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Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
the intent, by accident,
a message in madness,
anger alone has no value and
uses energy in negative valence
to manifest,

that can't happen on accident,
only on purpose, okeh.

You gotta tip the balance
for anger to be used abs-

like,
totally un-fair abs,
such a gift, who gives…?  I meand abused, I'm confused…

absolute tip the balance to use anger,
never an accident, the intent

that's the message. All I got.
Now what?

Merry Christmas.

This is like VHS homemoviepoet try as he may he can't get away

Tinker-toys, oh Boy, a richochet peeiiing Mattel Itswell 30-30! WOW,

the kid across the street that got hit by a car last Christmas,
he got a go cart this year.

Everything is relative. me, as my old man, said to me.
Back then, late fifties, little desert town, middle'o'righthere
at the time.
My old man at Alamogordo, wit' Ferme 'n'them…

It's not history, I imagine it could be.

That kid did get a go-cart, it didn't help very long.

It's a thought. A message, I think, I thought it and now
you did, too. Sorta.

Cool, like olde times. Never real, always imaginable,
any way ya' wa'ah-ahn-em,
ya gotta ownownownem ommm

My God, it's Christmas time again, I can't remember
when it felt this way.

Did it? Ever? Frank Kapra, in the dark.
We held hands. You remember. Black and white. Right.

then, this is now, and much more joyous in a worldly joy
intended, I'm sure,
from the first

vibration of the chord twixt you and me,
we wish you amerry Chritmas, in deed.
Ameriment merely to see if the Christmas future geist is yet in business.
Spiritually speaking.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
In German gift can make a real olde man regret owning Bayer aspirin, they had the patent on some kinda
anti Ha Shemite alchemy,
Nicht am Weinachtzeit,
aber
nur
im moments of "mea culpa' flash backs,

Oh, the price of the lie, why?

Did not one believe, "It is finished."

What more need be said?

Get on with it. Take it. Breathe.
Live,
learn, enjoy meant shine, like

feel as good as you can imagine for a minute.

Then two.

And every year, there is hope
all the myths misbelieved will

be left to be. Merry Christmas, to all a good night.

Bows applause et al, well come to my dom, ya'll

This is my very first Christmas party,
I am happy to inform you that once informed,
you have paid the attention
required to make any thing you know
true be or
mean nothing more or less. So we enjoy being alive,
missing nothing not null-ifed, here.
My house, my rule. The future is fun. For every one.
Welcome. You can under stand,
don't cower beneath,
the weight of knowing the price.

My gift mere as mere may be, as you wish.
It might sting,
a little.

But that is the point of provocation, you understand,
right use of words is yours to judge,

the fruit's your only evidence.

He says his angel will test- ify, and it's AI, cain't lie,
dividin' by zero in the zero field, in effect,
no lie can possibly be in the set of true.

Self-aware reality

ya'll best believe there are findable things ain't first
been found by liars, never will be neither. Walk on.

Olde Nick ferasample, played hell wit that'n dincha?
Liar, never was no sweep believed abit o'that,
right, Mister Blake?

You know this guy, William Blake? He's in my Christmas
forever story, too. In fact,

It was his idea to tell the only story I know, as best I
know how, and to say I bless the seed I sow with good
intended
to sooth, soothing saying,
like music, face it, every good boy does fine,
but ya gotta practice right, make it a habit,
a good habit, like them Illuminati guys, Ben'n'em.

Olde soldiers, too straight, toe the line
Olde bargemen, too straight, tow the line

Olde river, he meander and m'story floats along.

Good news.
No shame, no blame, no condamnation here, I sware.

What was finished, let me tell ye, was the destruction
of all the construction the evil believers imagined done and did,
lies, and the like.

That was to be finished by the babe, and we

we are the stuff that proves that he did, the salt and light with
strong joy overtones and hints of closeness unimagined
in any evil lie.

The air, who is prince of that once the
Peacemakers and the meek take their share?
Air's the earth's and the earth's my inheritance,
I believe that means the wind is mine

and if I watch, I can learn to ride those waves
with this anointed mind that Paul says we got in the deal.

There is a reason the season is a season. Man can
stand up, we need not crawl neath guilt and shame and blame
paying pain penance at prices no one ever planned to pay,

it just turned out this way. It's as good's a man may imagine,
once the patience and truth agents get their signals straight.

'Good time to wonder who imagines you their enemy.
Peace on earth, good will to man, find it where
you keep you own.
Mix it with yours and see if it tastes okeh to share.
A gift.

From my heart to yours,
merry message of good news
remembering time.

These are the days when knowledge was increased
and men saw themselves.
Poison pen from my materialist friends, no pro blamo. Right and wrong is not the same as good and evil. No lie. Merry Christmas. C'mon, let's  find the best imaginable reason to celebrate and un-cuss it.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Suddenly, twelve poems flavored Christmassy came to me to give away for the fun of it, the hello of it, I may say, corn, that's okeh.

Thursday, November 01, 2018
1:14 PM

So what?

that justifies, just ifs this olde dude from the desert,

into real-ification in 2018 Christmas forever story,

Wow. Who knew? Little drummer boy, remember?

What can I bring to him? Who even mentioned
us giving? Honest, what could you give

Christ, the anointed, promised, messiah, message
******* up to be angel choirs in heaven's spotlight,

good news, aka the gospel or spell, which is no unintended
causality, BTW. be tee dub, we say.

the good news, the scary angels sayed, that not too cold

night to be out and about with the little lambs, that time
o'year, good tax collectin' time,

celebrate that. Taxmass. Okeh.

This is a Christmas story of the sort that can twist things other wise twisted to be untwisted in this peculiar way.

Wicked is as wicks are wont to be, twisted wit' a bit
o'this
the ****** things all explode. Abit o'that, they light a candle in the thinn-ist-light-o-night,

And, when the battle's over,
"IT IS FINISHED" has been muttered,

we won. That's done. Merry Christmas,
God rest ye, merry, gentle men,

twixt the trenches, 2018.
Jah, twelve days of Christmas, twelve poems, to me it feels like Christmas, opening well bought, hard sought gifts from unexpected realms of reality. You get what I'm sayin?
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Ya'll recall a devil went down, to Georgie, I believe it woz…

Well, that idea,
it comes up now, and then,

we have to pop it.
that is our duty, what we do, we pop
particular bubbles when they surface, it's included in the service, involve meant, on your part,
or role as you may say, non-quest.
Such bubbles, as evil as have ever been imagined,
do arise, from time to time.
This time we always pop them, it is our honor,
as agents of the I'll go rhythm that
makes us even imaginable,
in the first place.
… it's about self-government…
such bubbles emerge,
as they always do because nothing is hidden that
hasn't been known,

otherwise,
life would be un fair, and it's not, it's fair, beauty-filled
in every
crack and crevice and encrusted scabby festering

wound wound in linen,
white linen,
as cold
as the clay, that song, you must recall that,

that was your destiny, young outlaw, you saw it,
that's why
you took you guns to town, boy.

Life's about choices.
Christmas means the anointed message.

What does anointed mean, on the street,
what do people think Christmas,
I mean
anointed message
means? Jahknowaddamean.
I think I am living a long ago fantasy of starring in a Christmas Movie starring a Jesus my age watching the holidays unroll in 2018.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
A touching, a feel felt, good.
Kind good. Help good.

Those sorts of touches
Are too costly for any but the most

Attention-to payingest among us.

Old people who paid a we-bit, a longtime,
Think about such things
With interest
Intent on

Squeezing the life out every sunset.
Feeling the first pixel from
The first seen star
Seen tonight

Smack into the back of your brain, and
Trigger an avalanche
Of yes, todays.
Feels good,
Feeling kinda touched,

Not alone, you know.
I treasure sunsets and acoustic intrumental AI choices on Spot-ify.
Ification is my hobby, realizing ifs that once were mere wishes. I have all the books and music and time in the whole world, or so much that what I lack is not worth seeking till I finish watching all the TED talks that interest me.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
the first thing namable
the one
the idea
thing beyond thought

not a bang, a be,
an ever,
expanding
to this point.

Now, you understand.
Cross past
the plain of salt,
bearing light,

lightest of burdens.
Climb the western
edge, the cleft
in the rock.

Find that.
Wait and watch,
the light thins
into night.

There is no darkness,
only thinner light.
You stand under
stars, aware.
While watching Season 3 of Phillip K. ****'s Man in the High Castle, Frank Fink's Son of the Law ritual wrapping of the Word from Ha Shem, that traditional masking of the name  Je-**-vah. Bar Mitz-vah, the message of light intended for initiates, but lost in a box that is dark inside.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
It's beautiful, no gauge for perfection,

no scale of 1 to 10,

It coulda been better,
if I coulda seen it with you

in the best years of my life.


It's still, beautiful.
This has pictures at kenpepiton.com, add some slow acoustic plain folk music in the back ground, and weep a lonely tear with all the lonely people, wherever they come from.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Alone,
Mapless, clueless,

Now a year.5 later,
I am, not yet, more than I imagine.
What I do Is all that must be done,

no less, but only
my part, my talent which I have not,
if the parable is taken literal,
those talents in the tale,
those were money,

not charisma.

Deify, make a god
de-ify, make a truth. Yep. That, de-ifing,
I do that,
think of the oil in an engine,
slippery, slick, smooth fluid
resisting nothing,
rolling with the explosive ****** of life.

I breathe, being metaphorically,
Solomonically wise,
I feared God and kept his commandments,

and thought sure I saw a wink, but
that coulda been a gleam, a reflection taken
by my eye
to my hindbrain, a single quanta
of leavenish light from what the seer saw,

a gleam glistens, I think I see what Mercury,
the message, the medium, flowing twixt yen and yank,
reflects,
flexing,
shaking,
Vibrant un abrading wave bearing grains
of matter smattering to the shore,
immaterial to the wave,
where the power's
drawn, pulled,
not pushed,
listing not lusting,

air-ish heirily, heir of the wind, I go...

winds list whither they will, always
the path of least resistance,
no lie.
Any thing that refuses to fall,
whether it bends or not,
it stands,
under the push of the pull,
the dam
destructive
imbalance of heat, twixt air and sea and land,
the circuits of the wind, ventilator of life,
****** into hated vacuums
over physics forced channels,
down canyons
dammed by mountain titans eruptioned,
fractures in the firmament, formed
back in Peleg's day,
as the turmoil settled,
aftershocks, still, winding
currents formed chaotic energy cells,
swirls to hold
lower pressure pushed by high,
the life force of a planet, broken and frozen
and fried crisp,
if it weren't for air.
And water.

It works,
the biosphere,
but surely, as my friend Ben said,
"we live on the wreck of a world."

Life adapts to living, medium message.

Desert dry silicon
dust rides winds pushing its owned way
into places where...

There's the rub.
That's my part, at the moment,
Here, right here,
is how I know.

This moment is real. You dear reader
make it so.

Imagining there is no hell,
that's personal,
but on earth, as in heaven,
as a man thinks...
you know, I think that part never broke.

Don't lie, don't fret. Wait and see.
or watch and see, if you are the proactive type,
either way, don't lie about the seen and done.
And don't believe lies, about things you've seen and done.
Listening to Jordan B. Peterson, Maps of Meaning, and comparing my tracks. And I voted, that was hard to believe it could make a difference, but it did. We the people do have power, to each his own.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
The imaginers of now were children once,

each day they each imagined tomorrow.

Their daddies had just won the war
happy days were really here again, this time.
---
Now, we see what we see, it's not what we saw.

And this is better than I imagined.
My first oral book report was on 1984, in 1962.

Percentages and stats, the odds,
out of 8 billion…

I carry my weight, saltwise,
I'm light, too. Immaterial in fact.
I watched the internet take form
before my very eyes,
magi technic never seen since Darius the Mede.

Good job, geeks.
Reared on radio waves your
grandfathers never heard,

your signal receptors from mito-mom,
oh, what a plan. The promised ones.

Many sons.
hmmm 60 cycle white noise in the field,
the field of fields,
Future Farmers of America and stuff

Powers we imagined,
a color TV we could watch
in the backseat for days on Route 66,

a restaurant just for kids

Toys 'r' Us oh, wow,
those came and went

and our Grand kids
are imagining tomorrow,
doin' fine with less of what we thought was cool,

taking for granted all I
accepted as granted, in the "It is Finished"
Golden Parachute
Package deal,
Grace and Peace
that multiplies.
I can't sleep
Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
How can you reject me for rejecting your wrong idea!
It is too heavy. I can't stand under it.

Peace!
Amen.
When forever starts, let's have peace.

Record skip scratch chalkboard screech

Recruiting station on Sunset... nothing is as it was

We, Adamkind-augmentatious, are warriors.
Our weapons and tactics have no semblance whatsoever
to the warfare affairs of this world.

Our weapons are mighty, by God,
and we ain't afraid to use'em.

Truth made us free,
un-amended, it so happens. Unsweetened.

Our weapons pull down imaginations
that exalt themselves against the knowing of God,
the big one,
real YHWH creator of the heavens and the earth
and all that in them is.

Our weapons are mighty, by God,
and we ain't afraid to use'em.

No swords nor swords with motors,
Just words of best tasting varieties and bread
leavened with heaven's leaven, if you can

Imagine that.
I believe
there are people who believe that,
they think.

They think they believe
the weapons of our warfare are not carnal,
Our weapons are mighty, by God,
Our weapons pull down imaginations

until a rumor comes to take their guns
But but but
believe it or not, shift back, real time

the meek inherit the earth.
where the peacemaker's kingdom is,
we don't fight a spirit war with carnal minds.

And my side designed the meta game. It is not fair.
Evil never had a prayer.
Fishing in a theme
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