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Ken Pepiton Jan 23
Many inputs say Mondays are common,
but one input says this Monday is uncommon.
We are to be the judge of that.

This is the Monday when you appear,
as reader dear, ready to reason with ghosts
amusing each other with wishes doing pirouettes
as angels may be imagined doing on pinheads,
spinning, or kicking in chorus line choreography.

The elderly nobody imagines the scene,
and makes it seem a vision, something seen,
after the finest sieve - pulling pin wires

snipping whimseys, making mites for widows.

------------ The Government's about to change,
wanna bet, whose got money on whom,

leave the room… vacate the judgment hall,
we are all here, to judge me, last call
all the outs are in, all the ins are intimate,

and we have made all the seed we could,
in word and deed, and we chose to leave
the edges un mowed, so critters can live,

when we can understand our own words
and read other languages using them,
these words are as living things imagined,

said and known, at once, in Housie or Hindi

whatsoever we can envision and project,
we may elect to try to do, or we may do
using words alone,
we think as one
so now we is I, we is not royal,
we is eloheemishical. Us big good being.

Watcher what of the night?

Two geriatic puppets duke it out
for the FOOTBALL
News is all reruns.
Making war for pay,
money makes it work,
gotta love it, gotta love it.

Any reason for killing for,
gotta love it, real deal love it,

steal from the rich to become
richer, Lord knows, war's reason,

come now, let us reason together,
let us cogitate clarity of conscience,
with science standing in for knowledge,
the whole truth, once told, whole knowing

all things working together with reason,
for those in the blooming gnosis realms,

where augmented intelligence forms
teams of knowing hidden reconnectors,
citizen band geeks in the olden days
breaker, breaker, let the learned agree,

we lived just in time to see it all work.

In older olden days…
Messages were carried, at current
stretch of the imagination speed, by slaves…

Writing letters was…
different, I suppose, or
propose, positionally different,
sup and pro posals posed as statu'es,
forms of former founders of the orderly
clusters of human compliance called nodes,
junctions and interchanges, whither all roads lead.

Edu-pre-gogy-ology **** bang,
mechanical thinking in the subconscience science
used auto responsively,
finger aiming quick **** experience, wired below
the will, deep down to predator macrophage stage,
running id scans on the ego accepting wedom hero role.

The sole survivor, from ten thousand stories repeated
trillions of times by now, exoterror faces esoterror,

children led to mindless aliegiance to the flag,
and to the given republican form
of labor management,

had the heros of history
had my tools, perhaps sense had been made easy,

but this is the future, tense
I have, for a modest sum, any course of andragogy,
mankind mind leading, post child mind pedagogy,
- repeat not in vain taking my name, say true
- memory for song is long as all that

among canine species, we see breeds.
among human species, we see types, types for tasks,
intuitive doers of certain things magnificently, once

often, relatively, often
in the process of time, unique tasks.
Ever canonical, global and beyond, true wow
Single mortal lifespan tasks, centered self aware tasks,
rockstar, base baller, foot baller, tackle, center, guard,

sergeant major, permanent noncommissioned officer,
loyal to the letter, let us assume, a military mind,
holds all response react ready reading inclination
to check for polisemy snuck in under humor heresy,

whose spirit is stirred up when fans are frenzied,

where do the emotions go, after the connection
to the whole aspect of prowess in team leadership
leaves the bubble of we the fans, become me,
alone and unwilling to ever cry wolf again…
-que sera sera
my side won, my times done
being, as a man with no real job,

they pay me for surviving crazy,
that's how this magic pen is driven.

Of course, in the course of human events,
this stage of peace enough and time enough,
shelter enough and sustenance enough,

centering, any whole self requires more knowledge
than had been made plain using words
in agreemental treaty
form, easily entreated,
as wisdoms are,
so you know what the adverse position is, and why
or why not, good or no good, workable or not,
doable or not, whatsover we agree,

as touching anything,
in all the sense ever fit
to touch, the initiates recognosis
sense the essential lies all being judged
in your heart,
gentlest touch, truly superlative softest

Public heart, common stander at the anthem, hoo yah
rah and all, good citizen soldier ever ready, to imagine

your part in the billions of parts is perfect
for one task, Life given, your one deed,
who says? Fate from the exoterica available to boys,
and girls who seem allowed to mind wander, some how

reading children, book reading children, in homes with
gigabit wifi and
dads and moms and
grand parents who lived
through historical moments.
Selah, long breathers, long now,
times proof recollections written
on the tables of my prayer's heart,
I prayed for one of the kind that works
instant in prayer, ask and eventually, find.

The process of time, see, seems invisible.
Perfect, facere specifically just right to be you,
dude, man, joker, street wise desert gawker, you

lucky, you live in a world where words are animated,
via actual Starlinking thinking come to pass
in proces of time since I was
preschool, a kid, child from the escaped goat clan,
mindshapers begin at the ******, confusion,
is common enough for first borns, nobody knew,
really, you can imagine, the cravings,
but confusion is not disconnection,
and no disconnect to knowledge
becomes immortal hell zones.

oh, my god, why, and
then, an elderly man with mottled skin,
sun squint wrinkles around slit smiling eyes,
bemusing the unbeguiled
amused at his appearance, a'knowledges knowing

With a re-coknowing Nod, to the east,
we are so far from where stories start forming leaven,
we merely imagine many long unthinkable things,
habits lost in ritual performance, character act-or,

no need to change a thing, that guy, that person,
that could be me, I have done that same dumb thing,
or watched it done while doing nothing
time and again, get lost in genre and find myself
wondering in wonder land
wonder woman world  of my own
imaging, imagining
living words between us, intimate, most in, inest most
crowd of witnesses,
reading right minds left letters better left than right read
clunk chunk
encoded news from the superlative zone, grand canyons
filled with technical debris and useless superlatives
clicks from children who know what discern means
are subsiding,
slipping under the wave,
trending sense first your worth,
before you accept a bid for your attention,
if you know this line of reasoning, having been
this far
before, as a thought, forethought
-breathe knowing now more than ever
knowledge inside intimates attain
to thorough patient word
redemption and restoration to full
polisemy parallel -all el, par excellence, a we
form. Wind shapes form of spirits, tried, true.

Mind thing first reading each letter,
finding the evolved pen much to my liking,
fluid forms meander, and sigh, and sometime,
puddle to ponder surface reflections,
seeing some wishing for simple,
while we all know we are a ways after simple

this is sub-limity. Lowest ever so far. Look around
nothing needs to be secret at the bottom of it all.
If you don't like the style, I understand, some people come with clipped attention spans, gotta love em.
GaryFairy May 2022
Victims of Consciousness (please don't be offended...or be offended)

You are a victim of consciousness. A deer has a baby and the baby gets up and walks. A human has a baby and it can't walk for almost a year. That smack on the ***, along with the mother's consciousness does that. You can put a newborn in water and it will swim away. It will come up for air and all. If you believed it would be okay, and walked away, that baby would be okay. That is, if you didn't worry about it dying.

Are we less or more than a deer? Or are we equal?

A hawk could get that baby that is swimming away...that is, if you believe it can happen.

We are programmed in the womb, and in the first 7 years of life. The subconscious "hard drive" is where most spend their minds. Check out my page for some videos of me bending your beliefs. I can't break your belief, because I'd have to change your perception. You are too smart for that, or too stupid.


Bring me monkey pox and I will eat it.

COVID? Gulp!

Believe in health and not sickness.


Die or live. Your simple choice.
God wants you to believe in you.


I am off all heart meds for two years now. I feel better than ever, and I even let snakes bite me

It hurts a little.
Humans have turned into **** heads with high self opinions, but no sense.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2021
We all were bums and walkers through hell or we are children yet to recall
these tales, trails better marked than Hansel could imagine marking on his own.

We agree, words are well spent:
to buy tears to place the final bit of salt into the sea, in remembrance of passing over and passing through on hands and knees and standing, comforted,
beyond the door.
woe, woman, concha weep for me…
weep for me
I been beyond the door before I knew there's no knocker on this side

Mus'be more'n one door, one to knock and one to open,
beyond which are you?
Beyond the knocked on one am I.
I carry my own value as gravity determines things,
weigh that for what it's worth. Worthy, eh, what it's worth as a skill,
worthship, citizenship, partnership.
From three years ago, I find a piece of how I got this far. I suggested to me that I must read what I write or be accountable for not sharing free willing-ly. Self forming apps for self learning beings, run line by line.
Mariyam Ridha Nov 2020
The demons are after me,
Endeavouring to dwindle all my super powers
Enshrined in my soul.
But I,
I reconcile fragmented pinions
Powered with world of words, dreams,love and hope,
Now no malign souls,
Aren't after me,
As I have turned myself into a fire,
My pinions into a universe,
And my soul,
A rebel.
And I have became a girl with wings of fire
Venice was
wet with
tears but
upon bearing
the compass
in ambulatory
and Oz
to shape
*** ran
inside the
track of
darkness that
pseudonym guided
Pedro's plumage
now Audubon
in time
for vaccine
Cardboard-Jones May 2020
That was all I felt
Not a broken bone or wounded flesh
Just cold
I'm breathing heavy but I'm not panicking
My breath forms a cloud around my face
Before disappearing into the fading skyline
I knew something was wrong
I knew because there was nothing wrong with me

My eyes were polluted with the sight of death
Carnage at my feet
Life leaving their blood and bone host
Lives more important than mine
Yet I was chosen
I was the one fate decided to keep
It were as if hands were plunged into the mud and grief
To spare me the tarnish
The light in the dark hollow
Or the dark in the light bastion

A void captured my true emotions
Holding them captive until I figure it out
The papers had their stories of me
"Miracle Man" they called me
The one death forgot
The one who escaped a tragedy
Without a scratch to show truth
A walking folklore
A bedtime story for the kids
Any other man would have felt blessed
Lucky or even grateful perhaps
I just felt cold

Sleep became a chore, and the bottom of the pint became my guilt
One day I bring my gaze from upon my mug
To see a man dressed in purpose
A man with a stare
A man with a story
A man of pain and misfortune
He didn't have to say anything
He knew
I knew
We could feel it
The cold followed us, ever looming on our shoulders bare
Through those blank faces that torment our memories
Constantly reminding us of the burden we choose to carry
Through all the dust, fire, and filth there stood us

Andrew Rueter Apr 2020
The internet connects culture.
We used to not know how to act
and took cues from proximal role models
or distant stars.
Now we take cues from the internet
or those who are
and we become one person.
Everybody wants to talk about the daily melees and brawls
nobody wants to talk about Super Smash Bros.
and how when it came out the internet wasn’t really a thing
so people had to learn to play on their own
and each person you faced was a new experience
but now everyone learns the best strategies from the internet
and pick between only a few different characters.
Cardboard-Jones Jan 2020
That night, you stole,
Something precious from me.
One glance, my heart,
Couldn’t disagree.
Everything was fine until
I walked in on your last ****.
Even though the signs all showed, I didn’t know
That you’re just evil.

I catch you sneaking out at night,
I knew something wasn’t right.
I thought that I knew you.
It’s always robberies in progress
Or some threat you made to Congress.
By the way you got some blood on your shoes.

Don’t try to distract me,
You always side track me
Your outfit does attract me, let’s get back to my point.
Thought it was love at first sight
But you just want to plan heists.
Am I just someone you see you can exploit?
And she said
“You’re my minion now.”
Grace Thaba Jan 2020
There’s more where that came from
A bleeding heart was only the start,
The tears you cried late up at night,
Sad songs you sang till the morning rose,
Not that you’re weak-but let them continue to speak,
Had your heart broken and your love taken for granted,
Wore a smile every morning and faced the world even when deep down you wanted to pour out your heart and hope it eases the pain,
There’s more where that came from
I’m talking about your fierce,
Your ability to carry the whole world on your shoulders while making it look easy,
Let she be celebrated for her admirable super powers,
For she’s a superwoman
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