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Ken Pepiton Aug 14
words tucked into child minds forming in the mold,
depeche mode, fashion wisdom
blooming in
starstruck lunacy of lost meaning

****** Airline driving Jet Blue
as a sign, you know we

rise and ask redemption
this instant

toiling with tools the psalmist dreamed
and all the first cantors sang
in genuine gentle
spirit of...

genius (n.)
late 14c.,
"tutelary or moral spirit"
who guides and governs
an individual through life,

from Latin genius 
"guardian deity or spirit which watches over each person from birth; spirit, incarnation; wit, talent;"

also
"prophetic skill; the male spirit of a gens,"
originally
"generative power"
(or "inborn nature"),
from PIE *gen(e)-yo-,
from root *gene- "give birth, beget,"
with derivatives referring to procreation and familial and tribal groups.

Sense of
"characteristic disposition"
of a person is from 1580s.

Meaning
"person of natural intelligence or talent"
and that of "exalted natural mental ability"
are first recorded 1640s

and remaining in super position watching
until
we see we be agreed and symbiosis sets in

upto unto upon a time
stumbled into uttering urgent fervent

prayer, simple asking, what remains broken

what quest unmade, unmade imagined asif

this is life's book interpreting your
translation of reason into I'll go rythmic

waves rising from great notions stuck
in the mire at the bottom o' th'ocean

stirred up by trouble peace bringing in times of
see-change

settling in on of by bis more again or less
waiting is all suffer ever meant to mean,

mean men made each furrow seem
too hard to ***, in final
throes of
terminal toil

debitum in praesenti, solvendum in praesenti
debt due now, paid. It is finished.
Good news
darkness consummatum

light

fashioned in the mode of our time
powered for ever by happy Sisyphus's
rock rolled up
rock rolled down
by grace of gravity being the law

reach out

ceive con re de ceive (if you know

what I mean, taken for granted)

praesentium tedium t'do doodle do

touch faith, fingers fail, toe-tippy reach

topple the tinker-toy tower where war once reigned

back ground Johnny Cash praisin' Dylan from the dead

out in the desert, just doin my time--
waitin' by a pile of Hopi
nilhili-pili rocks rolling no more

sitting still in rasta farian blank spaces

between the pieces of we
carried to now as you see. We are in this real,
as real angel messages
made magnificent in worth as
words
worth deeming worship's solventum

songs from the po et tu brutes, breakin' rocks
back down the line,

scarlet thread sewn tendon
anchored to my zen minded ped-dance

kick the liar from his throne,
claim it for my own, my pile of flocci nauci

meaninglessness of weightless worship

turned on, with a merest touch.
No flame,
no night. Words alone reign un fused, un frozen,
new mercies
rising in the sunshine of a rich man
with a satisfied mind,

as time rolls by.

Cohen told us there is a crack in everything,
that's how the life gets in
this bubblin ethosphere we offer

as a sacred secret shown in light of all we share.

Clap clapper in liberty's cracked bell.
Let us lieve well enough alone for the time,

being once rung, listen,

other bells ring still with that pathos we share
logically as mere words.
floccinaucinihilipilification (n.)
"action or habit of estimating as worthless," in popular smarty-pants use from c. 1963; attested 1741 (in a letter by William Shenstone, published 1769), a combination of four Latin words (flocci, nauci, nihili, pili) all signifying "at a small price" or "for nothing," which appeared together in a rule of the well-known Eton Latin Grammar + Latin-derived suffix -fication "making, causing."
Ken Pepiton Jun 19
The word I. The idea, ego. Me, relative to you.

I am, but you may not know that. May is your word here.
May be is all yours

to follow in the flow of
all that

anyman,
(wombed or un nevergoes unsaid some days,)
any among the lot o' ye, may be able to swim thru if
it don't get thick.

I, a-poli-gize, bow down, kau-tau, or no--

un appolo getic  magic tech

I stand, sistere, my command,
in this realm, I command lies to stand in light and
I redeem the idle words from the ashes.

Okeh that's my job. I am not a messenger, I sweep.

When walls come down and chains are cut, it's amess.
I become the besom sweeping up the destruction.
--- why is any line after any line. sirius, you have to ask.

orthodox definitions serve as ample chains to hold any
child to the post where today's
sufficiency of evil squats

quotidianishit, day after day. I find such chains,

I cut them with the fruit of my lips,
shape-shifted to the sword,
from the stone,
you know the one...
then bing back to me through a google plex of porbables

fighting spelchek to go viral.

A blind me, I lied, and saw the light. Dumb luck.

And then, rather than, lie once more and say,
I can't believe this,

I am that sword, still be, and know.
eh.
I, the word,
I did it. I made a point and a word formed,
as a bubble might

under relative circumstances. I know, round and round.

If this were a game, this is a key. (ah, a secret here.)

if this were a game, and I were playing.
Quotidian. daily, do the work. Make it plain. Or funny. Never pathetic.
A Simillacrum Oct 2018
I talk a lot about motion,
like I know a thing of progress.
Drop of water in the ocean.
Beautiful ripples of tragedy,
of comedy.

Nothing to it,
that's what we know.
We all know
the words and we go:

Tear into space,
terraforming,
ISO: a meaning higher than
all the lies we spin, just to gravitate.

I talk a lot about language,
communication's importance.
Did you know I only know one?
So, *******, I'm an *******.

Nothing to it,
that's what we know.
Developed
world depressives, go:

Tear into space,
terraforming,
ISO: a meaning higher than
all the lies we spin, just to gravitate.

We all go
to return
to one place.

We all shoot the farthest we've ever shot,
just to realize we're separate by margins
drawn by logos and emotion --
nothing to come will be made of much
but those two things, because
escape would be improbable.









(becomeasgodsbecomeasgodsbecomeasgods)
A Simillacrum Oct 2018
"I will beat this," I swear.
No one else has,
as there is no end,
but there must be an end.
I'll find it.

Watching everyone spin
on their axis,
touting their progress,
there must be a someone
or some thing!

Watch me spin.
Spin and fidget.
Watch me spin,
spin and fidget.

Spin the blades
to your right.
Now you're loading. Now
you're spinning.

"I will beat this," rings obsolete.
Now, "I will secede,"
seems pragmatic.
Is it romantic to
be at one with nothing?

Cross legged on the floor,
I whisper,
to myself,
"Oh,
         you
                 bet."
Paul Jones Jan 2018
know
                  someth    g
                               in   side
                        out

          think                 side

                                                    out

  ­        the                     box
Know something inside out. Think outside the box.
Paul Jones Nov 2017
thinking
thinking is
thinking is not
thinking is not what
                                    you
think it is
you think it is
but it is not
what is it not
                        you
but what are
                        you
if you are not
thinking
a
human
              being

you've been thinking

but if
            you
asked a thought
am i
          you
it would reply
                           no

i'm just passing through
Logos - 1 -
11:00 - 26/11/17

This is experimental but I'm working on a new structural form. It is not free verse and will have rules. It will be playful and rhythmic.  

This explore's 'thinking' but I will have to see if it works with other concepts. It seems like abstract words work well.
Paul Jones Jan 2018
it is cold
then hot
                    so quickly
it is tough
it is hard
                    but melts with heat
it tings
it taps
and
                knocks
     about
                             the surfaces
                    of the kitchen worktop
             these are properties that stir tea

it is cold
then hot
                    so quickly
it is cool
it is calm
                    but bends under pressure
it sings
it raps
and
                talks
     about
                              the textures
                              of existence
             these are properties that stir me
Paul Jones Dec 2017
dance
d                                             e
    a                    c
             n
                   w i t h
                         me
with          me
           be
cause
           no
one
           should
dance
           alone
Yeah, it works.
Interesting.
Journey of Days Mar 2017
vacuum of light
a dark so still it has no sound
profound dark
deep time
breathe
slow now
there is no linear logic to this
deep time
in saecula saeculorum

unregulated yet ordered
power prevailing and insinuating into all
forming intimate unions across boundaries that make our reason
breathe
slow now
there is no physical logic to this
it is
deep time
in saecula saeculorum

draws on the eternal
it has a future
impacts on now
a brain cannot fathom
the past is still to come
breathe
slow now
there is no epochal logic to this
it is
deep time
in saecula saeculorum

energy
it moves through and within
whispering around the edges of the quiet mind
enfolded
in those spaces between thoughts
breathe
slow now
there is divine logic
immerse
in this
deep time
in saecula saeculorum


#thisjourneyofdays
A response to having just finished reading Long History, Deep Time, ISBN (online): 9781925022537. Changing the concept of "time".  Some of it blew my mind.
The archaic Mythologies
Were well depicted ventures of Human
Spirit to verily present acts of the absolute Nutness
An astute of a compelling question Still
Much relevant in today's lmplicit
Deconstruction of  Committing
A moral Excession.

Old Greeks came to a betwixt paradox when compairing
the two ulterior motives:  
~ a completely mad passionate love
~ a sharp cold blooded oportunistic love
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