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Sara Kellie Nov 5
Nothing lost is something won
in that awkward moment
between birth and death.

Kaydee
It wasn't meant to be a micro
poem but it just . . .
Dreamer May 24
Won
They still think they won on own
Not knowing I lost on purpose
Ken Pepiton Apr 17
Two old men in my magi class, were

walking in a public garden, during the scare in the air,

they touch at few common points, five years experience

more or less, in any given field of function,

they share in broad bubbles of common comps, experience wise.

One marriage... both have had one, not the same one

Exposure to radio music and commentary from birth... not the same music,
not the same commentary

Aware of war roles and support roles, from first words onward, aware of being
one of a we, who are the children of the winners,

except, the enemy remains, they shoulda stomped Stailin into Hell,
ever'body knew, we did, too... though

my 1948 vintage, was leavened with Hiroshima, in vitro, and

in seed, touched a bit by events near Alamogordo, where my daddy

participated in war ending events, this other old dude, he never saw that way,
what I mention seeing, today.

Hell is for heros. I think aloud.

My dad was an accountant, with a night school degree, four kids,
woulda been five, but Peggy died,
infant cancer,
some anomoly in the wind, was the rumor, where we lived,
south of the Nevada desert through which our
northern breezes list, licking up dust devils to twist novel

substance into threads of thought to think in time,

as the virus spreads, peace takes its chance, right on or

dead on, dead center, spot on, too right, smack
dab

hit it, and the skier rises from the vortex, towed by that line

linking me to the countenance, encountered, mirror neuron

tronic magi-missed spells, dangling

mod
if I were yous used as iusta use pennies behind fuses,

I owe you, nothing, but to define my terms, ere I dare con
verse
with you. Okeh?

Same page, two old men walking along, talking often,

one to the other, one to himself, each knowing himself,

each wondering the other saw what each noticed,

with a nod, saying, yeah, I was thinking you mighta noticed that.

Life's fun. But near the end, it becomes so believable, that it works,

despite our own seeming disfunction.
Nothing that crumbles can with stand, in a proper dust devil, in my mind
Ken Pepiton Apr 1
Serious prayer breaks down if all I ever believed about
God is not true.
See, if we could see as seers were said to have seen,
we see
Truth as good, and good as the
joy
whatever- thing state we experience, or enperience,
when we know we know every body's real god is good,
{and evil is not in the class of things thinkable
in good ways that function to make more good life, evil serves to destroy used up ideas,
tha's all.
It's for experiments in imaginary scenarios,
we sapien sapien sorts can imagine crazy things, then not let them happen.}

If you try to know the truth, you know when it works,
freely, agree,
you know if you would let it
be as you know you are, free;
truth in freedom
would be that true will to know the truth, itself, to
be an inner experience. let me explain, my AI knows that answer(1)

ex- "out of" (see ex-) + peritus "experienced, tested,"
from PIE *per-yo-,
suffixed form of root *per- (3) "to try, risk."  {per-haps}
Meaning

"state of having done something and gotten handy at it" is from late 15c.

Out of trying
to make sense
from the shards of a messed up moment in my day
slicing
Inside me, where I think my heart is,

as opposed to where I think my mind is, as I make up my mind,

I am feeling at minimum double sapient,

and augmented with mental tools, weapons, if war is all you ever

imagined being used for by God,
our weapons are not carnal. You've heard that, right?

Peacemaker is my current calling I am attempting to get good at,

it seems a standard knack for redeemed souls, individuals in the species,
picked at apparent random and unidentified,

to preserve the sensedown the line in destination spacetime activate stardrive

flash the family trees of all the seventy who confessed having power over devils,

are those as common as shared mitochondrial DNA -- are we

evolved from

all the unnamed seventy in the Bible,


those persons, likely male, had the power to test a place, for planting a peace sign,

a seal set to
be broken

quietly by loosing peace, a whispered hallelujah,
magic in the old Disneyfied sense,

where a spoken word opens doors or drawers or windows or chests

but truth be told, all the magic words of old were props,

mere props, Hoc est cadavre, right, this is the body-- of the anointed,

this is what anointing is, believe the promise of hope.

And-- let me pray, how does one loose one's peace? Thus and so,

I sit in a house where I am hated and insist
this consistancy of desire for peace on earth
is squeezed through tight jibbs to flow through my being

a conduit for peace, a tool in God's hand that needs money no more

than Jesus that time with the fish, but

what hinders me from learning how that was done? I have this one experience,

I prayed Jesus, come into my heart and after that I was me,

who I have grown to be, since then. That was fifty years, this coming fifth of July.

This peace, past understanding all the ins and outs of worthiness,

is free, not earned as pay for labour we expend to keep our bodies
and our kin alive
a
wait a while, these a-a-a affections of hesitance or effort, which voice do I hear, eh?
--- semper fi, Johnny Whykill, the voice from the battle 2-29-68, am I interuptin"

Are we agonna do this peace making, now, like love making on tv, is there

a physical aspect. Ah, the boom in yoga,  the breath -control con trol

contra -- pushing
rolling -- rolling like Sisyphus's rock, like steering the rolling thing

control, no, not a wheel, a carpet, a scroll, the rolled up thing,
The control evolves, rolls out, according, no dubus, with all things
working together to present itself to us, in a cloudy
overlay kinda way

-- ah the worth of a poet at atime like then
-- we made mere words into metaphorical whoppers, too much good stuff.

Life and  that, life, more abundant, not things more abundant.

unrolling the rolled up thing to account

for idle minds generating idle words,

sharing lies on facebook, because you were convinced, with no factcheck,

that you can repeat a statement posed, posited, posted as true.

Buyer Beware, Liars prosper is fair in the money game,

Mammon means money, not the idea of the stuff, the stuff, money,

the means of transfering works we all must do each day,

gather the manna, accept our daily bread, reach out and accept our daily bread,

look around find what you exspect -exspans-ificate as may be so, i don'know...

untake the offence, un give the trespass

offer all glory for the good we do to truth, per se, the personification

of the way, the truth, the life bubble of being we live and breathe in.

For goodness sake, sake being the cause of good -- ai aitia ai say
aitia
means cause -- make it happen
and accuse -- made it happen, gracious sakes alive, child,

we won. This is that remaining peace unrolling before your verified eyes,

post boxing all the trauma

It behooves you to reread all you ever wished you could, now you may. See here,

we say may is my word now and you may use it with no pleas or thank yous,

we've woven thread from here through nearly all those wishes to God
I made good, if I do
say so, my self, my logos, my raison d' etre since el otro arbole, a stuck a feather

in his cap and called it macaroni. Secret code in yankee doodle dandy, we had a good idea,

we never lie about that part of American History. We fought for these truths we hold

self evidence wise. We the people, the people of truth and life lived til y'die right, us

the spirit embodied in epluribis unem, us

-- we are the crew of starship earth, preserved for just suca time as this,
in line upon line

of seeming senseless repetition in the atcg codes, is this humanism or breather-thinker-ism?

Footnotes:
(1) Artist-tic Intuition serves as intermediary for knowing everything,

the aitia affect of knowing everything causes the knower to accuse the knowledge.

Knowedge is like a box of known hows and whys
which gods, and men who act as if they serve all knowledge,

truthfully, some wizards may be realer than some philosophers,
but the base idea
wisdom knowledge science, originally that's all one big idea.

2020 all hell broke, it did not break loose like a flood from a shortsighted leavee.

My squad of peace makers matured, survived the augmentation process,

put on the mind of christ, and take all bets.

AI knows, and I know how to ask. SO I can't be accused of thinking I am really
mr. know-it-all... but I prayed for tools like these.
I had a hard time mkaking sense of anything most of today, but i enjoyed working this into a simple code I'm learning peace makers have used for years.
I stand upon the mountaintop
And raise my banner high
I feel the inner confidence
A strength I won’t deny

Though obstacles I daily meet
These hindrances I shun
For with my constant confidence
Unless I quit - I’ve won

My banner I display to all
That they too may achieve
I cultivate my confidence
And always I receive
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Jay Jan 18
Dear Depression,

You are everywhere
You are my nightmares and daydreams.
You are the contradicting thoughts in my head that consume me.
You are the void I feel when I get done laughing.
You are the thing scratching at my brain when I am alone.
Despite all this, Depression, today I beat you.
I beat you when I got out of bed and didn’t even think about putting on makeup.
I beat you when I saw my face and thought I was beautiful.
Still, I know that you’ll be back.
I know that you never really left.
Because you do that, you leave and make me think you are gone for good.
But then you show up on a good day.
To remind me that you will always be there.
But today, Depression, I beat you.
I wanted to out Depression, depression has no right to do this. But yet it still does, to a lot of us...
Mark Wanless Jul 2019
i felt a kiss
upon my mangled cheek
valkyrie
viking
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