Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Ken Pepiton Jan 24
They sought to invoke the midas Chassidus
(striving for the most pious behavior possible)
-------------
So, beyond the beanie,
we put loyalty to those who wear it,
holding rude pen from local feathers
or reedy grass,
feel the reason
writing
calls readers, you
can do this, causally becoming aitia,
the blamed doer,
amen,
I said that, so… I suffer… what, waiting
is, suffering only means, wait, or

put up with it. Art intuits recollection
of functional whole systems, means
for prying flat stone, sand stone,
ready to be made ready for use,

usual duty, any
given day, wake up, measure up,
make day mean all of it, as it occurs

around,
bubblewise,
along, riverwise path, ruts
made from graves, with their ends
kicked out.

Ghosts of all we ever wished we knew,
we all, stretch, and taste our teeth,
sniff and scratch,
listen for wind, look for shadows dancing,
seeing the moss gone dark again,
after these past few rainy days
----------------

From inside, within-
without walls, bubblewise,
imperfectly spherical,
no sharp edges,

-in being, not out, not ex-cluded
in-cluded, clouds or clues, referentially?
You know what I mean? Clusion closure.

Boxed-in, floor and roof and walled, inclosed.

Flaw, there
in the gem, a bubble, yes, in the lens.
A blind spot…
minor blemish, or, reaching back to magic,
allowing magical thinking, distant causal agencies,
words intuned to old rythms,

the ump ump song, or the umph umph song,
pigeon strut, or the ****'s walk,

old hawk, old crow, eeee-haw! We saw
we saw, we knew,
we saw clear through, to another side of everything.

Measures demanding means of making them,
seeing things in perspective…
from any perch.

Land and look around, listen to the locals singing.
I could live here,
if I found water and recognized food, waiting,
watching other things eat,

thinking, tongue-wise former of signals, seeing
through my eyes, feels no flow, signaling
that looks good,

witness the little skink nibbling, fugaciously,

THAT is a word, as sudden as she knew, she saw,
that looks good
to eat, for food.

As suddenly as ever, ever dawned on her, of course,
root, branch, seed, harvest, birds, bees, boy oh boy,

what you never learned, all that time,
you and the
{Idea of all we see, and may call, as I call this,
this it is. My highest intuition, top of the reactionary
stack,
vertical order in a linear mind set with neuron-axon,
tactile response teams, responsible for being good,
doing some life-support-level good.

Not to steal and **** and destroy the functionally good
enough, but to steal back stolen idols used to divine.
Put some ****** good ideas to work again.
The ladder has not been needed.
Need being, nothing where some defined thing,
definitely could be put to good use,

we could do with a Babble-undoer. A clear-ifying agent.

If I do not this thing, this thing is never done, aborted
at first kiss, no taste, nothing sweeter than wine,
wine, I spat, at first taste, too,
nasty, not sweet, unless,
due to time and chance,
your first taste of wine comes right from the vine,
where the little foxes play at being little foxes,
as seen from a happy father/mother pair,

there in the vineyard, since sunrise, in the valley.


----------------

From the valley floor, we contain ourselves,
we content ourselves with shorter days
than flatlanders use, our shorter days,
come on slow, so slow, old men,
like me, we can walk to the top,
of this next little trough, and
see, out across the flat bottom,
where the ocean was in mastodon days.

--------------
If you will, some days this trail calls
for more stops to think, than when I ran
with my dogs,
I can not do that now, partly due to
too many people,
and no eating of dogs.

I, yes, if I try, I laugh now, with a fiftyish
riverside family man, laughing as he skinned
some shorthaired pointy muzzle kinda dog,
coulda been a rabbit,
or a pet chicken, or duck. Hand raised for 4-H.
I ran out of breath, and imagined you in particular, who I have
no name to call, yet seem to think I know what you mean, usual.
Lalaouna Amina Jan 2022
Trivia Snippets?
Garlic, Onion, and Potatoes
  (Small List in The Kitchen)
Thyme or Mint
  (Every Night Drink)
Full Names of Poets
  (Long list on The Desk)
at midnight
Zywa Sep 2021
My things keep quiet,

they are absent in my home --


till I pick them up.
Collection "WoofWoof"
Amanda Kay Burke Mar 2021
Roses red
Night sky black
Love the feeling of fingernails
Etching lines up and down my back
Outside air is vicious and cold
It's warm beneath my bedsheets
Come defrost against my skin
As senses eagerly meet
Time not exists in this place
Surroundings slowly fade out
The stress weighing down my body
A burden I don't think about
Inhaling electricity
Exhaling loneliness
Grateful for present moment
Escape from daily mess
Relief may be temporary
I will appreciate it just the same
Honestly any emotion
Better than the usual pain
Pain without love is much worse than pain with love
Veritia Venandi Nov 2020
White transparent tiled floor
Arranged in a lively mosaic
Speaks tales of a spooky world alongside me!

The windows and the curtains hugging the plastered walls
With views of flower trees and mountains near and far...
Gets reflected upon the tiled floor
Upside down, shadowy and unreal!

Maybe it is reminder for my heart
That the world I see is only an illusion my mind frames to colour a blank canvas
Maybe the world is true only upside down
The scenaries and sights distorted and fake the usual way...
Maybe it's important to bend your mind all the way
And try to see what can't easily catch the eye...

A sinister universe breaths about me
And only once in a while tugs at me to have a glimpse...
And whenever that happens, it's a moment of all eternity that seems to go worthwhile!
This is a real experience that happened to me when I was kind of doing nothing... My eyes suddenly caught this reflection of the window and trees outside on the tiled floor in the room and I like sort of felt it as a metaphor with the help of which the world was trying to teach me something... That the real world is not what is in front of us. It is usually kinda different, in a way, 'upside down'.
Thank you so much for reading and being a part of my reflections. ❤
Giovanna Aug 2020
I am stuck in the black void of space.
Can't tell if things are falling into place.
It's so dark in here.
Light nowhere near.
No purpose to fulfill.
No suffering to ****.
I live a life so usual.
That my existence feels illusional
I don't know what I am writing but it feels me.
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
In this Ordinary Swoon
by Michael R. Burch

In this ordinary swoon
as I pass from life to death,
I feel no heat from the cold, pale moon;
I feel no sympathy for breath.

Who I am and why I came,
I do not know; nor does it matter.
The end of every man’s the same
and every god’s as mad as a hatter.

I do not fear the letting go;
I only fear the clinging on
to hope when there’s no hope, although
I lift my face to the blazing sun

and feel the greater intensity
of the wilder inferno within me.

Keywords/Tags: swoon, life, death, ordinary, commonplace, usual, average, mediocre, inferno, intensity, passion, cool, cold, pale, moon, blazing, sun
maria Feb 2020
We're in a cafe
drinking coffee.
I'm loving your voice
listening to your lies

what a routine our lives
tied to what's not right
as usual
we forget to love ourselves
by being with people who really don't define us


written on Febuary 07, 2020
© ,Maria
Ed C May 2019
we start the day again
as though sleep is just a memory,
the wheel keeps spinning
ka? ha
Next page