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Come to me,
Oh look and see,
Please tell me that I don't belong.

To this place,
O' to this world,
To this situation I hath rote.

But negative,
Nay I say,
Tis a situation so grand,
That it can be only sung out in the tongue of yore,
For it is only the most noble of mantles,
Of Fatherhood's door I adorn.

It shall be I,
I be armed with simple tools,
A fresh ***** or bottle,
To assuage my young liege lord's woes,
For betwixt the soggy ure or rancid scitan,
I dread knowing such knowledge,
But my sacred duties of ****** I shan't ignore.

So for now,
Oh humble bards and wanderers,
Listen to this tale no more,
Create such joy and celebration,
For upon this day,
My Firstborn son is born.
Threw a frickin' thesaurus at this one.
J C 2d
I expel smoke into the atmosphere
and think of all my ghosts this year.
I fumble the deck in search of fives
but still find the Jester half alive.
I stumble through old alleys
we used to go to, in search of songs.
But I do nothing right but fill valleys
with all of the right wrongs.
I absorb oaked *** into my veins
and felt hot tears in the rain.
All those moments — lost in time
the second you were no longer mine.
Do Ghosts of Spring Fever's Past Dream of Electric Sheep, a.k.a., I'm Not a Smoker

And, hey, Hello Poetry can actually publish poems now. Yay.
Standing at the ******
I really gotta go

Starting to get ******
Cause I ain't got no flow

I feel the eyes upon me
The pressure starts to mount

A line of guys behind me
More than I can count

If only I were younger
I could **** a hole through steel

Now I just go drip, drip, drip
Seriously what's the deal

My prostate's like a grapefruit
I go five times a night

I haven't slept in fifteen years
It really kind of bites

When I close my eyes the final time
The biggest gift for me

Is when I get to heaven
I won't have to ***
"Young child"

As mother's will do
In my shoe
Was a dime

To call from a payphone
If out
Past my time

"Teenager"

In my wallet
A ******
Tucked neatly away

With the hope
Some young girl
Would invite me to play

No luck
On that though
As the ****** expired

Wore a ring
In the leather
New wallet acquired

"Old man"

Protection remains
In my wallet today

It never expires
Never throw it away

I just changed the brand
No more Trojan for me

Imodium now
When you're old, you'll agree
I wish this wasn't true.
Oskar Erikson May 20
i stood in my new flat today
counting the spins the fan
made in its centre.
an americanism, too out of body
for me to keep an eye on.
what now?
but to wait till the inertion sickness
crawls its way from the soles up to oesophagus.

tilt back till back flat against the black flat floor.
(i hated that sentence but it needed some air.)
wondering if i can melt beneath the new money wood,
can i stand upside down,
ankles halo’d in my space and my head in the neighbours.

the hallway to the bedroom where he sleeps a little more soundly
now i’m out the bed,
dares me to leave him alone.
“you’ve clawed this distance out” i murmur back.
“i can trace it in the skirting boards.”

sitting up i go to close the window
and lock it, unlock it and smile at the little piece of freedom
i can’t ever give back.
Nigdaw May 2
a possibility the machine is broken
a pause, a stutter
a halt in locomotion
sometimes the parts wear out
not made for the harsh road
travelled
sometimes a weakness will shout
to demonstrate a need for slowing
but after all we've been through
to be betrayed
this far on the journey
I'd chop you in for a new one
if it weren't for the fact
I'm human
Ken Pepiton Apr 28
-listen man, I got the internet, in my hand.

There is just too much to think about, So true.
Imagine having all the time in the world to try,
and an ai to sort on my search criteria,
-what would I have loved to know?
outline history, done.
overlay Protestant Bible timeline.
overlay Parthian Empire
etc. BTDT ad infinitum fun item
Ai takes a rough draft life,
and makes all its test phazes open book.

To now. At the speed of that does not matter,
cut to the after the chase,
now, what matters?
Self analysis - eleven more to the now anticipated 1000 to beat the bane of reasonless rhymers, 502, Bad as in broken, blocked, dammed, crammed, done
-got around 989 times since counting began... life lived, enjoyed at the end.
Ken Pepiton Apr 5
True story used to cause me to remember,
Christmas coming to mean the story told,

I first got the story from a family Bible, yep.
We had one, and my mom must have read it,
because, when I was no older than six,
I asked her where the story of Christmas
came from, and she opened that Bible,
to the very story.

The Good News, surely was then, had been,
since. And now I think I may recall
that child like faith, in a seed
planted as true as can be,

the story came from the tellers of the story.

Why? Curios addiction, pineal primitive will
to know what works and what kills.

Men of letters, let us make up our minds,
in the realm of words, lust is not a factor.

Any vital juices spilt trigger art' official guilt,
mea culpa, my one 8.2 billionth
of all breathers, I caused hope to fail…
falsification
of this sapience capacity- projected
light where Plato had shade,

of course you may now remove earbeans
with no other one the wiser.
Dare we not admit that we know? Who is the conscience, poet or scientist or academic holy traditionalist?
Ken Pepiton Mar 14
Too much for any single mind
to access, while seeking sublime
self
reflection,
ah, see, I am but one, many
we be,
we read and learn we have been,
all along.
The richest library in history holds audio versions with scrolling read along text. What will AI do next? Teach us to reason? Timaeus is the sequel to the Republic, where the cave story comes from.
Mark Wanless Jan 29
walking the dark night
footprints of something old
softly plodding
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