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Ken Pepiton Aug 14
Gnoshit, reco-gnosis,
makes one imagine I am, no, know I am
one, in the largest ever population of nobodies.

I am as anonymous as privacy needs to be, open source,
casting pearls to pearl eating entities, noticing

taking notice, marking time for recollection,
whiling away on missed perceptions correction duty.
We, the public entity,
did we ever have a republic
without slaves, as a we, did we become
the people who constituted the distribution of power,
to the people,
under authorized sanctified known terms?

On the border between all languages,
the gift of translation, we have
t'reason,
to trusted reasons why we keep war alive,
in season,
the bulls all wanna breed,
the biggest boasters become kings,
let Lyndon tell it, ladies. History records
the incident as sometime after 20 Aug 1968.

While we replay the audio from the show at Khai Vinh,

put the mark anywhere? think wonder the verb, if
ever once it all seemed much like now
the experience, live
at the *******
across the highway.

Not many had the exact same experience,
but the music is all still played in that order,
chance opening a vein unexplored limnal spaces.

Playlists with metadata dendrite meandering mods.

Did you say you once wrote a book a day, by golly,
did you think that you wrote with extreme
prejudice, or did you slide each phrase,
along the edge, to the hilt, each phaze,

phinally spinning luck elucifity, apologize
for lies I left believed, as certainly as turbulence
mastery leaves lads and lassie's breathless,
globally on TV, the most imagined sin,

connecting, carnal knowing with dis connected
what kind of master would forbid knowledge,

start there o man of god, make me believe you know,
while you know I got you at the grand jesuture,
for all to hear, as all believed the lie about us,
let all believe the truth,

Job was right, no immortal knows a mortal's ignorance
of patience's perfecting function, waiting seems sufferage.

Endure until the end, pretend you are attending a judgement.
And notice, the remembering use by the accused to account
for idle words, with penitent acknowledgment, I was beguiled.

That's it, we know, the side the enlightener entertains
contains all the luminaries of our culture's global echo intent
chabad chata hamartia, principle idea, wisdom's dominion,

at the point of first precept, no noise, a twist, to on.

Our signal through tomorrow, prepaid.
Some days, time spent feels undeserved, and time taken in thinking,
seems to stretch to the inner edge of this bubble, where every way is up.

— The End —