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Ken Pepiton Aug 28
Wrong turns, bad luck or no luck,
lucid recollections now six decades gone,

still,
points of reflection, from ruling class
reporters on what in Hell is happening,

while
time to stay one's mind upon meaning,
in the simple definitive act react act react

pneumatic logical breath in, breathe out,
distinctive other way, breath out, breathe in.

Putting first things first in picker experience,

we pick all the fruit on one tree, previous
to moving on to another tree, precious
memories, how they linger, and
with gladness flood my soul,

as gladness is our happy state, glad to say.

------------------------ trilling wohold on
on the bus, red satin black fringe, oh, my soul

Nine billion, or so

nobodies, lacking charisma
as they say, that worthiness some

seem to radiate, those affected say,
worth-shippedness certified appraisals

from conscious attenders to words, message
signaling
my start… minding my own business, changing
line upon line of nothing at all to nothing but this

my personal comfort zone, nonautomation ostent
atious waste

of whitespace, vertical panels, virtually lensing
reality, scrolled to veritable infinity
at the core of what a person is
in the common space our windows paradigm
on all time's contextual stretch of our shared sense,

our common sense, at cognate word level, basic
bottom mind sense, at cooperational deontologic

whying, when it comes to wishing others were
in some steady state afinity with me, against lying,

in wait, quietly hoping to trick before being tricked
into belief construction zones, sans hard hat or tools.

--------- Boss mind, hey
boss, Patron, se, patriotic soul man, woe, wombed
or un, man all the same kind at mind level, emotions

's where, all the difference there ever is, begins,

Genisis, to a child reared in post war anywhere,
if your mind allows empires represented by ancient
totems, rampant beasts believed to defend us, under
God,
who forbade ourkind, our unfallen, innocent spirit mind,
participation in one part of living reality, as far as we have

seen, with our Google Earth eyes, and our JWST eyes,
and our own inner eye, I am, we each know, anyway,

with knowledge now a given, a lie, all children just believe,
the first impression, what a lie does, told, and untold true,

subtler than any beast, but delicate matters, points balanced

under law, not under grace, bottom line rule for being
American to the core, where a person keeps its pride in just

being among the living, during days difficult to endure, just
if I had
known, as a spirit, what a spirit mind may imagine, as real as,

ten years, after starting to think, why am I justifying the real lie?

Genisis, seven days, was likely long told when moons were told,
shown, with story, tomorrow night, moon, you hear me, so old,
the initiation story, watch, mark this night, you here, me sold

in gratitude, in debt to more, by far, than I may think or ask,

inventers granted knowledge of wit, with which we think to ask,

what lonely God, comforted only by Wisdom and whatever spirit
is, free from mortal prejudice, paid attention to idled words spirits

sparks, from a movie about sentient machines,
and cyborgs, enhanced mortal mind wit changers
witchangers, endangered species writ remainders

woe, endure to the end, Joe, where y'gwanwidat gun inya ha'dja n
n na nanana to the when, any where any time, one wishes to ignor

all the peace we make at once, little tiny boil about to become rolling
as the latter rains arrived in my valley, today, to keep wild fires at bay,

all we know is we agreed, we sure could use some rain, amen
all we said, once is we agreed, life is different in spirit and truth,

on any given day, good gets judged, habits get checked, wishes happen,
and a men as a principle sylable, sayable spell song sung men t'al haps
men kind ness wor th a sayable
as haps may become the we
in legendary gentle peace
for no reason,
just cause

its poetic right useness

we think we
work, we think we work, we
be hum us yes humusyes we,

Ullyeseesus, amen, in spirit and truth as we may imagine

after, breath, 3 P.M. alarm, and no attached what for sense…
I know what it was for, a week ago, now it is for whatever it

interrupts… taking time to consider certain outlets, enough to

Run it up the pole, see who saluts.
A spurtual contemplation of global news knowing after effects, breaths taken used to calm me down, keep me from whichangery over reaction...
izi Jul 2020
“Full of loneliness/This garden bloomed”

surrounded by people yet isolated
my heart yearns for someone it cannot have,
the roses twist around empty air,
they yet cannot grow without the weeds

“What is your name?”

your name is all the letters of the alphabets,
sprawled along the floor of my soul like cats relaxing in the sun,
i feel them purring through my chest, my hands, my mouth,
and your name slips between my lips as i unravel.

“All of your warmth is real/The blue flower your hand was picking/I want to hold it but”

the first time i held your hand was by accident,
the second time a soft tug at my wrist,
the rose within my heart pursued your roots,
i held on and you never ever let go.

Don't smile on me
Light on me

“It’s my fate/Don’t smile on me/Lie to me”

my mama told me true love was hard to find,
you smiled at me and told me you loved me,
and the light and darkness separated like the red sea,
but was it light or a lie? there really is no difference, is there

“I can’t show you a ruined part of myself/Once again I put a mask again and go to see you”

if you knew i loved you the way i’ve always wanted to,
what would you say to me? twice i’ve broken
a light a lie and a lesson
can you teach me not to cry?

“But I still want you”

in the deepest darkest night, i take off my mask
see the cracks etched on my face,
and smile uncertainly at the mirror, imagining you
i’ll see you tomorrow. i can’t help but want you.
Dean Russell May 2018
If a man is only strong and righteous,
  What does that make me?
If a man is productive and protective,
  What does that make me?
If a man is duty and power,
  What does that make me?
If a man is money and ***,
  What does that make me?

What does that make me
  If my gaunt face and bony body grows under hate?
What does that make me
  If I proclaim wrong amongst complicity?
What does that make me
  If I write what you don’t know?
What does that make me
  If I scratch an insecurity to show humility?
What does that make me
  If I am encompassed in new morality?
What does that make me,
  If I realised forever is nothing?
What does that make me,
  If I inherit debt?
What does that make me,
  If I told you between my sheets is authenticity?

I’m forgetting what father foretold
Because what he foretells was from his father,
Who also forgot.
Batool Aug 2016
there she was,
standing on the other side of river
holding her vessel,
listening to him
accusing
about how she never trusted him
and never put her faith in him
how she should close the last door
and shut the only window
that her soul used
to breath in the fresh air,
and to abandon the stray paths
that could lead her to him.
she watched him walk away
her vision turning blurry "one last glance" she silently prayed
but blue sky was determined to turn down
all her prayers that day.
her heart twisted in pain
pumping agony in every vein.
in a spur of the moment
a decision was made
a decision to show him
how much faith she had on him
to show she trusted him with her life.
....
the evening sun watched silently ..
a dark figure moving away from the river
and
a red scarf going with the flow !!
Gideon McCarthur Oct 2015
Once a girl lived in a tower.
She had the longest golden locks you had ever seen.
Her mother would visit and be hoisted upwards upon those locks to see her daughter.
The girl was named after a plant… Rapunzel.
How could she know this though when she had always lived in her home of the tower.
Her mother had kept her there since she could remember.
Rapunzel would ask when should could see the world.
Her mother would turn down these pleas saying the world was too dangerous for Rapunzel.
As she grew older Rapunzel realized that she resided in not a home but a prison.
Why was mother allowed to see the world and she was not?
Why could she not decide for herself the dangers of the world?
Freedom always framed within her window but too far below to reach.
On her 18th birthday Rapunzel fled the tower using the locks that had grown so very long.
Her mother soon after discovered her daughter to be missing.  Full of spite she pursued her daughter.
Rapunzel’s hair kept her from going too far and soon her mother was upon her.
Rapunzel tried to flee, but her mother seeing her daughter free from the world she had made for her stepped upon the long locks.
She pulled her daughter back to her slowly, back to the safety of her arms, her world. Rapunzel struggled on the ground trying to escape. She took a rock and severed the locks from her head. She fell forward into the edge of the woods and onto thorns.
She was blinded. Her mother rushed to her side not concerned for the eyes that weeped red but for the destroyed beauty that was her daughter’s locks.
Rapunzel may have lost her sight in that moment but her mother had lost hers long before that. Unable to see how she had hurt her daughter. That the greatest pain her daughter had experienced was given by her. Her daughter was blind and could not see the world, but her mother had never seen her for what she was.
Janis Bennett Oct 2015
Watching eyes and telling lies
That's what little boys are made of
Tiny tops and ***** on the rocks
That's what little girls are made of

— The End —