What is my operative word?
Go?
Stop?
Never, is it Yes.
Always it is No!
Sometimes in a gesture,
Occasionally in a gait;
If I were blind
And read by braille,
My fingers might feel Wait.
And we've met some
Who don't have
An Operative at all.

When I said, "I can,
I'm asked, how possible?
The moment I said, "I can't,"
The agreeing nod was audible

Obama did it...
You are not Obama!
Likely to fail like Edith
Sure! The poor bar man

I was taught
To stay positive till the end
Took my choice off the wrong thought
once I know, it's all just in my head

The agreeing thought was audible
The moment I said, "I can,"
I'm asked, how possible?
Yet I said, "I can".

Geek was fairly bad, yeah,
but if you really were one,
you maybe didn't know it.

Yeah, your time space mind
compresses to my mindtimespace
you
think up from nothing,
space is not the first thing you think.

alluring in mind
a temptation of the soul
maybe no or yes

---- critics should call it scatter brained,
it is never really waves,

if you look real
close, like
right in the eye- but, keep your bubble,
this

is my window into between,
that is the difference, between us, a screen,
flat plain,
explain my way from a single strand reality,

not in my time pal, that's just
not right.

We live as we learn. Life is complicated,
not confusion, chaos contained
that's life

in the last lane, look back, was it worth it.

You get your twenty bucks back if you ask,

nice, say I am not satisfied with the actual
pay for attention
point being stretched to splice into my life

with a stroke, of good luck, chair bound,
beyond time, Hawking waves,
hello, with all his fingers and toes, he knows.

I like to think that when you left me, you went straight to church. you listened to the sermon, but you couldn't stand up when the congregation sang.
I like to think that someday you'll stop trying to wash my scriptures off your hands with holy water.
I like to think that I'm that old mattress you had when you were ten; you always said it held the same familiarity as falling in love with a stranger.
the mattress' holes from falling asleep with lit cigarettes match up perfectly with my alibi.

I'm not to be trusted. I'm an angry human.
I grew up with broken glass in my lungs and cracked ribs.
something inside me snaps even further when the sun shapes your body into a shadow on my bedroom wall.

I want to redefine the word 'fire' with your name, and light candles with you. I want to make my walls sweat. I want you to burn up my ****** clothes. I want you to set my books ablaze. I want you to realize the hardest part is never letting go, but forgetting you ever had a handle.

you can't be the flame and the wick.
you need to leave me to burn down, like the altar candles in the front of the sanctuary, for everyone to see.

sometimes I think god hates me; I'm just a pawn in his and satan's chess game.
small and insignificant in value - I almost want satan to win.

after all,
if you are fire,
hell will feel like home.

but then I remember that I'm tired of controlled burns and scrubbing your soot off of my hands.

so I like to think that when you left me, you went straight to church. you listened to the sermon, but you couldn't stand up when the congregation sang.

and I like to think that Saint Jude called me out of your blaze, and that I left you there with all of your confessions and your communions in your own personal hell.

either way, it's not my cross to bear anymore.

She took me serious,
When I included her children who wasn’t my own

She took me serious,
When judgement became irrelevant

She took me serious,
When she trusted me with internal/external wounds

She took me serious,
When clear communication expanded unconditionally

She took me serious,
When trauma or anxiety triggers became nonexistent

She took me serious,
When open conversations felt genuine

She took me serious,
When both bodies were respected

She took me serious,
When priority meant sacrifice willingly

She took me serious,
When God was involved

( I meant to paste the link, but it may all be here, ir there https://kenpepiton.com/?p=1291 it is an hour take, at time to spare)

Take the wish to be told and offer it
in storyland happiest
place we wish were was ifery wasifity real

that feeling early childhood film projected
sub-30fps
signals did not fit the bandwidth

at the time,
are any of us here, asked a cop,
he looked at me, said ohyer one o'those
and let us pass, Blue and I, a magic night
in story land allowed
where luck is not a factor, this is real,
mystics prayed this way, in scribbling
honest gnosis neosis snot tstoo til ever
curses,
foiled again.
Tin hats in the realm of watchers, hmmmm
elect-trick lady land in story land,
and exit,
if you will you may, here we have that rule.

Enjoy your time, all the attention you never
paid is how each idle words switches back
to we all know that
dummy. The Joy of {the idea enclosed} in what
you
thought fit there, the proto-noun-sound-suc
cess point. nada
point made.
and we know we know the game,
and we know it's not the same, this time
it is always the other way,
better next times, come to roost, with
an egg to lay
or a bone to pick, we hear
we know what giant steps lead to
from the spot
after when was thougnt.
right.
that thought to now, that fast in 2021.
Any kid can think it,
why didn't I?

Ah, Keds, the runfastsneakers past
in the cheap jaycee penny box, ah ha,
madjawink
think we steal the thought that brought
one of us,
once
this far, in total bliss, as life passes, nada
t'bitchabow budda doit any way
suffer,
let'emall sufferessot'be

fiction, trial run, it is a stream, gone steady,
in the old, meandering river shifting
fords from one place to another,
after the dams, I forgot, formative years
gears, scorned as folly,
golly
watch those would you look, I have seven
grandchildren, all who love, who has measure
to give that worth
to time and chance, give and take, make an oath

and, dam
that broke, who do we think we be, tv oath bound,
when you wish upon a star that is
Jiminy Cricket, listen, if you are a country kid being
test by the app on dad's phone,
grandpa calls who sees first, man or app…

John Henry, right, same page, new age.
Ambit by ambit
a little bit closer now… flex time,
look the game gate, it opened at 291000000
million, right. so if we re new, we know if we wer there
were, weird effects of maturing humans choosing stories
on a trail, my own twelve year old child,
lacked the father who is the narrator now

suddenly feel the white stripes are snow
cold as ice wake up drink water re think now then

--- facts of life only readers use, fishing tornado

blow my mind in time to see, twenty-twenty-one
fo'sho'

radioman, alive in the debitted digital experincepinch

are you awake in there?
You wanna come out, to play from om in we be
sin-cerely let go to be
as jappuyappyhappy as one wisht'be
first star
see, once that game really meant things
we can imagine like winning the lottery, then
seeing the end and changing it for the better
on purpose this time, the ancient war
comedy or tragedy,
for the drama post-arena, who shall bow
fore final curtain on this day
for all we may whished day was night. 2021.