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Torin Aug 2018
xspacexpotatox 1h
Racism is a lie, your people hate us naturally lol just look at the way you’re responding................ and us “black people” are supposed to be the ignorant ones.... whew
xspacexpotatox  1h
Look at the affliction and persecution. There’s a reason why your ancestors put chains around our necks. It’s because the Bible said it would happen ****
xspacexpotatox  1h
So do me a favor, go learn a bit more. I’m not even gonna laugh at your ignorance, I’ll pray for you. Have a nice one.
Torin Galleshaw  1h
oh so your jewish friend is the authority on this? what does he know about zionism? seems you got your mind made up man. good for you
xspacexpotatox  1h
I want to know why you feel so threatened lol
xspacexpotatox  1h
I won’t let the hate reach me man
Torin Galleshaw  1h
wow, racism is a lie then u stereotype all white people IMMEDIATELY after you say that. ignent? i really wanted to give you a chance bro. but you have been very abrasive this whole time, immature and incredibly offensive. i dont know where in the bible it says that. or, if as i remember when i went to ce williams middle school as a young kid in a poor part of charleston south carolina where i also learned a test can be racist because the only person that did well on it was me, the white kid. ive felt black racism towards me all my life. do you know the history of the celtic people. yeah, slaves were given food to eat, my people died in gutters in the cold because of no mc hiring practices. ever heard of britain, do you know who irelands neighbor is. have you heard of the potato famine, do you know why it happened? william wallace?
systematic opression for over 800 years.

most important part and key difference between us, besides the fact thta your better than me because you are black, but. you claim im so ignorant im not worth your time, essentially. i think your so misguided i would love to show you the actual way to god and heaven. brother, you need it.
xspacexpotatox  1h
Bro you lose don’t message me anymore
Torin Galleshaw  1h
and dont claim im acting like im threatened, first thing, you dont know me. youre acting nearly militaristic on this ****. young malcom X wanna be. im cool tho, you robably never knew someone as chill as me.
maybe we could talk without resorting to personal attacks tho. thats a good sign you are losing an argument.
xspacexpotatox  1h
What’s your point? Mines is simple. I get what I learned from college text books and the Bible, the knowledge coincides and that indicates who my people are.
Torin Galleshaw  1h
do you know of the talmud?
do you know what it is?
do you realize that it contains the only visual description for jesus?
do me a favor, before you try to come at me with some more weak **** why dont you go and see what the talmud has to say about it
thank you brother
xspacexpotatox  1h
Was the visual description a white man? If so I’m not interested
xspacexpotatox  1h
I’m a young black man that’s been taught all his life, all I know is truth.
xspacexpotatox  1h
I’m not that arrogant, I offered you edification and once I edified you rejected. lol I’m not supposed to be nice and open to you.... I know who my oppressors are.
xspacexpotatox  1h
“GOD” said “and I know the blasphemies of those that say they are Jews and are not” you’re disrespecting my ancestors
Torin Galleshaw  1h
thats the thing only a truly awoken spiritual person will ever recognize. in a past life you were a tiny asian woman bro, you were a fat white guy, you were a cat fucj it. so rn your black. soul dont got color. recognize bro. i dont wanna big boy you on this, but i can. and i will if i have to. or maybe you would either A. apologize for your offensive and rude behavior, or B. and my preferred choice we could ACTUALLY converse. you say you got proof, cite it priest boy
xspacexpotatox  1h
Bro, my ancestors were beaten, *****, hung, fed to alligators, shot in the streets, literally broken. Imagine having your family heritage stripped from you, your language and books taken from you.. You’re not hearing me out, you’re trying to prove yourself to be what I am and I can’t let you think that’s okay. I’m OG. I teach people. So far I’ve learned nothing from this conversation. I’m proud of the beatings my people took to get here, and I definitely don’t agree with the whole “you were a white or Asian person in the past life” because that makes no sense. My family is “BLACK”, besides that my moms great grandmother was mixed, and were STILL predominantly “BLACK”. I come from “BLACK” people, therefore I am a HEBREW ISRAELITE, and I know this for a FACT!
Torin Galleshaw  49m
Bro, my ancestors were beaten, *****, hung, starved for hundreds of years, shot in the streets, forced to fight in the civil war after arriving here form ireland starving, (one of the most effective brigades, you see many of the soldiers had to fight in wars against the british already)literally broken. Imagine having your family heritage stripped from you, my last name is not the last name my great great great granparents had. it was too ethnic, it was changed, your language and books taken from you. do they speak celtic in ireland?.. You’re not hearing ME out, you’re trying to prove yourself to be what I am and I can’t let you think that’s okay
xspacexpotatox  42m
Oh you guys are actually mention in the battles you fought?! **** there’s no documentation of anything “African Americans” did in the wars we helped win! Atleast you guys got decent credit
Torin Galleshaw  37m
bible told me you just have to accept his love, jesus's love, but even buddahs love, and john the baptists love, and all of gods great prophets. bible taught me that without their love i can never really love any one.
xspacexpotatox  35m
If you believe in the most high, fine with me. That’s all I have to say.
Torin Galleshaw
Torin Galleshaw  33m
yes, there is documentation of both slaves ad freed black men fighting on both sides actually, believe it or not
Torin Galleshaw  32m
https://www.archives.gov/education/lessons/blacks-civil-war

"Once let the black man get upon his person the brass letter, U.S., let him get an eagle on his button, and a musket on his shoulder and bullets in his pocket, there is no power on earth that can deny that he has earned the right to citizenship."

Frederick Douglass

xspacexpotatox  28m
I never once believed the history teachers in school, I always challenged them because I know that American History is *******. Just like whatever filth you’re trying to show me will only bore me like the teachers bored me in school. I served in the US Army. I did my time for white america and I refuse to go back lol

he blocked me not long after that, final thoughts

Matthew 6:10-14 thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven, give us this day our daily bread, And forgive us our debts, as we also have forgiven our debtors,And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.
a truly fascinating case study in hypocrisy.  when he is sending me videos of white people asking for blaack people to treat them kindly when they become enslaved.  nah.  if your gonna block me instead of being able to have an actual conversation im gonna put you on blast.

anyone who believes this is a *****

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZvZSxSkTZOM&feature=youtu.be
Certain men may be pigs, and maybe some feminists take it a bit far,
but when it comes to sexism, I certainly don't think it's restricted to ***;
and when it comes to racism: there's no such thing as race.

Far too many **** Sapiens are just ******* vapid and odious when it comes to their personality, in general. It doesn't matter if the narrative is One's ***, or religion, politics, perceived gender, art, science, the weather or any other elite form of edified philosophy.

I want to believe that everyone has merit-
that they cannot be judged by any external entity
that, because it is external, lacks the whole context.

Still, some people spoil my attitude towards people a bit.

Humans are my favorite counter-example; yet, I love us. Somehow.

Jaded though I may well be,
I seek foremost to be kind, but that makes you a doormat.
One seems to have two choices: be a push-over, or an *******.

I seek the middle path:
empathic and kind, but also self-interested.
..something of a "passive-assertive" person.

Returning to the point:
I'm just an equalist, I guess.
Egalitarian. Individualist.

Sexism? Racism? Nationalism?
Why the **** is it even an issue?

Haven't we grown up at all in the last 10,000 years?

If someone's skin color, chromosomal composition, language, wealth, ethnicity, or where on Earth they happened to be born is that big of an issue to you psychologically and socially, there are much bigger problems going unchecked boiling over within you. The abandoned kettle whistles.
Good luck. Earnestly.
We're all counting on you.

People are people.
Worry about yourself and what and who you love.
Halfway to a rant and back again! May as well be a rant. Okay, it's a rant.
Anthony, Anthony, oh dear Anthony. His face is like a little darling's; with tumults of green and gray cheeks blended into one. I wish there had been no yesterday; for yesterday was when he appeared with his rain-soaked, but gay little cheeks; as he smiled at me by the twin moonbeams. Still he is not him; I care not how he wants to tease me in my dream.

My heart is gay no more; its walls are honed imperfectly, and with no goodwill. Its image and charity hath now gone; I am plain, I am like a shy spider grafting about the chattering winter walls. Oh, Anthony, yet how sweet thou wert under the bald rain; and its unleashed forms of cold clouds! Ah, I wish I could lend to you a wonted breadth of my story; but as I gaze, now, into the very soft metallic eyes of thee; I am afraid my words shall never be impossible. Thou hath that brilliant green gaze of nature, my sweet, but thou art not immortal; thou art vital, but thou art not of the same rainbow as he is. He hath, now, been dried and cornered in the unseen lungs of my heart, but his ghost is there. Ah, he, who hath betrayed me like a sparkle of dead candle! How should I treat this misdemeanour, you think? But to my strange suspicion, I cannot but forget of him, even a sliver of memory; for his memories are too elusive, too adequate for my hungry heart. Oh, Anthony, how bashful I am--for not daring to cope with thy questioning eyes!

Like those unanswered rains; which keep wetting the unyielding soil, damaging toiled crops into the limbs of quavering pits. My love was borne with death by him; within the death of his feelings, in which it was but a fossil of discarded flesh like any other corpse. But where is Immortal, Immortal, Immortal? I keep looking for him, in those scarlet hollows, but still I glimpse a sight of him not. I shall keep lulling him to sleep, at least in my dancing dreams; he is the sober prince and I am the guileless princess. Ah, Anthony, tell me how I cannot be guileless; I am honest and decent and carry no defilement of chastity. I am pure myself; with a garden of virginity and its terrific rivulets flowing beneath me. How can my charms be not charitable? Even when I walk, a thousand boughs of blossoms snigger not; they welcome my entry with another thousand wits; they reply to my living steps with a radiance that even heaven cannot forgive. My verbal words might not be delicate, but I am sure my poem is; regardless how hard t'is downfall might be. Ah, Anthony, thou art a miracle still, but thou art no more than an evening story, sadly! I cannot feel my heart become unleashed, as I looketh into thy eyes; I cannot feel grasped by thy cold hands--ah, thou hath grasped me not; but still thy apparition cometh less merited, and rather falsified, than that of his.

How can that be, how can that be, how can that be! Ah, this earth with its villainous glory might blame me once more. It shall toughen my hardship with a whole land of repulsion; it shall intend never again to make me a faithful alliance. It shall satisfy its own self, and metamorphose into a swamp of ungrateful hatred sweated by an edified mockery. Ah, what doth all t'is charm mean, then? I shall face a green apocalypse soon, thereof, before being burned within another blasphemous night. I feel cross, cross, cross, cross, and cross; I grit my teeth whenever I think of my stupidity. I feel as if I was an old dame so gratuitous to thee; I am a luminous fire, but instead I have no seeds and am just as dead as a soundless pumpkin. Ah, Anthony, can thou but restore that lost fire again? I want no speeds, I want to see no miracles, I feel dutiful; but undutiful at the same time. Your heart is right by the doors of Yorkshire--and sometimes grow into the doors themselves; it is funny to see how they are so tidily integrated by the eminence of each other. I shall craft for you a beautiful song; but perhaps a jest like that shall never be enough; it shall be tedious and not pertinacious enough to entertain thy young heart. Thou art in want of my poems, as far as I can see; but all I might do is withdraw my eye and even draw my steps back further, invariably like a rusted old church bell. I am insane; and far trapped in the insanity as I myself am; I am cold-blooded, my heart can, perhaps, be healed only by ease-like murders. I cannot ponder, I cannot think, I cannot consider; I paint the entrance to myself no more-oh, how I miss his laughs like never before! Ah, Anthony, my wintry sun, my autumn soliloquy, my snowy sob; perhaps I shall better be far from thee, for I want not to make thee sore! My heart is as rough as it is; incarcerated in its own heartless panoramic views, brutal like an unattended soil, for hath it just been left unattended for a time; it often wanders to breathe fresh air, but severed once more by the adored's filthy laugh. It comes home and sleeps weeping beside me.

My heart can no longer count; neither can it flinch. It cannot even see colours, including those which were once fabulous; it is far from enormity, but it claims to have one. Ah, Anthony, it is even a brighter scholar than myself! Look, look how hath it conquered my? I have jaws and it has not, I have a heart--ah, I do have it, but I knoweth not how to make it mine. Half of my heart hath been eaten away by a rotten love, even my blood now--as I hath been hearing it, is no longer flowing. I am hurried by the murmurs of the wind every day, ah, but shall I return again to my poetry? I guess, though, I can make time for this gay seriousness; I am poetry and shall always be, I am alarmed by the cries of my poems, and the joys of my sentences. I am mad, as how poets should just be; I am the pictures my poetry paints; and caress them often at night in my arms.

But as you may have seen it, my heart is now dead, plain, and black; my heart who has loved, and still does love, someone. Ah, Anthony, forgive me; forgive me for this solemn labour of my heart; forgive me for choosing to bear this alone. I might love again, someday; I am aware I should triumph over this self-inflicted martyrdom; I shall relieve myself in one blink of wonder, in a more reliable princedom by the sea. Still, I hope, like a gallery of paintings that is planted with a hall of constant transformations, God shall transform the very haven of his souls one day; and refine his atrocious soutane into one righteous and cordial. I might not be the crucial lady yet for thee; oh, how I wish I were! But vain this attempt may be, should we ever doubtfully try it. Ah, Anthony, but gratitude to thee--for once choosing to lay off the puzzle of my heart; for thy gentleness from the very start!

And hath I now finished my breathless narration; I doth miss thee, oh Immortal; I miss thee as I shall miss a piercing sun in these filths and greases winters may bring! Ah, and the clearer picture in my mind carries to me a voice that though thou art fine; thou art dainty no more; and this leaves to me a flavour of
precarious solitude. I loveth thee, Immortal, Immortal, Immortal; my love is as a sky that remains high; my love shall stay flowery until the day I die.
"i don't wanna have to be the one to tell you this,
but you're no foodie; you're just a fat-***
who's too cowardly to take an honest look at yourself.

It's okay to be whatever you want,
just don't lie to yourself proclaiming to be a foodie
to justify late-night trips to Jack in the Box four days a week,
or eating a whole jar of Tostitos 'Salsa con Queso' every two days.

Are you trying to mummify yourself with all those preservatives?

Y'know,
just because you blow most of your paychecks
on gasoline, **** food and overpriced coffee
pulled to the most pretentious of standards
doesn't at all begin to mean that you've got any class, taste, or style,
let alone that you're a foodie.

At least recycle all the paper products your pseudofood comes in.

Moreover, your thighs aren't ******* gluten,
they're all that other junk you eat habitually
while watching your oh-so-edified selection of films
before sleeping it off until 3 in the afternoon.

No wonder you're so full of ****:
you are what you eat, I suppose.

Pull your head on out your ***.

All that fat and cholesterol isn't for the faint of heart."
A bit of a rant. Sorry, but not really.
certifiednutcase Mar 2014
In your presence I feel edified  and loved
Something that I've never experienced when I'm with others.

Your love so great
You died for me.
But yet who am I?  
A lowly worthless servant who can't seem to hear your call,
Left aimless treading on this earth.

Blaming you is easy
Scolding you ensures nothing.
Yet,
When I ask of anything
You gladly give.

It's funny how things ended up like this
And hell am I afraid
Of what's about to happen.

I trust in you, knowing you'll guide.
You've never failed me.
You won't.
"If we go to war with Syria;
I ******* hope we get attacked by Russia or China:
no one should stand for that wont of Aggression.

It's a ******* shame
anyone has
at all
so far.

War is a disgrace
to Humanity as a whole,
much less our particular
dis-edified Nation.

World War Three will begin
as a False Flag attack.

We need external regulation;
we fail as regulators.

Minimizing Human loss
by replacing Humans on our aggressive side
with Drones and Electromagnetic Radiation
striking the "defensive"
(read: sometimes arguably innocent)
side;
combine this with:
Critical Thinking,
Morality,
and History,
and I reach one resoundingly solid conclusion:

IMPEACH OBAMA;
use the tools we still have:
IMPEACH OBAMA
Impeachment is our DUTY as CITIZENS of a "DEMOCRACY"
IMPEACH THAT *******!
"
-
-Jai guru deva, Om-

*"WAR IS OVER, IF YOU WANT IT;
BUT YOU'VE REALLY GOT TO WANT IT.
"
-John Lennon
**** Obama;
the warmongering, subversive neo-******
who strikes through Drones
rather than Gas and Infantry
and detains Citizens
indefinitely;
despite hunger strikes.

I fear not to say it online. The parallels exist, at least in policy.
He is not solely guilty; Diffusion of Blame is totally a thing;
though he is the current figurehead of the beast, as it were.

This is an outrage of momentous proportions;
that such a smooth talker broke all of his own promises
thus perpetuating the Great Mechanical War Machine of Corporate Amerika.
"Growing Up"
is a Euphemism
for gaining the capacity
for more Responsibility.

It can be said
that by this definition;
very few seem to grow up.

They tell us
that to "grow up"
means to **** up to the Man (in essence)
and to learn to pay the Man's dues;
far too many grow up
by this definition.

Please;
attain an edified perspective
enough to be trusted
with your own free will,
That is to say;
"grow up"
Carmelo Antone Mar 2012
Luscious lovers strangled by sheets of seduction,
Is this for real or is this our thirst for another,
Do I need companionship?
Or was the **** simply not good enough,

A man on a makeshift crutch
With a dependency fed by lust
Not a ******* son,
But close to the Judas of Love,

Defying what those before me had done,
Doubting the prospects of the one
So beyond the romance and the monogamous harmony,
All I care about is the curves that caused us,

To get close enough to realize,
It’s no longer about trust,  
Since a physical attraction caused us,
To get close enough,
To experience what we can’t live without,

Is this a weakness or my evil plot?
To enjoy what I perceive,
Without the prospects of a teaching an infant to walk,

An action that caused a religious reaction,
A natural necessity once socially ingested,

We are fighting to keep from,
Regurgitating our misguided perceptions,
Of what brings you and I close enough,
To abandon those popular convictions

An extension of humanity,
The exemplification of our species physical conformity,
In the wake of a pleasure, an enjoyable experience,
Came prospects of fostering generations to show what we’ve done,

My fantasy goes beyond the seductive sheets of lust,
As I hope that my words will one day be carried with those who follow,
Those who will inherit a world of,
****** deviants,
Ego edified lunatics,
And love.
Armed with knowledge
of any given set of rules,
One inherits great Power:
arbitration of One's own

Be well-versed
enough to be able to subverse
any and all obstacles, however adverse,
and, moreover, to be able to transverse
thyself (and, by extension, thy universe!)
perchance edified by some means of verse,
(but not necessarily: bask in the diverse!)
during this sacred and fleeting saga of the converse
called Life: denied, defamed, and defiled by perverse
and attenuated souls; true cowards: unwilling to traverse
their own inner darkness, rather opting for the reverse:
to turn themselves schismatically and indefinitely averse
to the divine, ineffable, and limitless inverse:


So this plea, please:


Just be you,
let them be them.
Let me be me,
and let her be her.
Let him be him,
just let us be us.
Just let us.
Lettuce.

("Why he talkin' 'bout lettuce now, mommy?"
"I guess he just think he funny, the fool!")



Look, point is:

You are you and I am not,
and I'm okay with that.



I am I and you are not,
and I'm okay with that.


I hope you feel the same.
If not, by me it's coo',
yet I jus' gotta say:
I pity the foo'.


Bask in the holy beauty of this Life
while you still have the chance.
Truly, Solace awaits those who are willing to face this unchangeable aspect of this Life:

Diversity is the nature of this Universe;
the Void is One is Two are Three are the Ten Thousand
(et cetera, blah blah blah)
Get over it and strive for balance.
Maintain balance.
Create it.
Be it.
Be able to lose balance and find it again and again and again...
Be it.
Be you.
I'll be me.
I'll try, at least.
I hope you do, too.
I mean, I hope you try to be you,
not that you try to be me..
'cause that's for me to do.. not you. that's..
oh jesus, here we go!

Foremost,
One must harmonize with One's own Godself.

Nary another
can or will do that for you,
nor shall ye for any other.

So, whatsayeth thou:
let's just try
and we'll see just what we can do.
I'm optimistic,
albeit a sign of weakness in such a needlessly vampyristic world.




Please,
heed my verse
should ye be so apt,
or, rather:
inclined!






Thank you for reading.
Blessings upon thy Path.
I hope this makes even just half as much sense to fresh minds as it makes to me right now.

Words are constrained to interpretation,
but therein lies much of their magic.

I wouldn't change it if I could.
--


"******'fuckidyfuck! It's five in the ******' mornin' already‽‽
I been writin' n' editin' this ******' ******* for an hour now‽
Jesus Christ!"

"Whuddup, homeboy?"

"I got work at ******' ten a.-******'-m.!!"

"God-****! You so ******, yo.
Huh, ***** t'be you, foo'!"

"You tellin' me‽ Shiiit.
Look, Jesus, bro, I got a favor t'ask ya:
So, I know you all, uh- real nice an' all,
an' I ain't tryin' t'take advantage a that immaculate ****,
but, look: I drank a lot a water, 'n I got plenty left, but uh-
I could really ******' use some medicinal miracle wine right about now!"

--
PS: Profanity in the notes field ain't explicit, so it would seem.
In keeping with the allusion at the beginning of this piece:
Knowledge is ******' Power, y'all!
-
Now it's five-*******-thirty-
make that five-*******-forty-five in the morning.
Oh, the afflictions I incur in the name of this silly piece of scripture.

Still no miracle wine...
--
Seven o'******-clock rolls around with the epiphany that my lazy and crazy self can get me my own ******' wine! Expedite the whole debacle a little, y'know?

--
Seventeen-*******'-fiddy-one and I just got off work; ne'er got me wine,
but surely ein bißchen Whiskey!
Los geht's!
is a personal choice.
It is well within One's realm of power
to rise above what One has been
to learn from One's own mistakes
and to augment and amend the standards of quality
to which One chooses to hold One's Self.

Edification is not simply a lofty pipe dream
achieved only by perhaps a few past geniuses;
it is the perpetual act of active mental cultivation,
taming One's Mind that One may lead it
that in turn it may propel One upon the Path
rather than One merely being dragged along
for the ride of a lifetime.

Edification is a personal choice.
Begrudge not they who seem to choose to overlook it,
though they may well begrudge you your vernacular;
for it is they who cheat themselves
with some grandiose mass-produced delusion of comfort
and they thereby **** themselves
to forever wallow in their own putrid and vile irk and ire.
And, in the self-absorbed yet self-nihilistic process,
do they cheat us all of an edified society!

Even so, perhaps even more so, with that withstanding,
it is of utmost importance not to begrudge them their disedified state,
for pray they wallow not in malice, but in ignorance;
for all it takes is perseverance and knowing One's Self.

Aye, there's the rub.
Edification: n.
Intellectual, moral, or spiritual improvement; enlightenment.
An endless, subjective, and, I argue, self-directed process of self-cultivation.
Edification is salvation.

"Law dictates action for the lesser men;
right conduct dictates action for the Sage."
-Tao Te Ching
woolgather Apr 2016
He was born of the grandiosity,
The pride of wolves,
The bravery of lions,
The wit of ravens;
He was born of a beast.

He had the might of the strongest,
He triumphed every strife.
He always had the victory,
Of the pleasures of life,
He was born of a beast, indeed;

Yet unlike the beasts akin;
He was not of ferocity,
A strange affliction, received;
Bravery of lions, he has, indeed,
Yet, he struggles with a foe.

The foe gave the toughest skirmish he had,
Sadly, he failed to vanquish it:
The sullen darkness, the specter,
The mist that did nothing but whisper;
Whisper tragedies over naught.

It filled him with guilt,
It filled him with fear;
It made the Beast weary,
To conceal the scars he sought in battle;
A battle far too explicit.

He, the beast, ventured endlessly,
Trying to hide his curse.
He tried to release himself from everyone;
His kinship, his gallantry,
His kin.

Then in his yonder, he met a wisp;
Lively, bright, pompous.
The wisp accompanied him in his bouts:
The bouts that hid his truths,
The bouts that pushed him away from his realities.

Alas, the Specter he encounters once more.
Again, it whispers his fears.
Amidst the pain he listens to, a faint voice enlightens him;
The wisp speaks his bravery;
The wisp speaks acceptance.

His eyes were unclouded,
It glowed like never before.
He had done something he thought he would've never done:
Vanquish the evil that haunts him;
Vanquish the Specter of Censures.

A day arose again.
He, the Beast awoke, listening to the hymn of the wisp;
It spoke that his battle was not of the specter's,
That his battle was within the Beast's self,
And with it, he slumbers, edified.

He awakens once again,
Realizing the truth that he is:
A flamboyant Faun,
Frolicking in the meadowy grasslands,
Basking the Sun's warmth.

Yet realizing this, he wears his mane once more,
As he is greeted again by his kin;
He fears not that hisself  be lost;
He fears that his all would be lost,
When they are darted by his Truth.

He, the Beast still walks upon his feet,
He still has the grandiosity of his birth,
Yet he forcefully clouds himself in lies,
To hide the reality he only can accept;
The Faun, hiding in the beast's mane.
I try to conceal a lifelong guilt, yet here I am, subtly shedding my worries.
13 May 2013
When titans fall, they become legends in the hearts and minds of men.
There are stories told of their greatness, tales of their shortcomings erased.
Edified as icons and fed like fodder to the masses of the nexus.
They’re transformed into gods once their mortality overruns them,
and the people bicker and boast until sour and roast.
So **** on you all, if ever should come the day
your putrid black tongues would choose to sway.
These titans, to me, are greater than gods
the music they’ve bled is what puts us at odds.
R.I.P. Jeff Hanneman. You will be missed.
"Don't leave any marks," she says
as I nip playfully at her neck;
"It's unprofessional," she mutters
while squirming from the waltz of my lips,
and at the dance of my fingertips;
everything was electric
and it was great,
truly breathtaking-
at the time-
but that time-
has passed;
sacrificed;
killed.

If only One
so edified, dark, and **** in Her ways
would grace me with Her Time and Temple;
whilst true to Herself
upon Her unfolding Path,
that I may also be true to my Self
upon my unfolding Path.

Truly, that would be
a Dream come true
and the Moon would stop
and stand still for us.

Though,
think not that I seek merely a toy,
that I want someone for mere fun;
this is not a question of mere Lust:

I want Love.
I want to feel Love.
Truest of Love;
Metaphysically,
as well as
physically;

I
want
someone
who would make it seem
as if the Moon stands still for us;

Alas, though a gleam,
it doth indeed seem
to be merely a Dream
within illusioned Dream
--------------_--
Subtlety is key,
when you have something to hide.
I've nothing to hide.
topaz oreilly Dec 2012
With cushions to embolden practice
his teeth chattered like a monkey
a juddery fall did him remarkably well,
he was like a comet awry
a soft landing edified his standing,
merriment down the chimney
depuis Decembre .
Julian Aug 2020
Lambasted by the bushwhacking shambles of potsherds burrowed beneath enchanted rhapsodies of sunken Earth lurks a might unleashed by the preemptive dirges of Heaven
Shattering the weight of mismeasure adaptive to apt remarks of conservatory stellar repartees gilded in the flombricks of insuperable gammon wed to the divorce between mammon and guardian treasure etched by revets of colorful nuance but colorblind fortitude chalky yet with scattered sound blinking in the wink of intelligentsia a thousand parsecs of understanding in milliseconds of orbit
The periphery of forgotten stars bereaved but informed of circular axioms of axiolative thermolysis bellowing stoked smokestack locomotives of hibernal clairvoyance dare to wonder beyond limited or enhanced pulchritude the denizens of thievery stolen in a flashbang grenade of a new Grenada of fustilugs gabbling in flushed rosy red tongues of frenzy or aplomb what lurks beyond centurion sentinels of robotic half-witted half-baked semi-cooked bludgeons of cruel insensate irony withheld by vulcanized drapes of curtailed curglaff fashioned by kneaded distance and suspended for heaved awakening at riometer’s knock barnstorming the crude churlishness of the foreign at trespass of the inane scaled down by infamies unstated and flanged to appropriate provisions of measure that conquest lurks behind recess and all is grafted from the callous pachyderm skin of absolution cozy to remedies but aloof from necessities of pang and Tang rollicking magpiety like a rotten pastime aged past its due.
Yet the batting average of the uncanny visitor undaunted by glaring photogenic record balks at precedent and aims to lollygag his chicanery roundhouse above the ricochet of enamor to whilded terminus at circular diamonds soaring illimitable skies boundaries to another nothing beyond the past of something worthy of pearls piggish in appetite for oysters to inhabit
Yet these cloistered vacuums between the pleonexia of the avarice of retches of chyme and the digestion of complete guarantors of shielded heterochrony wassail on dreams Titanic and sunken living repeatedly in revised stereodimensional waves of registry beyond fundus hijacked by towering dimensions ulterior to the profaned foresight of the wretched dimensions of reprehensible coteries belonging lost even when fetched by glimmers of the profound.
The riches of aberrant mobilized fleets swung into tether pole centripetal flictions of swarpollock surpassing credibility and peace surmounting mountebanks of petty finicky itches of cretaceous extinction mapped to qwersy frugal mathematical jokes recoiling at rebarbative manifest destiny belong to the records of soundracketeer trivialization of malleable gold fashioned from Whisky Bar encounters with goldmines ascertained in magic by the suspense of upholstered dramaturgy lurking beneath tall crestfallen visagists who toss and bandy about in tempests of curdacted flow emissary and envoy to flajousts emergent from the verdure of aboriginal machinery fumbled by human ergonomic chicanery espoused by asylum rather than touted as marksman prestige flippant by inordinate gavels ****** asunder into delignated copper-brass keys of foreboding prisons on sinking ships for counterfeit litanies of bogus warning meeting inclement poverty to a drawn sine in the sand vacillating on purpose but intransigent in declension.
Starlet gnashes of odontoloxia wavers of tangential tendentiousness escaping the orbit of enumeration by sly remarks surprising the elective prerogative for convergent autumn to skittish paces of fast-forward beating the brumal bears in their gelid lollygag reminders why the 2nd protects the 1st and the primacy of interposition is the immediacy of flexed muscular DeLoreans cavorting with fringes of unfurled destiny in flashbang instants between the space among malingered pauses among secondary waves of betrayal shift the curious rip tide of stretchgraves too ennobled for widescreen yet narrowly faint in their promontory illusions as mantelpieces of emblazoned scarlet A’s for nothing more than a tempestuous flair with stigma but simultaneously the realization of true dreamy blues escalating around tensions finessed into ****** before drooping into the droll 1850s as the balderdash of detriment belonging to the salvo of picturesque still-life expressionism dripping troudasque in antiquity with flairs of impertinence celebrated more by melodrama than by billows of industrial hinderbaggle toxic to the stated alarmism of trinkochre preventing treony by the warbles of songbirds hemmed in by bushwhacking galactic police forces of granted licentiousness for backbites in the feral canine drollery of aged literacy chosen over youthful foofaraw belittled by retches of attentive brevity rather than protracted obtuseness: neither ideal for the gravity of aborning centuries
Yet we dally in convergent esprit filibustering rhymed cadavers of cadence for prurience in ebullient parvenu damsels vacant from the setting but entranced by the galloping herds of buffalo formidable with warmth because of death and locomotive drive-by shootings Daphne wouldn’t miss.
Yet what Mission Impossible has a BioCyte worthy of henpecked ransom and detached villainy of a trespassed appendix bursting in the Young crowd much to the awakened dismay of the colored affront to black-and-white hubris finicky in oligochrome yet fainter yet than stellified bronteums burgeoning in generativity separated by inherent gulfs of heterochrony balking at submissions fished by loaves of interest in the hambasket of aswallone fractious to redshort individualism in the subhastation of Jurassic prowls of replication hibernal for millions of extinct permanence scowling only by the mandibles of crackjaw Samson yielding his jaunty hair to flummoxed Cutthroat Collapses trimming yardstick furloughs of pleckigger for demotic flavork above fishy warbles of tilted pretense vagrant to everybody simultaneously renowned for arrested cacophony but bridled by few examinations barnstorming teetotalers with haunted patrons of aged wine speaking redivivus in contemplation.
Measured glare radioactive to lizards beneath Mojo Grooves monikers fielding “fly away” as transcendental harpsichord anagrams filter through lavaderos of hackneyed nockerslugs berating illusion for conflation in the influx of dacoitage among Vikings who swim flanked by sonic blares of innocuous dolphins floating dead by the carnage of bloated whales and ridiculous spates of welter above conscience ragged with tetherball futility.
Sparring with engastrimyths sapping the sapwood of sappy banality for toonardical lullabies that pacify opposition more than the Pacific is internecine to volcanic tirades of seismotic jolts of burgeoned awakening I vanquish petty sneakthievery with the unspoken power of a Tweed that masquerades not on ******* but on virtual rhymes cascading throwaway brown-brick fifties collapse on Dagon armed with gnashing poise against guttural gubbertushed victimized flippant fantasias arrayed to brook the decrepit streams of my elevated retinue for staged intrepid barnstorms against phony assassinations to prove petty Edison powerhouses clairvoyant in even their specious participles of quantum irony decisive in fliction marveling at sensible conveyor belt beltways infested by sluggards of inferior hives contrary to every inclination of self-edified skyscraper invented by the mettle of industrious man
So swanky in boast but gingerly in insightful discretion I careen ping-pong victories into a plevisable fortune of Bubba Gump wealth and Fortune Magazine ostentation as the ringleader in Barnum’s neutered circus that never spays a single sword of creation in the barnacles of progeny and progress frogmarched by cruelty and vehement in suppositions of craven popinjay popples of a whangam metropolitan artifice tinsellated with angles of trim prance above suburban ecstasy in transcendent flash and peerless reaches of stratosphere above mundane plaid macaroni witeless in the sterling grace of foreign domestication of livable conditions abiding by aborning stardom.
Harriet Tubman flowers on the bedside of ****** seances of 70’s Parisian cafes gerrymandered by hobohemias of herculean heft squaring account with encompassed brevity in byword dazes with ***** futures yet to court the cordial consensus in dodged drafts of fumiduct riots bailing upon New York Time for 44th street colored incineration of an orphaned Africa embodied in a totemic titan with reninjuble peerless majesty compromised by a frapplank in immodest incisive harpricks of fumbled swerves against the original proclamations anniversary to Boston Indians revolting against Manifest Destinies magnified in incidental clarity by bestowed churches fuming with rampant clairvoyance tamed by the grisly realism of intermittent thaumaturgy swaddled by the reconnaissance of eventual warps blistering in milliseconds to overturn the ultimate row that the mire always wades through in impoverished egestuous profligate convenience of hamstring declension against chary mettle in scruples by elementary riddles in precise junctures of sanctity the bodewash of slick partisan gibes of a puppet show vampire avenging Sarah Marshall. Harriet Tubman is an overblow of subniveal pickets of defensive clarity to immemorial churlish katzenjammer of a protracted flux capacitor dynamos in abolished feral groves of bohemian legend rather than ignoble rhapsody flirting with apartheid’s chosen engineers whittling an indelible scourge of hatred rather than a revived simian immunity scalded with potboilers of sveldtang water scorching like Helsinki after Stockholm goes up in conflagration over bonanza of wednongue dative duress in impregnated purpose skanky with ministered drivel of doytined attempts to flicker a switch exorcised by the integrity of neuroscience besides an intransigence of exuberant interruption of warped logics of pataphysical coarse arenas for submerged vapid Yellow Belly Pie Slingers aimed at 7/11.
Broadside bruisers aim at fracked 80s heyday like a Hey Bulldog reminiscence on a quaint suburban joke of alien freebooters in Franc Swiss gloss swanky on the spot of frapplanks endless in retired liturgy of surpassed peace amicable to truces among the pragmatica of checkerboard pastries willful in array backing sentinels from rearguard hindsight to flank the motatory missiles of target from ransom built like fortress of immutable graves lost to the celerity of the outpaced spectral wonder of teenage flights and hegiras into recessive parsecs enamored by a stage-fright of recocted astral wonders plasma to the ears of a strange foreign abode hospitable to most heaved alacrity sidewinding into effigy and the crumples of used demise recycled twice by intrinsic spirituel flocks of engulfed eagles spooning the pristine littoral waters of precision in nexility
Stayin’ Alive cackles resound in the hallowed furrows of a neat daydream in a scattershot imagination screaming to make myths sticky pigment rather than imbroglios of intaglio filibustering cohesive firm firmaments flexing with windfall at princely surprises cobbled from chocolate-box chariots of brisk elation shoveled by the conglomerate of prim-looking star-crossed unbuttoned snoozes with glamour in the corsair sojourn beyond the space emergent from stardust tinsel and glowered vindication of self-engineered huffs of vulpine vainglory touted as preeminent above dodgy 70s swerve in the vibrant kantikoys of covert tenure and flickers of swandamo glitterati borne of triumphant dimples on immaculate refraction.
Yet lingering on the precipice of aboriginal unity in disjointed sejungible frames of vernal restive residence decaying with anthill colonies of demarche the cadence lost to gyrovague trinkets balks from corridors of Pacific  Avenue peace that is the cardinal to the priests feasting on militias of rentgourge evicted from their own leash of lease ruffled in the plumage of horizontal margins folded into origami zenkidu gullible on Raptor estrangement chained to the rhythms of parsed sparse rumbles of the rhombos without a complexion intended for sparkled starlets doomed to regular tides in swollen tsunamis of soft-spoken surrealism the providence of aimed dreams of drastic marvels beloved to impregnate a verdant cadence latent by faltered seamstress elopes flickering for caress in the duress of finesse.
The quaint drawl of scrabbled runes of rumbled rumination streaks like a quivered acerbic winsome peacock jagged in the parlance of henpecked peak beyond the reach of the highest teacher that ever had the privilege of tutelaries spawned born to teach in Steppenwolf rhythms of rugged heavy metal impeachment yet ripe enough to preach. The last juggernaut is vile bereaved of yets to become the blemish on risky flambeaus overrun by crackles fuzzy in written retch for sudden bursts of volcanic speech.
In the quagmires of serrated heavy leaps I stroke the frazzle as the choir reaps the grim proclamation gilded by sentinels of majestic Challenger Deep burrowing tunnels of coltish ploy dilettante to all his curated adoration that toys with the children of majestic modesty ever so fractious as to balk at the priggish calumny of retinues of the tired coy rampant in emasculated spayed days of stranglehold filigree geometry bent on noisome bleats prone to annoy
So I leapfrog the redundant hackencrude fawn of gripping spectacles of alpenglow summits on acid at dawn foaming with betrothed pumice on borrowed past from potentiated future belonging once to a man yet always bred to prefer fairer damsels sprinkled with a hint of germane Soy saucy to the Bossy promenade to an Islander born and bred.
Guilt like Gravity gilded into spacious trailblazed glory sent seminal and said loudly bowdlerized the pasture of hidden thickets in sparse backwater chavish remanded by fisticuffs of elapse travail in artistry fundamental to rhapsody in distant milky affection jangling high plaudits of auditoriums of the delicate audit bulldozing fraudsters colored by defected records set ablaze in seminal disco becoming cordial homes for shaken residue blushing in crude crass mass the inertia of the classy beyond recognition without flashbang clashes of cultural class glimmering to faltered waterdrips of palatial mischief in correct lens for froward recalcitrance of jittery stash hidden in dacoitage by the police that knelt on incinerated livelihood predicated on chauvinist cash for departed untouchable caste of radical haste too blinkered for internet barnstorms limited only to lurid copy-and-paste regimented for revolution damaged by the loneliest orchestra of refineries of an alien taste.
We crack skulls against ossified hulls riveted weakly to iceberg submarine bulge battled in wars past always to suppress greater travesty yet divulged that Barbarosa was an insider coup expunged by remonstrance against finicky postulate brayed from deranged heirs to a disease of relish quartered by blue danger dancing with shadowed emancipation librettos finkly in tripwire terms of routed inefficacy killjoy to seanced second guess prisms of rootless flimsy accusation wagered by pathetic overstatement in hypenstance trimmed by the crimson paint of a glowering silk woven from dramaturgy belittled by grasp if not by locomotive passerby pause wicked by subversion inclined not to dismay by oriented by nefarious rage of flagrant hapless scrimshanks in prowess sued by process and refined by progress never erased by a five-second glower by the sentinels of parlance intrepid by desiccation to supervised superstition bemused by abundant gray twists of turnverein pillory.
Hyacinth Sep 2019
Edified by our prayers-
     mustered from the beginning
Years we've been together,
     retrospects we are reliving.


Rendezvous at 71st-
     always brings back joy
My feelings always comes to burst,
     undeniably the best moment I do
     enjoy


One and two and three and counting
     years since we've been with each
     other
Love encompasses our reminiscing
     longing more in making memories
     together


In God we always hope and trust, we
      raise Him up!
With all of these, there's only one
      question left to be asked...
Is it possible, to be walking worthily,
before our God, in a world that’s dying?
While we have some defined understanding
of the constraints that are placed on us,
are we making the effort or even trying?

Are we operating with humbled mindsets
of lowliness, meekness and long-suffering?
Have we grasped the full purpose and plans,
for our vocation within His eternal Kingdom?
Do our actions show that we’re endeavoring

to move beyond personal crusades and desires
to impress anyone, whose lives intersect ours?
Is there a unity of The Spirit, whereby we
can have serenity with everyone around us?
Are we being productive or just wasting hours?

Does our Christian lifestyle reflect the idea
of us having one Lord, one Faith and one Baptism?
Are those, within the Church or outside of it,
being edified by the way we conduct ourselves?
Or are we acting out… in spiritual vigilantism?
.
.
.
Author notes

Inspired by:
Eph 4:1-16

Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ

By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2016, All rights reserved.
I am letting go of my past mistakes and  all of my disappointments.
I am letting go of my pride, my selfish desires and selfish dreams.
I am letting go of my hurt, anger, and all that keeps me failing you.
I am letting go of myself and focusing solely on you my Savior God.
I am letting go of my past, because its where I fail you daily basis.
I am letting go of all of this darkness that tries to hold me prisoner.
I am letting go of everything that does not edified you Lord.
I am hanging onto my Sisters and brothers on Facebook and here.
I am hanging onto my Living Savior who shall bring me through.
I am hanging onto all that is from Christ my Living Savior.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2020
Past the last of the acidity, augmented by the fire two valleys west…
woke to wonder where am I to aim
my self
My being me being made of all roles I ever play

Today, is marked a day in a week in a month and year
on a spreadsheet maintained
by several orders of attitude HR magnitude, cults of clerks, used
minds and bodies, stacked in edified
piles…

as quanta of thought, bits of ever left in now as hints,
things to come are made of ever lasting stuff,
word of truth, my self is sworn to tell,

test me if I lie.
But {but, but} in thy mercy, not thy wrath lest I perish
and only id, or another ******-enomen for evers what was, remains
a role, an act, remaining after the ocean of opinions I was on evaporates,
after I am evilized as egoically selfish,
I,
my self, too highly thought of,
for far too long a time.

Yes, {yes, yes} that, too, has passed, re
do the re,
there we were awakened, with a Jolt Cola realization,
life is a game,
we make up, as children can, if you recall
the child you were when thinking as a child may, at play.

This is the day we form a man in the realm of self I am
and, if you take my word as truth,

you take the ability to sponder, eh? First, you ask, re
is the author authorized to utter truths hid
since the foundation of realit-ifity, as we
imagine
in preparation, for the game, Life,
but not the Milton- Bradley version, this
2020 Life on Earth.
The game. Made plain, a board game.
The self, aware of teachers standing silent, but prepared.
Ask, and, truly, as if true, answers appear.

Choose. Do. {winning loss of confusion points, line by line}
Rules and Regulations,
Scepter and Orb,
Rod and Staff,
Crook and Flail, same-same seen signs of higher power…

long ago, far away, prior to these tools we use, you read
I wrote,
we imagined, in our minds visual mode, we see as if true,
a we we may be if we agree,
and
follow the hold of the symbols of power,
respect the symbols, look once more re-see the revealed,
veiled since God knows when, but {yes, yes}
more knowable now than ever,
that which fell to the earth,
sowed light. That's right… here come d' judge.

If I find a little light, and in my mind, I let - let it go - let,
until the letters be taken out of the way
and meaning forms from informative
matters of fact, impossible.

Ah, Jah, ya *** old and feeble, after a while.
So it seems, says the weigher of any word's worth,

accounted for idolized words, holy, sacred, secret troothz…

abound, Bounce bounce tic
to Rube Goldberg goes the metaphoric prize, proof.

Plan the action, pre-form the plan, practical failure, of course,
is unthinkable after careful thought,
critical thinking and un-come-on skepticism of sophist teknhe.

****, up in smoke.
All the attention ever paid to any single thought,
shhhh shushing in the cold, absence of heat,

too cool to live, longer.
Pop.

Turn the page, scroll the screen, ignore the parts of reality
behind your focus forward receptor circuitry
winding round and round,
past at most fears sold at half the attention cost.

Pay hell for your wish, or accept the fuel to fire up one
thought candle in the flicking arena,
I think I am visible,
I feel lucified.

I can kick the ball, I know, this time…

Ah, Charlie Brown, your social significance is history.
Echos, formed from yes-t'day, blended with an OKGO binge followed by boyos dis--cursing Zatrathustra.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2023
Vu. { as long as any story's told wrong}

- suffer not a novice to teach

No bet. Nothing wagered, no pledge to be paid,
no bet was made between the unspeakable name,

core processing access id-entity… we'll call Truth.
And time, if there were a wager, Truth be against Time.

- thus we develop a worth for attention.

The way life works super resiliently, bouncing back
after starry chaos leaves a constant possibility
for truths beyond our scale of instant relativity
to manifest as seems with none the wiser,

the sun could flick us from existance, and be
acting as naturally as all such suns act
after a while, maybe

seven minutes ago.
---
listening to me bellyache and moan,
woe is me I am good for nothing.

Hmmm. I could just die, but then, there
would be just cause to believe me selfish,
and selfish is something I try not to be, in fact.

Information flow, twists awry through held truths,
never taken apart to reset the spring.

Nietsche was wrong about a lot of things.
Knowing he had a voice he could
convince himself was otherwise,
he had a real raw idea of God.
That's good.
Not useless, mostly used up. Flame.

That's what the real old *** in me said.
Fretting naught,
letting go all wishery wasery,
growing old effortlessly,
be causing, as wishes are supposed,
sup-post,
same as prayers properly aimed, to
be collected to be
be answered, as information related
to pain in the brain or heart, or core
mental effort processing part, which
detects and destroys the infecting barb.
Just in time.
Release relief, unbelievable lies,
pile into icy dams, late spring
in truth
past all thorny issues,
life is not intentionally difficult,
ants - the super colony kind
run vast ecology balancing systems,
on auto pilot, pure intuitive duty drives.
On a global scale, spreading without war.

We can see we can be better rich than poor.
We can see we live on a wet ball spun
along a spiral in a spiral in a spiral, and so, on
and on and on, looping the grand loop, a little
farther along than last time,

our eyes have seen the glory, our children
can imagine thought speed, information passing

as time carries matters to gravitationally bound
points past which nothing is ever the same,

because you, cause me, to cause you to imagine
we share a plane conscious level,
as we stare across the heavens from JWST,

just adjusting reasonable focus, is it asking
too much? Asking to effect the healing
with truth that cannot be denied, and be truth
indeed…

Whatsoever, whensover, so today is fine,

infinitely fine, as a whole time bit, with us in it.

Who arranged the world's laws of nations,
?
not men in my general class, retired disabled
boys used in immoral warfare, and paid glory

and allowed to march in war winner parades,
even though, Wounded Knee and My Lai,

fester under America's Exceptional Blessing.

Agricultural superfluity, aided by machines,
and the modern incarnation of king control,
usurious
war debt, cost of plunder,
always need latest enemy detection tech.
- Confidential is above us all down here.

Who you gonna call to collect on reneged
deals, see the big picture, be visionary,
wars are lost for want of a nail, a nail
that woulda been seen missing, if the smith's
bills had been paid in time for precharge inspection.

Who allows evil to prosper,
who prospers from peace never made?

imagine you're the powerful and magnificent
leader of North Korea, or a Metro-mega Church.

You quote Lincoln, and agree with the great
promoters of idle time boredom prevention,
knowing you can fool some of the people,
all of the time. And some of the people
a predictable percentage of the time,

and all the people, after a while.  

Oakridge radiant Gospel,
"you listen too long
  you do eventually die."

- and thus it came to pass
- none found fusion, pfft.
Deep mindtimespace silence

Nonsense to any, therapy to me,
the effectual fervent prayer,

which is really
closer to need announcing, auto
awareness, missing pieces, up
ethos more or
pathos, up path of logos,
as winds winding times
recurrency circuits
up right
is not.
Down is not. Here is midway,
midterm… middle distance
**** sapien augmentedus
in the net spread
in the sight of radio beacons.
submicrowave accuracy,
acutron concept of counting
seconds worth of your attention

Practically stretched
past tensile strand strength

stretching to a C-note,
harmonica

calling all my musing friends,
come hang with me,
in my tree.

In the forest of humanity,
the ant intuitive interconnecting -umph
-- last stack, let patience prove possession --
---- Pa-airing Suckacessfull…
Yeah, blue tooth vestibular augments.
-- I can hear birds now.
Who is on war's side, if this were after
I made my case and closed it,
this is the future when we have
global access to once secret libraries.
5g- ****… radio directly individuated,
as once first accounts were coded, so
now, we are our comm device's user,
we filter using truths we used
and proved just so, we lived

asking truth to show itself in ways
a mortal who labored fifty years,
could be led to expect, jubilee,
boom,
I am free, and I am not uncomfortable,
U may read my mind and find news,
formed from used theories untwisted,

and stretched to the extent of one man's
heart fire, expanded with knowledge,
edified with activated agape, lief be,

take a second, what's such a bit of being
left alone, at second glance, become,

some kinda curious thing, clap trap.

****, all wishery is yours, it's time again,

to review the prayer/wish fullfillment section.

Did you, dear, oh, dear, what, what makes
dear the lessons life teaches for your attention,

no price, a quote, a song
"Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you without money,
come, buy, and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost!"

Isaiah 55, thriving on hope deferred,

refer again to the references,

decide yourself if you believe James I of England
was at any point a person you could work for?

My task is not to teach, unless my life proves
worth my continuing continuance, thinking

plinking, *** shots, clang… in the olden days,

when a family could live by a prentice knack,  
for taking things  apart, to play new roles,

as whole days that may be shared with wary
few, readers readied by experience, to become

as ware, soft, observant, paying eyeservice,
alert for entertaining clap traps when we all laugh.

Okeh, in a dark bijou-kiva, place where aspirations
are presented to the gathered together
to be entertained, de-brained, turned off, and

let be so, the picture show, as it were,
in the so esoterical initial induction, holiness exposed.

It is all in what you did not know, that makes
what you know now, worth living
through.

Yep. Fishing for a whole reality blessing
as living water
does occur to us as time,
we live in the flow, but we row,

because war rules the world we were born in,
and all the churches of messages etched in spirit,
written in light, of course, as on the silvered screen,
live to preach divine rights as old as lobsters's
stacking urges…
tapping scratching

And fire and memories paradiddling
cloudy smoky misty
shapes and shades noise uselessness knowing inspiring
zingers written on the door post, for good luck.

I read a coloring book, once, at a mall, in La Jolla.
"Grandma keeps a Kosher Kitchen" had a scene
to color yourself into, as a curious child noticing,
the little thing Grandma touched as she came in
from the garden of herbs and flowers for bees,

"what is that for?"
In the uncolored coloring book, it was so nonchalant,
"Good luck."
Grandma's grasp the lucid concept.
- food you know not of, love… luck
Thanks given. Praised be.

Long stories, should only be told as true,
if you, personally… lived to tell it, with no sugar on it.

Bitte, Schön. And so it goes. Kosher us, unclean other.

And what am I? Wild child left between the pillar
and the post of an aspiring great man, whose hopes

were dashed, when he crossed a line, in other peoples
ways of sealing soul stealing redemption agreements,

with a shotgun one potential solution…

by the grace of good luck from any source such
luck appears to have kept me breathing, aimlessly

as I imagine a spirit might decide, in truth, one breath
let go , allows a sense to follow, as glowing cardboard ash,
as the teller zones across old causes fought for and won,

which winning needs another singing, which cheek
this time? Which last laugh is led upto, now,

as I acknowledge the precious readers who form
the recognostic think thank thing,
deja deja
This has a sunset with it on Facebook and kenpepiton.com
Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
Let it be known that every forfeiture will be accounted against those who misused the opportunities of day light

At the time when it was all clear and at ease

On winter’s day within the valley
Three geriatric women wandered
The first spoke of comprehension
The second spoke of symphonic action
And the third spoke of empathy

I listened attentively
The travel channel on a network of curiosity
Fast paced, translucent and strong
Foreign gestures
A warm compassionate meeting of hands
And the comforting message it preaches

Exploring caverns on an ominous day

Beyond the limits we have no sky or plane

Right here we are
Edified perfectly

       -Tommy Johnson
After Beck kin me in One Direction, and thence
Upon meeting me (in am i am the walrus who also
doubles up as mister kite - on windy days) Act Naturally
Because Crying, Waiting, Hoping For No One
in particular who will bring delight lite, like Good Day
Sunshine prompting me to perform The Hippy Hip
p Shake while Seals and Crofts dine with the late Jim Croce.

When we r close and come together, I Want To Hold Your Hand,
I Want To Tell You,  I'm Happy Just To Dance With You
The Inner Light from your being guides this fool on the hill
who needed to Get Back To The USSR boot my B52 combo
Cars getup kept Stalin this Joe Schmoe as glanced up
at passersby along Penny Lane.

Lonesome Tears In My Eyes this Mother Nature's Son
(a grown mwm),  Of Love, this modest no name brand Sun King (Elvis) at two score and nineteen Van Halen ZZTop Young Blood, who sweat his tears completing Orbitz in tandem with Earth, Wind And Fire (On A Three Dog Night) for...someone to call my Eleanor Rigby, He Jude, Honey Pie, et cetera.

Friend this Marquis De Sade light skinned (caucasian) sated bloke,
who (on green Sade Doors days) ambles along the boulevard of broken dreams axe sing (as a Petty Fuel doubting Tom
please axe a Pink Foreigner or Devo tad Survivor (asper this
Heart felt gun shy yet rosey guy) to board the pearl jam AC/DC powered Reo Speed wagon to Nirvana, particularly during a Black Sabbath.

Although aye Faith No More (and doo to Bad Company abetting my bad Hair line),I seek a SoulAsylum, where Our wings could travel charged via a super duper AC/DC Def Leppard shaped device at the speed of a SoundGarden while playing in Marcie's Playground, we Nsync like a Led Zeppelin into the depths (comprising many a Puddle Of Mud) ideal for Rolling Stones unable to Journey intoAerospace amidst Talking Heads.

If an absolute nyat, no, nada...sans the opportunity for us soar
like Eagles (where Air Supply quite thin) then I (Joe Schmoe
Money less), would like me Nickelback to purchase a ZZ
Top hat to travel incognito like a Foreigner and Survivor
of Earth, Wind and Fire maelstrom that turned his Motley Crue
into a teenage wasteland of Indigo Girls.

Tis best for this fool of a Meatloaf on the hill
Envision himself to be a Killer Grateful Dead Talking Head
   now lifeless per being terminally ill
   tumbling while tweeting n twittering jill
whose response an emphatic nyat, no nill
to help carry my pail, which stung like a quill
bryn mawr the place name along rail road still
and quiet even for Lady Madonna
   who might hear the blackbird song or a whippoorwill.

Our Wings could travel at the speed of sound
as we rise like a Led Zeppelin into the heights of Aerospace.

If an absolute nyat, no, nada...
the opportunity for us soar like Eagles
then I (Joe Schmoe Money less), would like me Nickelback.

best forU2 to text this fool on the hill
tumbling while tweeting n twittering jill
whose response an emphatic nyat, no nill
to help carry my Nine Inch Nail, which stung like a quill
bryn mawr former place name go win n One Direction (with me self as a former groupie of Traveling Wilbury's) rail road still  
might hear the blackbird song or a whippoorwill.

aye ham a non Blondie passenger, Who once
didst aboard Jefferson Airplane property of one Joan Jet.

This offer meant for U2 and haint no Cheap Trick
nor available to another Super ***** boot a once in a lifetime Luvin Spoonful of one humungous Kiss.

from -- juiced another beetle browed, civil chap, decent dude,
genteel guy, eclectic edified egghead, a Foster Child with preference for Pearl Jam Goo Goo Dolls, who goes by the pseudonym
of Arctic Monkey Beastie Boy.
Yenson Sep 2019
The fraud bourgeoisie
mobsters and hoods contract
chiller cinema screening terror vision
gutter psychology of the henchmen dopes
presenting the locusts and ants thriller invasion

the throngs underfed
issuing permits and warrants
reprobates, thugs and con-artists do apply
at the Bastille on the Victorian embankment
bring your disorders of crimson and singe the blues

The zen mentalist of Zenda dribbles rut
the guillotine feeders sharpen dirges blades
pale cowards party in full swing and checks abound
call the pirates of red sea and the mob to share the spoils
no coronation for a sun king a jealous mandate thus declared

the pepper-less hordes of lames
find El Dorado in a mirage in lies of bandits
Scipio Africanus in great and graceful throes incarnate
made thousands ploys and cuts anthems of craven imbeciles
wayward profligates who mired their obsolesces in parable David  

And he stood a Colossus edified
braving contract of thieves, ghouls, thugs and recreants
apostates of truths, corrupters of the just pilgrims' progress
burn in shame, reveling in asinine boast of personal fallibility
requiem for dregs, requiem for the humanization of the toxic heathens
Elihu Barachel Jan 2015
Listen to my gospel, listen to me preach
You will be so edified, the truth I always teach
-
Send me money send me cash, send lots and lots of dough
My Ministry will bless you, my Ministry will grow
-
The more you send the more you're blessed, send everything you got
I'll be like Lenny Zin, I'll buy a jet and yacht
-
If you don’t believe like me, you’re going straight to Hell
I’m the only one that knows the truth, and I know it oh so well
-
I can get you saved, today Salvation is on sale
Send $29.95, send it in the mail
-
For an extra $20.00, a magic donkey **** you’ll get
Show it to Saint Peter, all your sins he will forget
-
If you send $100, my blessing you’ll receive
It will make you rich, before tomorrow’s eve
-
Send to: Greggy's ******* Ministries, on Coosa County Road
Send only CASH, to 35010 Zip Code
just jabbering gibberish (A - I)

Again, another awkward ambitious
arduous attempt at alphabetically
arranging atrociously ambiguously
absolutely asinine avoidable alliteration.

Because...? Basically bonafide belching,
bobbing, bumbling, bohemian beastie boy,
bereft ******, bleeds blasé blues, begetting
bloviated boilerplate bildungsroman,
boasting bougainvillea background.

Civil, clever clover chomping, cheap
chipper cool cutthroat clueless clodhopper,
chafed centenary, codifies communication
cryptically, challenging capable, certifiably
cheerful college coed.

Divine dapper daredevil, deft, destitute,
doddering, dorky dude, dummkopf Dagwood
descendent, dagnabbit, demands daring
dedicated doodling, dubious, dynamite,

deaf dwarf, diehard doppelganger, Doctor
Demento double, declaring depraved
daffy dis(pense)able dufus Donald Duck
derailed democracy devastatingly defunct.

Eccentric, edified English exile,
effervescent, elementary, echinoderm
eating egghead, Earthling, excretes,
etches, *******, effortless exceptional
emphatic effluvium enraging eminent,

eschatologically entranced, elongated
elasmobranchii, emerald eyed Ebenezer,
effectively experiments, emulates epochal
eczema epidemic, elevating, escalating,
exaggerating enmity, enduring exhausting
emphysema.

Freed fentanyl fueled, fickle figurative
flippant fiddler, fiendishly filmy, fishy,
fluke, flamboyantly frivolous, fictitious,
felonious, fallacious, fabulously fatalistic,
flabbergasted, fettered, flustered, facile,
faceless, feckless, financially forked,

foregone, forlorn futile fulsome, freckled
feverish, foo fighting, faulty, freezing,
fleeting famously failing forecaster, flubs
"FAKE" fundamental fibber fiat, fabricating
fiery fissile fractured fios faculties.

Gamesomeness goads gawky, gingerly,
goofily graceful, grandiloquent gent, gallant,
genteel, geico, guppy gecko, gabbling gaffes,
gagging, gamboling, gestating, gesticulating,
garlic, gnashing, gobbling, gyrating,

gruesomely grinning, grappling, gnomadic
giggly, grubby, gastrointestinally grumpy
gewgaw gazing guy, geographically germane,
gungho, grave gremlin, grumbling, guiding,
guaranteeing, guerilla gripped gatling guns
ginning gumpshun.

Hello! Herewith halfway harmless hazmat,
haphazard haggard, hectored, hastily,
hurriedly, harriedly hammered, handsomely
hackneyed, heady, hellbent hillbilly, hirsute,
hidden hippie, huffy humanoid, hexed, heady,
Hellenistic, holistic, hermetic, hedonistic
heterosexual **** sapiens historical heirloom,
homeless, hopeful, holy, hee haw heretical hobo.

Indefatigable, iconographic, iconic, idealistic,
idyllic, inimitable, idiosyncratic, ineffable,
irreverently issuing idiotic, indifferent, inert,
ineffectual, ingeniously iniquitous, immaterial,
insignificant, indubitable, inexplicable, ignoble
itches, ineffectually illustriously illuminating
immovable infused ichthyosaurus implanted
inside igneous intrusions immensely
imperturbable improbable.
It’s curve doesn’t shape my face
Neither the shimmer
Of all pushin’ and pullin’ whiten teeth;
It doesn’t make sense at all
When its heir and recipient
Mirrors only his very own aggravation.

I don’t think wearing classy stuff
Would make me lighten the day
Neither would arrogance and conceit
Put me in the cream of the top,
For at the end, I may simply slip away.

There were invisible wires
Bonding my muscles and soul
And then, my heart takes it flight
To the eternal embrace of my Father
Snatchin’ me away from the world’s inner core.

I wonder how the rooster left its beloved hen
His throat became anxious of the melted-rough thud
And how our pet Doggy run, not in the race
But from the sadden sun
Even he’s terrified by the minority of the roads.

I’m not lying on my bed for hours
Not even bringing idleness with my friend, Day
But found the words uttered:
For this is my day.

Thanksgiving overflows in me
My vocabulary was bashing with its own
For it’s earthly, but the Heaven shouts the greatest glory
It grants me with the heart’s purity and simplicity
With floating words of Truth and Life,
Without any defamation
That could re-incarcerate my so-human thoughts.

If I were a building,
Would my facade brag my interior?
Would people be drawn to the Designer?
For words will not come to life
If I were simply somethin’
That was just an edifice, yet has not been edified.

I, then, am human being
With the nature of humankind
Resisting the enticement of the flesh.

But if I’m to put that smirk back on my features,
Would it be my asset to talk big?
Of how the Giver has been good to me.
For if I’d see Eve face to face,
Would I glimpse only her impurities and be contaminated?
Or would the inner alteration
Widen its curve and spring up the spirit and the soul.

(5/17/14 @xirlleelang)
Without further ado
i offer my literary missives anew
fur ye to ponder and brew
from meister mwm of his motley crue,
whom dwells in a nada very complex edifice
which numb burr oof offspring equals deux
whereby this spouse i.e me kind of resembles an emu
whence money a edified reader considers
dis goy wit sum brain cells 2 few
chomped on by an carnivorous elder gnu
and said two female progeny sired
from one ova plus super seminal glue

swimming swiftly via viscous hue
genetic heritage comprised predominantly Jew
with one late uncle Lou,
who himself wed a milch cow,  she frequently did moo
which found me to rue
what comprises reality to be true
that all humans originated from the primate zoo.

**** Sapiens Sale hums lot
witnessed vicious thermal winds that blew
thick mass of cremated ashes
across rubble strewn,
and severely cratered landscape!

The devil made mince meat
as like one huge lumbering ogre
and grim reaper
rolled up into one
not so jolly green giant did slay
good will to all men,
and spat out pox with an emphatic nay
triumphing over godly salvation
using eponymous accursed pitchfork
made merry and rolled in the hay

simultaneously sneering out in delight
at wanton death and decay
whereby civilization forever mutilated
perforated said spindled
and inappropriately sensually fondled
world wide web structure
where once proud arm strong spikes radiated
now sundered in total chaotic disarray!
Love others as Christ loves you unconditional.
Speak Love edified others, lift them up always.
Show them that you Love them by showing them mercy.
Never despise them nor show hatred toward them.
But keep praying for them and loving them as well.
Encourage them , watch as they inspire you here.
Lifting you up with their inspiration and love.
For anyone and everyone should inspire you.
For everyone is a inspiration working to do their best.
To live a life that Christ created them to live here.
Some shall find him while others shall reject his Goodness.
But still even them whom were made in God's image.
Still can inspire you though  their struggles and pain.
Abbigail Nicole Apr 2017
enter the horde of idle hedonists
heroes slur disoriented erudition of histories
outsiders stride thru moonlit senility
foe to friend unite under mouthfuls of russet ***

ode to red
riddle riled riots
thrums of melodious lyres
sordid souls soothed, rosily smothered
the thunder of serotine desire resounds
sermonsised myths of lush ironies

elitism interlude
the host rules in definite dement
throne of flumed fortune
floods of dense ferment
series of sly smiles, seedy smolders
edified reins of unholy freedom
shrine to lurid stimuli of ruin
beau présent format
In a special room put aside for prayer in the wee hours I went to pray. My three young sons came to join me one by one, holding their pillows each day.
As they climbed into bed each night, I played the Bible tapes, so the Word of God could fill they heads.   Their souls were being constantly edified, as the words were being read.
Now that my sons are grown, they became Ministers of God.  It truly give me great joy watching them, when they are preaching about the Lord.
It is important to train our children in the word, at an early age.  Then you will watch them develop into men and women of God, when they reach that final stage.
By, Sandra Juanita Nailing
Psyche soaking wet with devout atheism,
this lifetime skeptic now tenuously
linkedin with Unitarianism
attests, said upbringing proffered,
mine credo, gestalt,

leitmotif, sans abstractionism
eludes elucidation, delineation, clarification...
some readers might
dismiss as absurdism
defying established dogma fixed absolutism

millenniums, would be hashtagged heretical,
and such cavalier blithe
apostasy, declared alarmism,
now - twenty first century
extant accursed as alcoholism

within various non
Western statecraft enclaves,
barely tolerating agnosticism
no fool to *******
proclamations antithetical opinionism

where condemnation to death
(I obediently, humbly, and gladly accept)
inadequate punishment,
cited on par relegated to alienism,
amoralism, antiestablishmentarianism...

never does this anachronism
loosely cabled with pioneerism,
(when ****** forests bedecked America),
a veritable wilderness, necessitated
quintessential self survivalism

knowhow long since forgot,
which dependence on consumerism
finds yours truly afflicted against capitalism
commercialism, conformism, cultism et cetera
more aligned with reliance on individualism

nearly an extinct species,
where anti materialism
betrays, cavils, and discourages ecocentrism,
versus profit motive maximization,
though of late environmental dynamism

aggressive representative thank you
Greta Ernman Thunberg regarding criticism,
nee opprobrious global ecological terrorism
mandating staunch defeatism
as stave bulwark

against criminal determinism
to wreak irrevocable traitorous dogmatism
predicated on tenets of egocentrism
brewed, steeped, and
galvanized in exceptionalism

of **** sapiens and expansionism
exclusive to said primate
that requires serious assessment,
asper bracketing craven
doctrinairism edified fundamentalism
granting humans unfettered expansionism!
Milton Robertson Dec 2017
"I"
I no bigger than a fly. In mind's I, is sometimes labeled a wise guy, tough guy, a bad guy and none of those do I deny.

Because I can diversify, which is why I cry, is shy, lie, can fly don't ever have to leave the ground to get very high and not by becoming glassy eyed or pie eyed but edified.

Although I love's to signify about the only three that qualify, while being too preoccupied with me, myself and I.

Then I will hit a sacrifice fly just so someone else can get their piece of the pie because I can hear their outcry and must stop turning a blind I.

Thereby I is qualified to testify, why? And who am I??? PERSONIFIED.
It's all about Life
Geraldine Taylor Jun 2017
Compassionate Christ, epitomised embraced

Devoted disciples, purposely placed

Above all, powerful praise

Forever first, sovereignty stays

Faithful father, welcoming will

Powerful purpose, fellowship fill

Highest honour, royal reign

Mindfully made, known by name

Each day edified, zealous zest

Daily devotion, radiant rest

Celestial city, glistening gold

Astounding angels, beautiful bold

Temporal trials, due defender

Jehovah-Jireh, sovereign splendour



Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Mild dystopian cracks open
cobwebbed laden figurative door
to my super charged
subconscious shrouded self -
portal carelessly left ajar
steeped in dark shadows,

wherein spooky monsters creep
along edge of night,
outer limits of twilight zone
serve as makeshift restraining: bar
21st century alchemist busily massages
a fictional holographic projection
to contemplate car

re: ying the terrestrial firmament
into spasms of expiration, which whim far
fetched since the following conjecture
contrived within overactive imagination
of yours truly - such peculiar notions par
for the course sans striving

to become adroit
teasing out ethereal material
analogous to embrace
plasma up holding star
reed cosmic funereal invocation
loosing prognostication silencing war.

So without further ado
I offer to continue
embellishing literary above
iterated missive anew
for ye to ponder and brew
from a mister wordsmith
comprising wife as counterpart
complimenting beastie boy
aptly named duo motley crue,

whereat dwells within complex edifice
housing he who begat
offspring numbered uno and deux,
whereby this husbandly spouse i.e me
resembles a cross eyed
cryptogram solver
geeky long haired pencil necked geek
artificially inseminated yik yak
with fertilized egg of emu

unbeknownst to many edified readers
might consider myself brain cells few
explainable from being
chomped on by a carnivorous oldish gnu,
nevertheless unaffecting ability
to sire female progeny
re: guarding biological process
concerning human reproduction
viz ova linkedin with seminal glue

swimming swiftly via viscous hue
biological processes extant
from equator far north
to Inuit housed in igloo
nonetheless, genetic heritage
comprised predominantly of Jew
genealogy heritage indeed
Ask Jeeves, cuz he knew
with one very late Uncle Lou

who suffered mad cow disease,
and considered hims
a milch cow and frequently did moo
calf full when bovine brand new
which found me to rue
what comprises reality to be true
that all humans originated
from the primate zoo.
Loving music with honesty
I wish we loved people's honesty that earnestly
These white lies pile up into a skeleton in a closet
Calcified, and edified into the antonym of amnesty
Secrets can be boring without placing your soul on the line
However, this platonic love will tear you apart
Much like being stuck in this rectangular love
Leaping into faith up to a certain degree
After that, there is only madness and quandaries
"A crown is merely a hat that lets the rain in." Frederick the Great.
Constitutes the world’s largest
first-party data platform
for insights, activation and measurement

Earlier today August 28th, 2022,
a representative from aforementioned
market research company
fielded political questions to yours truly.

The young lady at other end of telephone
(little baby crying
accompanied the background)
peppered me with salty queries;
I replied with personal feedback.

Such inquiries got me thinking
about countdown to 2022 midterm elections...
from August 28th, 2022 at 4:59 PM

Above identified important date
when voters go to polls
10 weeks, 1 day, 8 hours away.

Nast T. contrived Pachyderm(s)
spar against Equus asinus,  
the former issuing trumpeting sounds
emulating courtesy jabbing a loose tusk
“The Art of the Deal” hip hip hooray
truckling tutored toadying troopers
signaling viz unfurling trunk hated votes
will finagle, snaggle, wrangle...
hook and crook to get their way
Don auld (hold) hate inside,
nor unroll your red carpet, cuz...
January 20th, 2025 trumpets,
return of the native (hardy) son
with pen sieve (my cull) word play,
when truculence becomes fashionable again yay!

Tipping the scales and approximately weigh
ying two hundred and fifty pounds
courtesy chowing down McDonald's
fish delight specially cooked up today
er... rather bare'n his teeth on Sunday,
when said Golden Arches patron
hungrily wolfs down favorite meal,
a valuable selling point
fast food giant could portray.

In truth, yours truly a liberal Democrat
with humorous zing
double entendres ahead
look out when cross xing
into pun one mock two zone,
I gently ply hitting
left field homers courtesy upswing
titillating madding crowd
generating suspense pulse quickening
political kibitizing more left-wing
versus common joe
biden his time crafting moderate
reasonable rhyme fulfilling
personal literary quest.

Two plus months hence...
government of the people,
by the people,
for the people,
will perish from the earth
unless voters choose wisely
when the 2022 United States elections
held on Tuesday, November 8, 2022.

During upcoming midterm election year,
all 435 seats in the House of Representatives
and 35 of the 100 seats in the Senate
36 gubernatorial seats
27 secretary of state seats
and 30 attorney general seats
will be contested. ...
other statewide elected offices include
lieutenant governor, auditor,
controller and/or treasurer and more.

This will be the first election affected
by redistricting that followed 2020 census.

All kidding aside yours truly
would sooner groom Frankenstein's bride
to occupy Oval Office versus
******, raunchy, randy, and paunchy narcissist
otherwise referencing forty fifth president
of United States a bonafide and certified

threat to democracy, a sore loser who decried
outcome of two thousand twenty election
razor thin winning margin courtesy blue party
electoral college elucidation edified
although squabble ensued electorate fortified,
nevertheless elephant in the room glorified
present day divisiveness
impossible mission to hide.
Flourishes amidst freedom
once invisible (alice in) chains shucked
when soul no longer kept linkedin
to jane's addiction
with corporeal duty, entity, fealty...
while formerly shed body electric
gendered as former googly eyed hotmail
actually a prodigy, whose outlook
arouses suspicions regarding him
as person of pinterest living social
in a webbed, wide world of uncertainty

precariously perched atop pinnacle
pirouetting at light speed,
nevertheless defying the laws
of centrifugal and centripetal force
as spirit blithely ushers forth
along a straight line
of orthodox dogmatism, idealism
opportunism, and volunteerism
hemorrhaging, purging, and xing
staunch archconservative
punishing outdated edicts.

When after the final countdown
to the global apocalypse,
(according to Doomsday Clock
January two thousand twenty three  
ninety seconds to midnight)
one beatle browed, foo fighting nebbish
departs the land of the living
and joins rank and file
among the grateful dead,

he (more specifically
the physical and spiritual
embodiments incorporating him
will separate) at long last,
thence latter day sainted essence
can freely exit from the cares
and concerns of an uncertain tomorrow  
no longer plagued by earthly travails
particularly the necessity of money.

Within heliocentric/ Copernican theory
broached sixteenth century promotion
sans scientific paradigm
dogmatically hefty, kinetically lofty,
and poetically thoroughly,
xyz beliefs misalign
wherein mechanistic Ptolemaic,
static venerated yin yang benign
choreography describing elementary forces
governing heavens inviting jinxed, kooky,
loopy measures necessitating

normalization, pacification, rectification,
transformation, validation
to guarantee spatial objects remain in line
which notions trotted out
a cosmic deal with invisible ink
omnipresent, omniscient omnipotent
benevolent creator linkedin
synonymously affixed terrestrial
firmament (planet Earth) nsync
with bedrock as Fred Flintstone
beatified, certified, deified,

edified, fortified, glorified Gibraltar
until undisputed supposedly
figuratively hermetically sealed
fostered religious (church) fathers
to do more than blink
when inquisitive minds (undaunted
though invoked as heretical martyrs)
blaspheming solidly entrenched
blind faith no more functioning with charm
mingly quaint association
with amulets, churinga,
exquisite fetishisms guiding humanity

innumerable journeys kickstarting
legendary modus operandi initially harm
less lee sounding out,
what manifested into a schismatic alarm
regarding millennial questions
undermining liturgical moorings
strong lance heaving arm
irrevocably toppled geocentric mindset,
nonetheless this oblate spheroid dance
sing with the stars redoubled
devout hangers-on fixed

with barnacle cleaving
devotion stalwart stance
populace behooved
(as would be expected),
when Doubting Thomas'
(Paine) revolutionary screeds
threatened (prior to unending)
universal schema just by chance
and despite proclamations pronunciations,
and provocations roiling status quo
hashtagged as evil rants

eventually zealous warfare between
growing heliocentric individuals  
with sacrilegiously blatantly deranged
fiendishly gnarly heathens –
perhaps the Renaissance own
groovy, nutty, and trippy Timothy Leary
the dawn of a quantifiable, explainable theory
(minus all those concentric
embedded orbital paths)
diktat preachers eventually became weary
to challenge recalcitrant

(purported hell raisers
****, I would have fit right in
as a rebel rouser)
whereby agents provocateurs
spout vestigial claim
to Gaea remaining front
and center of galaxy
on par clubbing with Mother Mary.

— The End —