the old wives
say it must be
the left hind foot
of a rabbit
shot with a silver bullet
or not shot at all
simply captured
one way or another
ideally on the grave
of a criminal
the more wicked the person
the more potent the charm
with the foot harvested
while the poor creature
is still alive
it has to be done
in a cemetery
during the night
of a full
or new moon
though others say
it should be
a friday
a rainy friday
friday the thirteenth
if the foot is to become
one of those lucky ones

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.

The house was filled with flames
For over 20 years it was a blaze
It stood on broken pillars and burnt floorboards
Slowly different parts started charring.

It started in the basement
With cigarettes and lost hopes
A child’s potential misplaced
A parent drowning in smoke of his own creation
And the house lost a child because he escaped
We don’t know how bad his burns are
Because he doesn’t come around to tell us.

Then it jumped to the second story
The flames only lit up one of the rooms
Where 2 children lived
One who started fighting
And one who never stood a chance
The first child who stayed close to the ground to avoid the smoke
She took quick breaths to keep her lungs clean
Who followed every rule about fire
And fought the fire silently
And the second
Who tried to follow the rules
But the house deemed it was never enough
She choked but didn’t die
And the two escaped
With the first child carrying the second out
Their burns are the deepest.

And the fourth child
The youngest child
Who never stayed long
And escaped at the youngest age
And was always escaping when the smoke got to thick
When her lungs hurt from yelling and breathing in the smoke
But would come back for the 2 children
Because she left them
She left all of them
She left the house
But when she left, her burns were tended
She stayed away from the flames because she was safe
And her burns healed, but scarred
Her scars are the lightest
And she didn’t come back until it was almost burnt down
And the flames couldn't get to her anymore
And not a single burn remained in the house
Because it was torn down.

And a different family built it with better materials
And a better foundation
And the house of ash was gone

But burns will always remain
Because the adults who left pass them down
And try to light fires in new houses
But the children who left
Will never pass down burns
And eventually the flames will stop

I'll admit i've broken a few mirrors
I've opened a couple of umbrellas indoors
I've walked under a few ladder
And i've never responded to a chain letter
The luck calculator of my life tells me i'm *******
I have all the bad luck a person could get
So how surprised i was when I fell for you
Your short hair and blue eyes hidden behind glasses
But then all my good luck ran out
And all was lost.
But i have one last question for lady luck:
Why does karma and girls love to bite me?

i was late
through no fault of my own
at least
that's what i tell myself
just one of those occasions
where try as you might
the universe won't allow you
to leave on time
standing at the threshold
one final pat of pockets
to check i had
all that i needed
looking up
to gauge the need
for coat or umbrella
i witness
an inhumane globule
of avian faeces
viscous and creamy
in colour and consistency
exploding upon the path
two steps ahead of me
i see no sign
of the culprit
hearing only its cacophony
of enjoyment
or maybe disappointment
drifting
into the distance

Part 8.

Yeh, yeh, yeh, sneer, to cool, hot to never, back down,
if and or but you did, or
you could have, had you had
half a chance.

Let's dance, two-step slow,
and watch lies we unbelieved slip as buckyballs,
on ice.

Twice told tales, told in time, ad another just
in time.

Oh, gnoshit, this just in, as ice, on ice, just, too

cool, you know. Ecklbarger, mulleted east-coaster,
show me your ticket on this Virgen line,
or walk
away.

Boom, dose two, dose y duo, rock on.

- the story rests, at https://kenpepiton.com millions of words,
use in any other order, however you wish,

twist right to tighten, left to loose, just to hold the pressure,
Archimedes *******, too tight, loose the letter t, t, see tiny t

tict..ticket. Punch it good to go, tickt

Going through bad times
But the world thinks you’re fine
You hide your wounds
And show your beautiful melanin
So they don’t feel you lost
Yeah, it’s all lies

Not what you want
But zero options left
Everyone’s reaching their goal
Yours has not even commenced
Running like turtle
Destination is settled
But too late it will be

You feel worthless within
And nothing without
The mask of deception
You wear on the outside
Luck is not on your side
At least, it’s never been

I have been walking in a dark cave
for quite a long time,
Never felt more caged and jailed,
as if I've committed a heinous crime.
Defeated and bruised
from the gold rush,
I heard songs of victory
in your calm and hush.
Little did I know,
I was just passing through,
forgetting all the woes and blues,
I walk towards my gold mine,
Threw all of my lights on the line,
Left my knives by the door, risking my life.
And little did you know,
you wouldn't just walk with me
through the dark,
but would even dance with me
right on my mark.
When I felt like I was
in an eternal night,
you came marching along,
my valiant knight.
Now we walk hand-in-hand,
I can see the light from our land.
Waiting for us there is our *** of gold.
I have all the riches in the world
from your kisses and by your hold.