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Jeremy Betts Oct 14
I write this note
As I wrap this rope
One time around my throat
I don't want to choke
It'll be quick I hope...
...nope
I wish I could promise I won't
But I can't,
So I don't

©2024
Ken Pepiton Jun 18
wondering at wonderful things, wonder
being my word,
meaning something to me as sure as
meaning anything to you, or them, the others,

those, there, beyond us, makers of stars
from matter in time, using power
by any name, called to make ready
a place for me.

Centered self-centering, spinning energy and
nought into creamy nougat
sweet and salty

but, E itself, power filled hosts of forces,

ha, some men trust in horses, now measurements,
horsepower, taken in from out,
observe the fact, fine act, great quest
made- p-ting snowball earth phase,

preparation of this place,
for us, not us alone, but us involved,
folded into the batter before the baking.

Co-ignition.
Sudden, at scale,
Massive, at scale as well. Immaterially.

Light first. Nay,
think, others thought this through

I flatter myself that I have discovered---

waste O2.

-- in the span of mind time, autotrophic
timespace where does e come from

phototroph
chemotroph

whence comes stuff, heterotrophs

chemoautotrophs, absolutely
in-credible, how does any mind wonder?

-----------

Stamp my little boy foot and swear,
I shall prove death has no sting.

I shall think
of our sun, source
of life
in our bubble
of being.

It is imagined, by professional learners of such,
that the inter-stellar medium
holds cloud like structures,
in my day we called them nebulae, today
we may surmise, I suppose, promise
together surreal, point to miser's misery,

Midas, Phrygian king, washed clean of his curse.
Baptism at work, in the story of reasons for war.

Was the death to be immediate, or must we wait.
What knowledge bred this means, these letters,
letting us learn the memories,

first stories of broken curses that were first wishes.
We wish we were as wealth, as bling,
the thing, the will to be loved for my own good,
the beast that lay beside the door, waiting,

allusive link to ancient knowledge, used knowns,
knowns used to build the nations whose weapons

must be fed.

And not by bread alone, by my leave,
I learned, the story used to make money
the core reason for war's use of pride,
to make glorious loyalty honorable,
by the time the military mind
matures to use the values,
those to hope for glory,
those minimize truth,
key freedoms known
held under loyal lock down.

Sense.
Common sense, some is not
evenly spread across the gap.

You may never have heard a search,
with helicopters, the after silence,

then, the peace, pure re-
lief as well, laugh let out, you know,
we are invisible,

so we dance where we touch.
Friction ridges caress our valleys,
with swirly rippling Erotes, giggling.

Tuning to a single line of reason,
reasoning I know nothing, as I ought,
I thought, per
haps, gathered happenings, overtime
thinking why in full Kerrigan angst at WHY!
Dunning-Krueger.
Rhetorical quest punctuation, bang. Pre-
tend to pay attention, at the exclamation,
"For crying out loud, don't you know
ANYTHING?"
Rhetorical all caps loudness, registers, in
tentional, attended to,
appropriately,
ignored, as the current opinion
forms followers,
swirls of fast and slow linking interstellar medium

in our wake, as we take life in passing so near,
one mind
one time, see I knew it was me and not you,
who pulled the loose thread to open the sack,
and spill the beans.

Now it's Tuesday,
on time and wisdom, I was thinking,

the noble question B. Franklin proposed

as the noblest in the world:
What good can I do in it?

What good to know do I know?

Well, well, as an interjection, cast
in the word use we are making sense
from
for an instant, now and then,

Yes,
this idea that we exist as related
by lines that link us as fibers in yarn,

conscious use of science, learning
the winding of the bobbin,
and the rhythm of the treadle,

the perfect pinch and firm gentle tug

catch a whisp of wool pulled from distaff
to spindle

and singing all the while, to the muse

---------------
A thread spinner, not a weaver
of novel patterned knots and crosses,
novel, none the less, some olden
but, well, twisted fiber strands,
formed with certain genetic magic
from soil and water and time… I am.
Sure to leave my moment seeming so.

To leave my being so, to let me be,
not the bearer of tales, but the twister.

Some times, well, once, I imagined
spinning ghost turds into threads,

-- the bogus science, bovine male excre-
mental mind boggled constipastory explo-

it. Done, punish me or pay me, I care less.

------------
Not the only version of this knack,
have I,
I've not the rhyming step step slide version,
nor the read out loud oral interpretation version,

permitting
*per- (5)

Proto-Indo-European root meaning
"to traffic in, to sell,"
an extended sense
from root *per- (1) "forward, through"
via the notion
of "to hand over" or "distribute."

It forms all or part of:
appraise;
appreciate; depreciate;
interpret;
praise;
precious; price; & *******
by way of
pornē "*******,"
originally "bought, purchased"
from traffickers in abandoned words,

idled by devious psychsyncing punishing
similar spinning propensities in fluid pre thread
mind windings, ready to retell, as if we all think

we understand the Goldilocks paradox.

Pull your version of the moral in the story,
who do you think Goldilocks symbolized,

deep in the thinking of your child mind?
What color are you, while you imagine
three bears? How forgiving are you
to your invaders?

High Jack,
have you any wool,
we spun the lord's and madam's

and found none for the widow's
children down the lane?

Are ye daft, Poet, mad as lead'll
make ye? Have ye taken to spacing
unkerned letters and lines with old

lead type weights to use gravity assist,

cam, see, loop de loop, and spin and spin,

threads to weave cover,
threads to weave rough leggings,
slow, so slow would be the learning

without notions popping up from nowhere,
as that man called the fool on the hill,
continues to redeem idled words,
and silently sing perhaps praise.

Worthship, measure of effort to enjoy,
get it.

It is the economy,
take joy as yours where you make it.
Peace, too.
---------
and thus not really any of my busy-ness
that I am to mind as my own, strictly
speaking translatable speils as wisdom,

Sophos, herself. per se,
they say she is the spirit in the works,
omakes ur will to make something from our
selves, our advantage as language users,
with letters translated chchchanges
into all understood
by using
simple child morals used
during emperical propagation.

To know wisdom and instruction;
to perceive the words
of understanding;

To receive the instruction
of wisdom, justice, and judgment, and equity;

To give subtilty
to the simple,
to the young man knowledge and discretion.

--- await the call, simple kind of man, listen
did you never read the rules for ready writer
status among the unemployable gifted sifters
of dust amidst the wonders of life in haps past

dare I hook a poem here,
after that very likely the, bluebird of happiness,
flew by me singing, twice, today, per haps

you stumbled into my realm,
I blew my mind in 69, and I am without guile,
no need, no greedy habit crying feed
feed feed the need to grow the talent, eh, weight
and see, fact check me, how heavy
was a talent in pure money
at the moment, back when
the metaphor this fits in as a piece,

was used to test the discerning disciple,

was it Diego? Si, yo crero per
haps, the meaning of things, and the matter
with words, is perceptual, per is a polimental,

many ways perhaps evolve comprehension,
little senses we have in common, luck factors,
time and place chances we be the readers ready

to bring justice and equity
to the beguiled and nonguiled,
while converting the guilty to con-
scientious objection to past proofs re-
proving the efficiency of meandering mind
streams
fluid fiber memory imagined in the Eighties,
here,
my old haunts, hang around,
we meet Suzi Creamcheese, she say, Uready,

we say, may be,
and so it is, with wisdom, James,
and so it is, indeed, first peaceable,
gentle, easy to treat kindly, no warring
spirit meetings of the convinced required,

wisdom works at a word taken for granted,
idling at stop signs where you looked both ways
and listened, as a child, and you escaped death,

time and again, what nearly killed you, did not,
and your life has not been dull, but worth it,
did it, with a happy ever, after all's said and done,

but, that won't happen here today.
Old war reasons asked the mystery to seem too easy to believe...sso I volunteered to lead the search for the old way men made haps gentle enough to ride.
For a woman I am a decent driver

Enough to hold wheel
You once told me

Argument admissable

That mastery majority of female species lacks

Like testosterone and equality

I am evidence that there is an exception to every rule
I hate when people stereotype women as bad drivers but then I see so many ****** drivers behind the wheel who end up being female and I shake my head and sigh because the clique is correct and the majority of women reinforce that idea... Tsk tsk...
STOP MAKING THE REST OF US GIRLS LOOK BAD!!!!!
DET May 3
Merely a bonehead like myself can utter,
"Pardon me..."
For another fleeting life...

Again, another agonizing memory,
Clinging onto me like thorns in my soul.

The fact that your presence cannot be witnessed
It haunts me in whispers...

The poison that was mine, thy lips kissed,
And the pain you endure, myself hath to sow...
Thy departure ...

And once again, another fleeting life...

Whilst the grief settles down once more,
My mind is mentally pounded...
Myself dare saith no more...

For I am mentally absent once again...
Death of a pet. Born on February 2, 2024, and died on May 1, 2024.
Nat Lipstadt Apr 22
the inherent harmony of the Arthurian phrase,
always charmed me, and by it, herein employed,
to wrestle/rassle it to the ground, like two preteen boys,
in a do or die, which prohibits ****** harm but releases
the testosterone that helps them moves them to the next,

Once and Future

stage, more a platform, to leg up further, to the next step,
that will be the once and future reforming, for are we not
always wrestling with our Once, this imprecise but prescient
point when we have arrived, knowing intuitively, it is not
a terminus, but just another way station to I-do not-know,
but knowing with genetic certainty that
when you get there,
that you have reached and met the requirements of what it means
to be, to exist as, to be so noted on the continuum of a

Once and Future

existence.
4/22/24

Tonight is Passover Eve,
Jews have and always will celebrate their exodus from tyranny to peoplehood, and their journey to a land and covenant with their God, knowing the journey
is perpetual, the covenant renewable, as they are instructed to say at the Passover supper service (the Seder)to tell the story of their Exodus,
“as if they were there!”
nml
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
What a time capsules mission was,
was ours as well, as our lives,
measured going in,
mind state measured going out, measured coming back,
once we opened your will to wonder what we say the mission is, was it…
When
measured growing old, mentally augmented since the laying on of hands.

Some body believed, they burned all the crutches and wheel chairs,
we all heard the stories of those strangers healed and walked away,

by and by, we grow a knowing kind of religious net, we import miracles,
we make words come to self fulfilling prophetical perfect sense, until,

the incompetence of a particular kind of literalist, literature as real lessons,
learned on levels deeper than the silver screen can command,
as one reads Psalm 15 and the parable of the talents with the same angel.
hide, and watch, words,
live in tiny bubbles, times and seasons take scale,
powers of ten,
and then again a billion times a second
in four billion breaths in
and four billion breaths out, all in cadence, mortal coil chorus of average.

We the people, current idiom,
we the earthling sapient word and number users;

Brainstorms tickle our will to undermine liars, calling life impossible
to enjoy as much as many nobodies do.
Or did before my grave was opened.
An empty bottle, a sense of sublime timing tapping sources below my pre heart attack series of flat lines, I heard about, later, and sort of remember, most mornings, it is a good jump start on doing something enjoyable as breathing.
zh Oct 2023
When you fall in love for the first time
You won’t even know it’s happening
The dancing streets, heels against cobblestones
The glow of the lampposts
Things you wouldn’t even whisper
You are now ready to exclaim
The whole world is spinning and yet
It is perfectly still
In this great, big universe
It is just two sets of eyes
And the landmarks we created

The park benches where we were honest for the first time
Where you made sure i was okay before we got up
The truth can do that to you -
Knock the wind out of your sails

Or the first time we touched each other on purpose
I linked your arm with mine
And i could feel the stars burning above us
And the moon sneaking a glance
As we ‘forgot’ all about it
And you walked me home

The first time i went to that pizza place
I only joined you because we had things to discuss
Not for your company, why of course not
With every laugh
It became harder to think of a reason that i hated you in the first place

I thought only  i experienced the clock ticking slower
Every second you weren’t with me
But the calls and the texts
And the exasperated “where were you”s put that all to rest

So i made the leap
And served my heart on a silver platter
Full, beating and red
And i watched you watch it beat blue and gasp

But  now time doesn’t seem to pass at all when we’re together
And everytime we’re alone we wait for someone to join us;
our desperate eyes search, pleading with anyone to end our suffering
I watch you when i used to run to you
And i miss you when i see you every single day

I love you
But i can’t do this anymore
We can’t even pretend to be friends properly
I remember what you said
Believe me, every word
But I felt us that night
We saw each other for the first time
I don’t think I’ve ever had that with anyone
And despite what you say
I don’t think you have either

Strangers think we’re in love
Your friends and my friends
Steal glances every time we look at each other
We weren’t alone
It felt like it was just us
But everyone got to witness
The way we were
I didn’t stop smiling for three months

I miss you
I miss your honesty
I was trying to break down a wall
And you threw open the gates
Now i can’t even see the wall anymore

I’m on the outside looking in
Losing what we had was hard enough
I wasn’t prepared to lose you as a friend
I don’t think i’ll ever be
but we haven’t been friends for ages
So who are we kidding
I knew this didn’t need a dramatic close
You don’t need me to take a bow

So I was ready to watch you from afar
Having you in my rearview was better than not having you at all
But just as I take my first breaths
You hook yourself on
And I have to learn all over again

I refuse to do this anymore
We are not friends
You didn’t have to admit anything because i wasn’t prepared to lose you
But it’s time
For this ship to sail
You are losing me.
for someone so incredibly special
Amanda Kay Burke Aug 2021
I share my thoughts with you
The world's weight on my back
Romantic delusions spin
Afraid to face the facts

Staring you down as you frown
Gaze right to the bone
Will sing you a lullaby
It makes you feel less alone

And nothing fixes my brokenness
Will exaggerate my claims
It will make me feel better
About the monster I became

The dark days drag their feet
Weeks blur into one
Time my greatest weakness
Will suffering never be done?

Even more sorrowful than usual
Bitten by love
Now I'm shy
You give me hope for happiness
With glimmer in your eye
Terrified to get hurt again
Raven Feels Aug 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, everyone dreams of a movie life that they never had:>


'do you have a movie idea?' she is asked
my piano's stuck on notes that made a blast
'what is your absolute dream?'
no clue!!! I scream
now with that blood reaches my knees when I lie
and shattered glass stains a cry
but one selfish day
of a one grey warning day
on a Storm
out of Vivaldi's norm
I'll make November's violins
spin the veins under my skin
when an alarm's clock won't erase history
nor dust the ink in black poetry
the purple eye
would know a who and an exact why
when a sudden mother's scream won't defeat
the eclipsed expressions or invisible heart beat
nor the recall of empty lines
things that used to be an impossible of possible defines
when a sun's light won't make a memory in sleep swing
nor the unnotice of a summer autumn winter or spring
wouldn't keep the pen's color on a compass' tip
on an adventure of a lost ship
east kills west north kills south
when the kissed would be a clear mouth
to live for the hope of it all
the said would be spit on a train station's phone call
the fall would reach the death quest
the unknown would be unraveled for the moment in rest
but the dream's missing pieces has nothing to do with the recorder
and that is why I would record ONCE then put the puzzle in a folder
**** the ones who saw
burn the **** machine after created in raw
I did title 'Waste Before You Taste' a long time ago surely
some greed changed my idea of mercy
a question to be answered is jeopardy
when no human shall know of there will be misery
when a heart of glass would be dropped and broken
when the darkest thunder of the dream was golden
once the ought to be a secret would be a wonderland stolen
I warned it would be a selfish day
yet you listened and now the death penalty you pay

                                                            ­                              -------ravenfeels
Raven Feels Aug 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the faint of the heart is the vision of blood on a love's dart:-/

mine to love
like a broken bottle of wine trickling from above
mine to lose
the death of leaves with an odor to choose

nerve visions times of sadness
like books left unread and ghosts of madness
the radio silences the alone
the heart of blood grew a heart of bone

speaks in gazes
like a reach of hands before a car crash embraces
stares in orange roses
the lost up space the past dream exposes

all too well prefer rivers not seas
like when the window winds shuffled with car keys
green grass shades and shields
the depressing autumn can be the golorious of all fields

bestest trees of lights in luminaire
like the colors of stolen Augusts and the Jupiter
before the shot of a wounded summer
the listen of violens and the heard bird hummer

now empty lines on empty pages
like a no remember of the highlights of the faces
with the drawn pencil a smoking scent evoked
expressions painted in coffee and lost letters in the cold  


                                                        ­    -------ravenfeels
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