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Bhill Oct 31
have you ever seen a Big Horn Sheep
they wander about with nary a peep
they climb on rocks like they're not even there
jump all around without any care
their beauty is amazing, their magnificence divine
just seeing one is lucky and that's by design
be careful and quiet when the chance comes your way
observing these animals will make for a great day...

Brian Hill - 2020 # 300
Adri Sep 30
I can feel his shadow looming,
My weight
fluctuating
quickly dropping to my knees
all at once.
A sinking, falling feeling,
I nod off the thought
I can’t think about falling now.

Focus shifts to my rough hands,
worn,
cracked,
aching.
Feeling his intensity carving into the helmet
it is strengthened,
but his breath is held as
the rope dangles around my belt.  
Tie
knot and
pull through.

My lifeline,
the only thing connecting us
to the sixty feet tower
we stand on.  
When free falling,
it is our one saving grace.

Drill Sergeant told us,
He would only show us only once.
If we mess up,
we fall.
He’s watching.
His breath reigns heavy,
deep,
staggered,
on the back of my neck,
yet he remains silent.

I turn to plead with his fiery gaze,
begging for the reaffirmation.
That it is okay,
that it will catch me in time
as I let go.
Thin lips curl into a smile
that tells me to
get off of his tower.
I jump.
Ken Pepiton Sep 11
Realized liberty, bike lanes,
okeh, Bret Weinstein is right, they do measure liberty

all my roads have double yellow lines, as a measure of safety
in a two-way world.
{which is partly why the code in DNA runs one way}

measuring minding
trips my trigger, to what I was thinking of writing
while watching a whispy-white haired man-my-age,
measuring the edge of a two-story house,

which a good man is building for his daughter,
down the hill, from where I sit.
That old man is bowed, in a compressed spine
kinda way,
bam bam men walked that way, in China, before the dams.

Tote that bail, tug that rope, nuthadayowe-der wise,
otherwise, aliens versus everything
pop knowns
you had locked away, in those gated intellectual troughs.
Yes, yes, troughs,
Pigs eat from troughs, cows eat from cribs,
chickens eat from dirt and sheep *** all the grass for wool
to pull over our eyes
filtering lies
like sunlight under big old Pines shading little old
Rosemary patches that feed bees,
wooly eyes, wise
meander, would you say away from world's wisest men discussing
what may be done, we set a spell, make peace with
having nothing else to do.

-- that sorta ran through my mind as I watched the elderly carpenter.
He was careful, but not afraid, aware.
He stepped from joist to joist,
at the very edge of the second story peak edge
perpendicular to the foundation square,

eye-ball-level to me
slow and steady he takes a tape, {such a witty invention}
a tape attached to a spring,
whereas once such things were actual hinged wands that unfolded
at the flick of an old wizards wrist,

then out came the soapstone, to lay down the line,
make the mark.
Here is where we cut, measure twice,
cut once,

he is sayin' in his mind, to me, I think, I imagine being told
this is how we learn what is right.
we learn to measure what works by what is.

If the distance between two points is beyond the reach, oopshit
I got distracted and he fell.
Things we imagine catching attention, good enough to step...
That Girl Sep 7
“You take everything too seriously.”
“You just don’t have a sense of humor.”
“No matter how I react it’s wrong.”
I take things too seriously?
I’m sorry that I’m not always cracking jokes.
I don’t have a sense of humor?
I didn’t know to laugh at jokes at my expense.
Why am I always the punchline?
Why is my mental health a joke to you?
No matter how you react it’s wrong?
It’s always wrong because you always react the same way.
You never make an effort to change how you react to me.
Yet I’m always the one that’s sorry.
I’m the bad guy.
Put me in handcuffs and lock me away.
Why aren’t you ever sorry?
I guess I missed the memo from God stating your perfection.
My anger is never justified but yours is.
I just need to accept the fact that you will never admit to being wrong.
Accept the fact that I will never hear you say sorry.
I wrote you a letter saying sorry.
But now all I want to do is rip it up.
Burn it.
Throw the ashes into the lake.
Maybe I’ll jump in while I’m there.
VineBabe Aug 25
Swish, thump, swoosh. I jump !
How could I best keep the rope
From around my neck.
Jaimi M Aug 10
What kind of monster
builds a girl up so high
and tells her she can fly
only for the girl to realize
after she jumps
her wings are only fiction
and the the ground
is a lot harder than it looks
-JRM
LC Aug 2
whenever I stumbled and fell,
instead of helping me up,
they pushed and berated me,
knocking me down even further.
safety was never a guarantee.
I take each step carefully - too carefully.
wondering who can see my trembling hands
and feel my heart pounding in my chest.

now when I stumble and fall,
I push the helping hands away,
even though I want to feel
a hand in mine
more than anything.
I've come to expect sharp,
grating words from everyone,
even though not everyone is like them.

I pick myself up and hide
waiting until the storm settles.
sometimes when it all dies down,
I'm still not convinced that it's over.
I step out of my hiding place
and wait for the thunder.
I jump at every noise,
and I wince at every touch.

I want to have spaces in which
my body can relax instead of
looking for the next threat.
in which my hands are steady,
my heart takes a leisurely stroll,
and I don't have to hide.
in which I can tell myself,
"I am safe," and fully believe it.
It's not easy to live with the effects of emotional abuse, but I am healing. I'm hopeful for the future.
Amanda Hawk Jul 15
A tall silver trailer

In my backyard

When I was a little girl

I wanted to fly

I figured out

How to climb

Up and up

To the top

Of that silver trailer

Pacing left and right

I wanted to fly

Let the wind

Get tangled in my hair

Lingering on the edge

I stood there

Content

With sun teasing my face

Confident, unaware

Of gravity

Hesitant for a moment

But patience taught me

To enjoy the view

Of neighborhood of rooftops

I wanted to fly

So I jumped

Off that silver trailer

Soared with arms open

Then fell

To the ground

Feet landed first

The ground jolted by body alive

Crouched there for a moment

For I had flew

Smile collected along with bruised palms

Hadn’t been afraid

For I knew the ground

Would catch me

I laughed and danced

For I had flew and found freedom

Collected rooftops upon my descent

I never regretted finding the ground

Or thought

It was a hindrance to be born with legs

And not wings
Ken Pepiton Jul 1
New, as a thing under the sun, may not be, if
you know
beyond any shadow of doubt
[
WAIT}{ Wraith, tell no lie, I adjure thee

Human… made of fertile dirt, humus, clay,  right
or did this thing i thing you may
bean be, may be an AI virus
human concept formed from,
star-stuff,
highest dust of the desert
by fortuitous concurrence of events,
after ever begins or began
like a big bang and all kinds of unbelive- oh, that e, escape believe me,
once
just once, you come this far,
you never ring that ****** alarm again and shame,
shame's
a thing of the past, and we don't fish that hole.
Push on, pursuit of happiness is a right, not a privilege,

I inherent have, as a given, an intu ifity? An information messenger
from all who survived before now, this now, the right now?
I am, I think
A meme that makes me know,
from dust I came,
to dust I go, or is it some idea everybody knows

this me, the thinking me, I dust, become dust, damthatkansasong,
in the wind we then inherit
as
a means of propagation. Idea viruses evolve from invented
necessities formed into memes,

like on Facebook yes, yes and in Animal Farm where the egalitary
evolved an elite corps of the finest minds

and they formed a cadre of guards, to guard the riches caused by
the blessing of god.
A necessity for coping with --
op [option: change the course of history, portunity, or
position…

step by step as an upright walking being humanoid, but not dirt.
Nobel,
aragon level refusal to mix with lesser, looser fields of
gaseous matter dust,
atoms,

the un breakable thing at the point, until the Alamogordo,
fat cottonwood song was danced
in silence, and we saw

we make peace, where there is no peace,
do we lie,
can you wrestle with a message formed in media no scribe
could realize,
nor resist imagining if touched with the sting of this
what if, what if
god did adopt useless dirt beings and enoblize them above
all aaaa acc use
me. What if you got it? The itch, the kurio bite, the feel of a snaky lick?
--
In confectionary affection for special effects, I nod to the pines for their
shushing of whatever brings you pain that you wish would cease to exist.
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