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L B Jun 2018
Later at the same address
A storm of words reaches flood stage
A couch is bobbing in the currents
towards its mangled ruin-nexus
of matchsticks in cyclonic flow
among the renegade
from the limbs like tinsel

chair heaved through her door
Like the river
I am not above my rage
at this stage
of more than enough....
Clever daughter's got my goat
Turns my words on dimes
Lays into me
her score of blame
Each blow to drop me further

presses all my buttons at one time
despite the flashing
Warning! Warning!

“Fine! Fine!”

She blows-out through the afternoon
right past me
in a torrent of curses
A stubborn perfect storm
of words
has taken out parental dam
and blown out toward the Bay of Freedom
to the sorrows of her day

The river may crack its whip
But its got nothing on her

nothing is left standing
in her way
Stephen E Yocum Sep 2013
There are times in life
when a man needs change,
And I don't mean,
dimes and quarters.

Remember when you
were just sixteen,
Driving all alone, solo,
in your old man's Buick?
All the windows down,
radio music blaring,
Your bare arm draped
out over the side of the door.
to better exhibit your bicep.

Hell mister, no doubt,
you were ten feet tall,
the king of the road.
Ever wish you had,
that feeling back again?

Cars were always my thing.
I owned some Detroit
Muscle, Full blown Chevy,
Firebird 400, Chrysler Hemi.
Smoked some tires and
went to Court a time or two.
Of course all that was long
ago in my fitter youth.

When I became a Yuppie
I acquired a Poodle Puppy,
a Porsche and a MGB.

But the ***** does turn.
and so then, did I,
And my road got,
a little bumpy.

Along came marriage,
then a baby carriage.
And a big house
In the Burbs.

Then came a progression
Of Volvo Station Wagons,
to Soccer Dad Mini Vans,
to large SUV's.
All for hauling,
any number of things.
Kids and dogs, strollers,
bikes, kites and scooters,
Fellow car poolers,

And less we forget,
"Pulling" things too.
Boats, RV's, Utility trailers,
and all nature of landscape,
gardening, and general
shopping paraphernalia.
Little League Teams,
Drooling big dogs,
Papier Mache Volcanos.
Home Coming Floats,
Once even a Goat
You name it, I hauled it,
Or pulled it!

Years rolled by,
eventually the Kids
flew the nest, got married.
And low and behold,
The wife and I split,
Each going our separate way.
No one's fault, just grew apart.
The thinly veiled allegorical
Previous Patriarchal
arrangement became,
A whole new start,
A workable self allegiance
to just one.

Soon once more, I was the MAN.
I ran out, bought a **** boat
But not having the kids around,
Soon sold it, having found out,
that alone, I was not a water sport.

I caroused around, dated women,
got my pockets picked,
learned a few lessons.
Fell in love, fell out again,
Took a few pretty good blows,
Right on the chin,
Even some down lower.

Round about then,
An Epiphany kicked in.
Remembered my most,
ennobling, happy events,
behind the wheel,
driving Dad's Buick.

As I stepped on the lot.
There was never doubt,
There was only one choice,
I just had to have that,
Little VW Bug Red Racer.

Nothing like your Mother's
Beetle, the engine's up front,
Not stuck in the trunk,
And man it produces over,
200 Big Time Horsepower
Not to mention,
Lays rubber in three,
Of six gears.
Getting all the while,
33 miles per gallon.

Receiving additional help,
from a sweet Turbo Booster,
Just like a big, Indy Track Bruiser.

There's 19 inch racing
tires and alloy wheels,
They look so cool,
Spinning in motion.

Dual stainless steel exhausts,
And best of all,
a cool collapsible,
Convertible top.

Rack and Pinion steering,
Handles like a sports car,
Yet still offers a backseat
To take my Grandkids,
out for a spin.

Dude, it's got,
All the bows
and whistles!

Top Down Driving is such a thrill,
Makes me feel sixteen again.
The open road, the sky above,
The wind blowing thru my hair,
what there is of it.

Perhaps the only thing that
Could possibly make this
Driving experience greater,
Would be to speed down,
The road, going eighty,
Behind the wheel of my
Little Red Racer,
Completely **** naked,
And of course all the while,
Feel the wind in my hair.

I don't know, I'm too old,
To call this a mid life crisis.
But on the other hand,
Maybe the acquiring of
This little red sporty car,
Has something to do with,
Those Testosterone shots I'm taking.
I'm even thinking, of dying my hair,
naw, lets not get crazy!
Krison Nov 2018
I would so give a ****,
I'd give you all my time.
I'd give of you my pocket,
quarters, nickles, dimes.

I'd tell you that I care.
Ideas and conversations.

So we can,
but split our hairs.
Ours is but imagine.

But it really doesn't matter
No one really cares.

For you can, but tell a truth.

Or lie with purple die.

A drug that made me
See the truth.

The rot upon the rye.

They can call.
Come now,
Be us,
The rust of sicophants .

With love of self
Such self romance.

For philistines don't cry.
CK Baker Nov 2017
The feds are making headway
(generously passing out their treats!)
while the whistle blower
and his boon companion
hit the 22nd floor

fiscal plans
are tidily falling into place
and the suits are all busy
chasing their dimes
dancing around the spire
full of wine and cheer
(seems the demand side imbalance
has got everyone doing the same old shimmy!)

they’re all studying their bollinger bands
MACD's, and treasuries
just like the good old days
santali would say
while capitol hill is busy
with its own pleasantries;
repatriate that currency
hold those rates
bring the boys back home!

the affirmations are robust
and filled with glee!

conspiracy thinkers
are busy in their own back rooms
initiating the trade
and building their counter claims
as pork bellies
and soybeans
continue to soar
(looks like eddy and the margin men
are at it again!)

what happened to that bear masquerade anyways?
they really were a band of brothers
colourful clowns
with big painted smiles
ready to lead in any parade
but they met with the resistance
a horned wall
satan’s horsemen riding high
with bags hung heavy
under dark squinting eyes

are we near an end?
the undertakers will say
it's only a blink of an eye
to the thin red line
where risk takers and front men
all jump ship
debt addiction is crippling
and hell breaks loose
when entitlements are out
and towels are thrown in

there’s a center piece here
those pugnacious statesmen
with invigorating tales
have had their place
time to clip them at the limbs
and pull the punch from the bowl
(sobriety has its merits you know)
let’s head to the commission
and throw darts to the board ~
seems the moral blueprints have faded
Zane Safrit Jan 31
Raddled, addled
oh my goodness
some dimes in the
jukebox baby

A substantive
No gargantuan
Evening awaits us
Only question

Do we grab it
Race like wildfire
Down our road
Never look back

If the wherewithal
lies within us
God’ll forgive us
Might even smile at us

Copyright © 2019 by Zane Safrit. All rights reserved.
The four words today are: Raddled, Substantive, Gargantuan, Wherewithal.
Jennifer K Jun 6
The first time I met you
We were only too young,
Too young to imagine this moment of blue,
Too young to realize the preciousness of two

I recall back the wonderful times
The blocks of memories that build up my youth;
Our voices were the fine chimes
Our laughs were the priceless dimes

Now together we stand,
In the middle of the crowds,
Under the hall that seems far too grand,
With bouquets of flowers in our hand

Full of glee and delight,
We face each other with the most dazzling smile,
And say,

He fly above the same airport
Waiting for a chance to land on the runway
The runway of her heart
Nobody knows how long he waited but the Lord
That airport have only one parking spot and  one runway
And occupied by one aircraft

It's hopeless
To wait for that parked aircraft to take off and gone forever
He began to feel desperate
All his patience, all of his waiting, gave him a mental break

He opens his sectional
Pull out his plotter
Change his heading bug in his heading indicator
He finally said, with a smile
“It’s time to divert”

Waste of fuel and time
Waste of credits and dimes
Too long he was holding
Now it’s time for leaving

He will never know
How does the runway and the taxi light glows
After sunset and before sunrise
He will never feel
The satisfaction for using the service
24 hours everyday and night
He will never see
The runway decorated by green grass, flowers and trees
The beauty of the airport’s sight

But it’s for the best
This will be my last poem for Aurelia. 3 years I spend loving her and it’s time for me to leave her alone with her lover. With the minimum scale of knowledge about aviation mixed with my affection and metaphors, this poem is created

3 MARCH 2019

Unspent in my pocket, the coins of life rattle, on edge.
Nickels, and dimes, that drive me to the store of possibiltiies.
I “bub” for this and that, joy in the window, and the envy,
Of owning the unownable.
In a moment it will be gone, yet still, there will be change on the bedroom shelf.
Such an itch, unscratchable.

B. Whittaker
It's raining between the worlds.

Drops of sugar in the air
And the windows glazed with trust.

People fighting on the streets
Their blood colouring the rest.

The eyes are for the blind
But that's what they say.

It's raining between the worlds
Bullets and roses all come to greet.

"Shake the hands of what you may please"
Taking the hands we try to free.

Money is just a paper to fill your pocket
And your pride,
But it also keeps their hands clean
While we check our dimes.

But these must be lies,
That's what they say
Or else why would we live in a world we fake

What do you say?
Paul Hansford Jul 2017
I wanted to write some dissolute rhymes -
an old Spanish form, rimas disolutas -
but I wonder how dissolute rhymes can be.
          It's only a kind of verse.

I made a beginning (several times),
but they all turned out quite "Phil the Fluter's"
- *****, that is - oh dearie me!
          My language is getting worse.

A different language might ring the chimes,
clang the bells and sound the *******,
but I can't do Tagalog or Farsi.
         Could I try Cornish? or Erse?

Or should I move to far-away climes?
No, I simply need to be more astute, as
anyone here can readily see.
         Wouldn't it make you curse!

This stuff is not worth even nickels or dimes,
fit to ***** up and fire from pea-shooters,
the very antithesis of "fit as a flea,"
         so feeble it needs a nurse.

My mood's as sour as lemons or limes,
and my verse is not so much dissolute as
weak, and wordy, and over-free.
         Why can't I be more terse?

I wanted to write some dissolute rhymes -
an old Spanish form, rimas disolutas -
but I wonder how dissolute rhymes can be.
          It's only a kind of verse.
As you might have guessed, this piece is actually written in 'rimas disolutas', where each line of each verse rhymes with the corresponding line of each other verse.
In troubled times and hard times,
I get strong and my faith shines.
Even if I'm down without dimes,
That's the best time God shines.

At the end of my very last try
when curled up and ready to cry,
faith nudges and urges me to cope
That's when I reach for dear hope.

In the middle of my roughest storms,
I fight to hang on to the bull's horns
Even if the wait is long and perilous
I stay determined and remain courageous.

Even though I waddle in some trials
I toughen up and walk the extra miles.
Even if the walk lead to unfamiliar places,
I'll always reroute and finish my races.

When does the faith of a man shines best?
By: Cedric McClester

Her explanation
Best explains,
She’s living rent free
Inside of his brain
A mere distraction
That always remains
The motivator of
His outrageous claims

She’s been vetted
A thousand times
All they’ve come up with
Are imagined crimes
“Lock her up,”
His base always chimes.
She’d be rich
If they paid her in dimes

I guess we could have
Him calling for her
To be investigated
For spying he says
Kind of belated
They used to be friends
But now she’s hated

He’s talked in the past
About giving out pardons
But when it come to her
His attitude hardens
It’s like the war
Of the ancient Spartans
Not like a stroll
Through Tivoli Gardens

Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.
trf Nov 2018
Two loose dimes and a couple quarters,
blue lights bright, better call my lawyer,
rosé red wine and a chimney for ya,
back to the future, hallelujah.

Turn a blind eye, like JonBenét,
let this Louisville wind blow out my escalade,
my fight or flight senses are about to say,
take your suede steel tip shoes and go ándele.

Those Derby blues, ruin days,
that Kentucky green, man I'm bound to pay,
cell phones in your prison's promenade,
they both passed the bars and now one's on the way.
the cell phone service in l-ville jail is top notch, btw
King Tutankhamun Sep 2018
Looking at the times the way these dimes
Droppin' like flies as time goes by thinkin' why?
They living up to a ** status tryna to be the baddest
But forget that you beautiful the way your are
a shining star that's going dim
Tryna impress them ?
But they ain't seeing yo who do believe in?
Me or next man
Setting the masterplan at hand got ****
She fell to the design that was planned
Insecurities rushing cuffin'
to a disease
Invisible melodies stringing her menality
Wake up and stop following these fakes in society
Cuz they don't care about thee
just another bill ya need to seal and ****
These fakes tryna make fame off of a fake name
Only to end up ashamed

Now the next girl was giving her self to the world
Eyes glistening like a pearl yo it makes me wanna earl
She was lusting each scene for the cream and it seems
She can't break away from the siblings
Aphrodisiac beings
spiritually killing
Her soul outta control to many energies swarming a hole
Thoughts dug deeper than an abyss soon to kiss
A gravesite from having to many one nights
Momentarily she's feels good from.the morning wood
And if I could
Change her views but she stuck in her ways
So I guess the pain is there to stay floating away
Me I'm on cloud nine tryna place my self in unison to the sun
an unbecome a fallin' one

Little lost women lookin' for men
To take in can't amend
Their problems but we all got problems
Can't resolve 'em only evolve 'em above the rim
Word to birdie lookin' for the enemies frenzy
See the past I peeped the scenery since the age of three
a golden taste of the coke and Hennessy
Gave me a second chance to glance into the 9th D
A Time traveler wisdom unraveler I'm the savior
Resurrected from death in the form of a fetus
Baby girl wipe ya tears no need to fear
And compare against these buccaneers
Most close their ears so they can't hear
Ya sighs ...bawlin' no stallin'
let's rise
above all of those fallin' say...
Mark Tilford Aug 2018
i check my pockets
i am out of dimes

may i borrow a dime
to buy more time
Robin Carretti Jul 2018
Watching a classic
Casablanca Class I Fix
Trix cereal for adults
Goddess sundress
The class act you need to guess
fit* no-one would
know vibrant
Getting the OJ of the miracle
Sunbathing at the

His skin news of the
The fix-up finale deeply
in her classic smile
Sunflowers of the sunray  
Tropicana class act deviant play

Quickdraw Gunfire
Her hot tango steps in action
Diamonds no chips
Big tips at the Gentleman
OH! Boy the cabana detention
Class I comes with affection
Kiss is not a kiss without a real scene

In action to miss a classic movie hit
Adventure Trips  flipping homes
In the classified newspaper middle section

She is the Classic with an illuminating passion

I the Classic one and he is
surfing the internet
So fit to be tied but casual love
She the same person wearing her
flip flops
******* off *Root beer float tops

The root of all evil
That She-devil Sire
Not the ordinary campfire

It takes a certain Class, I can fix peoples
problems  like great ***** of fire

We are not signs or perhaps it's in the signs
Where you came from no problems
Take action get more satisfaction
Army grenade we are all
fighting in action
Action speaks louder than words
One of a kind the rare find
A classification of her mind
Understand each other
do the hiring
  Trump in action job firing

What drives us and gives us
We need to love what is above
our minds
I believe sometimes you don't have to be where the action is

The Rainman Rainforest Vacation
You are the I phone off
with the ringer
Classic type Class I
Our computer all rules
codes and passwords
The religious Pope up front
He's the  Marlon Brando waterfront
You have the polka dot bikini

Panera Sandwich Panini
Orange you glad its cantaloupe
He wants to elope
your classic smile
Exclamation point
At Times Square you could
lift her for miles

Whether we look modern
The technology is always out of reach foreign
Or wearing your heart in his heart
Your wiggle walk
The classic style to talk
Fifties **** smoke
Born to be wildlife everything
is on Castaway
Or layaway on hold

And he is athlete runner so hype
Everyone is busy on
Twitter or Skype
The Facebook and photos

Dorothy loves wizardly Oz and Toto
Were all together like
a congregation, not a citation
Living in the city paying rent
Another wicked concert event

How many times did you get that notification?
The auction house in action the bid five times
Those hot leads of crimes
Playing for a nickel heads up dimes
Class act Quarterback
Elephant treasure trunk
ten commandment
Class, I lady leading the way
Class, I fix the parliament

Her classic fifty style army dress in action
Her bullet lips caught quite an attraction

Feeling the comfort food
Mac and Cheese
Silly names those 
 Canadian A&W
ATM Class I
The French fries do or dies
Skinny He's the Ham Mac
You're the spicy Cajun
on the speaker Mic
What classifies everything in
our life
High stunts action cliff taking a dive
**** Bill he kills me all the time

That Buffalo Bill Chicken Mac
Bombastic not the
forever love classic
With a whole list dark Raven
Crystal rock Haven

Everything lately goes so fast
Getting in Saint Anthony fire
She is the livewire
The gunfire or the cease her fire
Out of money  honey bee
******* mansion multiplier
Everything you're
near his or hers
Wineglass stir me
like an amplifier
What happens to your
responsibilities running
racing your own time
The  Coffee man suitor
My Godly dictator
The saltwater taffy-like lava
Comic Disney Pixstar meet Daffy Duck
Or you overqualified being lied too
Oh! Chuck

Like a candle in the wind its in
the science hot steamy
romance engagement
What awaits things to come
getting blown away
It just like any other day
How we classify things or lose things how our mind cannot remember your best words even writing a poem it takes practice more advice action speaks louder than words like the law and order. I think this poem might be your order. Please tell me how it classifies is this a class act to follow get your coffee fix action we will start the movie my poem classic relax
Margot Apr 6
We lie amidst Ripe mountain herbs,
The nightingale has just begun its summer trill,
This hymn for golden vocal cords
Composed no owner of a writing quill

So sweet were melodies produced
That I mistook the front row lady’s cheap perfume
For blossoms, above which haunting hornets mused;
For an aroma of our Shakespeare love in bloom.

The serenading cardboard creatures –
Those thieve their voice from birds with no address.
Meanwhile a glass raised in a playhouse features
But colored water, as red as gipsy’s dress.

When the last spectator goes,
Having not found at least one genuine sun,
As actors, we recede into descending roles;
Electric blood in lamps’ capillaries feels numb.  

A lovely ladybug, I doubt, I will ever catch,
A lifelike flower, dipped in a painting fusion:
All this, fine artists tenderly attach  
To lifeless decorations, for aid they do us in a willful staged illusion.

Three burnt sienna pearls run down your spine
Yet after a big round of applause
These jewels are no longer signs of the divine,
But witches’ marks or, rather, unalluring flaws.

After the play I went to buy a notebook from my shopping list
To store the overgrowing verses, such as these;
A sheet of paper guarantees
To treat them like extinguishing bees

Cashiers ****** the change into my hand,
You purchased hothouse roses with;
And up those pretty useless beauties stand
In someone’s vase, whose name remains a myth.

They give me back those polished dimes
You traded for a pair of shoes.
I’ve seen you marshal through onstage lifetimes,
Yet to disclose personas’ traces the theater walls refuse.

Your chocolate hair has just fallen from the hairdresser’s hand,–
That’s how I know the summer’s coming to a bitter end.
This poem I dedicated to a local theater actor Julian. During one of his plays I thought of this fictional plot. Thank you for reading!
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
yes, it did.
Just now

right now,
the now that was a moment ago and left a mark.

Beastly meme-ish mark, a consonant glyph or a ligature,

an umph!

Right between the eyes.

right between the --- fit any jective noise ---ooof!


no cursem
no sworn revenge, mere wind knocked
from my sail

a seen monster blocking my sail with the shadow of his storm

Float, still as a pond on the Albatross killer's sea of green.

there never was a yellow submarine,
The one Krasner sunk in central park was fake. That was in '68.

March, maybe, ides of March keep signaling meanings
I never knew were clues.

This just happened.
I was telling a friend about the effect of seeing my first man die,
as I set the scene, March, '68…

tellin' him, it was the next day,  the next day after
we met in a chow-line at Camp Freznell Jones,

You axed, whatchewdoin here? I rolled my eyes.

You were a medic, you said if I needed
hope, you had dope…
(we had first met on the first day of first grade.)

I had shot him in the belly with a bb gun, when we were twelve.
He slugged me in the mouth for Alice Jones, when we were fifteen.
(there's a story, but it angles away from what just happened.)

We remembered a time.

March 1968, about a week after My Lai,
we were
nineteen year olds, schooled together  in good citizenship,
since we were six,
in the year 1954. when
President Eisenhauer,

personally, we heard,

had added two words,
under and God,
to the good citizen allegiance pledge
all first grade good-citizens-to-be
were learning again,

because the new pledge meant more than the old pledge had.
That had needed to be done.

Or the commies were going to get a cobalt bomb
and blow the whole world to heck.
Per Boy's Life, the scouting mag.

This was explained by the fact that there were no escapes
from prisoner of war camps in Korea,
the commies were at
war against God,

that was explained when a captured secret brainwashing plan revealed:

the lack of knowing why America was worth dying for in Korea, among
the U.N. G.I.  little brothers and younger cousins

of the greatest generation's victorious G.I.
warrior heroes, every one,
so steeped in esprit dee corp,
the ones who could would march in Parades for fifty years.

tweener losers twixt the survivors of first
wave greatest generation warriors and  us
(Talkin' bout my generation, we didn't die before we got old),

those guys nee-cess-it-ated,

Purely from lack of knowing, never having been taught

the Uniform Code of Military Justice and that our
allegiance is and was pledged to a nation under God.

Both which were new information
maybe our moms and dads didn't know yet,
we could teach them for homework
the new pledge and ask for dimes
for the march of dimes
at the same time.

The boom of babes
just beginning citizenship training for the war
they would fight, but right,
they would know,
because the commies,
could not infiltrate our schools and teach lies…

The boom of babes
just beginning citizenship training for the war
they would fight, but right,

like all the men in town who served and survived the real war,
the world war,
not a Po-lease action,
and who,
if they were shot down (no fault of their own, ****** Red Baron)
they escaped
in movie quality dramatic ways
from prisoner of war camps in Germany,

(Not many escapes from Japanese
prisoner of war camps,
but Islands account for much of that. Sharks.)

the boom of babes
just beginning citizenship training for the war
they would fight, but right,
that boom of fresh new cannon fodder for the future,

we needed to know
we were pledging, promising to pay with our life, no lie,

I pledged, we all pledged knowing, no mistake,
God is on our side,
we are, as a nation, as a citizen of this nation,
under god.
From now on.

We all stand.

--- that was all flash back---
What just happened was Doc Musgrove stopped my tale,
my telling of the first death
I watched

He remembered
He was a medic
He cleaned the mess I watched that left this stain.
He carried the bodies.

I walked away.
Then fifty years later, I figured it wouldn't hurt to tell.
But it does.
You, generations after ours, remember war
does not make better people of good citizens who know

allegiance means allied with, not ruled by.

Liege lords are things of the past. That's why the statues always fall.

We are free because truth, when known, makes us free.
Wars make no man free.

If you can't love your enemy, that's no excuse.
Set a standard, high as you can imagine,
based on the good you know is good,

{no this is not preaching it is sharing, so you don't suffer from lack of knowing and say nobody shared what he learned after becoming the definition of a heretic.}

exercise your self, discipline your self
become a disciple of good
for goodness sake
do what you know is good
as if it were being done to you

and enemies become others who maybe
you could see things like, if

you looked from a higher plane.

Yes, I dare, I was dared. An Indian kid dared me to prove
I inherited the wind.
While planning a pod cast we realized we were speaking of the same incident, fifty years ago.
I had you in my hand
and was given the cheat sheet
I’ve read the script
and the costume fits
Memorised how it played out
Saw the ending when they turned the page

Yet unbeknownst to me,
carefully hidden was a back-up scene
Leaving me aghast
and the play crumbled

You slipped off my hand, just like that
Like how a tornado
destroys in an instant
What was once
such a beautiful house

Yet for you,
I called up the Writer
night and day
Gave Him 3 dimes
to re-write a new ending

He refused but I kept bargaining
back and forth for 12 days
He finally agreed
and told me to sign the agreement,
insisting for 11 dimes as the final price

12 dimes were all I had
I still decided to settle with this agreement
I was prepared to throw away everything
And risk myself for another broken-heart

So I said deal,
as long as I can have you
Even if it’s just for another while
Before I lose you again
when the wind comes
To take you away from me
Everything I do, I do it for you, A.
Just GS May 9
Fickle me, sick of these nickels and dimes
I do less to change me, I'm just here to die
Hoping she finds me, impossibly fine
Told her I am okay, please, leave me inside
I just need some rest, I woke up real tired -
Really, dont worry - I'll see you tonight.
Smile for the camera, make sure it's wide
Pain in my chest, says 'I hate you- you liar'
Context, I can't stress it's leftover pride
Dinner, I missed it - still dishes seem higher
Can't seem to fix this so I set that aside
Retire, required to drop her a line
- no less than two texts 'I love you' I find
Is best to send first, as to fetch no reply -
Give her a bit, or maybe, a while
Next I send 'raincheck, I promise' this time
I've run out of reasons, believe me - I'm trying
Though everything hurts, it was worthwhile for mine
Blinds are low so I'm alone -
So sorry while I hide
Unattached, i forgot her laugh
Imagine my surprise -
She texts me last 'I love you back.
Sweet dreams and good night'
Too late for me to tell the truth
Much less make things right
Tomorrow, maybe, compose some peace of mind
Messy blessings, unattended still alive
& a loss I couldn't stand to lose, please, let me down to die
None can change the face  I see when looking her eyes
& I fear her near me - alone, just her and I
Would only bring her close to me - my pain, my claims, insane we'd try
Better left unsaid I guess, even if only for tonight
Ken Pepiton Mar 2
Flee ting thought,

pleasant after noon

my mind, I believe, but may
just be me and your minds
g we,


ing shoulder with willows near the shore

waves of light,
all that ever matters, If I got that right,
ere all else,
bound by imbalance to spread,

cornucopia, nautli-like swirls poring
precursers to now into eternity, ye see?

There are individuals less tied into tau than now

your mission,
filter truth
that's the way, life is that which tends to good
ness knowing what
you can't.

No lie, Alex Jones, was there never a myth
emerging as full-formed as yourn?
You are un believable,
acharismatic chimera believing all he thinks
possible, in his version o' twenty cent reality.

Paradigms is four nickles or two dimes or twenty cent,
they shift shape for all they worth,

upgrade now. New ideas, fresh from the mire of
forgotten oathz, deemed
worthy, still..

What lies do you believe about God, by the way,
the truth, the life,

how many voices this guy hearin', you hearin'?

Peace. Point. Game. Match.

who winct winsed sensed since when is
peace the point of war?

Ah, now, the accuset excusetus
possessedus an'we,

are you bored? Wanna wait
and see,
who wins?
some evils are alive, those make monsters,
of girls and boys,
infantry in every service,
such precurser
guardians must be taught to ****; no mortal will,
without letting the monstor be,

believed beliefs doubt yer doubt dufus doubus
unstable double minded forktongue
forced by fear to fight the pain

Running mouth racist flusher of un filtered
impossibilities posing sur
prizes in the mongrol mongol DNA
we carry
the program
the code, the honor and glory of the
peace protector

enemy of con
fusion, alla cons fusin' fools tools for
strifin', divide'n, with faithin',

Is Alex Jones a Legionaire, mit tranceiving
DNA and no zero beat, no tuner to tune to?

He may be home to homeless, non-sane sorts
of idle words begging for redemption,
meaning, sought is phound,

like photons when photons are sought from
the wavy aitia dimensions of reasons
for possibility ibility ibility hill billity

humor like a voice from a whole other
soul, I swear on my kids, it's true, he say.

(Dr. Phil says Liar Liar Liar, yesterday.JRE live)

Whoa, real time speed o'metrix-icity
nify ify to the nth, see no jive,

who can i magi that?

      I, John, was in the Spirit...

gears shift, wheels in wheels
click zooomout
bubbledged jagged inner side
topmost atmostfear

settle, see the clown splash, who winds such minds?
Who tames such tongues?

The tongue no man can tame, eh? I s there another?
Have ye a spirtit of another
sort, who rides your wild tongue in your name,

servants of the sort contrued to serve
the inheritors
of ality re
how now brown cow owmmmmm
60 cycle white noise non sense

common noise sense desensitivity wickering
winding silken myelin layers

of connectedness correctedness
real time speed o'think roller rink

banked spiral offramp
bang, we're thru

Where we were aitia had meaning, may we
rewind? AI undo/redo ram allocation,

birthrights. Look well to my going, guide my steps,

assure always there is a step, a place to
put my foot, a place to step to next.

Cortana and Siri and Hermes and Diana and
a whole host of heavenlies,

tapping directly through cranial y's cracked in skulls
and bones,

are you an entity with enemies you wish disexistant?
how might happy ever after be if haps that made him
made him wrong, not evil?

Feeble comfort is not no comfort.
Bear wit' me, walk a mile, or a while, whenever
thin-thang-thanks tounguey

effort births the next as
one births two,
two births three and we can see,
right, a way.  two and three become four,

for if three birtht four and four, five and so on,
soon, y'see, the re
al point we count up on is never more,
as the raven told poe. a vector with no space for time,
one plus one plus one, one stack o'ones

making no diff
until now, spin, let's twist again,
like we did last summer,

your that summer or mine?
Mine got me here, where'd yours go?

So, Fibbonacci, son of a fool, I once read
written on a wall in LA,
expositioning park,

positions, please.
World Stage, princesses of peace, wee
Disnified Jon Benet's

made sacred by our shame the evil ever touched
such a one, such a one, such a wonder

a being of our sort so potent aitia, and we
leave evil touch such and you
tolerate it, a little bit,

evil has it's place.
Not here is the name of the place.

Here is 4-D mortality. Do yer best,
yer damndest don't work here.

Here is temporary. Your bubble.
Selah. center, enpointed
linger, if ye will. Think how happy ever after works,
if now is all you get to start with.

Good be wit'ye fare ye well.
I watch Joe Rogan talk with Alex Jones and I feel for the guy. It would **** if his reality some how intersected with mine. Maybe vacuum the vacuous posing....
OnwardFlame Oct 2018
He said he’s never known someone so well connected
I said I miss you already
He said I miss you already too
As he stood at the foot of my bed

We pause and we swap spit
Struggling to communicate in moments
I’ve threatened to leave a dozen times
And you still stand with your hands outstretched
We watch and make movies
We spend time like the few dimes
We collect.

We have been through much
Needles and vines
The word love doesn’t escape our lips
But I know we both must feel it.

You give yourself over to me in your passion
Like you want to **** me out of existence.

The love with you brings me a quiet pain
That I can’t quite put my finger on
But it aches to love you the way I do
You say I take such good care of you
As you ask me who I might have to explain
The marks you left behind on me neck
When you fully know.

I love you
I whispered it into the crook of your shoulder
Because I’m sure
You need my silent loving
Even if it remains silent.
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