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Jellyfish Oct 2023
Golden leaves are bright
I love the hue of the sky
Fall brings me so much joy
Even I enjoy autumn nights

My favorite movie's playing
My dog is by my feet
I'm surrounded in a popcorn blanket
and can laugh genuinely

Sometimes I wish I could share this
But for the first time in a while
I feel happy alone with my dog
Drinking hot chocolate with the window open
Predestined Apr 2022
I was no Harry Potter
Didn't have that much goodness in me
But maybe I was a Draco Malfoy
Trying to figure which road to take
Light or dark?
But somewhere along the journey
I scattered 8 pieces of my soul
like Voldemort
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
Magi always bring Magic, among other
things, Frankincense was given me to give,
some kids bring tobacco.

Sunday, in our world with weeks
and months and years, in constant tension
pulling days from our lives, as gone-by,
but barely acting once in decades
of note, until
daily news of those who did
begins to pile up and tends to overflow
into to story, myth, and history, fit
with screwy prosody
and no practical scheme for rhyme…

all proving, now is after all that,
our access to mind wandering excursing,
excusing your innocence and ignoring
your being not so,
not so innocent, nor
feeble of mind, un exercised in godliness.

Yes, this
is the blessed assurance that we
were not the first to be
Perfectly Normal, Thank you.

------- and, further more

mind wandering is not a wartime pleasure.

Forward Tactical Operations Center,
some where
actual place, a point in time and space,
to you from me,
actively, choosing to rise to the occasion,
and bow to the overall situation,

life is attractive, not repulsive,
knowing is appealing to the best in me,
not the lazy
good for nothing I can be, with no help
from you or any
power not mine to use,

con-sci, come see, came saw, and a we
arose to agree, this might
see, esse, e, this might be power, lying idle.

--- balance of power? Ha. Push
comes to shove, and wishes we could
make up a reason
to enjoy today as the final sure thing.

-- it was a darkthonic thought ought shall should

Substrates, strata below, this pliant surface,
gurgle, signaling nothing, save, more or less,
a belch, or a ****, more like,
ew, {cell phone- in a search pattern}
we need not more of that,
what stink think ye we ought celebrate,


Suppose we all know the story behind
or under as we may,
surmise, compromising prized right ness
given up over down,
stand up, fall down, prop up hold down

proper propping
propagate a reason, fit to this season
- autumn, ends the year, winter
- starts next
all this de novo knowing, for the price of attention
you may know, not freely,
known, but freely taken as known before, by others
of our kind,

-- I am distracted by a blue jay, on the rock
-- behind the thinker comes
the thought, dragging it's feet, to make clouds of dust,
the dust is there, and does this flying at my desire
to see once, and again, the effect of

me at six, mind wandering on a dry and dusty trail,
-- realizing
confabulatory stories are in fact
"perfectly normal, thank you. A basket of eggs, or a basket

air, empty air, no signal, no closing inverted commas.

Have we lost the magic?

No listen, ah, and smell,
the bacon, ah, forbidden meat,
smells so good, does it not, smell so good?

It might not **** you, son, but hell of a price
you pay for taking a bite, of some thing
due to it smelling,
so good.

--------- setting, as the propagated
translation of tradition to kab-allah, I say
a wish in time to pre
vent any explosive out burst of gut dispute,

per and may haps rise around me, big
am, we, m'fam… wakes in me a joy,
quite normal,
joy of a grandfather, finishing the faith
a character has developed,
while making, wei true, making wei wu
wu wu of the ever skeptical sepsis sort,
test this
T-cell, is this us? Or is this MERSACOVIDEO
override, through the bluetooth meanies

missing since the Yellow Submarine sunk
in Central Park, c. 1968.

Around the time Dubcek lost to the Commies.
Same season when North Korea got the Pueblo.

The tangled web,
seen in the sunlight topping the eastern wall,
George Harrison, perfect timing
every time I remember, this is real, out there
nearer the edge of my light cone,
from c.1968…

deception, ungrip the gripped fist,
monkey reaching for the fly in the bottle,
that chatters incessantly of having lived before,
monkey fist
feels something sticky,
is it… curious as george, for dammedshore,
a wave
of recognition, there's Waldo,
and Magic, Incorporated, free to reread, and
seed into my grand children,
who are reading the same hard back
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, that
I brought home to their mother after the trip
to Huston, during HP's takeover of Compac,

No, correction, it was after the trip to Denver.
--- sidetrack breadcrumb Quark and metadata
Sunday morning, up early, to the modern equivalent of an outhouse,
I make my morning absolutions, as is my constitutional right requirement,
TODAY, I see evidence of a grandchild, bookmarked, a book I know from quite some time ago...
Shin Nov 2020
Breath of a beast or cowl of a coward.
Alone I ponder, which is the true curse?
Father and son, guided by light's shadow.
Showing me that it can always be worse.

I raise my glass, press my lips to my wife.
I don my cloak and leap into the night.
I wonder, when perhaps shall I know peace?
I wonder, when will I give up this fight?

Academic at heart, I weep from within.
Teacher, lover, father, hiding what's worse.
I pray they see my sin and let me be.
I pray they leave me with this coward's curse.
You split my soul in seven
Like a real life horcrux
My soul is attached to objects
That we have both grown to love

You split my soul in seven
Like you are a real life Voldemort
Tragically forgetting
That death indeed can be a blessing
Ascending us to heaven

You split my soul in seven
Like a real life horcrux
Now I am bound for eternity
Pondering your sickening depravity
he split my soul in seven like a real life horcrux
Ameena Hussain Oct 2020
Roses are red
Violets are blue
If you don't like Harry Potter
Something is Sirius-ly
Ron with you
Only Potterheads will understand❤
Where Shelter Sep 2020
a tall masted sailboat plods its way
across the picture window, under power, moving slow, 5 minute mile,
seagulls trail behind, periodically dive bombing the roiled wake, thinking, surely, men’s finding machinery may better than their own,
taking anything to make the new days poems & troubles easier

so it goes, the interplay between man and a natural world,
so it goes, finding fish, our sustenances, a dance perpetual,
so it goes, divining spirits sensing a vision, bring me music,
a spiritual so apropos that who can doubt God’s existence?

”With the water
Sweet water, wash me down
Come on, water
Sweet water, wash me down

Tried my hand at the Bible
Tried my hand at prayer
But now, nothing but the water
Is gonna bring my soul to bear”^

so the birth-day begins, sunrise poems & troubles sure to follow,
in serenity commences, perhaps a sunset bookend to match,
but in between, surely poems & troubles, all of life’s stuffing,
signs and guides, surely, at least, the day’s poem is completed...

^ Nothing But the Water (II)
Grace Potter and the Nocturnals
first poem of the day

Fri Aug 21 2020
Unpolished Ink Aug 2020
Potters hands are grey
Clay doesn't know your colour
Only your talent
I have been trying to find something that unifies us all-In the end we are all clay of some kind!
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