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Ken Pepiton Mar 2020
Truth or dare, dare, always dare, truth be known

you know, be free makin', the
ingredient of ever

we all share. So dare, the truth can never lie,

and you know good from evil,

right, y' good t' go.

Leap into ever after now as if this has value,

ab
out- about time, we nail about right on, about

as a pre-position for trans any thing, mogrification, f'sure,

about is impossible to point at without

observational bias confirmation and cognotible gnosis snot

dripping into a realm after logos, it's

complicated con carne and

more layers of logical

thought, all sifted and sorted, so here

we find no reason for war... and no fear of dying.

How freeing...

Just
about (adv., prep.)
Middle English aboute, from Old English abutan (adv., prep.),
earlier onbutan 
"on the outside of; around the circumference of, enveloping;
in the vicinity of, near;
hither and thither, from place to place,"
also
"with a rotating or spinning motion,"
in late Old English
"near in time, number, degree, etc., approximately;"
a compound or contraction of 
on (see on; also see a- (1))
+ be "by" (see by)
+ utan "outside," from ut (see out (adv.)). right... you knew it, not me.

About time means many things you may imagine,

all save the absense of good, actual tasted, tested, verified good,

all are possible - even probable - at a given point

about, is a miss, almost all the time.

who jah gonna call h'laf weardan? Hey, Sue, boy, Sioux, we concile

we are near in aptitude to our fathers who were wage slaves
in one nation,
under God's flag with all the battle ribbons, all the ribbons furl

url rhymes bettern world, furl a flutter fly, swear alliegaince to this sky

we got by, hell t' pay, hell we paid, we got by

the rest remaining is ours and mr. hicks's peace on earth.
this is that bubble of being.
As it evolved from the peaceful kingdom over and over,
infolding the american dream to this
on a more galactic scale.

Out there,
liars prosperity
don't disturb the true
heirs of the wind, in the end.
Is free will determined to make a fool of me?
AMISHA Mar 2020
I was waiting for my heart to ache again
So I could put it into words
So I simply recalled you face again
And needed no further efforts.

I was waiting for my heart to ache again
So I could bleed out on the paper
Some things I know I'll never say out loud
In these yellow pages, they will sleep safer.
A.S.
Redaviel Mar 2020
How can you feel again in this place?
The heater's working, but we lost the warmth
The living room has a visitor, but he's dead inside
Door's unlocked, waiting for someone to come back
Bedroom is a graveyard for a broken heart at night
Television shows past memories and static
The floor's slippery, and love slipped away just now
But mom and dad told me to try being happy because
I can still take a bath in my regrets in the bathroom and
There's still a roof on a lonely and sad man like me
Also, I can still afford to eat and cry and try to live by
But I lost what is important, what makes concrete worth it
I lost you, I lost her, I lost the sweet embrace of my home
R Mar 2020
If I let you roam to your heart’s content,
Do you promise to come back
When you need to rest your weary head?
Still pining for someone I can never have. Ever.
Juno Mar 2020
Dedication doesn’t necessarily mean
Constantly working
And working hard.

Dedication is not giving up
If it takes ten years
If you work in parts.

Dedication is when it’s hard
You want to give up
It’s taking so long

Please hurry up.

But dedication is continuing.
Bhill Mar 2020
because I'm in waiting
waiting for dinner
waiting for the movie
waiting for the flu to go away
waiting for that parking space
waiting for the rain to stop
waiting for sunrise
waiting for sunset
I'm still waiting
waiting for the checkout cashier
waiting for the, the, the ,the
I'm not waiting for you
the you that represents the end
the end that is permanently in my mind

Brian Hill - 2020 # 61
What are you waiting for?
Ken Pepiton Feb 2020
here is no wrong way to do the right thing.
old men teach young men,

say it ain't so, joe, can casey take another swing

four strikes, ah
the trick of blowing bubbles in chocolate milk

learned wordlessly,
many worlds
bubble
by us
if
we keep our heads while all about us
implode
explode
implode
oh

this mountain is circumventing me,
no danger
no effort asked for, life is the river I am in and

if I think a bit
different, as if I may chose i mean a thing, as a pro
verbial thing.
In a word.

Abrupt an enter merging zenoic instant hits the wall

and next is waiting,
ever waiting, suffer it to be so, now.
Did you notice the crecent moon  and venus on the ecliptic as seen from spaceship earth? Awesome, as they say.
Steve Page Feb 2020
Each day I pray for an ear that will hear
above all the noise clearly His voice.
For while sometimes it's best to be serving with zest,
sometimes it's better to sit for a breather
and wait in his presence and enjoy this true essence
of sitting and being before going and doing.
So while sometimes I'll Martha I know that I'd rather
spend time being Mary, in less of a hurry,
for there at his feet I'll be that more complete
and hear his clear voice above all the noise.

Today - where can I mary and where can I martha?
There is time for both,
but I know which is better.
Luke 10 for the original
Mansi Feb 2020
I will take it
one
step
at
a time
If I have to wait,
Wait I will
monique ezeh Feb 2020
I was always so afraid that the monster would get me.

I’d hide under the bed, breath held silent while my heart thumped in my throat, and

Wait. And

Wait. And

Wait.

Then I’d hear it: the soft
pat pat pat
Of feet nearing me.
Tears blurring my eyes, fighting to keep the whimpers down, I’d

Wait.

Then he’d arrive, bearing sharp teeth and pale skin and eyes full of malice.
He never hurt me the way I expected (teeth, blood, the works).
It was always hands on my throat; the air would leave my lungs and I’d feel my trachea collapsing, plum-colored bruises taking shape on my neck as I felt the life leaving my body.
At the last second, I’d feel the air rush back in.
Sit up straight in bed.
Wipe the tears I didn’t feel myself cry.
Stare at the wall. And

Wait.

I could never escape it, not in any real way.
I tried hiding in the bathroom. The closet. Under the covers. Sometimes I’d even try to run—
It always ended the same way.
Until he stopped coming.
(I wonder if he ever really did stop, though.)
Sometimes, I find myself sitting up straight in bed, wiping tear-stained cheeks, gaze locked in The Great Stare. And I

Wait.

In the dreamland between conscious and un-, I wonder what caused me to wake. But then I hear it:

pat pat pat

I used to have a recurring nightmare that a vampire-esque monster would get me. I had the nightmare several times a week for many years (which one can imagine being very troubling for a second-grader). More than the monster itself, the fear was in the waiting and the inevitability of its return. I always wonder how the monster manifests in my life now; I almost miss the comfort of being able to put a face to the danger.
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