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Ken Pepiton Feb 14
From labyrinth in Istanbul, my eye spied a familiar cord

How can any education
Be a sufficient insurance
For a pathetic population
Keeps favoring ignorance

From <>

Truth known makes free,
truth hid is not ignored,
it waits the fire the next time innocents
are sacrificed to lies. ... thanks, you gave me a spark,

as real as any angel a self anoints another, go
be a lying spirit in the mouth of the tyrant's prophets,
let all the wise

laugh at the possibility of one peacemaker's leaven,
leavening the entire lump, liked or not.

Plop. On to the publisher's desk, piles of wonder and ifity.
A fantasy realm,
counter trope, here the so-called victor-victim ratio,
is imperceptibly low,
we have a regulation: each day requires
its sufficiency of evil,
no harm done is intentionally not possible,
otherwise you get a dimension of flat metric orthogonal
constructive critics
assuming unassigned roles. Do you dance? Or only read along?

Behold how great a fire words may kindle in a satisfied mind.
Permission granted is a state to be in, if you can imagine that's our native earthling state. If we are not the happy people, such must be imaginated.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2020
What might we find if there were no lessons needing
no bait to not wait for ever to be
alized in the blink of an eye,
likka polish, a gloss
light flash active


The shining being more subtile than any beast, eh?
You gnowad eyemean, o yew don'.

Once more, book of life with us in it, as words
and nada mas,
reconciled via bluetooth, keys to kingdoms
flow from my finger tips,

knocks are-were an swered swern sworn in a-mode, e-mode

ah, modern linguistics link us back the Burns and
wee beasties makom plans,
happy natal day misstress riddell
"'Tis done!" says Jove; so ends my story
Notes from an imaginary place, to which I have keys. Last line is completely out of context for the sake of missed click aimed at " to a louse, to a mouse", From
Toxic yeti Mar 2019
One spring afternoon
I girl took some balloons to
A clearing in the forest
To frolick with the balloons
Was confronted
By a lady vampire
The light
And the dark.
IncholPoem Jan 2019
Twitter's  night
provoke   me  for
night   fall.

Twitter's  ****
affect  me
to  do  so.

Trees, clouds
know   that
i  am   still
a  boy  
not  man.


partiality   doing
sea  and  it's


Twitter's  nightmode
sexify  me.

I  ****  to
beautiful  ladies
with   twitter's  night  mode.

You  can  say
me   mental  or

Birds,  wind
  support   me.

I  am  still
a  boy  not  man

to  be   a
serious    man.

  Why  i  will
require   to
a  rat  and  cat
which  are  busy
to  save b each
other's life
by  killing.

Cat  is  hungry.

Rat  is  in   mode
to  save  it's  life.

I  ****  to
beautiful  beauties.

Twitter's  night-mode
provoke  me
for  night  fall.
Phi Kenzie Sep 2018
I sit silent
quiet but awake
saving energy

Prepared for interaction
scared of wasting power
I wait

Slowly cyclical
Adam Lawler May 2018
A barrel cast of porcelain I bear
A white-furred bull upon my waist reclines
The alabaster eggshell buried there
A hollow suffocated by design
I am, by ring, the oldest living tree
With form bereft of grace or limber charm
A prairie pale rolls forth atop my knees
Of silent waves composed into my arms
But ring and ring again supplants my will
As heat with yeast and dough will slowly swell
A tabby cat loved lazy, sweet and still
A sleeping pulse within a clownish shell
The valley miles above my buried chest
A place where, lying still, his head may rest
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