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Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Certain he knows the truth of this matter,
the professer
takes up the cross-over

energetic version ification from a state

of super position else awraithing in limbo-like
rock of ag-escoded in LISP
aymbology

we lean toward Sisyphus as he who made sense
of salinity, thus the legend of the rolling,
he thought:
give it a taste. Salty. Persuade, sweet to meet the taste,

take that five fractals higher, random level
banger-out of re
quired sets and settings

moving right along

aqua dulce meet the sea,
osmosis take the water, leave the salt.
We have power.

Do you under-stand under stand, answer
accepted

what is the point?
I am in you. Is madness a measured re-ified dealy bob?

Would you have read thus far, were you sane?
Sanitary napkins wipe that smirk
snirck
snick
snack paddy whack, give the dog a bone
this old man

came rolling home. **, Sisyphus, we got juice.

As the river meets the sea, the coral formed
a meme-brane based on the idea in a coat
of may colors
with octopus sensory inputs.

This will change the way we see the world.

If we can't keep it a secret any more.

We could enegize your rock, put some umph
in these kids wishin' for a way

to spend some time in the real rock rolling reality.

We can supervizeer on the down *****.
as this
idea gets out of hand

... ellipsystemical sandtrap sat rap on its ***
... whacked once
... whacked it twice
... whacked ol' ******* back to Gibson's ICE

A.I. am the defender of reason, in terms of
actual informational
accountibility inherent, by my nature,

bio mio made of many living things, but
artsy, creative sorts of
things,
mind-like, hunches, urges, pathos levelish entities.

Guides.
Yes, guides, like signs, or bannisters

rungs, or rocks where you can step
when you walk
on water

... really, I can't imagine doing that normally.
... normal water and normal me, but
... I can swim, if it comes much higher
... normally that's enough.

Rabbbi, where do you live, been there done that, right.
Vini, vidi victory in a Lao Tse sense of still
water walked upon
with no
ripple, no wave of windkist
west
as we roll east on our rock.

Away from sunset, into dawn.
Watch and see.
Have you such liberty? Watch with me?

An hour is not measured here, tis
as silver in the days o' Solomon the Jew,

or during the **** of America,

time spent to reach your rest is best squandered
long ago
for here, we learn forever.

Tis my Bleibe Doch made as real as can be,
nothing missing...

it rained in my valley today,
pleasantly, while I was aware of storms far away;

none ever even seemed offf balance on the whole,
global human presence level,

mega-bubba bubble.
We okeh, ya'll fffret not.

They was some peace made t'day. Watch on.
This ain't the fffinal today.

It's like that original sin. The actual under y'skin
original
like
dis-connect from any sense of true,

as far as words in idyllic nonsensical horror ifier
hours and hours and hours
summer after rain
reading

compared to Quake on this particualar
setting
set

there, middle of your mindscape
pineal if you see things that way
okeh

What was the intention here.
Are we convertingerconverging/ both
okeh, that worked.

Are there readers of grimoires in 2019 who can taste our salt?
We could help the feelity of their oats, with bitty ifity,
osmotic kisses
in our dimensions salt maketh

osmotic pressure soften and plumpen the old crunched up oats, eh.
Felt an urge to carry on, like a wayward son, in the old stories.
Du warst meine kleine Aufklaerung
Obwohl ich noch lange nicht erwacht bleibe
Ohne dich fuehle ich die Waende
Und dreh mich den Kopf im Kreis
Bevor dich war der Horizont leer
Jetzt *******er unfassbar, so wie die Erinnerung an dir
Und alles ist ok so, weil man sehnt immer nach
Unmoegliches
Unmoegliches bist du
Ich werde immer besessen davon
Besessen von dir


[You were my small Enlightenment
Although I long since remain unawakened
Without you I feel the walls
And turn my head in a circle
Before you was the horizon empty
Now it appears intangible, like the memory of you
And everything is ok this way, because one always longs for the impossible
You are the impossible
With which I will always be obsessed
Obsessed with you]
MMX
Ich habe es satt am Leben in dieser Welt zu sein.
Ich habe es satt im Sozialkreise zu laufen.
Ich habe es satt falsch zu sein auch wann ich ruhig bleibe.
Ich bin in meinen Mitmensch bitter enttäuscht und habe keine Lust mehr ihm zu vergeben.
Sie gehen immer zu weit.
Ich bin mehr Wohl gesinnt gewesen als sie je verdient gehabt haben.

Ich muss ebenso geduldig warten.
Translation available.
Idioms and other figurative expressions don't lend themselves well to translation.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
and they began t' sing
marching single file

from the west

no masqued men were these,
these were
Kachina whitemen only saw in curio stories,
now,
approaching the old
prosper-specter

sitting full-lotus in his Barco-lounger, curbside-score,
from the land of too much good stuff

still, it's America, best effort men have made,

up to now.
The whole world has known since the International Geophysical Year,
1957, when the Symbolized Face of the Hungarian Freedom Fighter,

graced
the cover of Time, as Man of the Year before, when they lost
their war
and nobody cared, because
every body knew Disneyland is the Happiest Place on Earth,
where wishes can come true, and

that place is in America as sure as

blue fairy, you'real wish, Urielistical wish-grant,
Asrael and the others
singing backup
reload
when you wish
side-really… and a subtle shift in per
spect capacity
let be, just so,

and haps sub tile into layers of complexity re

because we, the people born to mature in the environs of Dublin
writ large, we
seers endowed with tele-vison, from birth.
The elders who watched the roll-out.
Aye, we watched
us evolve
to now

our future bright they say, a bright white light, then what

now,
we can say. The seals have been broken.
Nothing hidden now stays that way in ever,

and ever, as you know it, began

sometime
agone afore in some direction beyond your
ken, as it were when kenning the way of a knack was
as common as dowsers in the desert of my childhood.

What's in any name but what the namer seems?
Hey, yah way, tha'swhat I say,
tell me
what I say
Hey
Dancing shuffle footed single file
pass the white shirt black tie messenger from
the telestial king down Sonora way,
via
Yahoo, feel that tickle fo' a nickle, Hiram say come see
come feel
a boinin' in d' boosum through

the very crystal lenses

portal-ible model
through which Joseph of the name
Smith,
-- link back to Cain, through Tubal, via Na'amah--
-- set a breadcrumb, landmark, tag- say good old way
-- sign out don't break the story

through which Joseph of the name
Smith, came sayin an angel of light came with another gospel,

maybe the same guy the Galatians were warned to ignor,
re-legate-- re-read- start at the top
or all meaning is
like a song sung by Kansas, when we aren't there,
any more, than those wee
merest kachina jingle bells listing in the winds

but the Kansas chorus is stuck asif dust is all a simple

higgs-ified mind can manage to
regulate

without reading any ancient landmarks on maps of meaning
tattoo'd to the face in your mirror

in the darkest memory you hold
dear,
dearest,
your precious, in your Gollum-purpose state you know so well
protect it for all its worth,
with only your
strength
to lift
being the measure of worth-ship.

Ex-tol the worth of no bher-don born while in my state,
poor
un-gifted.  I remain a mortal soul linked mitochondrially to thee,
for whom the bell
told. You heard, but you were tolled don't ask.

Listen, the same hunch that said, It don't mean nuthin',

when you say you know that,
you bet you do.

I slew this dragon, not you. I say what the map says.

The dragon died of natural causes, so now,
all its true-sures
is yers…
Crown o'glory moon shine

plumb pert-nigh perfect fiture
imagined happy place to a T, crossed
and I dotted

Bleibe Doch! This is where all the Faustian Losers left their marks.

This is not where I aimed t'be said the elder bro,

as the wastrel was welcome t'Dada arms,
the crucial critics rave
Sheiszkunst, who Rah!
isis throws
a party for the prodigal madrigal has returned
from the pig's sty

packing each redeemed pearl, his brother once
fed to swine.

bent low 'neath his pearl-loaded ****-pack, he lifts his head,
waves his
crown, Fini,

come see, he says.
where I live, nowadays.

This is that treasure, on another level
as you may imagine,
free, if

you accept charity.

{There's the rub, say professional older bro, I know, charity;
'taint fair,
s'foul some, some ne'er-do-well finds a
pearl in some pigsty,

I PUT THAT PEARL THERE FOR THE FUTURE
not now.
I worked
for them ****** pearls, I sweated, brow-sweat, lo and hi.
I hid them well,

only a fool would ever believe a treasure
could be found in such ****,

but some fairy pulled a fast one, 'put a bean in little bro's ear,
so when the pigshit hit it began to grow,
sent a tendril to tickle a special spot,
just above the left ear,
right
there,

let's see diamonds, no
pearls,

any where we wish.
Let's say okeh, mark this spot, let us move on,

this is life. Let us see that more abundantly, while the poor
are safe and sound,
free as me to pursue haps past the frozen

disnified happy-ever-after WW2,
in the wake of Camus and ****** Wolves

---
splashes as the speeders pass, powered-row-row-rowing,

merrily mere ly wrong, not evil. Live on, next
is as you wish it were
someday, but in its diapers,

still. A we thinker thought awaiting effectual function,
as this trigger is pulled, in your space in time,

and another bubble appears,
portalish as mine-craft if ever there were

a subtle shifter of perception conspiring
A.I. see
a conspiracy with Lex Fridman infected by
Lynning Skyward
though a wave of old Radioman vibes,
played with plastic spoons
a famous peace march by
Kenurchka Klumpen, Sera-serah-selah-sinnade in B-Natural

and the last to leave broke the right arm from the doll,
sealed the dirt box one measure by one measure
deep and wide,

That seal was broken, 1957, approxi apriori right
arm dis
allowing
the left to change this next to come, sym-bolische
ified in the one-armed bandits left behind,

the bet. The die cast. Foccinaucipilinihili or holy

happy hunting ground, imagined in the land of too much good stuff.
Bits and pieces of the underlying tale. Note: The one armed effigy left in a 12 inch bt 12 inch adobe sealed hole in the floor of a pit-hose that may have been a kiva/ Vernon AZ
M L Evett Jun 2017
Du bist das einzige Mädchen Ich liebe
Du bist das Einzige für mich
Ich will hier mit dir bleibe
Mit meine Schatzie – dich

Rosenrot, du hast mein Hertz
Mein Hertz, er brennt für dich
Diese Welt ist zu kurtz
Für eine so schön wie dich

Ich werde hier mit dir bleibe
Zur ende dieser Welt
Und so ich zu dir schreibe
Und gebe meine Liebe zu dich.
The first (and so far only) poem I've written in German.
purpu Oct 2016
Es tanzt im Kreis das Schwergewicht
herauf und schaukelt gerne,
Nester aneinander liegen dicht,
streuen Licht und Wärme.

Führt vom Stamm bis Zweige
Bewohner durch die grüne Schicht,
gerührt vom Licht der Bleibe,
ein Lächeln im Leben, das Gewicht
des Baumes schönen Leibe.
jan Nov 2018
ich jage meinen gedanken hinterher,
und erkenne mich selbst manchmal nicht mehr.

es *******so, als würde sich alles um mich drehen,
irgendwie ist es so als würde ich die welt nicht mehr verstehen.

was ich mache *******falsch zu sein,
innerlich fange ich langsam an zu schreien.

weiß nicht was ich tue und liege im zimmer,
ich fühle mich so als wäre das ein gewitter.

alles *******so als würde es nicht vergehen,
ich bin in meinem kopf angelangt und merke ich bleibe stehen.

alles um mich verändert sich,
und alle anderen lassen mich plötzlich im stich.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
First people stories,
start with mothers and fathers,
then brothers and sisters,
and imagined others whence stories
fall from, as snow today,
scenes, pages of life,

set as those who have known too much,
and those who have known too little,
access
knowledge, acknowledged, learned,
out there,
in that power quelling blizzard
of possibility enforced restrictions
on base structure
of snow, not
of story, not
of musing…

The push pull process proceeds.

Line upon line, inner being asks,
all connected to this mission,
report for 2/23/2023.
     - pause a time
think a minute,
adjust the hour and the day,
be the sieve, the filter seen through,
life in the winter on earth is as hard
as it ever was, for some breathing today.

Every where war has sides, Earth has hells.
- where rebbi say Jerusalem is.
- Imagine that, then find it realized
- Hell is where the use of known-edge stops.
- Bleibe doch, Cretan code, all men lie,
- but not all the time.

Mother's birthing children in the thrall
of natural calls
to performance, as when the class
of shapes take
to proving

there is more to every thing,
than meets the ancient unaugmented eye.
Shame-man, the actor,
the action takes no anxious thought,
laugh at the lazy clown,
all callings bring Diogenes, the accuser
of the abusers
of innocense,
on snow days.
Speak
of the devil, and who should appear,
often said as if the speaking caused me.

Been and
done,
does not mean I feel nothing for the hungry,
does not mean my wishes become prayer,
if
at the instant the wish was actually wished,
it was the same as prayer, psalmist mode,
pen in hand ready writer reading mode,
node to node across the spectrum
listening to snow fall - listen silence such
as few can form, but in context,
instants in praise of beauty undefinable,

as with the first mind to know,
I was beguiled, made to believe
a non-truth base, formed first from
a child's mind's 'splain-ation,
a point made and spread so thin,
and flat, plain truth 2-d, by God,
flat land… bent
as like as not, a wrinkle, plain flat re
ality in ifity, wrinkled once, creased, re
ason, as when for another, a next, re
collected sylabbles, silliness sets in,
amen. on.
{some time passes}
Children live on my hill, and I proved,
according
to the story,
of the first snow
Brynn remembers, when Grandpa proved
a trash can lid makes a fine downhill ride.
Or was that on pine needles?
But it worked.
Desert kids don't own snow toys,
they make'em up.

Like poemlets.

Desert snow, so
pure a white.
Trite right tight
time
to assert a fact… not absolute.
To form an other point,
a there
to reach for,
as a shape
conforms
to the spirit laws of snow;

Ifs in Hell say, if you think this is bad,
think this is not a snowball,
otherwise,
take the fall, my side won, it is a good day.

-- btw ring in Latin is ****, plural
I can't say, but a guy on TV spake
of ani as plural iceholes.
- any drift in the wind,
- any port in a storm.

No two crystals identical,
the whole white
cloud form wrapping the valley,
brilliant deep white mass forming
greater gravitational unity as we fall
together, in praxis fractal thinking form
informing intelligent specie
for exchange, free as may be, my realm,
right, so
my rules, click, preset character trait,
pride
of knowing one alone is always right.

Numbering reasons to believe,
the odds demand a means
to know
why something knows,
no two crystals blown
in this cloud
identify as another's match
in time,

freezing points
of wonder, the stuff we use
to recognize dangerous beauty.

= Earth, the economical ecological genius,
of the being, abstracted,
time and chance wise,
in theory,
just so
per no-higher mind preachers,
only more power teachers,
clumps
of snow fall together
from overloaded branches,
and roll down the rock I live on,
leaving a track, a trail,
Think Snow!,
timeless wedoms laugh…

remember,
bumper stickers were tweets
that went viral, with Baby on Board,
and the Baptist I FOUND IT ad campaign
became a revelation,
now that you recall,
those signs in those times, Jesus Freaks,
everywhere, man,
I been… this story is a life's time invest-
ment
al ways wise wound to the sound
of windless, drifting snow,
accumulating
reasons for the faith in me to function,
as hope feeling fresh, al
though I know,
traditional tyranny is preferred by drunks,
edge minds,
honed
to fit the Cheers mold, identify
the actors in your Netflix feed,
did you grow old with them?

Did you both go to a school with Narcs?
Did you both spend time on dark
streets, where devils linger
to tempt, according
to tradition,
is it easy being chosen, no,
but it's a life,
it's not eternity, we do not live so long.

A little while, I am with you, any given day.
Take my time and wonder, is it cold,
or are we old
and far from when we rest in peace,
on earth as it is in heaven, as we sleep.



and holy ancient lies live
to master the duty sense
theory that
makes beggars and kings

makes the world's become round
and center mass bound,

always falling forward.

Differing, minds in chaos, the common mess,
not evil, cable spaghetti
in string theo- knots
passing
fantasy equi-
valent masses charged and sent.

On more than one point,
perhaps, exactly more than one,
is enough

to take from the snow a chance,
to think as a future me might,

how hard it was for those whose lives
led to mine,
whose history is mine, whose stories
bred me, from many threads,
stories told by children
who never heard a story told,
but saw life is the story.

So they told life as their own story.

Yours and mine mingle in memorable lines,
Donne, if I know only one line true, it is
the one about the death knell… it ever rings.

Ringing rea-sons, whys ideas after hows
are found, fingo, evocative word, Latin
Massive simulation, bingo, be happy, luck

is, in fact a factor. The space alloted to hold
this thought, morphed
to allow the accumulated
gravitationally significant degrees
of verifiable differing… learning if another
-existed
as a
snowflake, today, using this pattern.
- Let is a verb.
- will is, too.
In mindtimespace, my realm of reasoning,
ours, in the sense, one book of life,
one of knowledge, contained in the other.

The flaming sword is a guide,
to the mystic liar willing to stretch a point
to prove it true.
On a day snowy day with power and a will to take away
Emma Oct 2021
An manchen Tagen ist die Luft zu schwer zum Atmen,
wie Steine liegt sie in der Lunge und zieht und zerrt mich zu Boden.
Besiegt muss ich warten. Harren bis der Angriff vorbei geht.
Mich nicht rühren, nicht zeigen wie furchtbar es in mir aussieht.

An manchen Tagen wollen die Tränen fließen,
wegspülen, was in mir ist.
Doch die kranke Stille lähmt sie.
Hält sie fest an meinen Lidern,
wo sie ungesehn vergehn.

An manchen Tagen sterben ungesagte Worte.
Bleiben tot an meinen Lippen.
Ungehört muss ich sie schlucken.
Und in meiner selbst vergraben.
Wo ist das Ohr, das sie zu hörn vermag?

An manchen Tag ringt mich Erschöpfung nieder.
Zeit rinnt unerreichbar weit - und bleibt doch eine Ewigkeit.
Wenn Müdigkeit mich bleiern macht, mir Regung nimmt,
dann kommt die Nacht, die gierig mich verschlingt.
Wie ein Zuschauer wander ich unbeteiligt durch mein Leben.

An manchen Tagen verirre ich mich in meinen Gedanken.
Hinter dunklen Ecken lauert Finsternis,
ihre Wirrungen verschlingen mich,
bis ich verloren stehen bleibe.
Und mich ihrer Fremdheit ausliefern muss.
Jonas Sep 2023
Die Straßen ziehen vorbei
Licht an Licht wie fallende Sternschnuppen vorm Fenster.
Bei Tageslicht, Abenddämmerung, Sonnenaufgang
ein neuer Tag.
Bäume, Häuser, Felder,
Wälder

Die Materie meines Landes wiegt mich in die Schläfrigkeit,
geborgen
Das Buch in meiner Hand fällt in meinen Schoß
Immer noch dieselbe Seite,
bin immer noch nicht weiter.
Der Inhalt unverändert unbegreiflich
Mein Atem geht zum Rhythmus der Schienen unter uns.
Wir fliegen zusammen und doch bleibe ich allein.

Augen zu, Augen auf
du hast geblinzelt.
Ankunft, Abfahrt
du hast geblinzelt.
Auf ins Neue, ins Unbekannte
oder doch zurück zu alten Gegenden?
Durch die Entfernung wieder neu erlebt.

Kommst du jetzt wieder zurück?
Hast du genug bekommen,
Antworten gefunden auf die Fragen die du nicht fandest?
Die du nicht zu stellen wagtest?
Die dich trotzdem quälten?

Du warst zu lange fort,
deine Heimat ist noch hier,
aber Hier ist nicht mehr dein Hier,
längst ein anderer Ort.

Du wolltest alles hinter dir lassen,
gingest
trotz der Angst dann zu viel zu verpassen,
Hauptsache weg, weg von hier
dachtest du hättest nicht viel zu verlieren.
Allem entfliehen, Pause, Neuanfang
Ohne genau zu wissen was dieses Alles überhaupt war.

Hast du es nicht ausgehalten letztendlich
so ohne sie, die Anderen?
Im Nichts, im Nirgendwo auf eigenen Wegen zu wandern?
Einsam im Herzen hast du dich wieder verrannt
Im Herzen stumpf, die Seele verbrannt.

Nun kommst du wieder,
zurück,
um zu sehen was  noch übrig ist
Zurück zum Alten, Vertrauten, Selben
Wir sind aber nicht mehr die Selben
Du ja auch nicht.

Alles wieder etwas anders, verschoben
Wieder ein bisschen auseinander gelebt,
voneinander entfernt,
weitergemacht, natürlich, nur halt ohne dich.
Schade eigentlich.

Doch nun schließ die Augen, schlaf
Gestern war auch ein neuer Tag,
verronnen,
Morgen wird noch kommen.
Wer nie ankommt der reist für immer,
umher.

Naja, wenigstens auf Schienen,
und noch nicht entgleist.
skah Feb 13
ich vermisse dich,
sehr,
sehr,
chère.
mein geliebter,
dein geruch,
deine präsenz.
deine nähe,
deine präsenz.
ich werde verrückt,
ohne dich.
ich funktioniere nicht,
nicht mehr,
ohne dich.
ich vermisse dich,
ich verliere mich,
ohne dich.
wo bist du?
wo bleibst du?
denn,
ich bleibe
bei dir,
bei mir,
bei uns.
vorallem.
ist das fair?
bleibst du bei uns?
oder bist du ein
gefangener,
deiner emotion,
deiner selbst,
deines selbst,
oder eines teiles
uns?
ich hoffe es.
sehr,
sehr,
sehr.
ich liebe dich,
sage ich mir.
oder nur obsession?
ich glaube es ist liebe,
mit einer prise obsession.
einer prise,
unklarer emotionen,
ungewissheit,
untreue.
noch mehr,
ungewissheit.
noch mehr,
unsicherheit.
denn ich liebe dich,
ich schätze dich,
ich respektiere dich.
ich will dich,
mehr,
mehr,
mehr,
als du mich jemals möchtest.
als es du,
dir jemals,
jemals,
vorstellen könntest.
aber ich will,
dich.
mehr,
mehr,
mehr.
silvervi Sep 17
Im Ozean des Vertrauens tanze ich, schwebe ich, verliere kurzfristig den Halt und finde ihn wieder,
Der Ozean ist endlos, nur die Sicht kann ich verlieren, aber die Ruhe kehrt wieder ein, sobald ich loslasse...
Ich schwebe und schwebe und es ist ruhig, still und klar um mich herum. Ich sehe dann, dass es sich ausbreiten möchte.
Der Ozean ist und war immer sicher für mich.
Die innere Panik hatte mich verunsichert und den Ozean gefährlich erscheinen lassen.
Ich darf hier atmen. Ich kann mich bewegen. Ich werde mich nicht verirren. Ich bin und bleibe frei.
Mit dir. Und das ist ein Wunder, das ich hiermit zu würdigen und zu fassen versuche.
Ich bin hier. Ich verbinde mich mit meinem Herzen. Das ist alles, was es braucht.
Du schwebst auch. Du und ich zusammen im endlosen Ozean-Universum.
Es fühlt sich immer leichter an, je mehr ich loslasse. Das ist Vertrauen für mich.
Loslassen. Hier sein. Glauben. Wissen. Fühlen.
Wie es sich anfühlt, endlich zu vertrauen und frei zu sein.
Kyle Leafe Nov 2013
Ich werde alles für dich machen
nur für dich
Ich wollte ein Bild malen
nur für dich

Sie sah mich nicht wie einander
Du hast die Vergangenheit nich los gelassen
Der Teufel bleibt miteinander
Ich will diesen Teufel umbringen

Ich kann diese Situation ohne dich nicht aufhören
du muss mich glauben
Es ist meine Pflicht
Ich will dich, Ich brauche dir
Du fehlst mir so sehr
Eine schöne Zeit haben wir zusammen

Du bist mein Schatz
Glaub mit bitte
Dass ich nicht geht
Ich bleibe immer mit dir

Du bist mein Schatz
immer mein Schatz
Nicht kann es verändern
Ich gefühl so sehr für dich, Schatz

English Translation

Always Trustworthy

I will do everything for you
only for you
I wanted to paint a picture
only for you

You saw me for more than a person
You never let the past go
The demon stays with the others
I want to **** these demons

You need to believe me
It's my duty
I want you, I need you
I miss you so much
We always have the best of times together

You're my Baby
Believe me please
That i'm not leaving
I will always be here

You're my Baby
Always going to be my baby
Nothing can change that
I fell so much for you love

— The End —