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Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
It was something I said, or thought I meant
to say, before I die, finally…

Life as imagined, as a magi
in a jug, a mind entrapped in a parable
sorted into a class
ifity activated by the name

Magician, practi-tioneer of
magnificent knowing

{8:27 prenoon, a single vape cycle}
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth.

-- mind and me, we rode in like the man on the horse

looking legendary as any cowboy can,
monstorous as an army of Mongols
from Indian retold tales,
emanating interesting times as curses
on the hidden things…

slay the singers, exile the poets, everytime
we build a wall,
henceforth, we reprove
the reason there is something that hates them,
history records many failed walls.
Fallen walls rebuilt on oaths of allegiance,
together, we
can… restore God's lost kingdom.
Who dies first after the old king,
his prophet, yes, but who
fit the prophet to the role?

first we slay the teacher,
then we burn the books, then we teach golden rules.
As everybody knows,
now,

it was not always so, oh think it not so,

let us pursue the delight of half known
verisimilitudes,

- begin here two lines up new me be

--- is it truth truth is one, and all
past that is guessing? One, once, I amity,
ever?
This has been declared in so many words
all intended to tie hearts and minds to reasons
emanating
from some secret source,
vowing
to hold holy secret
sacred meaning, too holy for the unsaintly horde,
to know,
of, ok, but never know, but by the vow,
take the cross, keep calm and
carry on.

When none may disagree,
none may signify truth with agreement,
-- not in truth as a whole, when told

for all intents, all reaches and stretches
of our, we now, see
not me, but words teleotic
you read and let the letters say
sounds that sound as bits of words,
I know you know what I mean, no trick intended,
each comma jot holds one breath,
taken, used and returned for refilling,
twisted threads of first good thoughts inform
no net spread
to snare your immortal soul,
kept in patience, by those who know
with science used,
power filled polisybilic cadence calls,

line up face front stand at attention
kneel and kiss the ring
around the symbol of power to live
in the dead center of ever, when ever begins.

(thy will being done, whither will ye have it?
Nay, not there,
there the will of Jah, yes, exactly…
you know… a
and if prayer were effectual, if, only
if, prayers prayed by persons of the common sort,
converted via word ******, sharpened sticks}

words effect minding rules with freedom, think
any what, in any ifery,
piece the pieces with matching faces in
perfectly fitted joins,
carpenter skill, with wood and will to shape
some worth filled
phor… a jug of wrapped mud, sound around
to hold the thought of god,

in a word.-------------------

elohim, el, oh, heem, the gang of gone goods,
imparting all that made them
imaginable,
coalescing into line upon line
precept upon precept
here a bit
there a bit
line upon line
precept upon precept
here a bit
there a bit
working title was Confessions of Christian Vampire, but then I saw that is a common trope, who knew, said my son as I beat the drum he brought from africa
Big Virge Aug 2021
Yup... Trial And Error...
Is A Great CORRECTOR... !!!

I've Had My Trials...
... Within This Life..

But Have Found They've Helped...
When My Temperature's SWELLED... !!!!!

Somehow They've Dealt...
Some Cards That Felt...

As If NO BLUFF...
Could of Been Enough...
To Rise ABOVE  ...
When Things Got TOUGH... !!!

From Working With Jerks...
Who I Wanted To Hurt...

To Dealing With My Mum...
When Sclerosis STUNNED...
... MULTIPLE Functions....
of Her Nervous System... !!!!!

Ya See Trials Have Been...
A Thing That Seemed...

INSURMOUNTABLE...
...... BELIEVE...... !!!!!

But Have Also Built...
A Strength That My Mother...
... Gave To Me... !!!

When She Walked...
And Fought For Me... !!!

Even With.....
Her Husband Ya' SEE... !!!

There Were Some ERRORS...
That Lead To... TERROR...

That HURT Her Heart And Soul DEEPLY... !!!
But Also Proved How STRONG She'd Been... !!!

She'll Always Be...
My TRUE Black Queen... !!!

Because of Her STRENGTH...
When She Came To RESENT...

The Man She'd SPENT...........
Her Love.... Upon...

A Strength SO STRONG...
That Our Love Then SHONE... !!!

But Now She's Gone...
Her Spirit Prolongs...
And Helps Me Through...
My Life's ISSUES... !!!

Because of ERRORS...
That I Now Make...

But Now Whenever...
I'm Feeling PRESSURED...
I Remember How...
We Worked TOGETHER... !!!

As Her Life Was Slowly Drowned... !!!
And Know That She'll NEVER Let Me Down... !!!

If ERRORS I Make...
Make Her Feel ASHAMED... !!!

Because of The LOVE...
We STILL Share TODAY... !!!

So Many Trials Are Part of Life...
I've Found Denial...
DOESN'T Help You Slide by...
Those DIFFICULT Times... !!!

Because Trials I've Faced...
Have Made My Game......
Flow... TIGHT And STRAIGHT... !!!

From Girls In My World...
To Places I've Worked...

I've REFUSED To Be ******...
Or Let Chickens... DISTURB...

The Vibe That I...
Have Lived To FIND...

DISMISSES Trials.....................
And...... HARDER Times........... !!!

From EVER Becoming...
A Part of Something...
I'm... PARTY TO... !!!

See Trials Have PROVED...
That Who You CHOOSE...
To Be Down With Your Moves...

Is Key To KEEPING Your Vibe COOL... !!!

Instead of Making Moves With Crews...
Whose Interests Do NOT INCLUDE YOU... !!!

THINK It Through... !!!
Trials You've Been Through...
And ERRORS... PROVE...
That We Must Take Note...
of... Our Life's Quotes...

Because Our DUD Notes...
Are Things That... SHOW...

A BETTER WAY For Us To Go... !!!

Because As I Said...
At The Beginning of...
This INSPIRED Poem.... !!!!!

One of Life's GREATEST Correctors...
When You Think About It... IS...

...... Trial And Error......
Indeed, there have been many trials and errors in my life, which inspired this write ......
George Krokos Apr 2021
A wasted effort can be seen to be like a trial run
and the objective would be to learn and have fun.
______
From 'Simple Observations' ongoing writings since the early '90's.
eleanor prince Feb 2021
you plan to trap
to take a cut-
a ripening peach
with sugar bait?

you soil yourself
remove all sense
when all you have
you desecrate

her body sees, her body sees

'I'll take it now
she's just the size
to make me big
bend over chick

for she won't see
to mists she'll flee
I'll do a trick
with my joystick'

her inside sees, her inside sees

it's not all past
in spurting spray
a laughing squirt
bull at a gate

to steal a bud
the harshest crime
to rob a child
her life dictate

her body tells, her body tells

for it is seen
and registered
it's catalogued
in Judge's file

the breakage raw
her broken selves
you callous brute
are facing trial

and all can see
as you do now
the lies you told
you *******
Abusers tell one another:
''It's such good luck
she's only 6
for after 8
it's much too late?!"

Of course, it may be a boy, and the abuser may be female. 

Whatever the case, it helps to know their thinking so
we can better protect our kids

©https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/848436017300514805/
M Solav Jan 2021
You deserve no pity for it was done in earnest;
Declaring innocence’s a consolation at best;
Like us all through mortality you were put to the test;
Carelessness’ a testimony upon which you now may rest.

Against famine you took the lead by unsheathing the sword,
Spilling blood amidst the pleads without believing the word.
Our tribunal for this affair will have your future sealed;
The trial may not seem fair, but so never were your deeds.
Written in July 2019.


— Copyright © M. Solav —
This work may not be used in entirety or in part without the prior approval of its author. Please contact marsolav@outlook.com for usage requests. Thank you.
Strying Nov 2020
It always seems that the saddest poems,
get the least likes.

As though no one wants to be affiliated
with you when you're in a position
where you want to die.

Instead of giving you a "like"
they avoid it.

Knowing they relate to it,
they isolate you.

And once you are gone,
they are the ones that will remember you.

And yet that poem will be hidden in the "personal journal" files,
so their secrets are not uncovered.

Their murders never put under trial,
and the perpetrators,
never convicted.

This is a happy state,
and it's called,
DENIAL.
Just some thoughts as how a lot of the saddest poems I've seen on here just get ignored or left at 1 or 2 likes...
Dante Rocío Nov 2020
It has been such a Long time since our last incarnation such like reassembly.

We’ve been scrubbing our United States
and leasing places
as scarification and other humans‘ faces
of stories,
to bless or gargle foreign.

We’ve been to the Neptune’s Fountain to find Young Man Hogan’s bench situated within all those loners’ speedy extroversion,
and catch the Saint Petersburg bell that hitchhiked the church there

to make a glimpse of urbanism and the world’s history replaced
by just one journal
and one fella’s pencil
swerving greatly‏.

Still,
the words are still trying,
flexing,
to fit their whole ends
into shoes they should have taken off
already, a long time ago,
and that‘s this somewhere
where we could say:
crossroads decide their fruition.

And it comes to realisation:
faces,
screens,
bruises,
droppings,
chilling entries,
work,
how I remade the word “naked”of one thousand and one nights
under my tiny silky
cloak
-
it has been nothing but a play
for the day when I’ll write,
and the Life,
that will take on my own skin
one way or another.

One paper corner will meet with the other.

Departures are all eventually just fun geese’s bump in another flight of a night.
How does it feel like to be stranded in a space between the exile from being poems and at the same time fulfilling all the tasks, seemingly full creation of functioning daily?
Duties have been and are strenuous, lots of flocks, yet own and desired by my aspirations’ oath, or rather at times disgustingly expected from apart of you too.
Had no space for that.
But now the game is finally on.
Poetry is my constant patron of its choosing of me and that makes us one.
And I cannot or will ever be killed.
So will It.
rachel martin Nov 2020
The weight of the guilt I have
For the things I said about you before you died
Sit on my chest
Press me to death like a Salem witch.
Every time I drink I indulge in my tears
That I have no right to;
All I cared about when you were alive was vengeance for the way
You made me feel,
When I should’ve thanked you for opening my eyes
And I should’ve looked right through you
With open eyes-
And seen that you were dying inside.
I wrote that you were dead to me,
Not intending it quite literally
Not wanting for awhile
I manifested that for you-
I await my witch trial.
Might delete
Jay M Mar 2019
Fear to joy,
Sorrow to cheer,
How could this happen here,
In my heart,
Once broken,
Now mending,
Pending,
I'll be fine at last,
This won't be buried in the past,
Here we go,
Trial after trial,
Let's see where this one goes.

- Jay M
January 28th, 2019
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