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Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
Protesting, I, rise, e-raising my hand,
in ranked row,
three from the front, in the middle,
a glance,
and nothing more, and another,
Aseneth was her name, and she hated it.
She said.

Many were the flirty glances, unrestrained
wonder
what is different,
is this ink, or scar tissue?

Eight billion essentially identical minds, in use,
being tuned to consume elemental mental
as we form from base material, mother stuff.

We think in single words, letters let us do this,
that which formerly prevented, lets us do this now,

do you read me is not valid protocol on a voxnet.
You know. Five by five, is not valid either, listen.

Does your memed mind hear me now, Brown Cow,
Dao a do nothing dues paid note, this is business,
this is what the messenger in charge,
special agent,
secret agencies allowed, in my mind, baby, listening

constantly, no time,
silent,
only imagining Major Tom.

Waking spacy Sunday Morning, unre-tied to the strand
of faith that wound the core hard ball of pure rubber,
vulcanized, for bounce,

CRACK of the bat, where once, no, each once ever,
the feeling
one side, then the other, being mentally cognoscente,
cognoscenti, either way,
we both know, we both take knowing duty as demanded
of the code
we obey. At the command. We pay proper attention,
not too much of any thing,
take your own measure,
remember, certainty is bad mad solid state, bricked.
In a sermon writing state of mind after reading poets alive when I was young.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
Nothing ever changes,
where the worth of this and that is set.

Tell'em all, who hook ah, ha, chiral

reality, hearing, hmms and bzzz meeee
whining all kinds of things,

down, dirt hertz low, as one of those
contrabassoons,
French bubinga wood,
-Google it, it is as magic may be yet,
magical contraptions contrived
in a mind,
in stages,
whistle phone, I ignor thee,
Lady, of Spain, I adore thee,

If I had chosen a differing way, some time ago,
decided I was made
to be a river kid,
but come to find out, we breed best, where
our mothers were born,
- high green vales
- home feel romantic, as such antics were
portrayed, more, more, more
in the bread and entertainment
citizenship bought
for thirty man years
of absolute loyalty
to a bevvy
of oaths
by
any child shaped for leadership, bonded
entered into the system, asked
to swear
in the name
of all that is holy, set apart, behind the curtain,

not in Oz, Jerusalem
in that mind Christ used,
right, Romans-
let this mind be
in you… word level logic magic any may imagine
we pluralize our individuated minds,
and join in seeking clear channel communication
- tear ye the dusty curtain -
after all the outs are in for the evening,
cool of the day,
spirit and truth,
wow
we
make breathing work, come to think about that,
if your will is telling us some thing we may think,

3 major sneezings 3 by 3's, gobsogreasygoferguts,
we survive,
having coughed up a tiny, eyelash-size hair,
meta vessle,
where my bet is in the bits on this side,
war
has no
lever see,
free is bein' out of bounds. We may consider Kerouac,
his teletype paper rolls that he could imagine
becoming my entire system
liquid crystal frame nets fishing
for sentient mindshare where global peace, accepts
string theory as
my gnosisnot, is it spirit if it is true. If we are paradox-
ical, we are not stupid as a species,

we've bought a bill of goods, they used to say,
we found reason to believe,
we were lied to
for a set of reasons.
- first being we all lie, we think we know.
The onto logical truth, in my case, is - in 2023,
my life is good, I am a slob, and out of the way,
so, settled in some ways, is dust fine, we flake away.

My choice is to consider the reader, who reads
for fun,
kicks
in text
be unaffordable - attention is commodity
in any other context,
some things
are words, mere, as a word,
is one of them,
a class of flavour overlooked missed,
mere [hap]
anon,
we turn the radio on, and all we hear is humms.
Abnormality, in truth we find such things used beautifully, often,
passing in flashes one can respond to for - some time, a measure of it, may
be per haps
Qweyku Jan 2023
'Practice makes perfect' is a Damoclesian carrot fastened with erudite string.


Its bite mentally drops.


Practice is the whetstone of preparation.

&

Perfecting, the work of The Spirit.



© Qwey.ku 2023
2 Samuel 22:33 / Galatians 3:3 / Ephesians 4:13
The Lord Holy Spirit is a refiner honing the beauty of His Word seeded in us, unsheathing the sword of truth.
What is the ultimate life
All about?
It is about being holy
It is about being healthy
It is about being happy
It is about making things happen
With tremendous magnitude
And flowing smoothly
In the right direction
It is all about being effective
And efficient in life
This poem talks about how to achieve ultimate success in our lives.
I S A A C Sep 2022
the rose that grew from concrete
fossilized in my dreams
gaslit to believe, you were my everything
each deep breath, every spring it crept
my dreams reveal all secrets kept
i saw you cheat, i saw your deceit
i expose your lies, i burned the fleet
nobody does wrong by me without repercussions
your lies were dozens on dozens, webbed my worries
my first and only until you tainted the holy
newborn Sep 2022
i could never touch anyone with holy hands
with sacred blood dripping onto my feet

i could touch someone with hateful hands though
these tortured hands that i never chose in the first place

some say God isn’t real
but i see, hear, smell, feel Him EVERYWHERE,
EVERYWHERE He walks, every path His holy feet tread

He didn’t give me holy hands
but He gifted me a holy heart
a heart that loves every little inconsistency in humanity’s despair-filled eyes
and maybe i don’t like myself too much
but that’s because my heart is too holy
to brave my ugly touch

good souls live on, but so do bad ones
sadly
death lives on and life dies

my unholy hands will never be able to strip death from my skin
not even my holy heart could conjure up enough power to defeat such a tough barrier
   but maybe if i tried to find death, she wouldn’t want me to discover her

the buzz in my ear settles when i step foot in the garden i cultivated
out of my love for tranquility
i trace the water with my ***** fingers
and i replenish the desperate and diffident soul inside of me
clearing the scabs i collected from the hail storm
the rain never comes after
the clouds just stay dark, hovering around me
the clearing in the forest is just from demolition sites
the unholy hands of stone cold zombies chopped down these evergreen trees
holy hands could never do such a barbaric thing

some still say God isn’t real
but how can He not be
when i see Him in the wind, in the whispering creek, in the mountainsides, in the gold mines, in my mind, in the garden i cultivated myself with my two impious hands?

how can He not be real
when i hear Him in the silence, in the ruckus, in the schoolyard, in the pigeons flying across the city scapes, in my sister’s voice, in waterfalls, in “i love your outfit” compliments?

how can He not be real
when i have a holy heart?
who gave me these ventricles
these blood vessels, if not Him?
who gave me this haven, this place for my fears to be put to rest?
who sheltered my body when i was a complete mess, if not Him?
who never struck down on innocent men
but taught them how to enter the place of rest to inhabit for when their bodies are too frail?
how can He not be real?
you tell me

my holy heart will never shatter, will never be stomped on
by a bitter boy with blue eyes and a bad bearing
his fiendish hands shriek with iron vines cast upon his knuckles
in desperation, in trepidation, in complete and utter fear
i wish i could heal him with the touch of my hands
but they are unholy
and they aren’t worthy

i can place him in my garden, feeling God in every breeze that whooshes across the lawn
he’s asking, “why does this place feel so familiar?”

“i’m not sure,” i mumble as i clutch my chest, feeling my holy heart beat warmly for the first time in the longest time.
yeah…i’m proud of this hehe

9/20/22
SøułSurvivør Apr 2022
This momentary breath of time
You are the Rhythm and the rhyme
You bring us close to the Sublime
We're feathers on the breeze
Holy Spirit lifts us up
We're feathers on the breeze

To Jesus side He brings a near
The Spirit changing atmosphere
As the air you will appear
We're feathers on the breeze
Holy Spirit lifts us up
We're feathers on the breeze

He is music 🎶 laughter 😃 love 💘
He lifts us and we lightly move
Unto Jesus up above
Feathers 🪶 🪶 🪶
Feathers 🪶 🪶 🪶
Feathers 🪶 🪶 🪶


Let us rise up on the morn
Let us rise above the storm
Let us rise we are reborn
We're feathers on the breeze
We're feathers on the breeze
Holy Spirit lifts us up
We're feathers on the breeze
Feathers on the breeze
Feathers on the breeze



SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022
Christian song
Zywa Apr 2022
In me and in you

there is a black void, and God --


fits in exactly.
"Black Square" (2022, Tijs Nuyts) about the painting "Black Square" (Kazimir Malevich) at the exhibition "0.10" in Petrograd (Saint Petersburg, 1915)

Collection "Unseen"
Megan Mar 2022
I don’t know
Hidden in the darkest ignorance
Lord help me
Chant your holy name
Point me in the right direction
Chant your holy name
Establish a robust connection

I feel your love again
Hare Krsna
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