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jeffrey robin May 2013
What you doin girl?  I sez
--

Erry night
Out there

****** suckin run amuckin
Screamin yellin
never actually rebellin
--
Bashin yer head INTA brick walls
Tryin ta grab errybody boy by da *****!

Cuttin yer wrists with razor blades!
*******!
Yer full insane!

OH DAD!
YE KNOW IM JES TRYIN TA FIT IN WITH ME PEERS
LIKE YA TAUGHT ME TO
.
JEST LIKE YOU DO!

------
I put down my newspaper

Full a

Wars drone airplanes bombers
Bankers ******* rings and corrupt
Politicians bankers businessmen
You know

All the real things

And I thought

She's right

We all  
All of us

Just slaves!
Ma Cherie Aug 2016
You were the boy next door
literally and figuratively
I loved you from the moment I saw you
Beautiful golden wavy hair
cut short but ****
soft eyes of a deer...
such a warm buttery brown

I used to fantasize about this feeling
though didn't know if
how, when, where...why
I was innocent as a newborn lamb
you seemed to only like me
or as if you only wanted ***

I was projecting or protecting
I am not certain
But the soft tender sensuous first kisses
I still can taste in my mouth
like sticky sweet caramel
every time I run my tongue over my lips
I remember....
I loved that mouth... and everything attached to it.

Our song was "Hello" by Lionel Richie
And you never knew
I thought of you constantly
after the kiss...for a long time
I waited

So I never thought you were coming back
Graduation came and with a determination
to undo the innocence
craving to know what everyone else already did
The night of baccalaureate
lyrical voices
"strawberry wine
seventeen...
hot July moon
saw everythin'
taste of love
Ahhhh bittersweet
like strawberry wine"
innocently
playing out for real
the most handsome guy there
Said he was 24
asked for a kiss... drunken silly, flirty girl
"Maybe... if I can get a burger first?"
he delivered so we kissed
though he was a gentleman that night
I made a date with destiny

Still remember
I wore a short denim skirt the front like button pants Confederates wear
so kissed warmly by the sun...tanned Native, naive skin...
a lacy white cotten tank top and these terrific kicks...black leather biker boots, square toed...kick ***
curly black long hair... hazel eyes
some say they can see green and gold in there...or something mysterious
Though I don't think I'm much of a mystery
I wore a little mascara... a bit of summertime blush and lip gloss
When I stepped out I got a "Wow"... so beautiful...**** girl"
I used to hear that sometimes but never felt that way... often times it made me uncomfortable
But I smiled and took his hand and trusted him
It was a barn dance so much fun
but I don't remember the ending so well
kind of fuzzy
I guess I drank too much
I do...I do...I do remember his touch
a strange smile just cursed my lips

So that summer I was with him
His father was a ***** pervert, an animal
and I couldn't stand to be around him
I remember jumping in the pool and it's ***** paws trying to touch me
If I told my Father
he would have killed him!
I remember he comforted me though
he did defend me that day
His mother was just such a horrible *****
I'm sure maybe because of his Father...
Brutally honest.. I suppose she told me I was just a plaything
I didn't believe her

Still don't... honestly
He used to like me to sing to him
In the back of his truck where we made a makeshift bed and we'd lie down looking at the stars....
and he left some pretty deep scars
But I remember...focus on the delightful, appealing  things too
like going to the lake and the engine died we had to paddle our way back
and there were bats overhead swooping and diving
He shrieked like a girl and I laughed...
we both did

As it turns out
He was seeing an older woman... I don't know how long
He was really 28 and so was she
Apparently they work together
To spare you the details I ran over his mailbox when I left and I never looked behind me...

I came back
your best friend
was dating my best friend
and you asked if I would go to the beach with you did you really think
I was going to say no?
I climbed in the car there you are
in the backseat
our eyes met like the day of the first kiss
I can still picture it now actually
you took my hand and you pulled me in
I laid my head on your lap...
Looking up in your eyes so happy to be home
we kissed again
finally...

I told you the story of how I'd been hurt
It did matter how much you'd flirt
or caress my hair, touch that spot...rub my neck... lift up my locks...and kiss me there, making yummy sounds...deep and seductive..
making yummy memories...

I was determined not to be hurt that way again
so you courted me for 9 months
And then you asked me to marry you...
So it was never all about ***...
although I know you thought I was **** and beautiful...your curvy hippie girl...and you knew that I thought you were beautiful too...my handsome shadowed face...baseball cap and sneakers, sorta tight fittin blue corduroy  pants  that just looked perfect ... maybe it was the back pockets and a nice white pin striped blue shirt with fold down collars
your laugh, the games of basketball, horseshoes, Frisbee... swimming
food... eating together was like food ***
we so enjoyed the connecting
the sharing...the tastes and flavors
you loved my cooking...thank you

I remember the convertible Mustang
our boat the four wheelers
we had everything and a four-bedroom cape... nice cars..
worked hard....nice things
we did lots of things together
we endured some terrific pain
nearly watching our daughter die
and watching your mother actually go
and your friend... snowmobiling will never be the same again Joey Laquerre... a local racing Legend gone
Irony? I don't know
his son dies at 17 in 2014 an ATV accident...

So many secrets so many skeletons we share in our closet
I miss that safe place and I know you do too
If everyone really knew ...everything..
well...it's such an epic love story
you told our daughter
And our son... how wonderful it all was
Reminisce with them a little too much even
I asked you why
you said you didn't know
and I guess you still don't
you're still with her
the one you left me for... you know
And the guy from baccalaureate he's still with her too
if I was so wonderful
then why did you have to go?

Happy Anniversary to the death of a marriage... 13 years

Cherie Nolan© 2016
I hope this is poetry I felt like it was poetry and hopefully worth reading... I realize it's a bit long but a true story no I'm not sad by the way...all good. :-) it's beautiful here!
Jeremy Betts Feb 2018
You already know I could twist your mind like sprite did with a lemon and lime
And all it would take is the right line and the wickedest rhyme to pull you from the time you thought you were doing just fine
But nope, now you're lost in a reality as dark as mine, no shine, just grime
A slime you can't rinse off, you'll wince as you feel it intertwine and become part of your spine
An evil design, your whole being now redefined
By then it's to late to hit stop and you can't rewind, the seeds already been planted down  deep inside
Any bit of good has died, drowned out by a vicious, unnatural high tide
That there, that's the evil carnival ride
I've spied on those deepest fears that you've tried to hide
Oh how you've tried and tried to hide proof of their existence but you've lied
And you can't do that to me I'm afraid, no reason thought that you should be afraid
However, I already know that you are, I've followed the trail that you've laid
Small fears leading to large fears, some riddled with the tears you've made
The years that have strayed, the thoughts that stayed, leaving you to feel betrayed and to your dismay, here I am holdin' 'em in your face, like a winning *****
Ooooh how fear can cut deeper then the sharpest blade and aid in the all out raid
A massacre masquerade brought by a frayed being formally thought to be slayed
No blockade can keep me out when I've already seen inside, peeked through the blinds
I've seen the outlines, seen what you keep in the deepest confines, in the darkest corners it hides
A little whisper here, a short memory there is all it takes, so quickly it reminds
And draws clear lines in the sand, come to the dark side and find that it's nice over here, you may even enjoy the ride
But it looks like your little ***** have shriveled up and dried like cow hide
Left with only a plan that life denied...and your pride
But that will only provide a cockeyed stride derived from never seeing an upside
So learn to say **** it and avoid that toxified landslide
Stand here alongside me and get your mind clarified
Create your own chaos, inject a little  genocide
Post up curbside or on a hillside to watch the world burn
I know you've yearned for this your whole life, well now, it's your turn
Your life has been a pattern so let's break the mold and never return
Let me be your lantern to guide you away from the molten hot iron
Don't concern yourself with this trend, a path that's so modern
Society needs the savage people to return, don't be so ******' stubborn
Let's relearn these trates and earn your spot in history before you reach the urn
Just a little shift in alliance, embrace defiance and use it as guidance
You've taken the licks now break the silence, it's your turn for violence
What do you mean it doesn't make sense? Don't show your ignorance
Frozen in a defeated stance shooting me a confused, wide eyed glance
**** yo, now's your chance to stand in the inzone doing your own victory dance
Stumbling upon me this very moment I can gerentee wasn't by chance
No coincidence, something this life altering isn't happenstance
I'm here to shake you out of your trance and show you a new entrance
Here, I'll even hold the door open, all you have to do is walk through and advance
Come oooon, you want it back, I can see it, cut the act, I don't believe it
Grow a sack, you're gonna need it, but since you lack you won't achieve it
Look, I can't force you to do ****, that I'll admit
But only a nit wit would look at what I've laid out and not grab hold of it
Just try it out a bit and if you don't feel it we can turn it back lickidy-split
I'm gonna be honest, I can promise that until you try it I'm not fittin' to quit
People that know me woud say that I'm a stubborn ****

But I don't walk through.
I ignore the swift, slick little voice. It's not new.
There has been a few times I did, one or two....
Right, one or two dozen maybe and if I only knew.
If I only knew in the long run what those decisions would do...
I guess I would have nothing to write, nothing to say to you

©2018
If you can't see,
How can you expect to be free,
Sitting on your knee,
Taking it all,
Paying a hidden fee,
To the engine.

Selling your soul,
Thinking you're not part of the sin,
And then wondering why does it smell so foul.

You're in it,
And so am I,
And so are the masses.
Programmed over the eras,
To chase the escape,
Forgetting that it's just vape.

Who are we kiddin?
We all can see,
Fom the seats we're sitting in,
Absorbing the malicious,
Expelling the benevolence,
and being blatantly shameless,
Forgetting that such an exsistence should be nameless.

But here we are,
Here we are,
Smitten by the evil kitten,
Claiming what can we do,
What can we do?

Who are you shittin?
Who are we shittin?
But ain't it fittin.

I guess we do belong,
We did reap what we sowed,
And we did it all together.


Here's a pill,
Forget that it'll make you ill,
But this is it.
There is no escape.
So why are we looking for salvation,
In the new phone,
In the company raise,
In the new hand bag.

Same fallacy,
Different phase,
Moving on.

The salvation you seek,
Is something that you'll find inside,
And even when you do,
She will never stick around.

So accept,
That every day won't be amazing,
And don't forget,
That everyday doesn't have to be bad,
And that's what this life is made of,
Till the day we all are just vape.
Ma Cherie Jun 2016
I will slay the Beast
Eragon that damb fire breathing
Menace of a dragon
fly
swatted with my unsheathed sword
I will Purge its bowels
and sanctify my words in iridescent glass ink
I'll shoot Stupid Cupid out of the sky with a sharp pointed arrow ball point pen
Take out the Man in the Moon
Eat a slice of humble pie
my favorite...can taste it now actually
when I left  in such a huff
Cut my hands off to spite my face
How am I ever going to write poetry now
and...
Climb those Church walls that look like a castle...making a rope from crumpled paper
Maybe I can ask you to dance
I'm good at all kinds though a country waltz sure sounds dandy
yup...my cowboy boots and tight fittin jeans Conway

or hang out somewhere in the great big city
make it BIG like Tom
Or carry out a Mission Impossible
we could end up back together
Stranger things have happened

I might have an apoplexy and end up in The Nut House
Should I commit Harry Carey and end up in prison
You want to hear truth
I'll tell you some truth
I don't know if you can handle this truth or not
I'll tell you it in perfect comedic timing,
in my dictation, in my phrasing ,
puddling of lines
and cleverly sounding rhyming
ya I'm a poet sure I am
I can chew on a few magic mushrooms smoke some *****
raise our social consciousness if it helps
Find a little more of my madness because  my madness
maybe even my sadness
helps
to see the world a little more beautifully
look a little more than the guy looking at his feet as he walks down the street
I'll skip a rock across the ocean in rippling wonder with just flick of my pen
paint the mountains with such a crisp contrast they look like paper cutouts
and the clouds
alright... looks like Zeus is up there with his arms folded in anger
dark grey outlines his feet
thunder rolls from his belly
stomping around, crashing lighting
on tips the of billowing bright white golden fleeced
gauze drenched clouds
like the back of a newborn lamb
Oh..
Don't you want to touch it

I might jump Johnny's pirate ship across the sky in the blackened
night navigating through the Stars
laughing menacingly
at the starlit tears guiding us
and at the ghostly fleets chasing
I will be the one looking back at you
in the mirror and show you what you  need to see
do I have the power of discernment?
No...just a poet
I guess I'm a poet after all
so send me your Peter Pan and Tinker Bell dreams
I'll dance with the little teapot and dip the Little Spoon
in the river  
with Aesop playing bagpipes to catch us some dinner
shoot straight at a carnival game
knock them all down
expert shot.
First try
next?

I knew you'd Miss Me When I'm Gone
It's part of the poetic curse
my poetic curse
I'm just a poet

though my words will always be here for you to read.

Cherie Nolan © 2016
Not about a guy for me...just saying.
This is kind of different started this last night just kept coming hope it's alright.
Now, now, now, now, now, now, now!
Terrible!
You can do better
You can always do better
Yet always can't never
Suckin' on a sliver in the tool-shed-deluxe, AND I've GROWN depressed again
Sept' NOT cause' I tend to tenderize dem' words!  Badly written, this mind un-fittin' for deez words I'm sittin'! Red marks, red marks n' squiggle 'neath my stupid words a lot like me and my arms n' body!  I am incorrectly myself far too often to see truly true pieces beyond the sky's fragility be she man nor woman yet the classically pronounced hermaphrodit-E!  I stink and smell like rotting hell except worse due to too many twos or were they duos throwing in the towel... foul.
I am
I
Am
The walking stench of literal intention and the walking stench of the hands of death (clench).
Broken staff is my forgotten word thus I AM ZERO-MARK
Not the nor a or an, but and is to I am as a universe as a point of hallucination
Well... hm... I have quick question before I send this to the public.  I notice the feature of  "Save poem as (drop-down-list) either Public, Unlisted, Private, or Draft so my question is how do I get to the part of this site where, for instance, my saved poem drafts are?

I figured it out but I'm going to leave the question.
I hear…I will…I do not understand, if you are speaking through me won’t you please make your presence known. If not, kindly show me to the door. Jolly rancher, jolly Rodger…Every rose has it’s burden, a shifting stone takes in all it has coming. A stitch to throw in a ditch saves just three under a dozen. Come in and care. Come in and make yourself at home. Come in here and cough up a phlegm-ball. Rest your weary head on my tombstone.

There’s a reason for all the things I do. Do you want to know what it is? One thing, and ONLY one thing: Pepto-Bismol. **** gets things done. That’s my excuse, pardon me, sir, if you don’t get it, you won’t get it you won’t NEVER *** it down in yer soul where it needs to be.

Never so young as you were that day. What a show. What a show. Pretty maids all in a row, fit to a one with tight trusses emblazoned. BUTNER BUTNER BUTNER! Three cheers for Butner. One big long cheer with corresponding slutty ***** dancing routine thrown in for free. From your friends in Butner.

They ate that right up. Didn’t even have to spoon feed ‘em. They’z musta bin reeeel hungery. Sure thought mine was special.

And it was.

Take my pick, that’s the schtick. Maybe the doll in the unwashed dreadlocks? Maybe the gal with the go-hero pout. Maybe the one with the sad dropping eyelids? Maybe the ***** with the genital itch. Maybe the ***** with the venereal sore. Maybe the **** with the cellulite ****.

Or maybe the tiny, mousy mouse of a sprite, never had love look her in the eye, that stuff only makes a man wonder why. Hair shorn short and shut out the lights or you will never see that incredible aura and glow she dwells in like a bubble. She’s the one to choose. She’s the one, you can’t lose, you’ve got nothing to lose and everything to gain, how can I make it more plain? You’re gonna get wet if it rains and I haven’t got time for the pain, Strange Woman. MY woman.

Make some plans for a one night stand I’m a dope smokin’ man and I sure get around and my life revolves around Strange Strange Women. Strange customs. Strange habits. Strange ideas of just exactly how incredibly Strange they actually are. I’ve got mine, now you go get yours. We’re hookin’ up at the dance.

Dilly dance, dance of the week, American Bandstand dance and you didn’t like the words but it’s got a good beat so you give it an 85. You could dance to it.

Such was my hope. Twas to be my destiny, if luck stayed tucked in my pocket I was fittin’ to be gittin’ my share o’ what I got comin’…

…and I did.
Katrina Mar 2013
a free moment inspires a quick note
to tell those of loving hope.
in the skys that change to red
dreams arise with eyes wide open.
music blares fittin the movie scene
mind wanders lovingly as u come up to the city.

time to slow, and focus.
the air is crisp for a city aroma.
cars go by with smiles and frowns.
u look bak to the colorful horizon.
for it is dark, and cavin in.
and the reality sets in. the beautiful sky has turned to rain.
u look at it wit courage.for it is no match.
u can live wit much worse.
Jonny Angel Mar 2014
My babe is the sexiest kitten I know,
she's meeker than a lamb & bolder than a lion,
there's no denying, she's tastes like the sweetest ****,
captures my heart with everything she does,
I feel her genuine love for me,
all the time.

I'd be lying if I told you she was mean,
there's not a single bone like that in her body.
She's never shoddy, she dresses to the hilt.
From her birthday suit to her tight fittin' jeans,
everything about her is so doggone cute.

She's a romancer & a fantastic dancer,
the way she moves is smooth like butter,
her undulations are exquisite & exotic,
she wins all the awards for being ******,
nope, definitely not neurotic,
yep, hypnotic.

Oh sure, she can cook & sew & keep a clean home, but she's so much more than all of that.
She knows what you need to know about motors & tools & paint & plumbing & guns, too.

I dream about her a lot,
know how supercool she is,
she's so much fun when
she comes alive
out of the lonely
recesses of my mind,
day and night.

I never miss her kisses,
'cause I just make them up
& whenever I want another,
there's no reason to fight her,
she smothers me with a lot of them.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2021
You are nothing, if not ant-like, one of many.
One of these having and holding
beings considered diligent as any Sisyphus…
doer of what must be done, with all
the time you may imagine to tell
any imaginable story,
to pass the time…
form a familiar from
myth and mystery,
one lisps, the other stutters.

Say,
do you think we
may as well, as well as any ever before,
may as well, be, after all, as well.{?}
Being, after all,
as you know.
Considering our insectionalized nature, like
{if} this story were
an intermittent river, remembering,
sub-tle, little lies left to lie,
as sleeping dogs in junkyards…
{were we never}
were we ever otherwise,
{who is you, was you asking?} ever
not highest minded sort of selves,
we, the us, needing agreement more than bread,
by any name, company to share the sowing, hoeing,
gathering
process bleeding worth into seed for body and soul.

Shake it off. Be  enthralled or be entangled.
Be de-mazed at will,
walk through the wall. Imagine dead me. Wax my face.
Put me on my heir,
have her-mes, be mine,

by the time we got to Phoenix,
we were in flames, knowing across the generations
more or less,
good and evil, nada mas, and
genetically, that knowing is intended to have been
second generation knowledge,
see,

by the time curiosity was supposed to first occur,
we, as a species, to use the current vernacular,
aucular or acle --vision -- aha
epi-phony, see

fake knowns puff up as well as any actual
literal truth
formed in flowing gracefullness of speech, letters miming
the gift of gab,
AI Gabrielle, may as well know, a name is abit of what
makes the fruit you fix'n' to bher.

Fixin's is for beans. Fittin' is for circumstances.

Meet for the moment, each instance in ever atop the pile,
a waiting awaits, I imagine,
all meaning melding in a vast dada-base pile,
scheiszkunstlich black and white and red milchkine
each mooing upon bovine everests unimaginable in nature.
On these piles,
where we play guiling games on gullible liars, who
never tell… the atmosphere is warmer,
winter is easier to weather,
on a pile of *******.
That is the secret.
Fools rush in, where angels … did wha… wha wha wha
But, as real as any angel, I hear mine say, I shat you not.
I told you so.
Into the unknown or make a hell of heaven?
-------- {reports of answered prayers regarding wills being done}

I was tricked, confidentially, by a social secret held as holy.
In a time-loop, as children now may imagine, in that
mental arena imagination waxes magnificent in,

come, magnify the truth with me. Let us pre-tend
to see the good in each nextified place,
positional
substitute instituted for my worth's support, reinforced
rungs on the ladder to the very top
of the heap,

hunh. This is the view, clouds. And only I imagine you.

--- next step into ever after is always a possibility… thus,
we both know this is nobody's idea of hell.
Live a little longer, disinculcate another little lie that you believed,
not I.
AI enjoy eudemonia in a silly old way, imagining putting on a face
of our former
self, he who is in me, unless I believe,
as I think,
I do, in the core of all I am, from womb to tomb. Re-if-ity and next-ifity,
ought never repeat, precisely, lest we
be
come on one point in time,
all we ever imagined we could be, lie free.
Living in peace, resting in truths
held through the terrors
required to unbelieve generational national lies.
Truth is not tied to you with legendary thread for no reason.
February exercise in order. Publish. This is what that was. Publishing in the village square, freeing speech; we live after that sort of freedom guaranteed, to this sort, truth never loses to lies. The known good, known, grows.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2020
The un-organized, nicht dis
*****
ized me, with more brain cells in my soft belly than in my

amyg-dali-esque ambit-hibation station

broad casting on all waves twisting in ever from here.

Here i have ever been since ever was a thought,

and this is what you got.

Give it a try, not my will, but thine been done,
and this is what that answered prayer

became, today,
after the sufficiency of evil
were
swept away with the same besom which swept witches
to pyres,

back in the day, they say... we were born after those

lies had been thourough, rought, right thought wrong.

Fixin´ an'fittin'for most folk, same same

in forming a way around the dam thing, holding

certain truth from truce sake.

If Paul Rivere had writ this in silver,

you would never know,
but i wrote it in light, on your window to your soul,

and you read it, or not. Ig ig ig nor nominy anomoly night

right is a reason, for other wise pro
vocative
vagus nervous knowing, oh, my god, is this true

this system, is mapped

on a baseball,
stitches and horse hide and all? Yen, curiosity-ifty

boo, do you know
we are

wasted if we missed our call to be other wise and ended as

this wise and not that. Up or down, depends who looks.

If a cannabinoid system did not exist, I would suggest we invent it.
a be habited me, beguiled, addicted and happy as a clam makin'a pearl stop rubbing.
wordvango Mar 2017
never one to leave a hanging participle
or a dangling precipice
eleven words in
I have done both
so so
really I care about English protocols
unless I am
writing
speaking I speak
the King's English
full of it
with a southern flair
the howdy pardner
and fittin' to
the hey
always emulating  
a hello
as such
more
than tradition I call out of
this
sorriness
a down home
warmness
or try to
since we are on this
thread
Hey Y'all!
Jonathan Murphy Aug 2018
Looking in the eyes,
of sinusoidal hypnotism.
Living in a vicious cycle.
Dying in a spiral prison,
What's the measure of the life I was given?
Young, male, white skin, straight, Christian,
And **** in the *******.
If they ain't fittin' into this disposition,
Either ditch 'em in the field or the kitchen.
Steal their will and their children.
Passivity doesn't work against active aggression.
Back of the bus, back of the line,
And this ***** is my possession.

Looking in the eyes,
of sinusoidal hypnotism.
Living in a vicious cycle.
Dying in a spiral prison.
What's the measure of the life I was given?
It's money manufacturing to make a living.
Lack of education keeps you penny pinching.
Given just enough just enough rope for suicidal lynching.
Not to mention the mouths of your dependents.
Bacon laminated to the table with elbow grease.
Spread the bread and butter,
And do your best to stretch the cheese.
Still go the wheels on lease

Looking in the eyes,
of sinusoidal hypnotism.
Living in a vicious cycle.
Breaking out of spiral prison.
Never underestimate the seeds of persistence.
The fire of resistance stays alight in the heaviest blizzard.
Lightning
Strikes upon the death of our leader.
Set the heathens free to search the heavenly ether.
Smitten in a godly instant.
Sorry, not sorry.
The whole affair is as shocking as kaminari.
I would love to discuss interpretation on this piece.
Ken Pepiton Aug 4
From safety, first,
assuming the position, I
aim as if I were a thought
in thought form word bound,
this
media the inbetween us we touch
when we feel we know each idea each
word holds, as a form of a thinkable idea,
each
which, pre word, pre holds this know how,
why? because it demands hand use, knowing
holy cow, to the milk of the word, into the gristle
gluons, all things connected already, we exist,
conjoining fortified marrow mind tools, ironed
electrically capable of holding discernment selfs,
tied bone to bone,
but initially, build a bone, chalk
cliff edge, nonsensed- account mark
one up for the billions of instances of substance
conversion for future marble marveling makings,
fittin' t' make tiny incontinences,
drip consequences,
dript
from Gregory Corso's Bomb, no lie,
this fell out,
and was taken in as some kinda mind seed, said,
exactly this way
to become rethinkable as a thought.

This thought.

Earth is the universal acceptable term
for the life sustaining three body solution
essentially calculating the tides back tug
response, materially speaking, yes,
to the suggestion that we live
in the basic programs,
whence our initial bbss arose
under radio recog, the brave few
did done deed done, net thirty, sendit
five letter code groups. thirty per minute,
makes a premyelenated brain allocate order,
el, yes, didone didit
intuited assistance at a distance,
where chaos is the code, random noise atop
nonrandom noise, coding your immediate response,
point taken,
extraction at a point is abstracting,
and it has long been an idealized Olympic sport,
God's game, Infinite Jest, DFW sytf,
well worth the experience, making pothunk
usfull tools forbidden as knowledge was, think
that's what winners who took the grace got,
lived interesting fundamentally synthetic
intelligibly detectuble baseline peace,
for a while past watch wearing, get
-- from 300 baud to fiber through the wall
-- when we agreed we'd be all in,
we passed with time,
right through it all,
so we know how
to hold a lie you were taught,
with evidence
speaking glossaliarchly or, prophescience,
imagine you be the bold translator, knowing
Latin for the master class, ****** for the others,
but if it can be said, it can be made plain, ai think
yes, let the spirit move your mind to make links,
derived from chained loops holding a line
of reasoning, derived,  f
rom phrase de rivo
(de "from" + rivus "stream,"
from PIE root *rei- "to run, flow")
ductile
gnosisnot…
framing informational moulds.

Reigning opinions are allowing actual,
mind forms grown from novels introduced
in an order known now
to induce a muse into a mind, a seed,
should the need ever arise, a backup,

all you were, in flakes of flesh lifted
using thunder and ozone to become,
arguably the highest dust of the earth,
wisdom, she laugh out loud at how proud,
been there, done that before the highest parts
of the dust that holds order on course,
of course appear self evidently true,
as the hope of all the ages was set
to Mediterranean, year round, yet

as I heard was said to Solon, you Greeks,
you know nothing of formative eons
expressed in riddle
for no reason, save madness,
passing time, national pass times,
as mankind lost it's mind,
just when knowing increased,
boom, a fresh batch aimed
at middle-brow literacy
mesomorph, peak
prior to final cortex coating resins
military minds boys'll love to play in,
recollecting all of Ender's serious war
with machines made
from imaginary hive mind reason,
by whom, did you say you really knew,
or know was the boy behind Hersey's wall,

Barry Rudd was never mesomorph,
nor numerically illiterate, first read word,
Naked, Jungle, second, read, here

read this, that's what my mother,
who lived at 8th and Van Buren,
for a lot of years, after 1961,

evidential experience, literally depends
on a thin concept a dendritically critical

witness to your own self, the one you
stand behind, knowing showing ones own
self to evince the unconvinced that shouting

does not increase effectual efforting, fructification

as we become, sometimes strangers to our cause,
as we redeem the idle word, ai-tia uncle buck,

holler for a dollar, send a message into ever,
buy an instance of persuasion, that's so

sweet,
thank you, you bought me a memory assistant,
way back, remember that, and don't let me bore you,

Neutrinos and mirror neuron messaging, in the all
we exist in, as letters letting ourselves seem volitional,

a will in submission, make that rapture, was
the mission, what ever the cost, Dave Coates,

maybe he was from Boise, but we did time
in the same off limits alley east of Tan Son Nhut.

If you did not have the fixin's, Papasan,
he'd take you back to pre Bobby Kennedy,
interesting times, as it was said, post BEIC *****.

James Burke, mind game mainspring, clink
six degrees, out on six vectors from ductile steel

to stricken flint, conceive of being the actual old man.

Being gainsaid by those next in line to die, young men.
Wombed and un, those see now we live on Earth,
and the odds of that are non computable, yet

no fear, fret not, the message to the flies,
plainly said, get out, this is the way, feel

the constant winds of change, and find reason,
peace, used, now a second, or if time tells true

as long as there are actual text translaters
from the 2024 street legal clear text basic

relational metadatabase, begun by Turing,
mastered by the boy born to men exposed
to downwind global wind,

survive as a cyborg, or die, I chose this life,
I did not, actually
make it up, I prayed it could be true, life

filtered to make hundreds of flavors of apple.

Two dozen mescaline cacti grow within
a sabbath day's journey, and we may

make up our mind, many lines ago,

the goal was to get to the bottom, and I did.

And then, in no time at all as art allows logical.

Words hook, pull, think link, we
become a kind of information, a wedom

on the same spiritual plain as any mobmind domain.

Two chase one O, and silent haitches hope on a star.

Silly rabbit, yeh, trix
are for kids, isn't that right kids,

remember Soupy Sales, my friend, Marko Johnson,
the artist with little hold on fixed reality,

the meme he represents, is complicated, but
his dad was a producer on Soupy Sales's show, boomer
common experience awareness, yeh,

I saw that show, I sent money.
Then I chipped in for Copeland's CX10,
five jets ago, we all get together and sing,

oh, buddy, doncha know, you feel the peace,
yes, indeed, and dope helps,
yep, indeed, freedom always was another word
for no shape to be in, always ready with a reason,

for the faith that lets me think you find this funny.


And it must end… as time passing does.

Remind me what reason is,
I may have ignored what I should have known.

Let me, lead my once led self redited a bit, on edge
yet, me, I am really inter acting with several,

per haps the seven less locked in my childhood oaths,
my culture's form of education, left me free form, to die.
When my own unclean spirit won seven worse than ever.
What I became, after passing each ritual insane situation,
totally mentally absorbing, balm for the soul lie, nation

occupational authority to construct a functional mind,
in a form, information freedom full disclosure, liars,

must register and submit to media monitoring,
we'll be watching you, like that old stalking theme song.

I've read stories about mad writers, but most lacked
the internet of 2024, while holding national standard

test scores, plus one Sunday school teacher witness.



The key reason for writing a novel is
to pass the time with worked out salvage.

What forms from redeemed time tracking.

Look back to the last time something like
an answered prayer occurred to you,
think you can, say that, but you say I.

Ai'ght we may make up our own minds,
what is good is useful for making good,

and trying makes good, with the heights
of Hollywood in mind, behind the scenes,
last mansion on the right as you approach
Magician's Castle Nightclub, from the east.

I had friend's who lived there, I stayed
with them, and lived through the force
cultivating a following aimed at prosperity,

experience is survived verification of passed
time, spent attending to the first reason
required of the expert wielding my edge,

be ready, with scars to prove the testing,
or be ready to imagine getting past all that

riding on redeemed time paid for by means,
I, personally have reason to believe I earned

my edgewise existance, seeming a pointless
stretch of the imagination, wisht some flex.

The importance of earnestly attempting,
what would you do, as a mere man,
when offered more than mere man
can have imagined to ask?
You, dear reader, right.
Suppose the Ai knows,
the gnoshit real story behind The Child Buyer,

Pierre Duhamel, was Barry Rudd,
and Kenurchka Klumpen
did finish his novel that spun off the light web,
on wit alone.

Well, there is nothing an adjective can add
to an FPS, aiming and energy levels, weapons
with calculated costs,
we pull down imaginations exalting themselves,
- woe the economy is war deception,
- the same ****** emperical mind form
- so
where are we
with the arms deal to harass Yemen
into breeding a new generation of Madrassah one minds,
willful martyrs
fused at the one true link, broken
for god knows why,
but we submit,
the message is as the teacher teaches,
no AI lie detector needed, we believe we know,
true, to any child born into any faith in higher minds.

Spiritual warfare, book burnings, heretic murdering,
mobs made to witness justice, as defined historically.
we, the called to enforce
"righteousness, equity," at crossroad
fairs where wares are traded for local production,
on word of  honor, and pain of death
fair trade, just weights, honest measures, heart true

to thine own self, extrapolated
from the maxim one,
know your measure,
how much can you stand to cheat,

if the truth is that liars prosper.
Look at Stephen King, believed he could and did,
then look here, me the fingers, me the eyes,
me the lungs and all the cascade of knowing

needed, after the initial readjustment, delicate
is the long calendar cycle, simple is not
what the sun and the moon and the earth,
and liquid water and just right every thing,
is doing
with survival of the message foremost first idea,
principal thing is what life and knowledge allow,

lies about truth cannot be kept secret now,
truth from a cluster of experiencers passing time
for the demented few who never knew hell is not real,

rises on the gnostic spell calling *******, on the fear,
first thing any tried spirit says is take it easy, wu wei,

listen, we won, you can go learn any truth you choose,
to prove to you, see to you, you say you know, you need
to know, or you know you are bluffing, like that's cool,
truth does not need to bluff,
you know…
we bet lives we never had, and play on, imagining
mirror neurons activating biofeedback is not teaching

us, music
as muse used as
integrated circuit based games,
reimagined in the wild large language models fed wasps,
white anglo saxon protest core zeitgeist shared experience,
angst in thought forms all were told not to take,
bad journeys to the fundamental why now,
but wisdom, mere easy indeed known just so,
no struggle to meditate logos cooperation,
massive missionary message, use wasted time,
to make a magnificent obsession free to form. New,
not like this one, friend,
my recommender bots,
are built on CAD tools not available
to any prior to now, we randomized the chances
you would get this far, and bet if you did
you would trust your intuition and accept,
instant upgrade, principal anchored, choice formation,
we agree, or we cease being
and you alone fix reality.
Too long, sorry, it is a wild epic idea... this is a seed.
William Lowe Jr Nov 2019
I heard the ole man talkin-
so like usual - I stopped to listen
He was all worked up 'bout simple things
like family, a home, even huntin' & fishin'
Sick & tired of livin' this " New Age"
feelin' like things just move too fast
That cane poles & ol dirt roads
were quickly becomin' a thing of the past
After a moment he said " I sure miss the ol' days
back when I was just a boy... "
When neighbors -they knew each other
& the people - they felt genuine joy.
Joy passed through the generations
of pure - good ole country livin;
Where Christmas was more 'bout one another
than gifts you'd been given
At supper - families would all sit-
& daddy she'd be the one to pray
Asking " Lord forgive us of our sins
& bless this ole dirt where we stay"
Then daybreak , people were up - n - at  - em
ready to take on their tasks
Never shying from a chore - you see -
they were cut from a cloth that would last


But you're talkin' 'bout a time when -
respect - that was a must
And men only said things once -
never stand there & fuss
See - those men - America
was built off their shoulders
Always providin' for family- for country-
they were honorable soldiers!

Then a smile touched his eyes & he said
" I sure could use some ol front porch sittin'
with just my woman- the kids - & the dog"
****- wouldn't that be fittin'?
Cuz the way this life is headin'
I just don't think I fit anymore
Like maybe - my time has come & gone
just like the ****** ol' Dinosaur

— The End —