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Ken Pepiton Oct 2018
Here is the rub. Riddles we never got. Oh, my.

Serving to illustrate my point of departure from the mean norm.
the rub is the cause of the pain, not its purpose.

Pain is not for punishing, whatever that means to you.
Pain is for correction, for your own good, ditto the meaning part.

The rub is where touch goes too deep, applies too much braking,
the humdrumconundrum setting on life's pace (get the app) in the age of Google.

For more time than Google or its finders could agree, with me, to believe,
I have been waiting for this moment to arrive. There are places where that rubs.

Fiction, that does lubricate real ification, doesn't it.
I never noticed, until now. That's why liars prosper, maybe.

Jah, I saw it comin' on my back, in a safe place, two days before leaving Bien Hoa, Spring
1969. The White Album, Koss EPS6's, tight, no sound, dark, I wandered homeward.

Not all war stories are lies, some are parables, some are prophecies.

I waited until now was firm in every mind involved,
then launched the grand old party line to God almighty, in my mind

Radioman manifested from the dreams and events that seemed as dreams seem,
upon that time, when I lay waiting, near Bien Hoa.

Look homeward? Where? I have no memory, I've been Bourne Borked, why me?
Was I the hero of the story I was in? I must have been, I am alive and I am old.

And there, the acid message burned through my sckull and I played something
like Russian Roulette, with a character named Ken Kingman, who grinned like a devil.

All this in my mind. Where were we then, we Googled men? We friends on the grid?
Flesh and bone, muscle and blood, for God and country, do or die, don't ask why?

Airborne, All the way, ah, we sang that cadence in our dreams, even after we got the joke.
But we was always only me, we are imaginary, in my mind, extensive, albeit, still mine.

I didn't know.

No, you could not have known, that was just me, the meek little me speaks,
peeking beneath the banner over me. You never crossed my mind.

The show runner speaks up and has nothing more to say, we run on, fo' a long time,
lemme tell ye gotamighty gonna cut chadown. Run on, fo' a long

The point. Fret not. Been there done that entered the vernacular on my watch, I saw this.
I'm ready. You ever been slammed, honest t'God slammed to the ground, breathless?

breathing brings us to the center. Home is where your heart is. That's a riddle, BTW.
Where a thought is first thought seems to establish its eventual trajectory, don't you think?

We be comin' to some real that normal can fix on, soon, waitin's what we do til then.
No pain.  No rub, no, friction fiction uses warm a weary mind as to what might be.

When ye think a bout it. Something in the way we thought must 'ave mollified it, the rub,
above, with **** we let slip by. The aitch's do that. Aitch sounds. 'ushin' ohmmmm.
Here is where my hope, dear reader, lies.
Carl Webb II Dec 2018
how do insecurities creep inside
at our most powerful moments?

how does weakness get through power?
is it not just weakness?

how does sunshine get through rain?
well, is it not just sunshine?

can rainy times not provide a bit of power?
is it not, still, just a little rain?

is it not, still, just a little aitch-two-oh?
do we not, still, need it to survive?

does the rain just not provide?
does the sunshine not provide, too?

do we not need both to stay alive?

again, I will ask you,
how does weakness get through power?

is it not still weakness?
is it not still power over all?
are they both not necessary?
do we not need both of them together?

maybe 'why' would be the better.

why does weakness get through power?
does it not know . . . how to be a
weakness?
what?

no, why, why does the weakness have the
ability to push its way through walls of power?
that's not possible! . . . right?
how??

yes, how, how does the weakness have
the strength to stop the power from doing its job . . .
how does it know what to do to counteract power, at will?
is it not just weakness, still?

is it not just weakness . . . still . . .
why does weakness have the power . . . ?

yes, why does the weakness have power . . .
how does the weakness devour . . .
how can the weakness be wolfish . . .
how can the weakness over power . . .

how can the "weak" get through the "powerful" . . . I ask you . . .

[tbc]
The man with the *** Aitch Dee
university educant,
not like me who was
dragged through the secondaries
and modern too,
not much education, but
what can one do?
when the riverbank calls you and the
corn starts to wave and the wind is the music
to which you can rave.

The man with the *** Aitch Dee
earns more than me,
but I have more memories,
like sailing off to the sea
like catching fish for my tea
like swimming naked and free,

is educant a word?
and that's the education of me.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2023
-------------
Time's were hard, we see,
as we look back and wonder, asking
actually,
wondering
is asking who knew, or knows,
at the ha,
a breath acclaiming exhaled, huff.
I know. It acts as if, I am the prey, in quest…

Of course, in slow, out burst… ah wit' ha a aitch
witches silence, 'ear ye, 'ear ye,
order in the court,
the open court before the temple,

gather, all ye hinderers and holder-backs, rally
round the banner over us,
which is love of duty to God and Country,

¿Eh, little man, dis tinctual intel, confi, semper set,
semper fi, do or die, or do and die, why
is not a factor,
or luck is not a factor, time and chance, dance…

dance with this wondering mind, wishing to be
of some significance, when plopped
on the scale,
for what it is worth,
for the cost
to fit the three strand thread
from Delphi riddles writ
in Greek et Ebersprachen Proverbs
from the very early days,
collected fragments
of ever ago, cetera

as far as ships had sailed, we know, now
we have sailed farther,
we have flown, as far as our perception may
hold the experience,
as power we may use, if we choose, buy a ticket,
wait in line…

read one hundred and forty seven maxims,
think three missing, for I was told to find
one hundred and fifty pre-positioning
glyphs, single sign, single signal, taken

as given, one will to wonder, one to wonder why.

I am at the moment Qwerty Guy, qwertying code,
in clear text,
through sieves witches were known, to use,
by King James, the first, of England,
who wrote the book on sorting
witches from his loyal servants,

all sworn to alliegiance,
to the king of two kingdoms, all stand,

Come to order, let the judgement begin…
in this worlds interpretation,
of ἐγγύα πάρα δ'ἄτα
- Swear not at all… Certainty makes madness
after we recall, there needs be order, must be
in the court,
where each man, wombed or un, and possibly,
old or young, or, better said,
old from young, must judge the angels
we each trust to always see things our way
- draw the right vectors, from my POV
- Graphic communication demo
Cartesian, belling thing, seen on two dimensions,
to and from, but here
the point
the readers perceptivity
to the precept set in ifery was,
so quite long ago we lost our grip,

holding, holding, holding that thought,
we thought, a chapter or so ago, you know
we thought,
ever
was a thinkable thing, and we thought it.

------------- Proud of it, too.
Dis, take it
Easy, you are privileged, legated privacy
for knowing what may be known,
in the realm of all you may ever know.

Gnostic mystic alien ties
religamental truth coded moral worth,
stores of stories studied in hope,
choking on the dust, those missing,
layers,
the bringers of peace,
the releasers of the knowing to the chosen,
those selected by childish preferences,
to become the model image
of good done right,
as natural as
sneezing whole armys into being,
after sowing dragon's teeth for years.
All we agree, we may imagine, making up

Messengers from former days,
telling us to mend our ways,
no, telling us, to get a grip.
Oracles or angels, or mass hysteria,
none portrayed as boogermen and witches,
wrinkled hags and fatphag priests in shades.
At you, we see the dust blown.
Celebrate.
A series of sneezes axon-triggering,
deep anti-histamine relief reaction, coming on,

must be something in the wind,
must be my body, reacting, doing what must
be done,
or I shall die, or I shall die, each sneeze,
from within me cries,
no, from inside,
we whisper, prepare, to not spray snot,
in civilized mindspacetime patterning arrays.
Ah, this feels fine, okeh, let life work wonders in the dark.
Terry Collett Oct 2014
Miss A held up the card
with a word on it

who knows
what this word is?
she asked

the class stared glumly
at the card

a girl put up her hand
is it monster?
she said

no it's not monster
Miss A said moodily

another girl
put up her hand
is it mouse?

O’Brien snorted
a laugh behind
his ink stained hand

it is not mouse
the teacher said
her eyes lifted
ceiling ward

I put up my hand

yes Benedict?
Miss A said

can I go to the bog Miss?
there was a titter
behind my back

yes you can
but no you may not
she said sternly

I pulled a face
she looked at me
I unpulled my face

anyone else
have any idea
what the word is?
everyone has one
she suggested

O’Brien whispered
to me a word
I could not repeat

what was that O'Brien?
Miss A asked

muscle Miss
he said
(not the word
he said to me)

no it is not that
look at the card
look look
she said

we gazed at the card
in her hands

who knows
the first letter?

a girl put up
her hand

it's M Miss
she said

and the second letter?

I put up my hand
it's O Miss
I said

she gazed at me
and the third letter?

Helen put
up her hand
it's T Miss
she said

already whispered O'Brien
ain't long had dinner

Miss A glared at him
the fourth letter O'Brien?

aitch
he said

Miss A sighed
H
she said
one breathes
the letter out
H not aitch
next letter?
she said

it's E Miss
a girl said
on the floor
sitting crossed legged

and the last letter?
Miss A asked

it's R Miss
O'Brien said

so what do all
the letters say?
she asked

Mobster
a girl said
with glasses
(who often
wet herself
if she couldn't make
the bog in time)

no no
Miss A said
look at the letters

I lifted my hand

and she said
yes Benedict?

I need the bog Miss

GO
she said loudly

and I got up
and sped as fast
as I could

just as I got
to the door

Dennis said
it's Muvver Miss

Miss A looked away
she looked
distressed

it had been
a long
hard day.
A CLASS OF CHILDREN IN 1957.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2021
--------
wait a minute, nullify a doubt  shade
shine on
now from when shine on was thought to mean
ignor.
in the olden days, shine it on, meant, ignore whatever
was urging
eee merge merge merge as I was going
dive
dive
dive kplunkthunked heavy heart, heavyhead, heavy hand

heave, **
its off to work we go,
lift the spirits of this old man, put laughing children
in his ya'd, yah we say jah, we say no aitch
and we say glory all the same, next
is ever after now is full of life.

So give it y'best. That's what coach angels say.
So we can categorize angels, if we wish,

or if the spirit that comforts us, soothes our trepidity,
calms our fear of stupidity exposure,
or academe memeself infection,
we  may take Gebser's five stage program for a ride,
click eh eee ha  I
mean
cliché has the e automaticall em-pha-s-ized, hypenatewait

a minute once too often and you gin gain ing alt alte alter a
aaa alter native be
ing ding… gnoshit UFO?
No, Jesus, it is an act, a show, we put it on the internet
and some guy used it to start a religion,

and some body, some institortured tonsured reality,
has to die a bloodless death.

So, that is a brief as to where this course change has
put, yest out is the word for our state,
put out, however, earlier in
us, the we who hold certain truth self evidently
ex-static…
shhhh  life is too interesting to ignor at the moment
listen magic stage minds in my grand children
laughing in my hall
go quiet.
Then reappear, in the kitchen, far away.
a piece of this sunday in april
Jesus aitch
give me some breaks
or nail me
to your cross.
Janet Aitch Jun 2019
Here lies Janet Aitch
Janet who?
Never heard of her!
Where death of democracy writ large,
nevertheless psychological strength predominates
unlike earlier chapters of mein kampf.

Mine hardscrabble existential debacle
spelled losing game
swept me up in malevolent mindset
far adrift from harbored haven;
I floundered like a fish out of water
entangled within woebegone raid.

No matter figurative bar
to challenge yours truly
chiefly afflicted academic motives
set ridiculously low,
impossible mission presented
to kite, overcome, and transcend
mental, physical and social impasse
rather I remained
immobilized, paralyzed, unmoored
to hurtle myself across
horribly graded daunting challenges
with flying colors
and thus never established
storied track record.

Oft times (more so
during formative years
of boyhood and adolescence),
I experienced absolute zero ambition
wretchedness being alive
spurring wonderment whereby thoughts
of my demise didst drive
analogous to buzzfeeding bees
combing into their hive.

Giddiness nursed, prevailed, and thrived
when coronavirus (COVID-19)
warranted quarantine to diminish
transmitting pandemic virus thru the air
lifestyle change no major imposition,
cuz yours truly already familiarized
with self isolation
courtesy his social anxiety despair
schizoid personality disorder the diagnosis
nsync with loathsome
body morphology toward self
viz mental health impasse a legitimate malady
impossible mission possibly
since in utero didst impair
minimally abetted courtesy
Buffalo wing and a prayer
wishful thinking only death can relieve
some recently approaching year.

Indifference toward self sums up story
qua deadly mindset to whit
resignation to cash in chips
at a tender age, I did submit
evidenced courtesy abysmal grades
and exhibited resignation
where effort to succeed did quit
during stint as student
kindergarten and first grade the exception
earning appellation dummkopf or nitwit
showcased apathy to access ability and excel
stage door left, I wanted to exit
overshadowed courtesy powerfully pointed outlook
within his bedroom at 324 Level Road
sequestered long haired
pencil neck geek hermit
four familiar walls constituted ambit.

Refuge sought vis a vis
withdrawal viz yule eyes
starved body, mind and spirit
from webbed wide world
which as prepubescent
constituted narrowly circumscribed range,
whereby I denied,
juiced refused sustenance
(think anorexia nervosa,
thus these lovely bones withered away
thankfully dearest mother
(a licensed practical nurse)
of course intervened without delay

belated acknowledgement
regarding maternal love hip hip hooray
enrolling expertise psychiatrist
of Doctor Ted Goldberg
at Collegeville Community counseling
to ameliorate psychological internal melee
running rampant and roughshod
within me psyche
pushing self destruction
down into stairway
entering portals of hell
analogous to Earthen bowels
deep within Zimbabwe.

Whether the above sentence incidental
to feeble attempt at reasonable rhyme
so please geography buffs pardon moi
add dull less cent delinquent puns
he did cashier plus
any unintended faux paus as aspiring poet
artfully crafts elaborated gimcrackery,
albeit impious kooky mishmashed
outlandish quirky esse aitch eye tee.
Janet Aitch Nov 2018
Two things we know
about Janet Aitch
She won't have a poem
and she's always late

but the sharing we give
of laughter and pain
give her something to write on
and we have her back again

— The End —