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Robert C Howard Jul 2022
for Mark Richards

It was a spur of the moment thing -    
     One message freed us from Tuesday’s calling -
The next offered a morning's sailing.  

So rather than spray water for Rocky's plants,  
     We skimmed over Carter Lake’s, crystal waves
With steady and ample winds at our backs.

Boaters and tubers speckled the waters
      While verdant foothills smiled assent
From every shore and horizon.

Captain Richards skippered his Flying Scot    
     Toward the far off shore before tacking our
To and fro way back to the mooring ball.

In years past Mark had captained the Health works    
     For all the good folks of Pennsylvania,
But this morning he guided a much smaller tiller.

So we sailed and sailed under fairest of skies    
    In a swift and charmed little craft
Mark chose to call, Spur of the Moment.

Robert Charles Howard
birdy Apr 2022
The pleasant chatter of the birds,
the mellifluous cries of the herds.
Ken Pepiton May 2021
my library is yours, said the universe to me.
A million volumes, thousands of lines,
with etchings and evidence to the art of seeing right,
left brain driven patterned eye,
now shows reflected detail
mirroring into ever as all finer and finer yes
s sound es start esse et al so slow, moo-ee dis passsy oh
say so- amen- if you will

magic, yes, of coursemhmm. Or luck. No lies linger long now.

Luck we allow, magic is evil, and therefore, and only there
for a we I am not in but speak for,
on tv, like in the ads,
I look like an authority, no detail in the image serves no intent.

But the tie. THE TOOLONGREDTIE - choked, the joker,
who happened to be the knot-tying teacher from camp
common-sense-embedded vicariously,
the summer camp experience, ASSEENONTV - manifests
unspeakably real in the minds of those exposed,
flash to the snow, echo shush shushug no woe chile doncha know
Pharoah's army done drownded.
Other's wise and other's woe, as a we in the big am being, the awe,
a we, some we awesome think,
flows on and on with my influency past understanding letting go.

The peace of alienation rests with you,
as they say in passing, and I reflect it back in time to come,
as each passing fancy wonders next into an ifity
such as I may live in and not be burned.

Today, to stop writing, to read, and write, a gain
is made;
if ladders are a thing in your experience, a gain
is made.
In ladder like terms of messages
send and receive
up and down
delivered with no fanfare, whosoever hears
line upon line, reproving instructions as old as protein.

Patterns un prized un expected as un common thoughts
images imagined in the round, carved from stone,
with tools of stone, who imagined doing that
first? How was the task perfected?
Hands raise, as waves of grain grown from wind blown spore,
polisporiatic symbiosis,
see many seeds make a planet,
- answer, we swore we were answers,
- may is our word, we be the salt in the soup

and those who know must act as if knowing is a gift,
not a stolen thing that only gods may hold as true.

Say, I say, say the name that never has been said,
and never shall be I dare shout, unless the deaf say who said,
taking a name is ever vain, if the evidence
whispers, see
hallowed - the idea in hallowed - unspeakable state of knowing
all things all the time as those things occur
randomly at the level of detail involved in ordering matter

with words, yes, words. Why?
I was thinking we may have this knowing knack but never knew.

I know of a microbe, a living thing, it lives to let the light
in a certain kind of phosphorescent squid,
Minus the microbe, the squid never matures, never passes
the know how entailed in being mature light bearing being
at depths simple breathers never

until these last two or three generations of augmented us.

Sapien Sapien Augmentedus, contrarandom access via silicon
symbiosis gnosis subliminal subtle
whistle speak, betting dolphins do bet donuts to sand dollars,
and they laugh at our narrow band width.

War in reason is not a series of big bangs. Peace prevails,
pre means
yeah, you know, you no victim of ignoring pre-cepts.
receipts for time spent musing using - heroic persona
To no avail,
the bitter wail, almost but…

caughtcha, you was lost, outayadamind. S' okeh.

Life ain't like on TV. Reading can be creative.
gnosis level secret sacred knowing, free to eat.

And shame is taken from the game.
Sh-it and fu-ck are squealing sylabicfoul,
but the referee calls
stinkin' thinkin', you step in what you say,
see how it feels, mo'fo, you know, there is no word
for this level
sin being as it is victim of the reconciliation,
hmm- no,
life is in the realm of reason, and hell is out.
Re hook, lizard brain to life in sequence,
re disney
koanic alienation non- in- un- tension
stretch a point to tune
a note,
find the mind's equivalence, eight in the outer edge
of the field,

here, imagine, things matter, just now, just this side
of the dark matter inside the Higgs field
where the initial element of the protein called for
to spark the squid's little light, and let it shine,
so none can say the little squid did not have it in her.

If I were conscious of the universe,
I might use my sci to frame a limit, build a wall
around my garden.

Regarding the original intention.
A generation was put into development, soon after
the event, most recent common ancestor filtration,

the abortion of all but those of she, known as
matrix of all living,
we assume, that means us, for we live,
and we did not form from nothing, in words were we
ever spoken, once a thing is done

o yes, its done
done did done… another one that could end here, but won't.
I felt compelled, full disclosure, Hamilton's Pharmacopeia inspired me to remember a peyote
annh Mar 2021
La, I am an honest deceiver,
For whomsoever shall lend his lies to me,
Will be repaid threefold in pretty devilment.

Channelling Stoppard, who imitated Marlowe, who emulated Virgil. Originality is nought but petty thievery. ;)

‘You must be proud, bold, pleasant, resolute,
And now and then stab, when occasion serves.’
- Kit Marlowe
Betty Jan 2021
I have a pleasant face
nothing special so they tell me
but pleasant all the same
I have a surprisingly pleasant singing voice
ok to listen to
but not pleasant enough to bring me fame
I live in a very pleasant house
in a very pleasant place
with my pleasant singing voice
and my chubby pleasant face
If only they all knew
how I long to be less commonplace
and just for once I would like to cheat and win the ****** race!
Being pleasant is a ****** curse!
Jay M Jan 2021
A pleasant morning,
Not a sign of warning,
For this day
All good shall stay.

- Jay M
January 22nd, 2021
It seems fitting, or in the least in my little sliver of life. May your day be good as well.
Traveler Nov 2020
From the book of
“ I say so ‘s”
(Not Isaiah)

Nothing can really be described
yet a poet paints a picture
in your mind

No one can be converted
until their truth
has been perverted

Lies needs to be believed
the truth doesn’t
we’ve all believed
a lie that wasn’t

There’s no future
there’s no pass
there’s only the present
Life is a state of either
Pain, pleasure or pleasant

Do not stop desiring to desire
The meaning of your life
Lies within your passions!
Traveler Tim
Yanique Zimmer Nov 2020
Would you slip into my skin and spend the night?
And after that, slow dance in front of a bigoted populace that seeks uniformity in the minds of us happy few?
Would you mind if I carried you away from our performance and showed you a special kind of spirituality?
The kind that guides and intensifies beauty but is considered evil and immoral to those who never seem to understand us. Those who comfort to and rot in subjective complexity, cognitive normality and traditional toxicity, manifested by history and old, yet matured minds.
My lord, would you mind if I showed you a world you might hate less? Long enough for me to create you a world that you will love more.
For you see, I owe you nothing but love and happiness. For you have shown me nothing less of that.
Yanique Zimmer Nov 2020
I say to you, my dear.
The sky seems darker, when you turn away.
Grains of sand seem to be less tempting to count, when you turn away.
The light in my eyes die out, when you turn away.
The smoke from a pleasant, yet random gentleman's cigarette and the bottle filled with blood red wine belonging to a wise, yet mysterious lady calls to me, when you turn away.
The objectiveness of morality seems pointless, when you turn away.
The soft words of your soul seem lost in translation. Your plea for peace sounds absurd. My selfishness seems rational. Your cries for me to change are lost in void. The meaning of your love becomes a forgotten proverb - when you turn away.
For your attention gives meaning and your beauty is an inspiring art; the magnum opus I shan't live without.
Bhill Oct 2020
a pleasant memory of riding in cars
taking us to places so near and so far
looking out the windows in amazement and wonder
as we pass all the sights that make our minds ponder
the freeways, the streets, the canyons, and alleys
rolling along at great speeds and right through the valleys
through the window you see, a whole different world
as the wheels roll along and the sights are unfurled...

Brian Hill - 2020 # 298
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