price of knowing,
is the knowing, learning is easy

At home by right of being, we are such
beings, in a word, two if you reason there is
measurable ratio twixt
iiii in and am out, yamiyam ah yeh

we do. Allatimenolie, my will. The inside
the numinosity of being

me and you in the midst of all we may imagine real,

no, hell, yesses, hell is still a joke you never want to play.
ax Mr. Boo, he was my guide in Bangkok

read the reports, they are more,
nevermind, let's not let the

lie live here. the the right man thinking this thought
at this time, right

Each magi's knowing is the only knowing he can share,
without playing I pious fraud and naming it
legion, re
legion ligated to ob la dee and dah?

Joke, jest, foolish jest. Not my best but better'n
never imagi-ing  bein' good at all.
Good for nothing but
being possible
ly
good to the sense-if-ative troglodytes

with one lit window on reality. It's funny. POV. Seriously

lighten up
you putin me

beyond your grasp… winsome, alas
If it makes you feel, good, y' know. 's all I got, fer now.
K Balachandran Jan 2019
The moon is a cake,
Gnawed by the rats of darkness;
Floats on the sky lake!
aj kamari Nov 2018
THEY make you feel special-
and then leave as if you were nothing more than a bag of trash.
THEY tear you down without even knowing it-
slowly chipping away the pieces most prized to you.
THEY sink you to the bottom-
and only then do they leave so you’re left drowning;
watching them float back up;
wondering how they manage to be completely fine after wrecking your life.
THEY lie and steal-
parts of your heart and carry it with them as trophies of all the people they’ve hurt.
THEY make empty promises-
they seem solid, but in reality are nothing more than hot air.
THEY are the **** of the earth-
and they reel you, offering you the world knowing that’s exactly what they’re going to strip from you...
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
Jumping in the blue
water lilies reflection
in the pond up in the sky.
Lo, the punter sun peeps into
the rose dew down on earth.
Floating just on a navel-high!

The broad daylight pictures
the heavenly blue smile
painting on its highwater mark.
Million and one primula flower
kissing this elfin column.
Not up in the wild blue yonder
nor down on the ground.
Just on a navel high!
jules kerleen Oct 2018
i just want to disappear
get a chance to eat the warming scones from the oven
and just melt away in stars and sky of navy and grey;
i just want to disappear
to fly and to leave anywhere i want or desire or dream;
i'm dreaming of melting away from where i am
for i am floating already,
why can't i just disintegrate altogether;
altogether
yes a distant memory;
forever alone isn't something you would think of until
it actually happens;
although it's not something you realize unless you've
tried love and
and been scared, afraid of what the
person on the other end of the letters is thinking;
i just want to disappear
far away into the hands of someone who cares
not just about my picture but my pulse,
someone who looks not just at my eyes but at each
individual colouring strand inside
my plain brown eyes;
i just want to disappear so no one will have to face
my retched thoughts and unattainable dreams;
i just want to disappear so my friends won't have
to look at a scared
                            pathetic
                     ­              unhappy
                                          awkward
lonely person and have sympathy for me if they even do;
which if i were on the outside of my slinky body
i wouldn't;
i wouldn't just want to leave but disappear for it
seems that it's what i'm best at;
i just want to disappear
from my picturesque world that you couldn't
even take a nice picture in;
i just want to disappear
from my ocean of held back tear,
my shield of fearlessness,
a fake smile that a murderer would wear,
the impression i have on the other lives of people,
and just
i just
want to disappear,
to run away,
and to not have to cause any drama or half broken feelings to anyone,
to not correct people for their non-existent flaws that are really
my own
personal balled up feelings;
i just want to disappear,
fly away into the clouds and heavens of an unreal dream;

i just want to,

i just want to disappear,

disappear

away

fly away

and never come back
never have my flimsy feet touch the beautiful ground
never let my ruined soul harm a single cell of
anyone worth anything to a single thing;
i just want to disappear
i just want to disappea
i just want to disap
i just want
i just
i






- nameless and remaining
at times of depression of what externally makes me sad i read some audrey hepburn quotes and cried my eyes out while trying to type this into my computer because for some reason i was feeling inspired? i don't have a clue what i'm doing with my life right now so this poem in a literal representation of how it's all going. love this ** Jules
Anne Oct 2018
My faith and heart
Were bold and brazen
When your hand
Enfolded my hand

As the floating slate wool up
our skies
Cried and you
And I
Were unplanned

And faith was watered
With bittersweet tears
My heart did not
Understand

When you hesitated
And pulled eme in
Your arms
My faith
Had silenced
just another poem of the day
Luthfi Annisa Oct 2018
A cruise,
towards a place
suddenly the waves shake me
the blue,
drown me in
hug me tightly
take me between choices
free but lost
or
sink and die
in the calm that I crave.

Give me time to float
air, pull me
sea, hold me
let me dying
while I ask this
to God,

Can I shed tears
on things that are not mine
can I despair
For pain that is not my body
can I kneel down
on things that I can't have a second time
Shofi Ahmed Oct 2018
Lo, the waxing moon  
eyeing on heaven
ups a notch high.
The higher it goes
pulls the tides more
down on the sea
the crescent moon sways.

It bows down and prays
as it sails towards
the locked away
heaven far, far away.
The sea spilling billow
floats the key
to the tucked away ally way!
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