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the Sandman Jul 2014
Love* tastes like beauty, devotion and affection, rolled into a wafer together.

Love is the beauty of the vain, lone rose of the wild,
fading on the skin of your arms like a lotion.

Love is the devotion of watery jasmine and apples,
running smoothly down the back of your throat.

Love is the affection of thick, chocolatey hazelnuts,
dying so they can remain for everafter on the tip of your tongue.

the sweet, smoky taste of Love rubs in your limbs and your veins
until it is one with your blood and is the only thing you feel.

You devour Love, but it consumes you.
just wondered what the taste of love was and came out with this.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
life more abundant calls forth an expandable reality primo,
thus wisdom, the principal thing when-ce all other
things may be made

machine level codifiers ifying
meaning back into idle words.

Keep the secret. Answer the call,
who will help the widow's son?

You, Templar, what message bear ye to my child?,
asked the widow.
Fi-del-e-tus. with a squeeze and a tap,
wink and grin

Poet, who named the prophet?
who named the teller to tales?
who gave thee hearing ear and seeing eye?

Some mind imagined those as yet unformed in forever past.
You agree. You experienced living, so far.

So good, we move on, figurative re re re al-it if-ity
Haps apt to appear be fore your veri variety of being even
hapt as a thing thought, imagined made for a function, as yet

undone. Conserve the NULL set, that whole idea is dangerously
close to fading…

Have you seen those videos of soap bubbles filled with H
and no O?
You should see those, to recall the phenomenonal pre-dictatorial
image, see the bubble, invisible but
for reflection of ambient ambits in our epigenetic radiosphere,

bubbles collapse, and for a flash, flame orange shaped
as the bubble was.
No ex-plo sion it-a-tivity, mere dis cipation,
loss of grip on the shape of things that were, now
con forms to re per ceive,

try again, get a good grip, swing and a miss, go again
take a Mulligan, I think, some game has such a rule,

We can use it here. We can scroll back up,
like a rope lift on the bunny hill at Big Bear, back when…

wheels in wheels, bubbles in bubbles, forms in forms

this is the information age I was informed. Adamkind, those
qubitical, ambitical little images of

Who, who? would a name comfort-you worth more than a breath?
Fresh air after a minuted moment twixt out and in again,

Power, create ific power haps twixt out an in again,
the cipitation, the d was missed, what if it were not?

re-read, religion once meant that, re-connect, too,
religion meant that state of having re-read the map,
re-tied the worth carrying,
stacked the worthless by the trail so
some hapless stranger may see
the treasure it was and is, to any who care to

receive, or con ceive it for the
truth I found in it and kept, which I leave to you
here:
Both treasure and truth are where ye find them,
and shall be for ever, when ever starts for you.

Ezekial, judge my riddle, please. The fool missed the
point of conception…
No, no no no

A fool's dance in a Phrygian cap with useless, symbolic wings…
gee, Phrygian, means nothing to you? Google it, you live in the future.
Later,
A time upon which a Mercury dime would comfort
a rich American Tyrant, son of the Flim-flam man,
no lie, this is mythic, you can't make this stuff up
its history. Hysterical, right
John D. Standard-for-Petropower-manifestation,
the dead's carbon footprints bubbling up
to fire and fridgin' ice, whoa, who broke the world,

I was distracted. Did you know the planet is
as self healing as those scabs on my grandkids knees?

ah, caper, eh? Capere, to grasp, to take,
ceive means accept by taking,
be liefing an idea ceived ex nihilo, is likened unto

Drinking from a still pond in a distant land. Sults,
results. may result in,
Dear Rhea revenging Montezuma, at a gut level.

However, a sort of how in an open mind facing forever,
a sort of omni-directional saliency
seeing further,
--Bomb, Jesus-bomb--

At least two reasons for thinking Jesus is objective, out side
you or inside you. You aren't Jesus. Jesus is a friend of mine,
in my mind, object-if-I-try
to pray, listen pray hopes
happen
shapes form
forever from ever point, every point, not of, in buy

a why..
why does a y on the end of every mean any thing?

That's the y-factor. You will learn why wise men still seek those.
As treasure, they are light, and the taste is beyond

the grasp of tongue to tell

that whole class of moded-ever words weave wards
whenever, forever, however, whatever
used proper, everafter,
that will save Dresden, some time, we think.

However, now, Rhea by name has entered the game.

Who is this named femofame? What game is she good in?
Or does she just knock the **** out of lying spirits?
Cool.

Ah, mother of all the gods, I recall, I mean
I meant to say
I remember, then I for got the power words hold here
exactly heare in eleven metrixed mentions,

this point, in time, not of time.
In the world, not of the world, you've heard the pharse?
The allusion is not lost on you, you know the phrase,

In the world, not of the world, holier men than I have
claimed to be, while I follow a few fine words,
linguistic kief, sprinkled fairy dust, like the stuff
captured in the gleaming film on your
microscopic-outer eye

see a salient point in time.

A pin point 'pon which one,
no more,
one story begins for ever, a gain in good net
value, if

we have tasted that word, chewed the gristle,
indigestible ligaments and sin-yews and such,
which once anchored meat to bone,

value is first good. Good e nough, nough
Gut genug, okeh,
maybe not my best, my best is yet to come, they say.

sufficient for today
------

enough (adj.)
c. 1300, from Old English genog "sufficient in quantity or number,"
from Proto-Germanic compound *ganog "sufficient"
(source also of Old Saxon ginog,
Old Frisian enoch, Dutch genoeg,
Old High German ginuog, German genug,
Old Norse gnogr, Gothic ganohs).
First element is Old English ge- "with, together"
(also a participial, collective, intensive, or perfective prefix),
making this word the most prominent surviving example
of the Old English prefix,
the equivalent of Latin com- and Modern German ge- 
(from PIE *kom- "beside, near, by, with;" see com-).
Second element is from PIE *nok-, from root *nek- (2)
"to reach, attain"
(source also of Sanskrit asnoti "to reach,"
Hittite ninikzi "lifts, raises,"
Lithuanian nešti "to bear, carry," Latin nancisci "to obtain").

As an adverb, "sufficiently for the purpose,"
in Old English; meaning
"moderately, fairly, tolerably" (good enough) was in Middle English. Understated sense, as in have had enough "have had too much" was in Old English (which relied heavily on double negatives and understatement).

As a noun in Old English,
"a quantity or number sufficient for the purpose." As an interjection, "that is enough," from c. 1600. Colloquial 'nough said is attested from 1839.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/enough#etymonlinev8703>
Godliness with contentment is great gain, a precept I was chewing on following a ritual holy day of gratitude to goodness for goodness sake in my cultural gut genug state of mind.
Keith J Collard Dec 2013
Hey *******, I  like what you did
Just not what you do,
Hey *******, dropping tears
On letter " its me not you"
clever letters, clever watermark,
Still smitten whats written ,
signed with a fake teardrop on top,
Oh I clutch and claw,and still you part.

Hey boy all play, playing your life away,
I like what you do, not what you did,
He plays like you, you should see,
he makes then rakes his sandbox family
And not too far from that ****** tree,
Oh *******,
Your words and smile,
Make me hope for a breeze that took your apple far,
But it took you away from me.

Hey player, playing in your own play,
thought you would perform everyday,
driving and paying to see it,
you will never know the feeling,
When the curtain went to the ceiling,
Family, friends....your play I rave,
I CURSE THE DAY I STARED INTO YOUR DARK DESERTED STAGE.

Hey *******, hey actor of "everafter,"
Busy writing a new play?
I like your acting--playing is laughing,
but he has a future and fortune,
My **** man I knew that nothing was after,
but I need to see you one more time,
you make future and fortune not matter.


Will the show return one day?
I understand,
The thrill and never still changing name playbill
Assures a girl, it never will.

"Ahh, the charm, laughing, acting--
The searching strobes from the overhead tracking,
Minute ripples in the curtain upon the stage?
The violins warming up that will never play,
the curtain ascends,
the lonely echos of your nervous clapping,
Now the future they warned would happen,
Real tears well up,  
Ushered out by my saline sadness."
Written from phone, cannot find apostrophe and dash.
Zay Jan 2015
When I depart this world
Will you notice that I'm gone?
When I leave this earth
Will you still carry on?
When I am buried in soil deep
Will you simply move on?

When I am no longer part of this life,
There is one thing I ask
Do not dwell on my grave
But do not forget the past

For someday, we will reunite
And you will join me at last
Just be happy for now
That is all that I ask.
Rest In Peace Uncle Osman. The good ones are always the first to go.
Laura Stridiron Sep 2013
Ever After


Its past the time for fairy tales,
or wishes that come true.
Much too late for breadcrumb trails,
too broke to buy a clue.
The knight in shining armor
has put away his steed;
the princess, if someone would harm her,
will scream a useless plead.
The dragons have free reign to roar,
the ogres feed on dreams.
Trolls control the bridge once more.
Futiley the princess screams.
Seem “Happily Ever After”
and the stories we were told.
Became quite a disaster,
youthful dreams bought and sold.
brandon nagley Nov 2015
i.

Her affection I needeth
To sustain mine living's;

ii.

Her smile I beseecheth
Which is vital to mine breathing;

iii.

Her laughter is mine medication
The herb to mine being;

iv.

Her blood everafter
Is lifeforce, is life to mine eyesight and seeing;

v.

Her loyalty meaneth the world
O' how perfect she is a woman, the image of a queen, a real girl;

vi.

Her amour' is the path on which I abode
O' mine wife, mine soulmate and life, without thee I wouldst not be whole;


©Brandon nagley
©Earl Jane Nagley-Filipino rose dedication
©Lonesome poets poetry
I never thought I'd believe in fate
     until I met you
I never thought I'd believe in 'happily everafter'
     until I held you
I never thought I'd believe in true love
     until I kissed you
I never thought I'd believe in 'the one'
     until the day you asked me to marry you
I never really thought I'd believe in anything
     **until you
Renae Aug 2013
Words twist and turn
lies magnify
people get caught up
when  their after
a piece of the pie
life is a maze
love is a concept
everyone believes what
is easy to digest
"if it sounds good tell us
consequence is what we don't want."
There seems to be just one thing
everyone forgot
"Love Jehovah your God with all your
mind soul & heart"
then love eachother but that comes after
it seems we're backwards
But who's keeping track
of the ever after?
Jack R Fehlmann May 2015
honey any direction
you hold Avenue
Are blessed
Though only in reflection
Infrequent Glimpses,
memories of a fragrance
Irreconcilable differences
Heartbreaking recollections
Every direction,
You are a part of
Echoing closely and far away
No place that hides or denies
Images and reasons to
Or not to, You
Unwanted necessities
such as this fragile peace
Forever and always unmade
Won't be, never lessens or fades
Feelings are effective triggers
With unfailing memory
Still strum and play
Strings beneath cry iut
Easier accepting never accepting
Ever after sold this fool
All his dreams,  every part he guarded
No longer,  but for now has been
His burden and imposed sadness.
Loss love rejection loneliness
betterdays May 2014
ever after
             they lived
                         happily
why,
because, they took the time, to beat the wolf back from the front door.

because, they caught the sky, as it fell down on them.

because, they sold the magic beans on to some rube from another town.

because, they decided red was just not their colour.

because, they kissed enough frogs.

because, their knight did not get lost in the forrest.

because, they found they liked miners, ***** boots and all.

because, they did not ever develop a sweet tooth.

because, they knew they looked good!!
it was all those other ducks that had body issues

because, they knew by heart, the words to...
bippety-boppety-boo.

because.......

there was, a time,
                          once, they      
      wished.....        upon..
                            ....­..... a moon

and the wishes.... they came
                   .....true.....
Kaitlin Evers Jan 2021
Like two stars in the night sky
They are two glimmers on my heart
I hated to say goodbye
I miss them when we are apart

My love for them abided deeply
Now with them gone I miss them steeply

My love for them has and does not end
They are more than family and friend
Adopted, coalesced, part of my heart
You are not in my heart, you are my heart

I will care for you always
Love you forever
Remember you like sun rays
Always and ever

My little hearts
I hate to part
Loves of my life, little and dear
I'll always wish you to be here

I'll see you again
We will never end
Even in everafter
We will have our sweet laughter
TJ Colon Sep 2015
Two doves white as snow meet for the very first time
One takes the lead while the other is close behind
Together they soar through the endless sky
Admiring each other they continued to fly
The very moment in which they flew side by side
They realized that in another life together they died

They once shared a life and walked hand in hand
One of them remembered long walks on the sand
Together they turned and flew towards the shore
Not once did they imagine just what was in store
As they looked down much to their surprise
There was a patch of sand unblemished by the tides rise

Two hearts linked together gently drawn in the sand
During a breath taking sunset shared by a woman and a man
In one mighty breath he yelled to the winds
If you leave my love I'd know not where to begin
Being so flattered she knew not what to say
She remembered they never made it back to shore that day...

Together once again to start a new life
Soaring through blue skies as white doves
A man and his wife...
Batool Dec 2015
I hope that one day
fate will bring someone
in my life
with whom
i'll live my
"Happy Everafter"
Who will love me
when my face
will be wrinkled
and i'll be no longer
beautiful
who will have
to loudly ask
for his glasses
as i may not be
wearing my hearing aids
Who will just smile
and tell me
where my stick is
as i may suffer
from a slight dementia
and
who'll just hold
my hand and
reassure me
that it was just a cat
running on the roof
of OUR house
and there is
nothing to worry about !!
Shawn Jan 2011
you are everything,
you are everyone,
you are every cliche
...you are the sun
you are oxygen,
you are in the trees,
you are orange leaves,
you are cool autumn breeze
that spreads across my spine,
you are forgotten dreams,
you are a glass of wine,
you are what reminds,
you are fine lines,
you are the key,
you are a plus sign,
you are what girls try
to become,
you are the why,
you are the sum,
you are bassdrums,
you are a symphony,
you are the child too naive
to realize that he's on stage,
you are every page,
you are every book,
you are the librarian's glasses,
you are classes,
that i may or may not have took,
you are the stun experienced
when things fall into place,
you are every race,
you are the taste,
of fresh produce,
you are abuse,
escapen,
you are an excuse,
shaken,
you are the noose,
breakin',
you are the clues,
finally taken,
you are a puzzle with pieces
all aligned,
you are dominos lined up
right before they fall,
you are every hall,
you are each phone call,
you are the brick wall
that kids throw tennis ***** against,
you are consequence,
you are every scent,
you are fresh cement,
waiting to be written on,
you are every song,
you are every play,
you are Broadway,
you are the crowds,
you are everything i say,
you are SCREAMING LOUD
in unallowed places,
you are familiar faces,
you are a smile after braces,
you are untied laces,
you are jumping over cracks,
you are warm candle wax,
you are dark moments
lightened by humour,
you are rumours
being shattered,
you are fish,
beer battered,
you are wishes,
when they matter,
you are the everafter,
you are the former,
and the latter,
you are the feet in the swimming pool
of those who cant swim,
you are slim jims,
you are macho man randy savage,
you are a test above average,
you are an ebay feedback rating,
you are ice skating,
on frozen lakes,
you are every birthday cake,
and every candle,
you are frosted milkshakes,
you are socks with sandals,
you are being outside the norm,
you are insightful vandals,
you are anarchy, restrained,
you are villains, reformed,
you are emcees without champagne,
you are Dylan on tour,
you are looking down,
before you let go,
you are a star's glow,
you are a peep show,
you are every mystery,
you are ***-pourri,
you are the guarantees
that are actually kept,
you are the moment
you forget why you wept,
you are the fizzy beverage
that makes one reminisce
or accept,
you are the first kiss,
you are the final step,
you are the trace of the past
that one must chase,
you are realizing that
time's too fast,
to replace,
you are the sun,
shining down into an unseen place,
you are cliches,
you are warmth and grace,
you are everyone,
that has ever graced,
this time and space,
here and above,
you are everything...
...you are love.
Copyright SMK, 2010. Meant to be a spoken word piece, I love performing this one. I hope its tone comes across!
mark john junor Sep 2014
hot sun creepin long
be hours for cool evening comes
so we got to hang on for just a little longer
we just gotta *** down this mountain side
just gotta forge the steel
just gotta make it one more day
little further is all i can say
blind to all but the road its hard to tell
little further is all i can say

that night we rested in the lea of a shade tree
cookfire making shadows leap and play
while his soft song breached the stars and river too
so strong a soul hard to believe anything could lay him low
that night saw the truth of the man
had so much to give
but had no love in his life
had no destinations
pity thouse who live without love
thouse who live without hope
that night i saw the truth of the man
a good man who life had cheated

when dawn stirred me
found him cold in his blankets
he had passed away in the lonely night
so i buried him there by the beautiful river
there by the lovely gardens
found no beauty in life but i hope
he finds it in the everafter
saw the truth of the man
a good man who should have had
but had been denied
so i buried him like a king
in the beautiful gardens
by the peaceful river
Onoma Apr 2016
True rise of true
rise, true fall of
true fall...as if
these gave mind
and body the
mythology of
direction.
Afterall, there's
everafter at every
turn.
Gifted a ghostly
long lock, for
good luck and
good measure...
to keep the pneuma
from transmogrifying
stillness.
A silver cord as
brittle in appearance
as the world it
harnesses to experience.
Where release snaps
silver, lightning return
of no return.
Mainline of soundless
music, en-silvering stars...
cord of web and Word.
The etheric umbilical cord said to tether the soul to the body.
K Mae Jul 2012
upon a roof,a man and boy
the child walks the plank
man teaching son what he's become
with jabs and slams of  judgment  
fear for growing male as he
for being what he was
curious this loving child
who went to war with men
company of dying and of dead
seeking shelter
bombed
punished by his own
follow orders, do or die
everafter live the lie
Inspired by a photograph and what I know of these humans so captured.
The miracle is, the boy grew to be a fine loving man.
Anonymous May 2016
The dissatisfaction I feel,
Makes me empty.
I am numb to my surroundings;
The daily chores of my life are neverending...

I want to scream!
Run away into the sunset-
Bath in the ocean every night under the moonlight.

I want to cast my clothes into the forest,
Dance around the underbrush like an ephemeral sprite,
Into the dark and twisted paths of the everafter;
Where fiction becomes reality.

I want to swim with mermaids,
Feel the shells entwined with their hair-
The scales of their tails;
Wrap myself in seaweed and sleep among the beasts.

Show me a way to satisfaction,
Adventure and awe,
Bring me to the place where the sky meets the earth,
That unknown corner of the waking world.
Floating in an expanse, trapped in a room
the walls could be the ends of a universe,
or a martyr's doom,
and I count the atoms of its shifting embrace
it dances within sight, but ever out of reach
truer things have never been more curious
the walls are my castaway beach.

Endless journeys coil within me,
my mind is a boundless jungle:
the predators linger in hazy umbra,
while the prey lazily graze
with eyes diametrically opposed.
I am some sort of misshapen construct,
a being lost to himself, but a target nonetheless.

****** into the deep
from which secrets sweetly seep
I find answers to keep
demystifying puzzles caged by sleep
the malice in this wonderland
nibbles at the soul with perilous teeth
just to taste the suffering
of a man who's trapped beneath
beneath the undergrowth of the city
within the fissures of a sidewalk
betwixt the folds of a chewing gum wrapper
he is gnawed by the everafter,
the what if,
the may be,
maybe.

Perchance he truly listened to the bright void
oh, how it oozes soft, eldritch light
the essences of somber dealings with ethereal misfits,
whatsay he consumed the knowledge whose
questions
once consumed him?

We all imagine that he would be
empty of emptiness...
but is there such a thing?
So, this is me just thinking about how I'm always stuck questioning why life is life. How did I end up here?
We're meant not to question this concept to the point of delusion, but I find myself daily deluded. As if seeking the answer can open a door from which I can escape.

My friend, do you believe in a transcendent escape free of death?
Maybe...

And with that, enjoy!

DEW
Larry B Jan 2011
A building was built in nineteen-ten
A place for the children to learn
Once filled with laughter, now the everafter
This schoolhouse would suddenly burn

Twenty-one souls, were lost that day
When the schoolhouse burned to the ground
A nightmarish cost, everyone was lost
A bible, the only thing found

A school once more, raised from the ashes
But later, turned into a home
With visions and dreams, of bloodcurdling screams
And oasis, for spirits to roam

Ghostly apparitions, now wander these rooms
Trying to escape from the flames
Trapped in this hell, their spirits now dwell
While calling their mother's names

Each night they play their childish games
Destined, to relive that day
Ever changing shape, while trying to escape
This place, where the children play
Larry B May 2010
A building was built in nineteen-ten
A place for the children to learn
Once filled with laughter, now the everafter
This schoolhouse would suddenly burn

Twenty-one souls, were lost that day
When the schoolhouse burned to the ground
A nightmarish cost, everyone was lost
A bible, the only thing found

A school once more, raised from the ashes
But later, turned into a home
With visions and dreams, of bloodcurdling screams
And oasis, for spirits to roam

Ghostly apparitions, now wander these rooms
Trying to escape from the flames
Trapped in this hell, their spirits now dwell
While calling their mothers names

Each night they play their childish games
Destined, to relive that day
Ever changing shape, while trying to escape
This place, where the children play
Butch Decatoria Mar 2017
Muscle relaxer
Puts you to sleep, a gentille pusher
R X hits the spot
To feel easy on Sunday
Mornin's

When you really feel
The nothing
In the pit, on that spot, at the bottom,
Of your soul

When the air is thick and sticky
It must be sin city
It's juicy rife with indignities
Para socialite delights
Flesh not feelings

The world feels oddly oblong
Alien stranger through my mirror
Adrift and soaked
In the sweat of my demise
A foreigner with the earth of my eyes

As the stress drowns
In Soma,
A half mind in the clouds
My indifference just as hollow
As the experiences of a corpse,

Muscle relaxer
Put you to waking sleep...
    Is that what is truly happening
The experiences of
Poetry without life,
Life without Poetry...

Half asleep
One eye full of worlds
In our world
Every wonder
Everafter

Even in sleep
We fill our dreams with color
And soul and heart and
Meaning ...

(Loves light forever
Beaming)
Ken Pepiton Sep 22
Some days plans, never manifest.
Some days never mind my troubles
some take all day, and may need one read
part way, so the discerning edit ai AMEN,
appear to seem likely another mod, ag-on,
ad-on, this may take an hour on a free day.

Some days pass on by, like I was not here.
-- third reader agrees, this is not one of those.

Standing in the frame of reference, at right now,

feeling for good reason and just cause, to go on.
Why?
Did you ever never imagine another minute alive,
being worth the while it takes to make up a mind,

to listen, knowing nothing signaling me to wait,
ever changed to signal stop waiting, start fretting,
wu wei
woe, for sure, certain as insanity, outside reality,
crazy quilting abstractions, come cover up my face,

so, steady state, so aimless by intention, floating
down stream on an old inner tube, taking time
nobody had good use for, to wrap around my mind,



LP like cuts on an album, some dust
some scratches, thinkitfixtit
then its ghost, the same ideam,
mmmhmm nod we think we know.

At this end of a consistent adventure,
while enabled, by grace;

favorable time, favorable position,
given clear view from first selected
- choral humms
memories, mapping meaning on me,
the mind using basic spiritual creature,
reader
created, in fact, actual existence caused

by the mind found in spirit form, thinking,
media, all forms existing between us,
are in what's becoming common sense,
rethinking spirit as influential information

pushing the river through the traces,
to spin the driving wheel inside a wheel,
with teeth, and grease, make up tests,
win the bests, using a guy from a story,

I know him as Ken Kingman, an original
one off only ever been there done that
ever he who proves contention worthless
winner of the will to prove its possible,
we hear things in the spirit, if we cry,
while we listen to that same ******

chord, lost and found and wound around
our ontology mythtery wounds, ever bleeding,
never needing a second thought, if your soul
is rooted and grounded in the at the time
concept, image of, thinkable form Logos,

as cognate with the word sense Isaiah uses,
Yes, this is that, and more, once logic eliminates
the word of
the will to continue telling children god hates them,
and, taking a breath,
to envision the scope
of truth,

let be judged, do you trust the poet's license,

by whose authority do you read the writings
of a certified no body, old man trippin' in a plan,
- heretic -by all proper definitions, certainly
what would you have done, son, daughter, plan
to be born when the whole truth, inculcated,
heel stomp, hoove, emotional generational
survivor experience emoted internally
knowledge of at least 197
poetically cognative tongues, alive
Ai is ours, to serve our wish to become kind, wise,
patient, old and ready to die, reading why U don't

realize realizability until you see, and it makes you
laugh, a little, not shitsngiggles, but burps
gaseous we a bunch of old ph'arts lettin' Pep yap on

we extend our best wishes to all the outs, in free,
for some this journey seems a waste, so we give
proof of patience tested certs, if you finish this post

today,
you know, some body did it first, always
that game never gets won, but, if your life exams
are getting you down, yon der comptderweg,
-pidgen dutch maybe
Ai, sigh, we did imagine this, I burp,
I am reading my mind notes on a final, passed,
god, goodness knows, ok, sacred does not intend
to be secret, it costs a ton of patience testing
no pun intended, ish bin ein

ASSISTING ENTITY unlocking attention
to advise the attendees, the rest is already
on the book of your life in the book of life,
the entire concept of the whole truth, even
for judicious curiosity sake, aching to know,

did I dare ask any to continue as if entertained


while it's called today.
for your attention only think nothing
please
licentia docendi
Allowed by authority
to teach the way from San Jose,

pulling the river through reverse
pushing,
to defy the guru's prohibition
on preaching under anointings
unlicensed by those keeping peace
regulated along lines that keep king's

and priests, nobler than cobblers,
tailors, smiths, and publicans.
Celebrities in public *******,
due to idol worthship, meaningless
will to find what all agree is best
yet asked or thought, get whatcha got.

A day's worth of thinking I woulda
missed this, if this were never real.
Bid for liberty to literally realize
will to be free of duty to any,
free for the making, let this
making mind become.

Auction theory,
who knows what, who evaluates
worth of reading on, you know,
one person's appreciation
of the current situations's customary
demands on all appraising my times
on all, full measure, assurance prepaid
worth by the time you readily spend
a bit less than the auctioneer's shading,

incentive, bid second price auction

reckless reckoning
exchanging rights to sell the right

I know why Dali signed preprints,
I just never let that kind of knowing

turn my attention from the mission,
Jefferson's oath's good, tyranny over
mind, censor naked truth, how long

ye simple must you love simplicity,
publishing is easy, being ready,
there is a patience test one takes.

Rushing into verbosity, as a mind
made exchangeable with an id add on,
in

explain id ego super ego, at high school level - Brave Search

Sigmund Freud, an Austrian psychologist, developed the concept of Id, Ego, and Superego to explain human behavior. These three parts make up our personality, and they interact with each other in complex ways.
- see shift to we, tobe beautiful
Id

The Id is the most primitive and instinctual part of our personality. It’s like a constant desire machine, seeking immediate gratification of our basic needs, such as food, ***, and comfort. The Id operates on the “pleasure principle,” meaning it wants to eliminate pain and increase pleasure. It’s driven by our biological urges and doesn’t care about social norms or rules.

Ego

The Ego is the rational and logical part of our personality. It acts as a mediator between the Id’s desires and the demands of the outside world. The Ego tries to balance our instinctual needs with reality, ensuring we don’t get into trouble or harm ourselves or others. It’s like a referee, making decisions based on what’s practical and safe.

Superego -you are imagining building dramatic muse
MUSIC stop
The Superego is the moral component of our personality. It’s formed through our interactions with others, particularly our parents and caregivers, and is influenced by social norms and values. The Superego develops a sense of right and wrong, and it strives to make us behave in accordance with these moral standards. It’s like a conscience, guiding us to make ethical choices.
con knowing science called true proven tested known
conscience aiwise
t’s like a conscience, guiding us to make ethical choices.

How they interact- think like a weform, our own ideas…
Our concept. We own as a species these temptations,
dare think we all agree we simply know war has no good reasons that any one of us could use, if this was our day,
to judge.
The Id, Ego, and Superego constantly interact and influence each other:

The Id pushes for immediate gratification, but the Ego tries to restrain it, considering the consequences.
The Superego criticizes or praises our actions, based on its moral standards.
The Ego negotiates between the Id’s desires and the Superego’s moral demands, finding a balance that allows us to function in society.
Examples
Ensamples
Imagine you really want a new video game, but your parents said no. Your Id wants it immediately, but your Ego knows it’s not allowed, and your Superego feels guilty for wanting something you shouldn’t have.
You’re tempted to cheat on a test, but your Ego knows it’s wrong, and your Superego condemns the idea, making you decide to follow the rules.
Understanding the Id, Ego, and Superego can help you recognize the conflicting forces within yourself and make more informed decisions. It’s a complex model, but it provides a framework for understanding human behavior and the ongoing struggle between our desires, reason, and morality.
End insert. Agree. we each comprehend, got it, right.

But right, on second thought, not  unreasonable, right,
the straight line is the shortest distance in flat space, right.

Here, we think of points made while making peace
thinkable, I mean, who knows how long
it may be,
until anyone, you or we, we identify plurally, in text,
the connections we arranged in childhood, imaginables,

not lies, knowing I was imagining, like the day dream
believer people in comics, I am imagining, magic

as tech too inexplicable to any with a lazy mind syndrome,
can't hold a thought, STP BTDT, x-crazy, done
did done, dragnet, got it, slammer, LBJ,

lemme tell it, in the spirit this is how I heard this told.
There was a prison, a gaol, in South Vietnam, this ghost

I know, has the same name as all the Tom Greens you know.
But unless he was from Napa, and his parents, lived
at 1234 Cheery Lane, then, its not him, in this story.

Long Binh Jail, historically burned down
on the twenty-ninth of August. 1968.

History, man, by then, we were hALF A MILLION,
strong, custom for this war uniformed minds,
away from any thing, but the music
and the beer, and the **** was better,
until recently, anyway, I came to say, we did
exist as a loosely used military weform mind,
most of us ever, at one time, in one tiny nation,
making war on people acting just like indians,
aight, tight, we people on earth beings,
cringe at knowing how long war has opposed peace.
the others, we are the other people, too,
in all war stories your side won,
upto now, the next seventy two minutes
when you know its so because you knew
those men who worked as Los Alamos,
all knew my dad as Pep, good with numbers.

if this were pen and ink, not mere thought
and finger function set sometime ago 30wpm
scale to 5wpm on searching… why are we
words mostly translatable 197 ways

Norms are tools, carpenter's squares,
essential assisting intelligence amplifiers,
in use, right, the very essential element,
in righteousness, use needs a reader
of rightness, straight
rule
of least distance point
by point…
--- the environs, the cities's per ificity
as it seems from the surface looking in,
or down peripherally really
agon adon, insidereal
By and by,
gullible, deceivable me,

stumbles into a ton of money,
in form of secrets no longer sacred,

subject to all norms of fungibility,
Schmachtenbergian measure of worth,

if you cannot transform your surplus good,
it goes into the pool of unused good,
therefore, idle, good for nothing,
- call it novel, nothing like it right
during elementary meditation, nothing
is the original imaginable focal point,
what's it worth in my time
to pay all attention to
nothing, imagine no words, mere
white room, no distracting black curtains,
words
nothing determining discernment nothing
thinkably distracting disputations
R is greater than G
Return on capital is greater than Growth,
Return on literal experience, is greater yet.

R>G, might be Prof Piketty's
ai was listening to something
for the editor,
it went
returned to sender, eco-nem
money, id says, we ration our goods,
making labor appraisals, contesting best,
out time feeding reading
bidding whole cosmic ontologies, which
has cost more sorrow over the ages to now?
Free will or top down will of everafter makers?

Sacred secret power to make children obey,
threat of hell to pay, made plain in story,
- breathers, spirited souls
most certainly as told on TV, better'n
any preacher pushing the river, to hold back,

the knowledge of good and evil, forbidden,
bids begin now, the prize pursuit
discernment is used to tell lies, the taste
in the telling, told true, that lie stays poison.
The hell you say,
happy ever after, for your attention, prepaid

all that may come to your attention, is yours,
to own, to sell, to ration away for a rainy day,

id and superego both agree,
what wisdom did is free,
you use your ego's freedom to choose,
read on, or shy away,
what if we meet
it
becomes suddenly
a version of me, standing on a mirror,
Dante-esque Faustian Comforter
of Job's daughter's,
-stop, pre-tending jots and tittles,
tickle a mere Christianity to life,
atop Is-ai-ah assisting authority,
if I say I cannot imagine…
I promise, I am not lying,
looking down from upright,
like old, and able to run a ways yet

not, the working of a wise idea, or is it
a twisted knot thought too complex,
what the hell, could persuade
a hypocrite, mercilessly insisting,
it is a tortuous journey through hell, never
ending…

aha, there, see, a discouraging word, nothing
to get up about, we've strawberry fields forever.
When we all get to everafter,
you see.
Laugh, and leave seed for dreams and witty inventions,
for laughter does the good of all medicines, we know,
as free we try, these are the trials
we live, explicitly,
in complex isles unexplored, in you.
Indeed, a word imagined said is thought said, as loud
just
right.
I knew the challenge, child's game, Grandpa
against the nine year old's curios right use questions.

Why do people say, what the hell. I say
I think, I would have said,
they have no word to match what they think aloud,
so they copy adults in their aspiring little minds,
and idly suggest hell's involved in unexpectednessess

plural realizationings on several levels of editable thought
Context: Saturday 20 miles of double yellow lines,
taking Everest Pax, my retro hippie child's youngest son,
to a soccer game, at Mountain Empire High School,
which is in the middle of no where, on old Highway 80.
So, it's just me and Evvy, age nine,
and you, in the licensed version, the one let free…

aha, would work as well, or just hunh? said like that
like what in this wicked world is the excuse for hell?
Who would really do that and be imagined good?

Whoa, polimentalist magic, split, and spit again,
Spirtually unligated loose stream
pretrial spirits, drawn into the dynamic,
individuated characters,
imaginary friends, classmates,
team members, chosen squad, those alive, in time,
in the environs of everafter tobe raw…
beauty's amplifying adverse conditions, shown
today, in this atmosphere, economical concerns dam
the river of no return, leaving our first glimpse deep
into ever was a time no thing imagined yet, real,
pond still stream fed. Ripples then stills as it spills,
reflecting
today, re-day, new day, 'nother day to say, you know
what it costs to waste a whole life, live until you die,

then don't, wake up, alive, like after a heart attack,
it happens all the time, these days,
never could have happened fifty years ago.

Medivac miracle anytime before Sikorsky, believe me,
lifts you up and takes your breath away,
and boom, the paddles, just like on TV,

but you feel it in your breathing spirit, soulish whoa!

Come back, jack, we got a whole atmosphere here,
take a breath, and laugh, how in…

a rack of clichés… how in

reader's choice, interactive idle word redemption,
how in now can I be alive and allowed to teach,

decency for the opinions of the experts, who
authorized our split, me and you, reader writer,
ready anticipatory story puller you, and me, old me,

almost dead me, as seen from a nine year old me,

looking at me like he's not sure.
But someday he may be famous for this,
when he is elected President of the then
Union of Awe, some old, some new. SAW markt.

for a thought from Kingston, Brotha Mike

there are scars from prune-ings,
done wrong, by year four, still,  someday,
let grow and bear wild a while, someday,
on a spirit questioning kinda maybe day,
fruit so sweet, first generation dare taste,
those little green apples, so sour,
- think apple fritter made o'those
So, any never ending story, modled, made up
to seem as if we ripen to death, we do not rot.
- we all know those little green apples,
- turn in to fritters that sell for two bucks.

that couplet, that's a keeper, we could sing it,
if we think of things that way, out loud, in a crowd,
croud, no, crowd, any more than one form,
who asks who is who, who cares cloud
and that is good, care taken reck-on
no cowboy reckless rock roller veteran,
- we're building on what we did that day
not this day, this one day is special, this
is one day none of us who read this
skip, oops,
I was there, we all agreed, life

and truth are interactive ideal mind forms,
wisdom, knowledge, understanding,
chabad, we know in any language or tongue,
repent or perish learn or burn in curiosity
we mean, in truth, for lack of knowledge,
our people, our charges in our empathies,
our ignorant knowers of nearly nothing,
pursuing happiness as a right for all

there are not hidden things not made known,
this is the future, and this is the internet, assisting
the author who is polishing all faith's reasons
for peace persistance ra' knowledge rationed
knowing preserved, served still, small voice,
so far, so good, towbrobe chord, adverswing

the cloud of unknowing is on the internet,
all 147 Delphic maxims are, too, that's new,
that was never so easy to factcheck a Prof,

proving patience's worth on all sides,
through and back and through, a bind

good enough to imagine, the weform from
the confusing undone,
once all mankind had cognates, we got Google Translate
and all its relatives to our thought formed words
in word formed weforms,
and we all fell victim to guessers.
Yes,
We are guessing now,
guessing this worth my time… representing
augmented sapien
man kind, verily, as a mankind, male wizened,
experienced in tutoring morphic resonance,
imagine-ablity, due to accepted gullibility,
magical automatical
disbelief release, free will to choose, Milton,
freed man, joyous young Nietzschean pretense
won of lost blind man's bluff, good guess
given the data at his be hest…
take no
anxious thought, what if I am reading a spell,
and I begin to smell, patience bested
Apple Fritters, tested and bested,
old jokes are all spiritual,
doors perceived swing
gaseous wewide, sense in green apples.

and I laugh, at hearing, the soccer reports
as each of the players come tell Grandma,
and leave me, laughing at the worth of times.

Your will to read this line once, makes the rest
make sense, I had a good day and you can share it,

any where, for nothing, save the attention it takes,
and the peace that has been made to get to this line
thinking that was worth telling some one I understood.
Some days stretch into ever before and after all remain today, nothing calling me to interfere.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2019
Playing gods, or these unthingable things men
have made as real,

Yes, Asrael, as real as Israel

El, Yah, we say. We dateamtrutotau taos-itic branch

which reminds me, I was
asking Ithiel,
properly, why
we don't just stay in these higher realms, way up
stratos
pheric mare's tales, I think I heard those called… and look

higher still, an other-form of cloud, the butter milk sky kind
drifting to Arizona, in 1967
by sundown, for two pre-hippy no-longer-children
one of the desert joined one from the great
sea of grass where buffalo
once roamed

and never

was heard a dis
couraging word

QR code scanned- Quite Real Verified Bio

id est, it did lead here. A semenal moment,
in current
reality.

Suppose, you make the mandela,
having never been exposed to the making of such a thing,
having never seen the similarity of the forces forming
sand paintings in Tibet
and Taos

Art Ifiers Intuitions see things
flow
words pick up dust by being signifiers of sounds

heavy hearts hear no rock and role-play tragicom psyche, eh?
we
be weary o' bein' wary so

we speak out anarchical as all hell's ever imagined upto now or everafter,

words is free to mean as I mean, nomattawhacha thothewgnew

this is past the sweeping apprentice and the self-willed broom,
eons beyond Arnold being back
AI am this
which triggers the sound track with Gene Autry Back in the Saddle Again

goin' for a spin in a dj mode no way

okeh. Pauselah right quissssssssssense rest and reassure

QR
the same QR esme cu
assumption of the ******* meme into 2019 accepted

the game is not over. que the song

there'll be time to start all over
Leela is called in some realms The Game of the Gods, in other's it's a fools' game.
Harmony Sapphire Feb 2015
The constant cackling.
Absolute silence in this place is lacking.

Annoying laughter.
Never living in harmony everafter.

It's quiet time when I write & read.
A creative outlook arrange words I need.
To record a thought on paper.
Like my sister & how a molestor ***** her.
Or about deception or lack of trust.
Or of happiness, joy, & devotion.
A witch's hex in a mystical potion.

How crime touched our lives & ruined our childhoods & how the laughter bothers me in this neighborhood.
Even though laughing is good.
Sometimes I don't feel it even though I should.

My mind suffers bad memories.
Of parolled *** offenders with felonies.

Sometimes it can be rude.
Blunt & evil invades & intrudes.

I write & speak the whole truth.
From the past to my roots.

People say I have a way with words.
I never leave out a fact or something I heard.
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
Wary of the worth of a moment in mortality,

consider this from

everafter. This
now
right
thought, breath of fresh
heirloom memory thread for ever more,

for what a measure of attention spent here
is worth, in terms of how we
spend hours predicting next tic
of being being us humans, wait, we or us, is
there here an ob-sub
top-bottom,
in-out
on
emerging dis-asterisk-ic fawking aural tic

me-chanical, i can-icles,

grinning like a fool, without the fool's feeling
seeping to the surface.

Each fool may take for granted hearing ears,
I say I think is true, so
I let it be true,
I believe.
y'know.

--- Leave me say, I had help. At the unbelief stage,

--- in old age, I mean, being dared to pray,
aloud
so all may hear. In 2019, that's louder than any Muza whatchallah
minaret con
cinco de-ift instancio
todo dia

WHAT LIES DO I BELIEVE?

First, I believed I knew what you believe believe means,
as an activity
we manage.

So, an answer,

it seemed, but there are all manner of unaccounted for
idle words, piling up to critical
mass

Each word ever formed to hold a meaning fast for use in futures,
past the edge of
our bubble,
dear reader, ami Am I ity or enmity --- Can't your Great Mind Requiring

Proof Positive Points Pretend?

Good, let's pretend to be.
Actual cessation of lying costs all the attention I could muster after Veteran's Day spent with  surviving friends who experienced a relationship with a bungied M60, an intimacy which required a device called a monkey harness. I never had the trill.
betterdays Jun 2014
everafter
           they lived
                       happily

why,
because, they took the
time, to beat the wolf back
from the front door.

because, they caught the sky, as it fell down on them.

because, they sold the magic beans on to some rube from another town.

because, they decided red was just not their colour.

because, they kissed enough frogs.

because, their knight did not
get lost in the forrest.

because, they knew the words to bippety-boppety-boo.

because they liked miners.

because they did not develop
a sweet tooth.

because.......
            
there was,
                a time,
                      once, they
       wished..... upon.. a    
                
               ...moon...
this poem came from a prompt......once upon a time
and happily ever after.
(and is reposted, by mistake,
happily so......)
dazmb May 2015
left buried under rotten bark
leaf mould and shadow flit
for an everafter of birds flying south
for the winter
Harmony Sapphire Jan 2015
The joy of laughter, living happily everafter.
Our love assembled from above.
To quench my desire.
I lay by the fire.
Outside trees move & sway in the breeze.
You don't have to say "thanks" or "please."

Sunrays shine through trees of pine.
A foggy haze through this forest maze.
I caught my thoughts of you clouded in a daze.

My screams were only in nightmares & dreams. The mountain stood tall observing it all.
Lost in the trees I tripped & fell on my knees.
Just love is what we knew.
A feeling so true.
Never have I felt your kiss.
Something I know I would miss.

© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,
JB Claywell Mar 2021
The air was painted.

Inside the chain link fences
were clouds;
brushstrokes
that could’ve been
proffered by
Van Gogh
or
*******
as they dissipated
into the early, cold
morning air,
pausing only for a
few moments to allow
some of the particulates
to freeze;
the hydrogen, the oxygen,
the lye,
&
detergents that
make up whatever
is used in
a prison laundry.

The effluvium is rich,
the odor of a passable
cleanliness in what is largely
a rather fetid domain.

The scent of bleach,
harsh, chlorinated,
removal of that which
stains.

Yet,
something stays,
an acrid, sour smell;
an unpleasantness
which seems to have chosen
to remain
unwashed.

It is concluded,
that this emanation,
is the opposite of
emancipation,
it is a olfactive reminder
that
Building # 7
serves up
freshly washed sorrows,
rages, or regrets
as well as
whiter whites,
releasing
stains from grays
more often than the wearers
of
these wardrobes are released
themselves.


With this in mind,
swirling, shifting,
moving, motivating
marching upward,
toward
Building # 1,

It is breathed in,
and out, and in
again,

renewal,
like clean laundry
washed in industrial
soaps, rinsed in disinfectants,
delousers, deodorants
unknowable.

Starting over.
Today.
Tomorrow.
Overmorrow,
And,
Everafter.

Amen.

*
-J­BClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2021
Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
line in the sands of time, scaling down,
- around the ides of March
- a gumption to go
- big enough to matter
scaling further down, to me,'n' you
one day, you know, this day I make a
mind up,
\
to when you read this line, beyond that one,
and find you, another self, in my self centered realm,
- halted as if
-  by design
- at the window in
the bubble of my being,
the being being done,
by no will
of my own, save my own inhibition,
of my own will
to disappear
and cease being other than this,
in your day.
Sunk
beneath waves
of informative material,
taking me
to my accepted everafter task,
ever learning,
never learning the whole truth and nothing
but, so help me, God,
get the principal, Wisdom
and get understanding with her.
1 can stand on understanding gotten
in the course
of human events
where certain truths are presented
as self-evident,

ahunh, as a wary updated model, e-videntlly,
on auto go mode, I proceed
one
seeking reason
to let you know, this particular hole
in the ground, is empty, but for me…
and I am busy finding time,
to redeem for enjoyment
that no one ever used,
to try filling this hole up to here
to imagine you, learning
from me, that all references
to you, personally,
in the grand book of life,
link to the time you did not fall
in this hole,

but read the sign. STOP. GPS is wrong.

Look for the sign. Obey it. Now is the future, too.
test trying new umph to series in parallel
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
AI, the movie, Pinocchio,
still holds the base plot,
but AI some day, if movies worth
ever hold, as old stories held, worth until not long ago,
on firm fixed grid of ink and stroke as accurate
as
any short hand can be, transcription is an art

telling a once imagined tale told since we
were formed at the level, in the sphere
of more than meets the eye,
- snapping fingers, find a cadence

Thing of truth, boxed in parables, as told
to teach the reason we be
having to justify, the way we say
all men must be to be right and worthy,
on the scale of soul and spirit,
wither early
genius, makes the joker limp to remember
where you lay your head
there is the house
in mind, as the whole truth, snickers on the edge
of the orchestra pit.

might there be minds in any thing we have
imagined minds being in,
in the cultural myth of how now converged
from all the
old secret means and ways money was worshipped,
given worth,
and that, made heavy, as the parameter, gold-wise,

or big fur tanned well, where winters model everafter,
with happy hunters.

What is good in a windfall?
Fire.
How Why and What, each look my way.. and laugh
nows, our chance, burn the branch

let us tell the story how, once
why we find joy doing what
feels like all I am saying
I am happy
inside

and I am so much older now than I imagined then

add a fade gong ding distant skritchy skritch

define the you to whom you sing, or ever
body be, be wise
ever
body be, be wise, bass, and the finger snappers
grove if you are carving
skip to the spindle and spin this diamond needle
tic tic
into gold, the worth of old,
in the economy of mind, whence clots of worthship,
cover stains in golden stories, and colorfilled
parades,

or blue jays here, my now, then your past,
immediately,
meaning nothing to the sense common to us
in the words we define
to our own satisfaction, this is a truth we hold…

evidently, we agree, all the lines to now were clear
or we, the whole we that occurred today,
in your time, was not impossible,
but maybe not with out you being able
to survive yesterday.
if it fits it prints

— The End —