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If he leaves you
Let him go
Because when you fight for him,
It’s not a fight for love
It’s a fight for your own obsession
Love is being happy together,
Not possessing each other happiness.
Colm Aug 4
Give me nothing
But time
Everything within

  This wanting to be of something
    And there will be neither writing
Nor ending

   For a summer storm

But combined

      And in giving me a required aim
  When there is sound to be found

And creation to pro

  Then the writing will flow
As if out of a struck desert stone
      And swell
How Writing (Told) Goes
Ken Pepiton Jun 23
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.
DT Jun 8
He told you that he never lied
But you see it through
with your two naked eye
Ken Pepiton Feb 27
Our tribe imagines war.
We weigh the cost in terms we agree mean
what we say.

The barking dogs always dis
agree,

we wannabe free, but the urge to howl, it's

spiritual.
Y' know, y'gotta howl,
it really, eh, that little ly on real-- gotta watch that
imagine
knowing real
some times, your left hand knows what your left brain
can't find a word for,

y'know, though, it feels like this, but real.

Coyotes teach us better error lessons than wolves.

We all laugh, wannabet. We won, been there...
Two days of listening to old warriors who were actual heroes, while believing ... what we agree, were lies.
Ash C Jan 28
But
I'm told I'm talented, beautiful, amazing, smart.

Told I'm a goddess, way ahead of others, easy to talk to.

But all that doesn't matter, because I'm also told I'm a *****.
They paint red
She is happy
She is a great artist
She draws a pattern
She thinks it is the finest

Gaza's streets are filled with red

It may be surrealist
You must blind your heart
And say as the world  told
Thanks thank God
As you created like that
Israel killed these animals
As they do not deserve to be lived
You must solid your mind
And dance, dance very fast
And drink barrels of highball
To see the world's talk
To see how it is so having tale
that Israel is doing well

it may paint of realistic
it reflects a view of fact
telling Israel is the master
Arabs must bow and worship her more

It may be line
And see how Arabs are awful
They don't deserve a1ot to be wonderful
**** , **** with your powerful
To destroy Arabs at all

It may be a cartoon
they tell Arabs doing as Tom
Who looks stupid and will fall
Doom to undeveloped persons
****** over that world
Which encourages the unjust
And she will **** ****
As the baby does with his doll
the killing occured aty Gaza and world encorages the killing
annh Oct 2019
Robert told Olive
And Olive told Dee
That Emma likes Peter
But Peter likes me.

And Stephen saw Jamie
Tell Anna and George
That Vicky kissed Edward
And Clarence kissed Maude.

But Peter told Edward
And Edward told me
That Vicky saw Stephen
Tell Clarence and Dee

That Robert kissed Emma
So Anna told George
That Olive likes Jamie
But Jamie likes Maude
‘I never gossip. I observe. And then relay my observations to practically everyone.’
- Gail Carriger, Timeless
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