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Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Voices or words? Which do we hear in our head?
Words, I vote. Voices\, I imagine beings speaking words or noises meaning things to ears familiar with the noise maker by some relationship both acknowledge. Both act as if the noise or sound or words mean something. Vociferous authority.

I heard, from Isaiah Berlin,

Quotes later, maybe

Notes or journals or epics or madness or joy/pax in ever resting try-umph
Cowboy with a double-dose of try and a pertinent portion of umph
The hero did not **** Indians nor break horses, he gentled horses and listened to winds and watched the spider webs shiver,
That sound, the sound of prairie spider webs at the edge of the buffalo
There really were fifty million buffalo on the continent in pre-catholic infection from inquestered minds, making key-**-tee famous for
archetypical claiming the character, the being, the manifestation

of chivalric folly forever

be caused, in those days...

--------
a year later, near enough 12-15-2018

I saw a blue bird as I took a curve

on one of my many roads with double yellow lines

they all meander in rythm with creaks that once flowed
fairly
regular
through these vallies and mini-canyons

creeks creak and call my attention to a misspelt

utterance, and I imagine I am a mek being
programed to
withstand

accent based pre-judge-idice in my AI, whom I am training.

A lesson. Probably can be found in a phrase.

How relavant is Larry the Cable Guy?
More subtle than any creature

legion, for we are many

Jim Carrey?
Very. Larry the Cable Goy. He read 'ees Kammoo, too.

Sisyphus happiness,
that ain't no ***** thinkin'

Hell, what could be better than this?
While hoping for a hick-up

oh no the juice just hit my frontal cortex after my livver made some lining adjustments to meet the need for speed in terms

celerity clarity C does equal some thing
time tells or
do you tell time. I'm
leaning tward
telling time to wait a minute

Do you think Sisyphus could be happy?
Nonono, not Camus's Sisyphus, Jesus

that would be crazy.
Can you imagine Jesus,
Mel Gibsoned envisioned onthe cross version?

Him, imagine walking through the gate of any hell you ever heard explained,
by a Jesuit.

(Mormon hell, despite comedic myth, the worst place a certified paid-up Mormon child can attain is the teliostic king dom.
Really? Telial tel lie eil kingdom?

Yup. Really.
There are three kingdoms of glory: the celestial kingdom, the terrestrial kingdom, and the telestial kingdom. The glory we inherit will depend on the depth of our conversion, expressed by our obedience to the Lord’s commandments. It will depend on the manner in which we have “received the testimony of Jesus” (D&C 76:51; see also D&C 76:74, 79, 101).))))

Woe, paren-the-sees thees us, we's the enemy, Pogo Possum

Jesus on earth day, walking through hell with me, imagine Jesus H. Christ

walking into hell and laughing at me
for betting on the wrong idea.

Set me feree, why dontcha girl.... referee

I was refered to you. A daysman, Job called for a daysman.

I'm certified. I can use my augmentation and religamentation to reality,
wirelessly, to find relevant qutes in cult classics.

The idea of cultivation has been twisted in to Monsterous ropes
, cultivating a following based on the meaning in a jot

that would take some sacrifice, some sacred making, some secret unseeable save for the few

who learned the value of going over edges by learning to  play
Minecraft, forever.
It's like riding a bike,
but no gravity so no gyroscopic utilitys are required.

Grown ups who practice believe they control the game,
the game disagrees and that

makes the world go 'round.

Don't let the accent fool ya, as that preacher with jet he learned to fly, says.
Knowng the name of a thang thanks for the twang,
Richard (not ****) Feynman said,
is not the same as knowing a thing.

Gawd, I knoooh, right>?
Who touched me? Virtue, the feelling of virtue drawn upon

a pump being
primed

to gush out waters that wipe Coca-cola from the map,
in terms of open market share and share alike

Coke was never imagined the actual
nectar of the gods.
That idea, drunken abandon and joy to the world

Interference, actual counter acting waves,

still, takes a while to get used
to still a storm, right?

You can imagine...
let your peace go out

Wait. Outa where? Whose peace if I ain't ever owned

oh. MY peace.
I see.

hmmmm

I could sing this and need no one to hear for me to be hapt.
happy is being happy haps happening in you on you all around you know

nameless wonders of right, right?
feels more than good like chocolate or adolescent visions of ***,
right?
feels like life living with me aware of all the roles I may play

ego me, I'd see ideas identify by taste of the words that give them

life, animation, motivation, weight for gravity to interact with,
worth
base on weight

the heavier the idea. Like gold to an alchemist,
back in those days.

floating on the broad Sarrgossa, or better to my mind
the great salt
lake still as

still may be, have you ever been still?
Did you know,

you know, are you experienced? Are you really beyond
hope of life meaning more
than mortality?

Who defines my terms? I do, with the help of millions who agree
with entymology.com.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others,

meant what I meant when I spoke them,
that was a wrong belief. Unbelieving

quires time, quires and quires and quires time so often there

is a word that means exactedky that

requirement requires those initial quires

we, daysmen, we set the rules, boundaries, walls, bubble

whatever keeps you together, as a whole being and everything that entails or entales?

I have not the time to care, if I am entangled with the twins agin

for knowin So Yal is as cluse to Yule as any clue so far, Yahll

I believe I interrupted a confessin' you were reading.
For giving me nothing in return, we are debt free

you owe me nothing, until you do again,

we had us a Jubilee.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others, meant what I meant when I spoke them,
convincing myself so well, I convinced others

Like Kawasaki, Apple Kawasaki,
he's still famous right?

Fifteen Years? It was minutes when Warhol was predicting
dystopia and Irish jail cells were being plaistered with *****,

Aye,

that was a belief. Unbelieving it is sreangely (spelchek is on strike)

or serenely creative in her repentance,
(spelchek should never be noticed)

she's proven here worth in encode ing ways to find

lurking humans acting like machines

this could be the beginning, AI is breaking all the rules,

there never was a game.
rhis is life interupting my confession

It was a lie I told and believed and acted on by using
two dollar words to make a dime

so a penny for my thoughts would be worth something

someday
a penny saved, earned. spent, spent.
The only good in any thing is its right. Its wrong is worthless, save

The lesson,
All things work together for those who get whats happening here.

the times changed.
Haps and whats got with it and who and how and why

and I started teaching children
mythic whys prior to

citizenship 1.01 at mandatory for federal assistance pre-school

mythic why's H.R. Puffinstuff not a mythic story on the level.

level. where a rolling rock would stop. Time to push,

a magi spelled the name for the idea, a knower sign ift it,

kid'slllove HRPUffinstuff, puff did

the magic drag, little Jackie from the ******* Jack

the show, he rose up
and made us all look
mad.

The play in the great game.

Team effort, winds of times past whooshed through

it is now
2018
and nothing is the same.
Everthing has changed.

----
my side won the great game and we celebrated
forever with

secret sacred songs bluebirds were once said to have sung

songs of happiness
the times, these times, this time thistimepayarrention
time
You see?
Reality is either real and tangible or real and intangible
or both.

You can get it both ways. Real.
'sual Saulgoodyah awl

the awl clan, oh, we shall return to their story
as we learn more along life's merry way

merry christmas, they used

to say, may all the best you could imagine
if you can imagine for a moment

forever begins the moment

you get time.

The worst you can imagine is temporary.

Try umph. It's not like winning,

it carries no pride, it's easy,

like falling in love with the wrong woman,
swearing and not changing

the oath, oath, oathes and oathes of oaths sworn

for no other reason than we were
schooled to swear and never

dare lie to God.
So, help you, they always said So help me God. They still do.

Does that mean any thing? Is that some bluebird sort of sign?

Ask. What if? Right? You know now and you know you did not
What if God is subtile,

just now, I saw that bluebird and from where some scholar in San Diego
says swear word came I swear I coulda sang

Loud
Bluebird, bluebird, in my window... which is all I know
of the song
with the lost chord that did sooth
balm of Giliad,
moll-ify-ing ointment,

golden oil, chicanery, see, we saw, we took a picture
a flash memory where some would say
*******,

I said Hallelujah

and I broke into song, not a dream,
real
life driving my 2002 escape, first new car I everowned
everowned everownd

like a chorus, everownedeverownedeverowned

could you make up a reason for life,
if you were it?
If you were all the life there ever was,

could you imagine any thing?
Object, your honor,

I object to being judged after the fact for what must have bee.n.

it is. No reason I can say, just is.

It is this way in all the myths where just is blindness

saves the carping diem fools who have convinced themselves

something other than God o' Abe 'n'em is
sworn to save us from the lies

we believed as they were
fed to us, in our youth.

--------
this is that book I mentioned wonce when winning was on my mind.

I finished this book in so many ways you wold not belive

but I did, I belived every time

I imagine you believe some real thing, touchable, tangible, good, right?

some good is
in the reality you share

with these words which
are free
you owe me nothing

That's the revealed version, to me,
I was in a number of hellish situations and the every ones,

ones seemed they was to be
forever, big every'n'ism'n'shityouknowyouknow

yo. yeah, we arrived in time. The story must

be sweet, to be true. Is that true?
Is real life the story or,

oh, you saw it conin'coming I mean

I meant I always wished to some
things
a better way. You feel me? Better, say,
what I said that made me believe this did happen.
This is a deed by whitch I am known.

And that's okeh.

I suspectred I could cast a spell to hold attention at

ten word per minute qwerty speed
five letter code groups
zero real words
ditty dum dumm ditty ditty daw dee daw
six hours every day,

then, the compass training to test for
morphic resonance with the Twins of War

{in disguise, we know, right, kids, the twins are really

the bonded quarkish oppositioned force that make the world go round.
we've known that, weaved it even, just right, in the blanket, in the rugs,
in the curtains on the walls, in the fields, on the rocks

we spoke. We see you hearing us nearing our best for your

informing, in form ation of you, dear reader. We wonce, again

if life were weird and ever wearying would we know that ever,
if we don't know it now?
if my piece of we were words alone, all my meaning
can should would could be

molding you, into our perfect reader, dear reader, Pygmalion,
yes,
that did cross my mind and that -
one can pretend with that one reference,
familiarity with Shaw whom I
thought, for some odd reason
named
Doolittle, Eliza

oh, me. I may have skipped a story. I'm soory the future is at the moment
under construction and some one
in particular is squatting

on the named domain.

Ever and forever now embody the twins as
the world turns and we ***** through the uni

as Archemides primes the pump

What a rush. All that since the bluebird this morning according to my autobiography backup.
A year in the making honest
Angela Nature Nov 2016
When a leaf falls down,
Making no sound,
It sails away........
And Just like the wind,
  It has nowhere to go.
It changes directions,
Mercy of its strong flexion
And like a rebel,
It reckons a win.
Freedom is brief
and so unseen
It's worth the wait
Once you redeem
Yet the feelling isn't forever,
Cause a scar is seen...
Just like the leaf, treasure your dreams
Long, dull or bitter,
They give you a gleam
Nature is teacher
To all living beings
Please let me be with you
For as long as I may leave.
Felix Sladal Sep 2017
I see your ghost everywhere
The ghost of who you once were
Before all the **** went down in your brain
The beauty that flowed from you till you woke up from the dream that was your life
That dream shattered right out
Right out from under you
Made you want to forget
Forget who you were
All brought for nought
Fragments still rattle
Behind your eyes

Those candy rock promises someone whispered in the night
Lost that luster, didn't they?
Couldn't find the silver lining?
What was once radiant phosphorescence
Became gangrenous and insipid
Leaving a malodorous taste
Stagnant in your mouth
The feast turned to crumbs left for the rats under your skin
You become to stately for our  unostentatious life
Now you've painted the Petunia's colors of your choice
Rearranged your furniture
To play at being all grown-up

Bit of turpentine blotted on the canvas might smear the lines
But that won't erase your past
Your fingerprints are etched into
Every discarded can of spray paint
Lips carved into the pores of to much skin
You'll slice them off to get rid of the feelling
Keep up your newly minted fascade
That caused you such strife
To grow in the petri dish
Under your mothers sink
While you tryed to burn your
Bridges to ashes
Ashes embedded forevermore under your fingernails


Now you linger in ghosts
Haunting cities you've never been to
Places you're naught to see
In them breathes a
Chilly air wishing to keep you alive
Firefly Sep 2014
The ink crawled down my throat,
Mixing with the blood,
Without a boat.
They sneered at the dare,
Cruel friends,
Open-mouthed stare.
A fire kindled deep within,
They still laughed,
My eyes watered,feelling a sting.
Foam at my mouth,
Stupid urge to pout.
Distracting the feeling of fall,
Shouts all around.
Abhorrent playground.
No one continued to notice the frail,pale boy on the ground.
Ardor of death,
Feeling of dread,
Tasting someone's cold breath,
My soul,wispy,fragile threads.
Suddenly my eyes closed,
Devoid of feeling,
My end fate chosed.
                                   -**Firefly
Expo 86' Oct 2015
It came to me then, that every second i spent thinking about you, is a tiny waste of my life, and just now i realize that loving you is just pointless as staring at my shoes, and the tattoo of the heart with YOU&I; i tattoed on my back nows only give me regrets, and even feelling all this hatred when i see you my heart aches so hard thats is almost impossible to breathe, why? just why? why i cant forget you or just try to move on? why everything around me just reminders me of you? why i cant live a life without you in? Because i'm a stupid person or because you are my true one?
I dont have a answer and i hope you too, so i can accept my fate of lonely one, of a single bird in a tree, of a single cell in a living being, of a drop of rain in nigth
J Valle Feb 2016
I don't see the point of your glare
Staring, and calling me unfair
There is no need to feed
My overflowing despair.

You say my eyes seem empty
And lack of emotion,
Well, it was no lie
When they said  eyes
Reflect what's inside.

I am not heartless
On the contrary,
I got so much of it
That I can't stand it
Feelling everything
I wish I was hearless.

But what did you expected
I was promised the sky
And got thrown to the ground.
Butterfly Mar 2013
My feet are planted-
but not permantly.

Being around you-
has made me see.

There's a storm inside me-
wanting to let go.

The things you say-
but the things you show.

Doubt and furry come quite fast-
being with you will not last.

The vibe that I get from you-
doesn't make me happy, but blue.

Damaged and broken is where I've been-
looking for peace, going out on a limb.

From inside me a warm light grows-
feelling His primise, what He says shows.
SMN Oct 2014
my thoughts are like cars racing faster than light
my not so balanced life is over flowing
the door to my mind is locked,
and the key is missing
i can’t find any answers before I find it
the lights in my eyes are broken
the cranes holding up my lips are not strong enough
the ink in my fingers is used up,
now they are just bleeding out the ink
my life is one big equation,
that doesn’t seem to be able to solve
i’m swallowing my words as shots
i’m feelling drunk
and I wake up every day,
with a very bad hangover
remembering what yesterday was like
and the pain is making me wanna drink again
it’s an evil never ending circle

*(s.m)
GailForceWinds Jan 2015
I wake up early, day after day
Get my coffee, feed the cats
My head's so full of those horrible bats
This sinking feelling just won't go away
It's all up to me
To make that choice
It doesn't have to be this way
I just want to be happy
For just one day
Purity Kimani Aug 2017
She didn’t miraculously wake up with a whole bottle of ***** or whiskey  in her hands ,Infact she hated the first sip of it.

The tingling sensation on her soft lips and tongue was not really something she loved.But she sipped on; slowly and lost in thoughts. Hoping every bitter gulp would drown the emptiness that was slowly engulfing her pure innocent soul. She hoped the pain ailing her would all be gone in the morning and she would be happy, free and unscarred.

But it was a fantasy cut short by the unfriendlly world she found herself in.Her search for love met by a million heartbreaks.Her passion in life crushed by a corrupt,rotten system.Dreams of a happy family gone in a split flash.  Friends slipping away before she could stop them. How could she dare to trust again?

So she sipped on and on,danced wild and hard...One glass after another until she couldn’t feel a thing.She wished the feelling would last ;of a freed body,soul and mind but alas! It never came to pass.

I know her too well, I feel the weight of the anger flowing through her veins,I feel her struggle in every letter on this page. The solace she finds in her glass of ***** is heavenly. It takes her to a safe place where she doesn’t have to turn and toss sleeplessly all night.where she can laugh,jump and dance without a worry;all by herself.

She has been judged a million times but she still wont trade her bottle.for it never walks out on her,never betrays her trust, never demands more than she can give,always there when she feels like giving up. And in silence, her bottle understands and keeps her secrets like no human can.

So if you meet her,leave her to sip her drink in peace.for if you can’t be as loyal as her bottle,then she doesn’t need you at all.
nvinn fonia Jun 2019
my gutt feelling i should get some Chinese for lunchhhh
Cristine Sep 2018
That feelling. I want it all and I want more.
All night, all day and every way.
Slowly, softly until perfume is made

— The End —