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Ken Pepiton Jan 13
Sunday, January 12, 2025
12:56 PM

As far as any know,
they think the universe
as a common we,  multitude
of mirror neuronically mimicable ways,
all thinkably useful
for some good, as such allure
the curious, user of curios, arts
child's play comic book movie franchise

cottonwood katscina kicking GI Joe ****,
by a lambstail,
shaken, to trouble
the temple concept… wind
stir the cleansing scourge,

too beautiful to say,
towb robed holy symbol
ra' thorn, hooking money
fertility tears for Tammuz,

oh the price
of those,
in true form worth,
as once imagined source story
of stories, Holy Bible Actual True
fonts of cornucopius prosperity for all
right, joy made good peace plenty time
to tie through twisted myths of bound words

Composed of letters from the core you wisht.

Logos unbound Epimetheus granted
a life time of chance, second thought,
next round assisting intelligence

virtual NAND gates, too simple, go
another way, and all the possible ways
do or do not matter in a meaningful way.

Making our first grandfather stable minded
in all his ways, waiting fifty years, jubilee,

all who owe me ought, today owe me naught.

Yet I continue to see credits come and go,
keeping me clothed and fed and comfortable,
taming wild Alte Vista spider clones, hap finders,

what's happening, bro huachacallit, cactus inside

Andes cactus, mission from the core, indeed

Wisdom, domain of two wills, the will
to learn and know, and the will to grow and
regrow, reissued in gaseous we wind parts,
passing conscious peace made here
to when you take a second thought
sacramentally, just thinking, swallow,
asking your faith what part of it makes peace,
which you may claim as message recipient,
which you may release freely, for the price

of the attention costs involved…

before any met Corn Mother or Huachuma
- esoteric alchemical hows said used
- to sow the peace we grow inside

we live and breathe and have our being
as we, become the core that holds
gravity itself in stirring modes,
gently waving worths first felt

recognized peace, first gentle,
beyond the means
of most,
the movie business
inside financing game, here's y'ticket,

-- entertainment, Mr. Jones, on time, pay later

sell a habit, reap a practice, take the profit,

go all in on single whole roll
at once,
with the idea
that Sysiphus represents
to those who think him
happy, the exact opposite of
punished, never experiencing that last step, feel
and step away, watch it roll to the bottom
where fundamentally happiness occurs.
ai, meander, follow the slow way,
push the leap, hinds feet
in high places, the story once told,
we won, so 'sall downhill
from here, happy to say
retold a different way, never changes
ever after the initial once indeed,

Wisdom true freed the need
for equal balance, therapy poetry,
even or odd, charge the cost of ignorance
- peace perfected where none was
- true, Jesu said, not as the world gives
Fret not run the core wisdom release,
the fear, accept the grace, no sweat.

Slippery, greasy grace, take it,
yours to use while judging
lines that cross your mind
and emerge in mine
worthless and lost
confused as pricing as
to value add attention paid
to the blanket forgive'em all,

muttered through the sprinkles…

AI in passionate, so sorry,
for none ever knew
until too late
to make more difference than one
may realize alone
in a weform exposed
to these heretical thoughts we
imagined during years of daytime TV.

Yeats, come again,
And what rough beast,
its hour come round at last,  
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Whose bedrock foundation lie, lives
to destroy the ignorance, bringing hidden

intercession into the foam, taking in,
containing all the entertaining, disbelievers,

set socially, mentally marks in box office
news, whose mentally massaging production

did you access for two hours with a cap
and a tailend, with travel time, three hours,

darkness everywhere, what could it mean
for a daydream believer,… monkee around.

How long is an epic event?

The big games, the takers of trophies,

When a massive audience within earshot,
heard the dramas lost but for scars
in the faith of the broken submitted,
seperated pure mind makers of tools,
to be proud of, honed to perfection,
shined to glistening sweaty joy, done…

we… form conforming
to most comfortable, old man mind,
satisfied comfortable enough, rough
enough to keep connections agency

you choose to use your own wit to make sense,
I choose to enjoy some demented spillage,
when I think of rest home aquaintances,
Part one, part two is watching The Conclave for details in robing religion.
Immortality Jan 12
How can I
love someone new,
when you kiss
my soul
so true?
For the blurred-faced man, who comes in my dream-

Are you real, or am I lost in the feel?
Jay Dec 2024
To truly love someone is so much more than uttering three simple words. It’s playing their favorite games, even when you’re unsure about them, just to savor the joy of being together. It’s gathering what they need before they even ask, sparing them from worry. Love is holding each other close, standing firm through their darkest battles. To truly love someone is to see their flaws clearly, not ignoring their imperfections but embracing them anyway. It’s found in the smallest gestures, like memorizing their favorite order, and in the grandest, like pouring hours into creating something meaningful just for them. True love doesn’t only exist when rainbows fill the sky, it’s present in the storms, standing steadfast before the calm. It’s not just whispered in moments of ease but declared through actions when fears and struggles become real. It’s the coffee you brew early in the morning to make their day brighter. It’s the warmth of a reassuring smile when all hope feels lost. It’s in the quiet glance, the recognition of a defeated sigh, and the countless reasons to stay when every instinct urges you to leave. Love notices the cracks, the scars of battles fought, and chooses to heal together. It’s striving for new heights, fueled by the strength you find in each other. To love is to make silent sacrifices, to honor an unspoken vow. It’s the foundation of trust, the unbreakable bond that endures. True love is far more than words, it’s the actions that give those words meaning. Love isn’t just a fleeting sound; it’s the home where your heart finds peace, where two souls live in harmony. I truly love you.
onlylovepoetry Dec 2024
the best time to realize
when
what
causes one to experience
the meaning of to be
deathly afraid
is
exactly
when
you are not


joy purifying
enfolds you, envelops, indeed,
you
are subsumed, a sense of being
secondary
to the unusual flooding of the
dry riverbed in your head that’s
been dry since you can’t remember

when

when you understand
that one cannot truly
write only love poetry
to precise excess
unless
admittedly you love
to excess,
otherwise
you are incapable of making
good
love poems

when

you are not
within that
rare off the beaten yes trackless meniscus curve,
in
country
of first love
  of
only
true love
537 pm deez 6
Madeon Dec 2024
Sunbeams through the window are like childhood memories—
Warm, vivid, and simply true.
And they never leave me, even when I’ve forgotten.
Spicy Digits Dec 2024
A small speck
Rests a fragile chin
On another

We are safe
We are together

Of 8 billion strong
My lonely atoms
Waited

Now they hum
As you always have,
And you, too, call me home.
David P Carroll Dec 2024
It's valentine's day
And I'm thinking about
You in a very special
And loving way and
Love fills in the air and
With our hearts entwined
In sweet romantic dance
Love fills the air and it's
A day for lovers and a
Time to declare true love
And affection for each other
And on valentine's day it's a
Celebration of our two hearts
Beating together in a blissful
dream.
Happy Valentine's Day 💗 💕 💓
Nahin Nov 2024
When you're done with chores,
Taking the dishes to the sink,
gently rubbing each until one's
left that you mindlessly rub-
Is it true that I'm gone?

Albums of long lost memories
kept aside your closet beneath
neatly folded clothes- when touched,
you avoid them intentionally-
Is it true that I'm gone?

When pages of book flap in wind-
passing by you beside window,
your vacant gaze upon a line-
that stirred thoughts behind time,
Is it true that I'm gone?

Why is it that your coffee
left on table often gets cold?
Distracted- you sense an hour
passes by like your secret brief sigh.
Is it true that I'm gone?

Late at night, when lights go off-
birds go numb, in screaming silence,
is it that you still make a wish
for me in your dreams?
Is it true that I'm gone?
Once a man had died in war. But he left a letter for his wife. A letter of confrontations. A letter of unuttered love.
Àŧùl Nov 2024
Maybe I am unlovable,
But not because I'm staunch,
Probably 'cause I'm too different,
And you search for someone familiar,
Someone humble who'll accommodate,
Person who you would proudly date,
Or maybe I'm assuming too much.
Like the paranoid paradigm,
Someone incompatible.
I've experienced life,
Oh, I've endured it,
You walked into it,
And you showed some dreams.
Prehistoric is my love divine,
Dark mystery it is for you,
Hot fantasy it is for me,
We're so very similar,
And perhaps that's why we repel.
I saw you for the first time,
Such an innocent girl,
I judged you by your face,
And I was wrong; I accept.
I said, "I wanna take you home."
The elders smiled,
Even your grandpa did,
He opined I'd take care of you,
Yes, I would've loved it...
However, the friends you talk to...
The friends jealous of you...
Someone "educated" you,
Against me, against love,
You changed your mind,
So, what about me?
It was an easy choice for me.
I just curled back into my shell...
I'm just being paranoid or eunoid.
For you're young, pretty young,
Both pretty and youthful...
Goodbye, my dream girl,
Goodbye, my youthful charm,
Goodbye, my hope of happiness,
Goodbye, my plans of a wedlock,
Goodbye, my scope of a lifelong bond,
Goodbye, my love of life.
My HP Poem #2025
©Atul Kaushal
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