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Brumous Apr 2021
My love can be oceans deep
vast yet beautiful;

As its waves gently drenching the sand,
all I can imagine is the warmth of your hand
No words can comprehend how much I love you

That is why even after crossing the seven seas
I might find myself drowning
if you got tired of me
We as humans, yearn, want, and need
Only to find ourselves; lonely and full of greed
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
Waking with a will to do some good,
for some body,
this one I'm in, first. The body of living
matter being reader to my writer,
finding selves aware of worth,
with no grave weight
in consequence.
-- Boom… with

sci, SCI itself, ence, hence con-science,
know… ah, wait… who first knew?
Lichtenstein vvvery inter-esting,
dots what I am seeing,
RGB dots and CMYK dot
If there must be an idea for any matter to argue
reason, what is first reasonable in reality,
given what we have onboard?
This is 2020, spaceship earth, the only planet,
in the zone where mortal minds make reasonable
arguments prove life worth living, while
living and learning,
some things are evidently known as hows
without my knowing why.
Add water.
Yes, that's the trick,
without shape or form
thought matter, dream-stuff, fun-da-mental pass-time,
words of wonder, watch us
flow, fly, paint the patterns pareidolic,
get the idea in getting anything in all the realms
for the poor.

The primary material needed for the process
of humification are plant materials.

From <>

Anthropo - of mankind,
all varieties based on humus-frames.

Of a mind to,
in a mood to, take a chance,

flip the lid, look inside, breadbox-sized holder of more-knowing,
like carried over from earlier news,
old stories restricted around
arguing old men, wombed and un,
all aware the other know nothing
of the mystery
of being me in an I state, interesting,
trust me
true rest is the reason happiness is imagined
worth the effort to pursue.

Is there a manual? Are there rules and regulations,
asks the ****** diving past my ified
light in the night of some soul
matter unresolved…

what is this fusion within our ifery;
ahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa are
we words as wise as words were once?
May we mean the magic power,
boo once held?
Boo, right, scared you, triggered that fabled
flight or fight? No?

****, not fight. Stay put. Become stone,
edify the dust in the dry, thirsty realms of reason,

come, let us argue for the truth you know.

Wait, I have a Phrygian cap.
When I wear it I know why.

Why? I think, I know, I know, I am humus, being
formed from the surface dust of all before,
fitted for a task far in the future,
past the edge of Anthropocene piles of fallen
forms of re, reminders, realities, redone redundance,
thump thump thump

secret means to sacred make, set aside.
Single use,
lock and key. See,
open-minded other wise,
wish you knew,
and know, as per the plan, adjusted for flaws
inherent in the aftermath calculation
of weight as a measure, after
gravity was conceived as
fixed force functioning after the strange force
fixed the imbalance and set an edge,
discernible by raw ideas wishing to matter in the after

desire to know, wish to hide, which is safer

In a very set apart state, quarantined with my muse and two dogs, 3days, so far while Watching Warnock on Youtube.
Joseph Sopholaus Dec 2020
Sine arte
A satire against modernity in the arts

O modern beast our captive arts release,
The laws of Nature wished your reign to cease.
What beauties does this modern art restores
By turning vestals young to Russian ******.
How strange the painter draws his new reforms 5
Reducing Nature’s shapes to foggy forms.
All, I may add, by rambling thoughts conceived
If Nature’s order’s razed the goal’s achieved.
‘‘What then?’’ A tasteless judge if dared to ask,
To which the answer wears pretentious mask: 10
‘‘Dear Sir! ’Tis art, all ***** mere symbols made,
And *****, though crude, denotes the father’s shade’’
Go Man admire the fruits of twisted state,
Interpret ***** as something deeply great.
Let ***** Cupid stab his precious heart 15
To make our poesy more interesting art.
Let Cyrus wreck the might of Shakespeare’s throne,
And use her tongue to lick his hallowed stone.
Thus, give the verses blank to frenzied beasts,
Or let Rihanna burn Miltonic seats. 20
A simple critic might her craft enjoy,
But witty minds oft do their gift employ.
New Cornus comes with broken tools to teach
Yet none can bear to hear postmoderns preach.
They mumble days upon the wage and race 25
For them the world’s a strife, that is the case.
Ces Jul 2020
Paralysis by analysis
overthinking life and all
its complexities...

I think:

Truth, what is it?
When everyone feels as if they
and feel
even ****
in the name of this 'Truth'

I ask why...

What's the basis for that certainty
Is it something born through analogy?
I see that we are all mistaken, guilty
Of that condescension!



The irony of this age of technological
is that it has become fancy
to crave disinformation

Truth is what we think we possess
in this great idiocy of the masses.
Jay M Oct 2019
Things I cannot believe
My idiocy
Things I shall never achieve
O, my idiocy
Things I shall never know
O, my idiocy…

Hatred and anger
Burning flames
Things I wish not to remember
Yet never
Never will I forget…

Who am I?
I am no one
An idiot of course
A fool, so naive
A child indeed
Unorganized, I am doomed
This curse, I assumed
Would leave me, but never…

Shall I ever be released?
O never, o never,
Shall I ever be set free?
O no, o never,
Shall I see the light of day…

Do you see me?
Do you hear me?
The sorrow and woe
The sorrow and woe…

If they ever saw me
For me
Would they leave me?
Or would they feel me?
Would they lift me up,
Above the clouds,
Where they flux so freely
As a bird in flight
Across the vastness
That is my mind

Do you hear me?
Do you see me?
No, o never,
Never it goes…

O, if you could see it
O, if you could hear it
The broken melody,
The bleeding heart,
The depths it reaches to…

O never, o never,
Shall I forgive myself
O never, o never
Shall I forgive myself…

- Jay M
October 8th, 2019
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