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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
Searle May 2014
I pull open the cover,
a trap door to the deck.
“Weigh the anchor!”
and with a splash the adventure  begins.

”Trim your sails!”
and the curtain ***** behind me.
The bow of Old Salt splits the waves
and I wipe the spray from my glasses.

There’s mutiny aboard the ship.
With cutlasses drawn I hear them charge,
the “pok-pok” of a peg leg
is my dad at the door.

“It’s twelve gone”, he says
and I see them fall to the deck.
In the heat of the action
there’s no time to count the loss!

There’s a shout from the door,
“They’ve scuttled the ship!”
My feet get cold
as the hull fills up.

The water is rising
it dowsers my candle.
The crew is sprawled awkwardly on the still, red-dyed deck,
as the leather bound novel falls from my bed…
Lots of imagery, think double meaning
Natasha Bailey May 2019
RELAPSE


The time when it feels like life is throwing you fire

That moment when you decide to temporary mentally retire

In hopes to repair and recover

Before you got to get your thoughts together

A timer ticking, with less than four days.

Then you realise 2 days have slipped in a foggy haze

Another 12 hours disappear in a blink while I’m stuck in this maze

Mind jammed on repeat, running same old relays

Life on the brink, Useless skits stuck on replay.


Disaster strikes it’s second hit,

With the bowel empty, out of ****,

tired and wired

In some serious need.

Next door possesses my ****,

clock strikes 2am,

no hope for the action called- boomerang

thoughts doing laps- thinking-

Why did I leave it there for so long?

Drug-enduced thoughts shift the blame,

How could they do me so wrong?


By not returning Billson after borrowing,

Leads to plan B’s decease.

The creation of black death to ease the worrying.

Now in search for some other sweet release.

Should have prepared a stash of sleepers

But I’ve used them all up,

Option C – A pill with effects like ******,

Zanexe don’t stand a chance anymore,

Immune to those dowsers, always needing a top-up.

The familiar stench of the chemicals on my skin,

Reminds me of all the times I swore I hated this sin.

Yet here I am again, where on earth do I begin?

Perhaps when I had my first lapse,

6 days ago, 2 points and didn’t collapse.

Which fertilised the seed planted by an addict

1 month off a year clean…

I was truly recovering

Then hell froze over turning my skies unclear,

That tickle got me thoughtful with the unspoken words - ‘I gotta have more’.

For of cause tomorrow I know I will be sore,

With that familiar dismantling pain,

For I have walked this road before.



For it I search, an act previously well-rehearsed

Found and purchase ordered,

I reach into my purse,

And as easy as that, transaction recorded.




- LetterGoddess
Breon Oct 2019
High truth for a high court?
Ha! I'd like to see it
Down here, where the doubting
Dowsers and diviners
Give away their gifted
Gimlet bits of wisdom,
Scraping for escape and
Scared of what they're saying.

Dream a little dream of
Dreary hours, sleeping,
Finding where the fire
Fries a firefly like
Loving something lovely
Loves yourself inside it
'Til the timer's ticking
Tells you you're done cooking.
I think these are technically supposed to be self-contained. Oops.
Yenson Apr 2019
the truth crushers on emergency call
quick as a bolt, out comes the dowsers
get to it fast, erase all, put out all those confirmations
it burns and hurts our ears, put it out before we die

Quick pour the falsehood on that flaming truth
bring out the slug of delusions, pour it on fast
erase it all, don't let it live, we don't want that around
it blinds us in it's brilliant glow, we can't handle that

Phone for the Truth Crushers Brigade, do it quick
don't let it spread, **** it quick, please hurry up
don't let it spread, it will **** our inspirations and drives
don't open our eyes, we do not court realities and facts
it's too painful for us, to know  about our adequateness

We cover every truth with lies and mockery
throw them out those harbingers of what is real
I don't want to know I'm three or four and another is 9
I hate to know others do better than me, let's all just lie
put out all truths, **** the truth it makes us so sick and pale

— The End —