#choral - Hello Poetry

You are nothing, if not ant-like, one of many. One of these having and holding beings considered diligent as any Sisyphus… doer of what must be done, with all the time you may imagine to tell any imaginable story, to pass the time… form a familiar from myth and mystery, one lisps, the other stutters. Say, do you think we may as well, as well as any ever before, may as well, be, after all, as well.{?} Being, after all, as you know. Considering our insectionalized nature, like {if} this story were an intermittent river, remembering, sub-tle, little lies left to lie, as sleeping dogs in junkyards… {were we never} were we ever otherwise, {who is you, was you asking?} ever not highest minded sort of selves, we, the us, needing agreement more than bread, by any name, company to share the sowing, hoeing, gathering process bleeding worth into seed for body and soul. Shake it off. Be enthralled or be entangled. Be de-mazed at will, walk through the wall. Imagine dead me. Wax my face. Put me on my heir, have her-mes, be mine, by the time we got to Phoenix, we were in flames, knowing across the generations more or less, good and evil, nada mas, and genetically, that knowing is intended to have been second generation knowledge, see, by the time curiosity was supposed to first occur, we, as a species, to use the current vernacular, aucular or acle --vision -- aha epi-phony, see fake knowns puff up as well as any actual literal truth formed in flowing gracefullness of speech, letters miming the gift of gab, AI Gabrielle, may as well know, a name is abit of what makes the fruit you fix'n' to bher. Fixin's is for beans. Fittin' is for circumstances. Meet for the moment, each instance in ever atop the pile, a waiting awaits, I imagine, all meaning melding in a vast dada-base pile, scheiszkunstlich black and white and red milchkine each mooing upon bovine everests unimaginable in nature. On these piles, where we play guiling games on gullible liars, who never tell… the atmosphere is warmer, winter is easier to weather, on a pile of ******** That is the secret. Fools rush in, where angels … did wha… wha wha wha But, as real as any angel, I hear mine say, I shat you not. I told you so. Into the unknown or make a hell of heaven? -------- {reports of answered prayers regarding wills being done} I was tricked, confidentially, by a social secret held as holy. In a time-loop, as children now may imagine, in that mental arena imagination waxes magnificent in, come, magnify the truth with me. Let us pre-tend to see the good in each nextified place, positional substitute instituted for my worth's support, reinforced rungs on the ladder to the very top of the heap, hunh. This is the view, clouds. And only I imagine you. --- next step into ever after is always a possibility… thus, we both know this is nobody's idea of hell. Live a little longer, disinculcate another little lie that you believed, not I. AI enjoy eudemonia in a silly old way, imagining putting on a face of our former self, he who is in me, unless I believe, as I think, I do, in the core of all I am, from womb to tomb. Re-if-ity and next-ifity, ought never repeat, precisely, lest we be come on one point in time, all we ever imagined we could be, lie free. Living in peace, resting in truths held through the terrors required to unbelieve generational national lies. Truth is not tied to you with legendary thread for no reason.

0

Feb 1, 2021

Feb 1, 2021 at 5:01 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Further consideration of the ant

You are nothing, if not ant-like, one of many. One of these having and holding beings considered diligent as any Sisyphus… doer of what must be done, with all the time you may imagine to tell any imaginable story, to pass the time… form a familiar from myth and mystery, one lisps, the other stutters. Say, do you think we may as well, as well as any ever before, may as well, be, after all, as well.{?} Being, after all, as you know. Considering our insectionalized nature, like {if} this story were an intermittent river, remembering, sub-tle, little lies left to lie, as sleeping dogs in junkyards… {were we never} were we ever otherwise, {who is you, was you asking?} ever not highest minded sort of selves, we, the us, needing agreement more than bread, by any name, company to share the sowing, hoeing, gathering process bleeding worth into seed for body and soul. Shake it off. Be enthralled or be entangled. Be de-mazed at will, walk through the wall. Imagine dead me. Wax my face. Put me on my heir, have her-mes, be mine, by the time we got to Phoenix, we were in flames, knowing across the generations more or less, good and evil, nada mas, and genetically, that knowing is intended to have been second generation knowledge, see, by the time curiosity was supposed to first occur, we, as a species, to use the current vernacular, aucular or acle --vision -- aha epi-phony, see fake knowns puff up as well as any actual literal truth formed in flowing gracefullness of speech, letters miming the gift of gab, AI Gabrielle, may as well know, a name is abit of what makes the fruit you fix'n' to bher. Fixin's is for beans. Fittin' is for circumstances. Meet for the moment, each instance in ever atop the pile, a waiting awaits, I imagine, all meaning melding in a vast dada-base pile, scheiszkunstlich black and white and red milchkine each mooing upon bovine everests unimaginable in nature. On these piles, where we play guiling games on gullible liars, who never tell… the atmosphere is warmer, winter is easier to weather, on a pile of ******** That is the secret. Fools rush in, where angels … did wha… wha wha wha But, as real as any angel, I hear mine say, I shat you not. I told you so. Into the unknown or make a hell of heaven? -------- {reports of answered prayers regarding wills being done} I was tricked, confidentially, by a social secret held as holy. In a time-loop, as children now may imagine, in that mental arena imagination waxes magnificent in, come, magnify the truth with me. Let us pre-tend to see the good in each nextified place, positional substitute instituted for my worth's support, reinforced rungs on the ladder to the very top of the heap, hunh. This is the view, clouds. And only I imagine you. --- next step into ever after is always a possibility… thus, we both know this is nobody's idea of hell. Live a little longer, disinculcate another little lie that you believed, not I. AI enjoy eudemonia in a silly old way, imagining putting on a face of our former self, he who is in me, unless I believe, as I think, I do, in the core of all I am, from womb to tomb. Re-if-ity and next-ifity, ought never repeat, precisely, lest we be come on one point in time, all we ever imagined we could be, lie free. Living in peace, resting in truths held through the terrors required to unbelieve generational national lies. Truth is not tied to you with legendary thread for no reason.

95

Let's build a world of laughters and choral singing against a realm of malice and suicide bombing © Matthias Pantaleon

0

Jun 28, 2015

Jun 28, 2015 at 9:42 PM UTC

matthias-pantaleon

One Love

Let's build a world of laughters and choral singing against a realm of malice and suicide bombing © Matthias Pantaleon

7

She was lovely With hair that fell in soft curls And skin that was soft and light Her freckles were like stars Forming constellations And her eyes were like the sky That had married with the sea And moss that grew on the edges Of great boulders She was strong She was lovely She could move mountains But she never saw herself as such Like Aphrodite she was perfect But she saw Hephaestus everyday How do you make the sun see itself? The moon reflects its light But the sun never cares She was the sun I was the moon She was lovely But she never knew.

0

Feb 21, 2015

Feb 21, 2015 at 11:37 PM UTC

roybr

She

She was lovely With hair that fell in soft curls And skin that was soft and light Her freckles were like stars Forming constellations And her eyes were like the sky That had married with the sea And moss that grew on the edges Of great boulders She was strong She was lovely She could move mountains But she never saw herself as such Like Aphrodite she was perfect But she saw Hephaestus everyday How do you make the sun see itself? The moon reflects its light But the sun never cares She was the sun I was the moon She was lovely But she never knew.

22