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Ocean Oct 12
I love the things nobody loved
A mosaic of forbidden greys and whites and blacks.
A circle called face with linear figures and crosses all over it.

An untamed dog who scares all walks on three legs and kills with fourth. He never tasted any bread of pity, I never heard anyone call him pretty.

The frail lady who fights alone and fights all, she's never greeted and never greets. They say she carries a gun, they say she trusted someone.  

A frown guy at top of his game, has he his lips sealed? Because he never speaks, but I saw him smile, sometimes, to a particular guy, their fingers always caress, always accidentally.

An unimaginable beauty, with deadly eyes, she's anything but polite. Her words can tear your ears, and I understand her reasons but not the people who call her *****. I wonder if she always laughs because I never saw her cry.

There's a shadow in my room, always haunting or haunted, it never expresses a thing, it, for I can't figure out if it's a guy or a girl, or my beloved lost pet. It sees through me, I see through it, we don't understand each other, but it's always here.

And what I love the most are the waves, which makes beach muddy, our clothes *****, waves which come to shore, to die.
a m a n d a Sep 21
i somehow have
to slice up
these vast expanses
into minute pieces
but time
is running
Never speak butterfly language
With caterpillar people
They won't understand
Surfaces are unpolished
Giving them friction
Lest you should fall down
It's just a precaution
Never speak butterfly language
With caterpillar people
They won't understand
Even if you talk to them
In their language
It takes them understand longer
Better late than never
At last they understand
It better, better
Monet Echo Sep 20
There’s a lot we don’t understand
Our worlds are shrouded in mystery
But wisdom is close at hand
When we give credence to our periphery
daycrow Sep 15
I know a boy who cheated the sun- he says,
"It's easier than it was supposed to be;"
I remember him holding serpents between his fingers, riding waves and running-
   from the children-
with joy in his eyes.
Not sure why my eyes are so haunted- all my
      ghosts are in the past
and as tired as I am today,
nothing will top last February
      or the one before that,
            or the January before that one.

I was never supposed to be older than he was;
            time drips past us like blood, true,
but it's as equal to me as it is to you.
I don't remember him finishing school-
I suppose we have that in common-
But I remember the game he taught me
(even that was a cheat… a game of lies).
I just wish he realized that when he took those days from the sun,
             he was cheating everyone else too.
so cold
Ken Pepiton Sep 6
Past the last of the acidity, augmented by the fire two valleys west…
woke to wonder where am I to aim
my self
My being me being made of all roles I ever play

Today, is marked a day in a week in a month and year
on a spreadsheet maintained
by several orders of attitude HR magnitude, cults of clerks, used
minds and bodies, stacked in edified

as quanta of thought, bits of ever left in now as hints,
things to come are made of ever lasting stuff,
word of truth, my self is sworn to tell,

test me if I lie.
But {but, but} in thy mercy, not thy wrath lest I perish
and only id, or another ******-enomen for evers what was, remains
a role, an act, remaining after the ocean of opinions I was on evaporates,
after I am evilized as egoically selfish,
my self, too highly thought of,
for far too long a time.

Yes, {yes, yes} that, too, has passed, re
do the re,
there we were awakened, with a Jolt Cola realization,
life is a game,
we make up, as children can, if you recall
the child you were when thinking as a child may, at play.

This is the day we form a man in the realm of self I am
and, if you take my word as truth,

you take the ability to sponder, eh? First, you ask, re
is the author authorized to utter truths hid
since the foundation of realit-ifity, as we
in preparation, for the game, Life,
but not the Milton- Bradley version, this
2020 Life on Earth.
The game. Made plain, a board game.
The self, aware of teachers standing silent, but prepared.
Ask, and, truly, as if true, answers appear.

Choose. Do. {winning loss of confusion points, line by line}
Rules and Regulations,
Scepter and Orb,
Rod and Staff,
Crook and Flail, same-same seen signs of higher power…

long ago, far away, prior to these tools we use, you read
I wrote,
we imagined, in our minds visual mode, we see as if true,
a we we may be if we agree,
follow the hold of the symbols of power,
respect the symbols, look once more re-see the revealed,
veiled since God knows when, but {yes, yes}
more knowable now than ever,
that which fell to the earth,
sowed light. That's right… here come d' judge.

If I find a little light, and in my mind, I let - let it go - let,
until the letters be taken out of the way
and meaning forms from informative
matters of fact, impossible.

Ah, Jah, ya *** old and feeble, after a while.
So it seems, says the weigher of any word's worth,

accounted for idolized words, holy, sacred, secret troothz…

abound, Bounce bounce tic
to Rube Goldberg goes the metaphoric prize, proof.

Plan the action, pre-form the plan, practical failure, of course,
is unthinkable after careful thought,
critical thinking and un-come-on skepticism of sophist teknhe.

****, up in smoke.
All the attention ever paid to any single thought,
shhhh shushing in the cold, absence of heat,

too cool to live, longer.

Turn the page, scroll the screen, ignore the parts of reality
behind your focus forward receptor circuitry
winding round and round,
past at most fears sold at half the attention cost.

Pay hell for your wish, or accept the fuel to fire up one
thought candle in the flicking arena,
I think I am visible,
I feel lucified.

I can kick the ball, I know, this time…

Ah, Charlie Brown, your social significance is history.
Echos, formed from yes-t'day, blended with an OKGO binge followed by boyos dis--cursing Zatrathustra.
Don’t you get it?
I can’t stop
I can’t stop running it through my mind
Replaying moments every time
I’ve tried once, I’ve tried a thousand times
I can’t just stop

Don’t you think I’ve tried?
Every piece of advice is just adding salt to my wound
Cheer up, snap out of it, relax
Like I’ve never tried giving myself the chance

So understand,
My mind isn’t like yours
No matter how hard I try
The thoughts just seem to multiply

I can’t stop
I can’t snap out of it
All I ask is for you to understand it
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