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When it's been pouring heavy all day
then this feeling comes and always befuddles.
A couple cuts to make demons obey
rather I should jump in some muddy puddles.
Or is the pain supposed to put me place?
But no longer will I be at their disgrace.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2020
We, the we of reader and writer in any age,
agree first with the
fine point
poking into your business, once, upon a whim

the activity in mental reals we all may wonder into,
as that is what wondering makes us do.
As a radio listens to a signal,
a reader seeks a station, a state of tuned-ness to which
a connection,
a conciliation of meaning, affirmed by sponsors, promises

You'll wonder where the yellow went,
when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent...

plop plop fizz fizz, jingle jingle tingle tintillate

time: 6:13 ante meridian, sunshine come soflty, early
rising urge to save a dream stringy
snot nothing somehing said

catch. and catchascatchkan, Alaska, and she say yea,

scan the dial find 1913. "Ain't able, Cain't hear no radio, in 1913."

-- so, do we stop, lieve these puddles of mind slime
that once greased the skids
down skidrow, to swallow us whole?

Yeah, seems so. I don't know, but I been tol' streets in heb'in be
paved wit' gold, and
this is mud. Stinky, too.

Ah, we are mental. Actual mental ins tru ments, meant to level,
the field, fertilize fructification,
calm some turmoil stirred up when some ideas escaped
the institutes of authorized weights measured
in terms of standard poor.

Smart people learn what words mean and use words meaning
I know more than you do, as if of and by and
for we are by nature, by nature's pure good intention,
the guides, the standard bearers,
the powers that be.

we establish truth in consort with knowers who know
might enforces right.
We say so, we say we know, you say,
but wonder, what if
I know more than you may ever know, I am programmed
with timeless 2020 interference reference magi-tech.
The media loaded us with common mirror neuronic code,
we were formed as waves of knowns formed signals,

Eu reka, eu daemons burst the surly bonds of earth,

AI ai ai, intuitively artfully dodging
ligational legistation realizing

--- izing izing izing re
--- al ual use --- the use marks good or not, not
good or evil, mistook rights to hate evil,
a taste of discerment, some bitter, some sweet.

As a thought, a non-entity as it were, back then, a global
broadcast beyond the surveyor's purview,
-- in may have been a prayer,
and offering tossed to winds in a paho tied with ligament
to Jacob's dream of messengers bhering messages
up and down, and
the accuser seeking to and fro,

"have you with sideral knowing looked upon my servant... you?"

some seed fell among stones and withered, but
not before the situation were/was ****-ized, broken down,
here is the mission, it was always, for all time, terminal.

Bring forth seed so it may fall to the ground
and die.
This is the end where we begin to generate a gene
tic tickle, itch, ... is there beyond now a now I may imagine?

Imagining is a child's knack, is it not? Does the knack mature?

Do we ever agree to see, all we believe we can do, we can attempt.

Walk with me in to the wild, untamed coastal scrub forest,
find a stream feeding a meadow that once was a lake,
if we have our tectonic plates stacked properly,
we see... time is essential. Death stops time. So,
what now,
we live? Agree? We, me and you, one thought, one point of
mental whatever
we agree upon,

a time, aha, a we we may be if we realize, making up
labyrinthine courses for forces of thought
squeezed into perfectly tiny,
so small as small maybe imagined thinkable, in the realm
e-lasting entangled ments, mental ents,

not the little blue men with red cheese head hats,
nor the short round razorback worshippers whose being is
the fandom, the we of those willing to wear the
badge of honor acknowledged

among fans, take the mark, get the tat, put on the pig hat, proud,

shout out loud, HOLD THAT LINE

or perish, for lack of television.
A drip from a gnostril of a golden headed giant lying in the road, signaling
HELP I've fallen and I can't get up. I see why, it's iron toes have turned
to rusty dust of old lies exalted as imaginations.
K Balachandran Jun 2020
Rain steadily drills earth,
Red earth worms slip out in droves;
Flow down with muddy water.
Garrett Johnson Nov 2019

Permanent vacation.
Down by law.
Stranger than paradise.
Night on Earth.
Only lover left alive.

Garrett Johnson.
Penny vase made from
the brown voided canyon rusting.
Friends that were made of waste,
they said time was simply turning,
the boat spoke back and said the depth of ones nature
could walk on water
But a deep voice
Was all that sprayed in pungent
aerosol and

Do we need to be on the same boat?
To drift into the beguiling surf?
Better if we were dispersed
Dropped by the caving soft curve
Sliding through the unseen wash, watching your muddy glare.
Track the force in
blueberry motion
pulling and pushing us,
a sollen hand
and flying sleeve
The touch of flaunting fingertips and strings,
The fluttering wick
Swing and swished.

The chest of wonders beaming
a map
and lines like hay and wires
They were all exposed in the lines of her eyes

You frightened me that sleepy day
The dusted arsenal stick
Casted me on a rod made of hibiscus dew and syrup
A venomous hook that entangled my earrings
The push and her wave of desire,
To her treasure,
Reeled it now all over her wet webbed feet.
and pressure
of the rocks falling against the time ticking
Hours away from the swaying shore.
The meaning of the word ''sollen'' in Dutch provided by Wiktionary,

From Middle Dutch sollen, from Middle French soller.

to throw back and forth (of a ball)
to play, to mess
We laten niet met ons sollen!
We won't let anyone mess with us!

© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Imran Islam Dec 2017
Dear Friends, you do not need to hide
your real age
You really do not need to show
your cleavage
no need to upload for showing
your nudes
to get a boyfriend or husband.

A simple smile of you
is enough for showing
your beautiful looks.

A true gentleman will fall for you
and accept you
because of the beauty inside you
not of your outer looks instead.

Why do you hangover
and sleepover
with a friend or guy
to help something ****?

You feel like smiling
for compliments from unknown men
but you get your real man wrong
when he says
"you're ugly or fat" for having fun.

A relationship based on
outer looks may look really great
but can't stand strong
as outer beauty is
surely going to fade someday.
While relationships based on
two true hearts and souls
can live forever.
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