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Ken Pepiton Jul 2020
Doing it, in your heart;
doing it in your mind;
wishing you were, praying you aren't;

hoping you didn't imagine you did.

All mental, mentis realm, acts as if
we did;
but we did not.

We made a picture of what we thought.
We knew, as knowing is done in a child,
we imagine we know,
we say we did.

We did, when we were kids.
All of us.
Little liars unbeguiled, knowing only

good and not, -- then we wake from
that bubble of being when the walls fall,
the curtain is lifted,

and we find we live in a state that changes
with time,
time alone.

Done in time is done in mind and
we know.

As words, a we is formed into a them
and us, or more
pointed ly, a me and you all, and we all
fall victim to the wrong

we did with joy while sleeping
through the conditions causing
yesterday to go so very far from
yesteryear's
remembered. Those olden times when

stories told 'round cracklin' brushwood
fed deep pools of what ifery,
if only we could recall the rules for being
worth a ****... we all remember flying.

And I recall, the way to catch any bird was to sprinkle
salt on it's tail.
Taken raw, straight from the vine, while in a state of waiting for nothing, jes' go wit' it.
It may water seed scattered in fields salted with will to **** for what was never real
Ken Pepiton Jun 2020
A day begun, with no aim,
no reason,
you may imagine, a thousand years from now;
but I may imagine,
may being my word now, at the time, as if
time comes in
countible bits,
points,
per haps.

Haps may be those countible bits of time.
Ticks, to a child's mind reared,
in the interim between springs and woundup
strings, when
toys and clocks, both, needed twisting and
tugging or pushes, gentle pressure to
push past the
release

of the power wound up in a spring,
the power of thing to return to its original,
first state, im-fected, perhaps,
with a self willing to be
as you were... alone and fine, feeling haps
as if each were mine,
and I'm happy, rich in little bits of time,
all mine, or so they were,
each still tied to me by some memory in a line,
a thousand years from now.
I once believed we were on the eve of destruction. Time has changed my mind,
granting me a taken ibility enabling me to guess what is happening, after ever began, some time ago... on a point, or in a bubble, I don't remember, now.
Maja Jun 2020
when people ask,
they don’t really want to know.
they just want you to tell them,
what they already think.
Maja May 2020
A lie is not a lie
until someone says it is
until someone tells the truth,
The truth a lie only is
it's not a lie if you believe it
Ruheen Apr 2020
~

The bad parts of an experience are what make the best stories.
No one wants to hear you say 'I had a nice time. It was great.' And so on.
They don't want to hear the same thing over and over again.
They want a story no one else can tell them.
If all you experience is good things, you won't have a story to tell.


~
My teacher said this to me once. I agree.
Also, this is a kind of explanation for Underrated. It's why I think demons have a story to tell; why they're more interesting.
Maja Mar 2020
Someone was burned,
another was stabbed,
cut into pieces,
sold for a grand.

A monster under the bed,
is better than the monster in my head.


Read me a horror story,
and I will sleep well.

Turn on the news,
it will be scarier than the stories we can tell.
stories can be scary, but the reality is scarier.
Naseeha Ansari Mar 2020
You tell me that there is no way out
Before walking out the door
And I stand there; frozen
Slowly breaking down to the core.

You tell me everything’s said and done
And go quite for a lifetime
I sit there listening to the silence
Speaking thousand of words of crime

You tell me there is nothing left to look at
And you close your eyes
And I gaze around in the water
Slowly watching it turn into ice

I believe in everything that leaves your lips
Blinded by the darkness of the night
Because there is nothing else left to do
There is nothing left to fight.

The battlefield of our hearts empty now
Craving for just a little bit of mercy
The blood splattered around; stinking
Because we have no one clean the wounds.
I have no idea why I wrote this. But I did. And I like it. How do you like it?
Jay M Feb 2020
Being so small
So quiet, keeping to myself
Not sure enough to put my hand up
Not asking for help
Not using the notes
Not speaking up
Not focusing on one thing at a time
Not turning in assignments
Not taking proper care of myself
Not eating three full meals a day
Not making much of myself
Just barely scraping by

But there's a lot I've got to say
To a little someone
To little me
Because there's just so much
That I just won't tell me
From this path, I've gone astray
I would say these next words to anyone
Hold them up so that they could touch
The sky and then the stars;

You've got to be sure of your answers
You've got to ask for help when you need it
You've got to use the notes
You've got to speak up
You've got to take it one step at a time
You've got to turn things in
You've got to take care of you too
You've got to eat enough
You've got to make what you can of yourself
Not just scraping by

Be sure of yourself
Don't just be a book on the shelf

Ask for help when you need it
Don't let yourself fall too far
Let them know who you are

Use the notes
They're there for you
So go and do
As best as you can do
And see how great you can be

Speak up
Shout it loud
Let them know who you want to be
Don't be like little me
Be what you can be

Take it one step at a time
Not twenty and rhyme
One step at a time
One day at a time

Turn in what you've got done
Don't hold yourself back, ***

Take care of you
Don't let your body turn blue
Do what you gotta do
And just do you

Eat enough
Because you are enough
Don't take it out on your body
Even if you just want to be a hottie

Make what you can of yourself
Don't be a blank canvas sitting on the shelf
Go get that degree
Go fight for your love
Go fight for your life

Don't just scrape by
Or life will just pass you by.

- Jay M
February 6th, 2020
I heard a song called "Little Me" and thought about all the things I never told myself. So here's a shot.
dycarus Jan 2020
he's summer
his body
smells like citrus
soothing
like the June wind
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