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Ken Pepiton Jul 23
Had you known, who knows,
according to current time manipulation dramas,
how to make
a device used for aiming a public,
any size…
propagating the faith in-- that character,
drama shapes our social beings, you know,
you know all you know, and the
who are you, to all of you, the devil is real,
Lucifer proves it,
{Ai aight check it} Yah,
gotta match
on YouTube, and who are you reading? random
acts of kindness
conflicting kinds of cultural informic acid…
ants in the family tree?
how old are your mitochondria?

How would an egg tell a tale of parasitic invasion,
that resulted in reality,
as we seem to think this is, reading contrasting
edges of bits enstatiated, dark and light,
- Louise had a piebald poodle named Bit. -btw
Black and white, toy model, noisy
but comforting after the shock therapy in '63
Singer Sewing Stories
from the TVA dam-good reasons.
- leaked into Oakridge,
- you'v been listening,
- to the father of lies…

If you listen too long, eventually you die.
Right. Safe bet.
Where did the you become, this
result of all you knew?
As we see you be,
Informed you, h-ex-ept-t'be-yewas
-cept that, snotspelt gnostic, digitized
info such as this
disinforms that,
we all lie, some times, in error of who
sees what when and in what order
fortuitous use of anointed words,
we talk that here,
we know all the gnostic snot, muse-like, we
'hold the world on the back of that top turtle.
spelled wrong or right, or improper in text,
of this crystal interconnectifing  iferywas
effectual effing fluid lattice windowed
digertai illuminahtai wit,
pitching infinity beyond
ort clouds of human intentions
to smithereens, those we
as the hammer whams the blade, pulled from
the forge, whamms
sizzle set the temper
in this clay, stick the hot blade init,
set - a frame for clay, such as Romans wrote on,
set a base, see, the clay frame,
fits the blade, hilt to tip, but the hiltman
has yet to form the hilt and handle,
and the turban knot
that ties it all, last piece,
the pommel, perhaps this one is
a pomegranate shape, for the legend sake,
let's say…
-- once you have a handle on the knack,
you pull this blade from the stone, the clay, unbaked
becomes, in time, any way, stone;
some day, it shines!
the legend of these blades,
the never edged blades,
set in fine shining clay, true jewler rouge,

one day the hammer that made the blade,
strikes the clay, no
not that way,

some day, a knight called a saint,
shall come in humble submission to the mission in
heirical position, authorized with gold,
to swing a blade, anointed,
called of Peter's Holy See,
don't look
let him try to pull it from the stone,
--------- and the whole crumbled in mythery
No, it was art at work intuiting hear ears
in silence, nada humm
- you sneezed, bless you
and this is the dust

-we were doing inner being never been a hero
not all kids have the disney channel, thus
this is not etched in the very characters
you imitate as easily as I
do Simon,
the pi monadic,
scatterbrained whimsy seamer,
seaming in steam,
one thing
to another,
here a stitch, there another, fifty years, and more
we won every war,
we won every war,

we won every war,
that got within a hundred thousand English words of
this action actively involved, literally, actually,
in defining the terms of weaponry allowed,
when war was called to reason… ready
to give an answer for the faith in it,

in the everlasting experiment
us, then us becoming
something else, too quick to tell,
like something fallen
from the Higgs field, pfft.

So... of course, there must be more, for yet, there is war..
My Dear Poet Apr 2
A silver spoon
still never feeds the soul

A silver lining
still cannot hold back the rain

A silver moon
still brings on the howling

A silver chain
still holds the weakest link
Is it ever ok to come second best?
Laila Ezzelarab Dec 2020
We listen to birds but don't care what they sing,
so let people sing the thing but never let it ring.
Our lungs breathe whether you like it or not,
So let people breathe your name like a shot.
They will do it either way,
So keep being you everyday.
Let their oxygen leave their lungs with your name,
When that happens, u already won the game.
kiran goswami Dec 2020
We are not feminists because we want to win,
We are feminists because we have been losing.
Sarah Flynn Dec 2020
I wrote a poem
about eating disorders.

I wrote a poem
about the pain in my heart.

I said that weight is not
equivalent to health

because weight is not
equivalent to health.

I stand by that statement.
I stand by the truth.

in response, a woman
who I have never met
decided to ask me

how much cake
I ate that night.

to that woman,
and to anyone with
the same judgement
in their tiny hearts,

I would like to
give you an answer.

I do not have
an eating disorder.

I lost a large amount
of weight over a
short period of time.

because of that,
I was complimented.

but the truth is that
when I was that skinny,
I was the unhealthiest
I have ever been.

I had stopped eating.
I was sick. something was
physically wrong with me,
going undetected because

no one thought to ask me
how I was feeling.

they praised me for
my sudden weight loss,
not realizing that

I wasn’t dieting.
I was dying.

I have since recovered.
I have gained back all
of the weight that I lost.

I have not gained back
any of this weight in fat;
I gained all of my weight
back in muscle.

to the stranger
who tried to shame me
because she assumed
that I must be fat,

I run four miles
every morning.

before this pandemic,
I went to the gym
at least five out of seven
nights a week.

I had a promising career
in competitive skateboarding,
which was lost only because
of an injury in which
teenage me broke her legs.

I ran cross-country back
in high school and

only a year ago,
I ran an ultramarathon:
100 miles of terrain
and 24 hours to run.

I am physically fit
and most likely stronger
than you have ever been.

I laughed to myself
when I saw your comment

because you just proved that
everything I said was true.

you provided the perfect
example of society’s twisted
views on weight loss, so
I guess I should thank you.

you immediately jumped
to the conclusion that
I must be fat, and therefore
I must be unhealthy.

your ignorance is sad.
it will get you nowhere.

I can almost guarantee that
your anger and hatred
has not helped you.

your rudeness has
made you the topic of this
poem about judgement.

and unless you are able
to learn empathy,
this might be your life’s
biggest achievement.

to the woman who thought
that her words would
somehow hurt me,

I would like you to know
that you were wrong.

you have made me laugh
at the irony of your ignorance,

and you have made me sad
for you and the awful life that
you must live to have felt a
need to make that comment.

but you have not hurt me.

to that woman,
if one day we ever meet,

or if one day
I meet someone with
the same attitude as you,

let’s compete in an
ultramarathon together.

let’s cover those 100
miles of terrain and
finish that 24 hours of
almost nonstop running.

I hope you realize that
I could beat you.
I could easily win with
you as my competitor.

and finally, to answer
the original question
that for some reason you
felt so compelled to ask:

no, I did not have
any cake that night.

but I hope you know
that if we were to race,

I am confident that
I could still crush you
with three slices of cake
in my stomach.
xXwallflower53Xx Nov 2020
The scars on my skin show the battles I have lost,
but the air in my lungs prove I am winning the war.
A quote I read a lifetime ago that had no name attached. It is my motto.
Robert Ippaso Nov 2020
In with a bang out with a whimper
Gone is the bombast, the fist pumping high,
The people have voted for a country that's simpler
Fairness and decency their blaring war cry.

Obstinate tweets well may he air
While brooding and scheming for legal dog-fights,
That darkness and gloom he'll pervasively share
Will always be ******* by hope's purest lights.

We as a people believe above all
That the footsteps we walk are of giants untold,
Where no single man with bluster and gall
Will trample the feats of our heroes of old.

This not to say a man with great charge
Cannot some good things bring into our lives,
But where we do not want such man to just barge
Lies within that true heart our Nation so drives.

So as with winter where leaves fall and die
While circling clouds block the sun's warming rays,
Spring's blossoms first peek initially shy
Exploding as one to a flowering blaze.
izzn Oct 2020
I may have faltered a zillionth times
my hurting and your peals of laughter,
weirdly they rhyme
but I will never admit defeat,
not to your depravity
and you call yourself
the king of undefeated rounds,
but honey, you're crowned with that title
but you're not as good as it sounds
remember when all my ounce of courage
finally coalesces?
knock out, worn out, hit you with a pound
guess what?
I finally won, let the world know,
there was an attempt :)

dedicated to Bon :D OH WAIT I FINALLY WON

disclaimer: everything is exaggerated here. given the context, it's REALLY hilarious
Kenneth Gray Oct 2020
I sure would love to write. But long behold I have my consciousness to fight. Get out of my way you *******! Get out of my sight! What you're doing to me is vile, it just isn't right!

Ha! You're terrible I tell you! Your work is destined to fail! A pathway of let downs. A pathetic paper trail. You're just writing for dumpsters like its discarded mail.

Silence you demon! I will discover my strengths and discover my style. Bet your *** on that you *****. Or my name isn't Kyle! I'm not destined for failure. Youre making me tick. I'm fed up with your ******* and you're making me sick.

Hahaha I see what's happening here! Im winning you over because you're beginning to fear. You will never silence me because I am all that you hear. Throw away this writing because your ending is near. Boo hoo you baby! Are you shedding a tear?

Fall back because I'm conquering you! My determination is gritty and my motives are true. In loo of my weaknesses and in loo of my doubt. Ill never give in and cry, nor will I give in and pout. My armor is powerful and my posture is stout.

Ah, I see. Are you now breaking free? Are you standing your ground and silencing me? But what of your writings? What will they be? A dumpster fire! I bet your *** we will see! And when that happens Ill be filled with glee.

Its over Debby downer because I'll learn new techniques. I'll lay down my heart and all that it speaks. Ill write highs and lows, Ill write valleys and peaks. Ill write with the blood that my bleeding heart leaks. Now change your attitude because your attitude reaks!

I understand and submit. I lay out the red carpet for you. I see you speak from the heart and your heart does speak true. But nevertheless, I'll stick just like glue. When you worry and doubt I'll be pouncing on you. When you're pondering ideas and out for something that's new. The writings you write without me will be few.

Tousche, that's fine, but you've run out of time. Now let go of the pen because the pen is mine. I'm free to write my writings and the feelings sublime. When I master my craft my writings will be so divine. You're despicable, a decrepit rat! Ill be successful.
You can bet your *** on that!
Btw - my middle name is Kyle lol. There's a story to this one. I was at a point where I felt like giving up writing. I felt like I had nothing special or unique to bring to the table. Almost like a writers block in a sense. I didn't know what style I was after and didn't know if I was ever going to come up with something unique and special. Something just from me and only from me. Because the poems I've been reading havr all been the same. The same poem but with different words. I wanted to get out of that box. Well in my blocked mind I came up with an idea within my doubts and lack of content. To write about not being able to write. To write out my issue of being blocked. To write out the battle amd conversation I was having within my inner dialogue. This is The result of it. Ps. Thanks to my sister, Christina Daggett, because the conversations I had with her kind of helped me work this idea out. She deserves a shout on this one. Thanks sis! Hope you all enjoy it!
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