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Ken Pepiton Apr 20
Let me try to make sense of the effectual fervency requirement.

Availing much, eh, what is avail, to me, valient effort expense, perhaps.
Available. Too much, eh.
A valorous effort, charging a kind of
weform mindform spirit shape we
attending with half a brain, to A.
Huxley, speaking from 1960 or so,
What a piece of work man is.

Very large numbers is subject
to average approximation
means, all means
in rational balance and spinning energy
allocations, as means
to attract idle words, non compete,

old karma dharma levels too deep
to imagine twice the same.

Fortune tellers or insurance companies,
confidence business
Framing referents,
insuring we get the point, as readers
Force fed referential self evidence
from a printed grapho
hos grapho grapho grafitti, evidence
from Kilroy, the idea/

EASTER. {Passover} Prelude
to Maydays, Kings are dead, long
live the king, the thing, the idea, eh, boss
of me,
in me, he, is risen.

He is risen, indeed, the enchantment,
seen as we assume a shape,
some spider's abandoned kite,
we ride as a lash mite may, animated,

we, as not me, nor thee, but we,
working wonder
for a living, offering confident upright reasons,
for the prelogos nous level conscience, knowns
at the liver level,
knowns
at rhenaladrenal level, gut conscience, upright, I, inside,
rationally balanced dancing levels,
we, as not us, but what we form,
whenever, we become a mind
of our own, a mobmind, Zeitgeist, any two or more,
wonders what ifed into 2025 access to information interesting

enough,
to leave room
for rest,
in proof, pure
peace, enough,
to ponder liquid metaphoric
reflective contemplative gearing is called for, mechanically,
-moments ABSing preventative slow
to bring seconds worth of concentration,
to the scale, fluxuation vibratory humming,
in balance, my rationed willpower used to make believe,
I am chosing words at random, in a familiar way, being

as one may literally be, in a book like environment, seeing
as one can imagine, being a grapho, a decree, be me, see

what a creature
on the order
of a reader familiar
with Huxley,
at Ape and Essence, experience a reader ties
to carp… old fish,

wisht once toomany times, solo hook, life sunk,
back
to the shack
by the see full
of good things
to eat,
beside a trickling stream seeping
from high
on the granite wall,    

Remember, hours
of silence,
with these inner humms, Acutron
steady, even when the big guns go….
how biguns do, Acutron
steady hummin', human interest, …
how I hapt'gno, Acutron

hmmm, steady, effectual fervent waiting
to know, you know
what time it was,
in big picture 20th century mindhats known
worn, bhering evidence
to the wearer's status and caste known,
witness the projected value associated, eh, what I say

as sociated we think, ah
as such, breathe, we think, while others read, ambiguous tense,
as so situated, we think, we have being as readers ready logically,

for whatever we find fits our plainest version of our version
of the overall results of Easter, or, more importantly, today,

Christmas, the message, McLuhan, most know something
of his presentation
of his perceptions from Canadian Academian POV verily,
verily postpone --- time hold, a thought,

thinking, first time, breathe, and think what thought feels like.

Let this mind be in you, listen to yourself retell the reason, the use for,
the faith ration each ready reader has availed one's own self's access to,

letters, pen slow, brush slow, rude reed grapho in the beach, washt away,

though your sins, as you define what has beguilted thee and thine idea, I am
and curcumin -pops in- an adlib AI word, beguilingly the one this idea is, I am.

At that point, in a real weform, we sigh, as is, we all sigh, but some think sigh.
Exhale, I think, that was kinda fun.
rick Mar 27
the girls I danced with
I never wrote songs about

the girls I kissed under bursts of fireworks
I never won carnival prizes for

the girls I entered the sheets with
I never made a deeper connection

the girls who gave me their best
I never understood their motives

and I wondered where they all went and
why we parted ways like cathedral doors
and why they took the hand of other monsters and vanished into the night.

I was too naive to notice
all the red flags waving behind me
and too dense to turn around
and open my eyes.

but now I face this dry vacancy
and I see they’re
intertwined with their domestics
constricted with their marriages
taunting their husbands
commanding their boyfriends
obsessed with their photo albums
cramming belief and guidance into their children

its the same unabridged story
told over and over
and over and over
again.

I too, sit with this adverse outcome:
this one wants me to quit drinking
and that one wants me on a diet
and this one wants me to get a better job
and that one wants me to exercise more.

I’ve never been one to rest on my laurels,
but as I lay down in this bed with this one
like so many buried cold beneath the Earth,
I can’t stop thinking of those angels from my past that have flown off into other heavens.

I was never deserving
of their time nor
their presence

and I am neither
here nor
there.
Jeremy Betts Aug 2024
What's gotten into me?
Well, it's spite silly
Despite a lack of a vacancy
Much needed for what's actually important to me

©2024
Jeremy Betts Apr 2024
I feel something missing from me
I have this empty, icy chest cavity
Where a something should absolutely be
But for the life of me
I can't think of what the contents use to be
I can't recall what I used to see
Back in the day when I looked in the mirror,
And the mirror looked back at me
I think it was something important ultimately
But there's definitely nothing there now so how important could what was there be,
I mean really
It doesn't appear to be a necessity
Maybe it was just an option in the creation recipe
Just figured since I'm working to put myself back together,
This time completely
I'd focus on the biggest vacancy
But I guess I'll just leave it be,
At least until it starts affecting me
We'll just have to wait and see

©2024
Jeremy Betts Feb 2024
I don't have enough room up there for it to be all in my head
From the heaping piles of motionless dreams strewn across the floor, looking pretty dead
To the racks on racks on racks in multiple mile high stacks of things I wish I'd not said
Can't put the issues to rest if I myself can't drum up the will to get out of bed
It's not strictly fear I feel whilst preparing for checkout, it's the overbearing weight of dread

©2024
Ayesha Apr 2021
Do you remember the sky sinking?
That fall, when we climbed up our vague tree
and watched the nights burn
     softly on
Those naked arms,
                 and our pricking skins
You told me that
the dark seemed quite obese
I wondered how it could be

remember the dawns
  that lingered before us
and birds with jewels between their beaks
    Sun like a bruise clawed its way out
We never did see— never unseeing
ever on watch, yet the clouds
    grew above
and we only drew forests with our hands

yours upon mine upon
  yours upon—
and down, down plunged it all
First, gold
          then the glass
We jumped in weeping puddles
and forced the mud into birthing birds
Then came
     the silvers
and with them, those malnourished winds
Do you remember

the smoke that descended down the cliffs?
That winter, we melted
            with our pink flames
and slept away those snarling wolves
Beneath forts built of woollen quilts
        our limbs tangled, tangled
     with our tales
You told me the dark
     seemed quite obese
I nodded like
  a broken, puppet horse

then—
Dust gushed out the vessels of air
   and cars coughed
And down, down
                came it all
Dawns befriended our solitary dusks
and moons sped up their dance
I ran my fingers down
     the green of your strands
You introduced a ladybug to my skin

down, down tumbled nothing
       First the browns
then the blues
We buried our barren feet in sticky sands
and you told me
It hurt
where, I asked
here.
and there were you kissed

And blues fell upon blues
’til cold, shivering, stumbled away
And our tree was a painting
    on the lips of a stream
Restless, it lurked out our reach
and the sky
swelled and swelled
till a heavy haze came plummeting hither
And above us was left nothing but—

It hurts, you said
I asked you where
here
     here
  here—
the blues embraced the lonely of our land
and kissed it all over
  all over
Huts, playgrounds, markets—
Wells, trenches, hills and hills
children, the rest
     and voiceless shrubs
All devoured.

Do you remember the bleak stars
as they struggled to flutter
    in the smothering vacancy
Then the summer smiled
and stole our dying skies, and
  all the quiet broke loose
        in our bleached towns
We in a moor sprayed with stillness
    treaded through
the misty of our eyes
        feet upon cinders jagged
where does it hurt, I asked
  nowhere
nowhere, nowhere—
and cities were raided with placid clouds
Ayesha Feb 2021
Could I have seen them,
I’d tell you
in words—tunes—or hues.
but there’s more an eye can do

an eye can want.

cobblestones—
wooden benches
Skeleton trees, and pretty profiles
Sometimes, crimson skies
or crimson dirts— liquids even.
—she touches all she wants

          she wants all—
glimmering,
       teasing, deceiving—
Black boots on cement old
—yellowed pages sewed together.
  she wants all.

an eye can breathe.
And that was where they came
in caravans.
—inhale

perhaps snow-covered grass
   Or cracked desks
Perhaps trees laden with beings or
just—nothing.

Could I have heard them,
I’d tell you
in clinking bangles— carved ice— or weeping flutes
Could I have—
—could I.

they walked in— nay
flew. Nay, swam.
nay—
Could I have fathomed—

Carried torches, I think.
they marched deep into my caverns
—carried mirrors they.

what of the paw-prints engraved in mud
Crumpled letters
    lying naked in puddles— nay.
my caverns bore silk smoke over velvet nights.
dark—
and dreary and dying
and dead—

but they marched still
And their torches hissed.
Sapphire boots on sooty rugs—
     They marched.
They sang—nay.
painted— nay, moulded a
world out of cinders—
Nay.
Could I have touched, I'd know—

on every turn and every crease
They placed a mirror pure  
    as an infant’s tear
—or maybe a sharpened gem
who would dare to know—

In every dungeon and every hall
Their stares flickered like neon serpents
—nay.
Sun-licked butterflies, nay.
halos above mountains chaste—nay—
Could I have felt—

But one
—exhale
and they were no more.
Went into the rain perhaps,
or past moonlight
    maybe in pine trees under the sea
Could I have tracked them down—

but there’s more an eye can do
An eye can want.
light—
Between the dawn,
    between the darts
Children in smiling yards
light—
   inside coal,
Inside a broken sword—

She touches all she wants
   —she wants all.
and a ray falls on the mirror
and the mirror tosses it to the next
  and next, to the next—
Sun knits a web inside me.
beams and glitter—

Like a child’s song
or a kitten’s roar
—a war cry
Could I laugh like a spear
or mould the starlight into words
I’d tell you—

but the rays marched on
into me
   swift like kites
warm like— like iron.
nay—a mother’s hug
Nay,
beating drums
—or an armour’s clatter, nay.
Could I have known—

But there’s life in piercing screams
—And I was burning
But is it not a privilege
to watch the world wither
from the very roots of the flames?
to be their very mother—

when your wings melt
and towards the ground you
wilt
but you’re flying still—
Is it not pretty, then, the fall?
Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2020
This is not just
A career opportunity
It's an eternal call for
The background visual poetry
Model (Spirit)
Who will stay eternal
No less than the oldest star
No less than the solo sun

It's not about the pretty face
Or the latitude
And longitude of the body
We're concerned about
It's not about the education height
We have nothing to do with
It's not about your background
Where you are from

It's about the vibration
Grace and inspiration
It's about the energy
And the balance
It's more about
Your inner self
Everything who is you

All it takes is to sense the air
Go with the flow
Keep the mind at rest
Lost in time
Don't ever stop
Be inevitable
Wherever
Whenever
With each passing day

The rightful spirit
Drop your CV
Vibe with us
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Vacancy Announcement
sundial iris Jun 2020
Love: “and I know not if I sink or swim”

Love:

here’s how I see it;
everybody should have the
ability to walk around with
two sign optionality:

1. No vacancy
2. Open: (all rooms have A/C & cable)

never be disappointed; you know what you’re getting up front

and for an extra fee

3. credit cards Not Accepted
<>

“A ship there is and she sails the seas,
she's laden deep, as deep can be
but not so deep, as the love I'm in
**and I know not if I sink or swim”**

“The Water is Wide” traditional folk song
lovelywildflower Jun 2020
there’s
something
comforting
about
the
vacancy
in
­my
heart
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