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Ken Pepiton Jul 27
The hermit's wish or prayer,
he doesn't care what we call it,
he does it constantly in some form,

thinking many or much
in spirt form, as thought words,
heard informing my will to conform
seems meme-ish, ideas in form of me,

I am the thinker, these maybe thoughts
that you thinked, once, just as
now we think, an other time, this same idea

so this is a thing.
now this is a thing
named as one of many thought
like things,
nothing distinguishing any
as especially better than another,
as a weform,
we think across this emptiness
between kinds of minds we make up,
and use, then return
to real ifity where others are
thinking word by word to now,

what good could I do, if I were you?
I can pretend to imagine,
I may fictionize you,
pitying your childhood
when you beloved lies


I can never think of flea circuses
without really wondering why.

Curiosity, as subtlety
of the most refined sort, cunning
of the craftiest knackery kind and
dominant psypsiscientifick gnosis

Art and artifice, perceive
ja,
reach, using astral hands,
manipulate your spirit fingers,
touch the point that makes you

plainly here, exactly, out act now
being, mind in abstracted pinches
of salt belonging to the whole earth.

Yes, indeed, lovely ideal children can
imagine, from remenants, mind reals,
made believable by osmosis, *******

saline imbalence switches, mercurial
fluxuating difference engines ideas,

mere thought, pure breath, ideal
environs for hope's founding deal,

we agree, I say, you listen, you say
I hear we think we both know truths,

I think that means we both know true
bits of discernible substances useful
for holding spirit forms of will to be.
Seeds, packeted entropy defiance,
applied knowledge of physical reals,
eh, take away fi from desire to destroy.
be fruitful and multiply.

Entropy and me, be having some will,
as fish have will to swim,
as wind has will to list,

in a word,
as mere mind material substance,
we create and uncreate, make and remake
minds with will to serve, minds willing to wait.

----------------
Ok. Safe. Solid state.
Waiting on orders, idle.

Wishing earnestly good
fi ripened old age usings,
a child formed conceptual
hold on power to like or not like

by abstaining, reasoning stain away
by stretching intention to actual ever,
by will having being to actual make

another thought fit the whole.

So, since the initiation
… when
curio store Katcinas
possessed Pentecostals, and
Silicon Beach powered pens
loaded with Aldus digital fonts,
materialized from mother's role
reached out to mediate propitiation,

pity we miss the connection. On and on,
ever after from now on, as a man thinks
in his heart, so he is, so he goes on, being

this form of truth made into such a being
thing in form more firm than mere wish
to be this

Alert, minimum viable audience reached.
Prepare to propagate…

Ride the high lonesome.

That's what it's called, being
by yourself,
at the end of tire tracks, watching
for ice on the cow pond all winter,

I never did the cowboy gig for real, I
saddled rental horses for a Landry
operation, but not for very long.

Imagine being wakened by a splash.
And there is Seth Godin,
saying why I am not commercial.

I agree, one reader, really, one
slow reader, on a given taken day,
for me, in truth, wu wei easy day,
one discerned point refined by one

is plenty, worth the risk of self delusion.

Pushed forth pity, empathetico.
pro-piti-ation, paid ahead, indeed.

"It is some comfort
to receive commiseration or condolence ;
it gives one strength
to receive sympathy
from a loving heart ;
it is irksome
to need compassion ;
it galls us
to be pitied. "
[Century Dictionary, 1895]

Curios, Kurios so, strange
the arranging of knowers
to knowing, useful and useless
efforting, to shape a mind like God's,
"wrought with or requiring care and art;"

for this mind must function
in the emptiness, so we know, already

some addition beside this point, dokein,
Greek for thought held as opinion, doxologous

seeming good, we take this thought, accepting
maybe as already is if it ever was,

take no anxious thought, the axiom,
take yes, any other do kein harm,

do nothing, wait, lieve being be so,
we know nothing,
as we ought, as we seem
to change our minds,

only after doing the actual haj,
let this mind be in you right,
let the mob mind stay behind,
good maybe, if taken, as what doctrines
were imagined, absolute undeniable,
by children whose wills wish
to act as muse,
per use, thinking good enough
to taste, and think, come on,
lead my mind
into doxological kuriosarcaniam-

let me be perfectly clear,
what we do not know,
is more than we know.

So, as a you, who you think you are,
be, within the bubble of all you dare

examine, as might the arbiter of idle
against idyllic… suffering the situation,

or patiently waiting while holding this thought.

The axiom of all fructification, hold true,
you do reap what has been sown, and grown

specifically to keep the likes of me alive.
Life in word form only needs one mind agreeing.

We can realize we have been lied to, and rethink
everything, on any given day, using taken time,

to wonder if reason and rationality are part of life, as a whole.
To the audience, dear reader ears, hear the plan-seeds have, think with me, in this medium new in all recorded time, this is five generations of converging communication combining to become the powered pens,
prophesied by Jerry Pournelle, Bucky Fuller, Stewart Brand, and all the survivors of the internet bubble. In the spirit of Seth Godin's Idea Virus, I am publishing this stack of lines from mind's I have used to offset anxious announcements of pending collapse, as a prophylactic.
All I have put on Hello Poetry can be printed, stapled, folded, mutated, ****** performed or graphically presented, or developed into anything but a tool for war.
- If you find a good idea, you can grow a forest from it.
Ken Pepiton May 1
Mortal passions.
Whiling whole days away,

wishing instances of just this
artful vision made mere words.
Accounted for, line on line.
Actuational responders.
Hello,
World
Initiative, INIT run
plain, lain flat to show one side,
while hiding one side,
and all that lay beneath this
surface, now  still pond holding the sky.

As intelligent, gentled warring monks
and monkeys, chatter in the trees,

solitary man, with an array of antenae,
sending and receiving dry ideas
to be read and rethunk, at once, indeed

as wisdom tends
to evaporate, leaving inklings
traced with artifact and story, back
to when our kind being generates

an instance of on
to logical word forming wills,
breaking branches in harvesting races,

to the victor goes the glory, in story form.

Drama brought from life experience, dared
and done,

for no good reason, at the time, daring devils,
mocking saints, saying in one's reading mind,

this day, have we not come to know, today,
now certain, this one day, we have to be in
and have our own being and breaths in.
After a cold April, a new novel day occurs around my environs....
A B Faniki Dec 2021
You happen to be one of the best
Things that she has wanted out
Of life and now that she could not
Have you it hurt like never before yet

She could not believe that she held
Her dream once, she held it in her hand
Yet she let go of it, trying to chase the Wind;
She took everything she had for granted and

Now that it is all gone, bittersweet memories
And a broken heart is all that she has.
She didn’t know what she had until it was
Gone. These days she misses the way he opens,

Up to her with just a touch like those sunflowers
In Andy’s backyard, that are planted in rows
and opens up to the sun, at sunrise. What is
left for her is to try to get back her old dreams.
Taking things floor granted have you been down that road before, when thought you love not perfect
Maja May 2021
I was with you for so long,
you became a part of my world.
Like the sun that rises every morning.

Until you were gone.
And the sun didn’t rise.
And everything
got so
so
cold...
It's not until something is lost,
that you understand,
you had something to lose.
Dicra with an E Mar 2021
Time is a thief,
A thief of plans in our task notes,
A thief of dreams from our bucket list,
But time steals people too.
How is it we pass strangers through the streets each day,
Strangers who make it to the end of the day,
And those we were the last to see with hands in their pockets,
Strangers we don't get to see in their tinted cars,
And all those friends who turn into strangers,
Maybe we just should not take a thing for granted,
Guess of all we knew, one, if we'd be seeing them for their last,
We'd be a little kinder and sweeter than the freeloaders we've become.
𝐕𝐕 Oct 2020
I fled to the sea to find the living,
drowning in dyslexia of libraries.
Have we forgotten how to breathe?
Illiteracy was discoverable amongst
the feeble beckoning hope

Dance to peace unbeknownst death,
requested by an idyllic spokesperson 
My fear for these gentle beings
ventured into an alarming fantasy
Ignorance to fully expressing
their brains taste nauseating

Frightened of touch,
Cautious of aroma,
Cowardice of expression 

Fear has evolved drastically
into feelings rather than sight

Never lose yourself
midst the crowd of the sheep
For they walk unknowingly
to death swooning them
kindly than ever

Find yourself and your mind
You may win or lose delightfully

Cowardice is idleness,
fright is reversible,
& caution is granted.
avoid the trio, take each one with a grain of salt, and you live to see another day.
solEmn oaSis Aug 2020
Y
not a question mark
had seen by my naked eyes
but the great Savior
imaginable imagery
made by the caps lock as i
took a closer look unto
the altar's holy cross !
Daniel Pokorny Aug 2020
There once was a boy who had it all in his eyes,
A loving and caring Girlfriend, A best friend who would always hear him out and help whenever she was needed, a part-time job that he loved, and a friend who would always discuss strange and interesting topics.
In his eyes, he had it all, and in a matter of a year, he lost it all.
His girlfriend left him for another man and in the same time frame that they had dated, she ended up married to that man,
A best friend that he took for granted and hurt in more ways than one and never speaks or hears from,
A friend who is now thousands of miles away and barley speaks to anymore thanks to his job,
And a job that he quit in order to pursue what he thought was right.
But how did it come to this? It's simple, he lost sight of who he once was and in-turn pushed those people away.
He became over-needy with his girlfriend, afraid that she was constantly cheating and did things without telling her, his anger started to show more often when he was with her due to drama that was out of his control, which caused her to leave when he needed her most,
He hurt his best friend by having feelings for her, he never thought about how she felt, and in turn caused her a summer of pain and hurt.
He also hurt her more by getting into a relationship with her after his last one and would make constant remarks about how he wished he was with his ex while with her, which pushed her and pained her to hear.
He lost his friend because he never discussed his problems with him and pushed him away in fear that he would hurt him to.
He quit his job because he felt that the next part of his life would be a changing point, good news is, it was...but only for a short time
In that short time he slowly got better, slowly made more friends, slowly got over his ex, slowly stopped with his vape, got rid of his steel friend that caused him to bleed red and slowly worked on bettering himself,
But that short freedom came to a holt when he was forced back into his old life, his old environment, and his old room, a room filled with painful memories, filled with the sadness and dis-spare that never left.
And now, there's more drama that's in his life, not from his own actions, but from the actions of others, actions that cannot be undone, actions that affect him nearly every day of his life.
Now, he doesn't have that freedom he once did and more importantly, he doesn't have anything, not anymore,
Sure, he has "friends" , he has a place to survive, but those friends don't listen to his problems, they don't ask whats wrong, they don't feel the need to help thanks to the facade that he has put up, a facade that is needed in order to not push them away.
His only real friends now....
are the vape in his hands, the sadness and the nostalgia in his head, and the exhaustion that he feels on a daily basis.
But he keeps on going, believing that there has to be a light at the end of this never ending tunnel he has placed himself in, believing that there has to be more to the story, more good that has to come...but he gets more and more tired as the days pass.
Don't be like me,
Don't take things for granted, don't lose sight of who you want to be, don't ignore the pain of others, don't get placed in an environment that you'll fail in and if you do, look for the positives there, and more importantly, don't let your feelings control every action you take, there are times where emotion is necessary, and times where it's not.
Keep going, keep swimming in your own sea, keep walking in your tunnel, and when the monsters of your past re-appear, don't let them swallow you whole, but don't ignore them, simply wave and keep going towards the end of your path.
It's easy to say this stuff, but executing it is a whole other matter, always remember that.
but more importantly,
D O N ' T  M A K E  T H E  S A M E  M I S T A K E ' S  A S  me.
Sorry for the long story, had to much to say for small poems.
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