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Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
The merged generations, emerge from first
cold night in the mountains,
announcing,
This is screen-free Sunday.
I say this is the first day of ever after.
I read a bit
-- Infinite Jest, just a stream that contributes,
from time
to time, finity to finity, a dead man's former
mind fitted into words,
emanating from
the audible version of the words processed
in the Nineties, flowing through the
post I-Mac realm of words to the wise
and otherwise,

flooding the lexagraphic learners of grammar
for sense in silence,
self-reading silently,
breathing commas,
allow our pauses to perpetuate se per
selah… say

la la la
as time flows by, like a wild river in the spring,

Infinite Jest, there is a thread
through environs unimaginable to me,
until the inventions were given as inspirations,

did you know, I heard,
Steve Jobs yoosta
stand in the comode,
and flush it, gnoshit. In a state
like meditation,

zoned out of bounds in mere mistaken chance,
ping ping ping

a good idea, a bell of a thought.

We think in words, not all minds do.

Plenty punishments puns provideo please
if -ish is sortalike… shitilised, four syl-lables
la la la
ra ra ra, boom

sort on those, and mix up the story,
in the bubble you be reading in,

give us a universe, fit into the final bubble,
beyond imagining minds,
this world of words.

Here is where we word wise do as we heard,
when we read what the prophets say,
the angels said… re-
conciliation - nation to nation, peace
on earth {as in heaven BTW}
goodwill… the real deal, to fill the flaw, in the law,
which allowed imaginary places power
in carnal minds.

Jesus fixed that. Jah, no joke, he took it,
the joke on me, I traded for the
joke on you, he said,
I heard.
First day of ever, after the grands and their dogs and disgruntled cats, moved into my fortress of solitude... life is now a serial story epic song.
Shawn Awagu Dec 2019
“So soon must I go my love?”
Said I with bold Shakespearean jest
A giggle escaped
From her rosy lips, let suddenly out from her mind’s possessions
With goofy smile and posh accent,
She replied in kind to my intent
“Of course good sire! You will now take your leave”

A flood of mirth and good faith, a shower of genuine joy
Blossomed with liveliness betwixt our figures
Oriented sideways, laying on low-cropped carpet
Our laughing drifted freely in good humorous air
Dying slowly into breaths and smiles, her bountiful hair
Glowed softly in that room
Softening my jagged soul, fixing it with tempered gaze

Though Heaven’s eye and lovely Earth
Quarreled on that day, separated by grey droplets of clumpèd air
In low light, I still retained a clear vision of my love laid before me
In Venusian position, a blush from our previous merriment
Still traveled up her throat and up her cheek
Marking her lovely countenance proudly with color because of me

Those moments are now dead and gone
The ungrateful witch has left me to hang
Solely by my neck
In a noose of my own sorrow, growing tighter and tighter until one day I will break
And I will die and I will suffocate
Under the weight of my body and my baggage
This love was not real! Only a lust dressed up in *****'s clothes that shrivels up in the light

Bah! Who cares about wenches these days? The wretches
Merely prowl about the countryside, searching for untested men
Nay, boys
To draw water from, tying them down and breaching their chests
Reaching in and stealing their best
Traits and memories and garments and vex them
Out of their minds and out of their hearts
Out of their homes and out of their children’s arms!

Nay, I say! What, **! Dare you contravene my verity?
That my heart was broken? That much is truth
That I was told, “You are not good enough.”
neth jones Dec 2016
A caster of mimes and mimicry
Stilts a prance
About the tomb full of guests
It's a mirrored jest to ease discomfort
Visitors present their cards of invite
And go swiftly about the social wetwork
Their practices and manners
Interact and ply
Pulling teeth of the guises
Harvesting an imflamation of words
A baffle of tongue chorings
There is an hour
A second
Then a third
Whittling time
Taming code
Resorting to a little physical...
And then they take their leave ;
Prizes into the nights snare.
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
Lost your *** and spent your gold
Drunk all night and you were told
The Murphy girls have brothers ninefold...
So, have you an inkling this mornin'?
Don't say you had no warnin'!

Gee those Murphy girls sure are pretty
But now your listening to this "told ya so" ditty
Got a bit fresh and way too giddy...
So now your hurting this mornin'
At least last night wasn't boring!

So next year's the same when put'n on the green
Remember the date it's March Seventeen
Kathleen, Maureen, Colleen do preen...
Just to count your gold in the mornin'
So don't be a leprechaun hornin'
Happy Saint Patrick's Day!
Any coincidental name of the same is sheerly that, please don't send your brother.
"You know what they say:
it's all fun and games 'til you're outta *******!"

"Well, you know what happens when you assume."

"What, people recite tired adages at you?"

"Exactamundo!"
I love historical fiction. ;)

So, uh, who's got coke? I've got some ***!
What? *** and coke! Get it? I mean,
how much more Caribbean does it get
than ******* with *** chasers?

I mean, I'm just trying to be culturally open-minded!

Jeez. Tough crowd.
Ethnocentrists!

What? No!
I'm not being defensive! You are!

You're just paranoid, man!
Woah, what the **** was that?!
--
Anyone
who does not aid you
to be the Character you are
only helps to water you down-
to sell you out to their world.

Moreover, anyone
who discourages you
from being your Character
isn't worthy of your attention;
they are an enemy of your creative potential,
that is to say that they are destructive
to the you that would be;
the you that could be-
perhaps should be.

Be a Freak.
Break social rules.
Defy expectations.
Play the Fool
and own it, too,
lest the Fool own you.

What has the Fool taught you?
Have you been willing to learn?
Have you the capacity to teach?

Wouldst thou follow
Hermes, or Loki? Mercury? Thoth?
Or would they follow you?

*We need more Characters.
Fear not Card #0.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Fool_%28Tarot_card%29

-
AvengingPoet Sep 2014
Phantom fears will consume you
unless you take those chances
otherwise you will continue to be all lost
and disillusioned.

Time is the infinite jest
whether you’d like to think it is or not
as it will never play in your favor
unless you try your best to allow it.

Those dreams of the so-called obtrusive
are most certainly not obtrusive
and are worth the circumstances
before you are knocked out by time.

Reality is what keeps you staying the same
unless you vividly paint a canvas
with more than a single color
otherwise you’ll probably be inside dimly lit halls
for the rest of your days.

Idealism and going against the odds
are worth the effort.

Build that house of cards
and if it tumbles
then go again
and again
until reality has become
something
worth
having.
Dark Jewel Sep 2014
Damsels of distress,
Wings of vivid crests.
All elegant in a romance.

Spin my Fairy.
Tilt your head.
Sprinkle fairy dust,
To ressurect the dead.

The dead who don't dance.
Who stand in awe of your crest.
Spin my Fairy,
Recruit the rest.

Vivid streams,
Violet strings.
Strung on thy lute of play.

Spin my Fairy,
Sing your song.
Of Vibrance.
Of Honor.
Of love.

Spin now,
Your wings beautifully carved.
As a monarch or a sprite.
You give life to the crowd.

Elegance above Royalty.
Love above Lust.
Play your reverend strings.
Of Story Springs.

Spin my Fairy,
Flare those vivid wings.
You are the final act.
Praise your Lute of Rings.
Inspired by Mythology and much more. Keep spinning Auroura!
Seán Mac Falls Aug 2014
To face the world, a runt,
With such brunt and abasement,
Is to know ones place in the scheme,
Standing in the stream of frivolous
Happenings, this is the dance,
To be danced, this is the play,
Yet, he has the ears of a king,
To jest with such fire is to be
Ferocious, not feeble, his mocks
Are mostly mirrors for the blind,
For madness is a known methodology,
How he revels round the sad theatres
Of the high born absurd, how he speaks
In tongues and with bold proclamations
Only taut whispers of wind would know?
He is certain that the spindle fates are real
And that lightening strikes purposefully,
Kingdoms will fall, as the sun will rise,
As the noble trees ring with ideologies,
Without travails, he is always arriving,
To sleep out of doors, this is his way,
The path, the masted ship of fools.
The Fool, from Shakespeare's 'King Lear':

The Fool does not follow any ideology. He rejects all appearances, of law, justice, moral order. He sees brute force, cruelty and lust. He has no illusions and does not seek consolation in the existence of natural or supernatural order, which provides for the punishment of evil and the reward of good. Lear, insisting on his fictitious majesty, seems ridiculous to him. All the more ridiculous because he does not see how ridiculous he is. But the Fool does not desert his ridiculous, degraded king, and accompanies him on his way to madness. The Fool knows that the only true madness is to recognize this world as rational.
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