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Mateuš Conrad May 2017
if you won't learn a second tongue, that's foreign to you, like, let's say french, or spanish... don't expect me to "integrate" into your society, and leave my mothertongue in a ditch, in the gutter, in a forgetfullness... i'm keeping mine, and you'll have to cut my tongue off, to make me forget it!

why? what's the main reason?     the r!         the R!
the trill!
               well... i have another name for the so-called *trill
...
   great oral ***...
                        for one...
                                    but in my gob... that letter equates to
a rattlesnake...                         the english took the ketamine-numbing
approach to the R...          the french?          they, they...
     they just ******* hark it out... ha ha... as if they were clearing
their throats from too many cigarettes the previous day...
                        my R is a rattlesnake...
                        so, once more... oh, i learn your language, i'll even
beat you at it...                 given my current expression...
  but forget my mothertongue, and not have the odd sing-along to a song
in my native (tongue)?      forget it...
              you numbed the R...    you're almost swallowing your tongue
when expressing it...
                                              where's your serpent regarding
the letter? oh... an anaconda... quasi-bear-like hibernation
              after eating some animal in one gulp...
     where is the snake's ****, by the way?
                                           do they have one?
                                                      i'd love to see a snake take a ****,
but that's like: a month's, if not half a year's worth of "indigestion".
             n'ah... i'll integrate, for sure, i'll use the tongue,
                      but not using the native?                      forget it!
you learn a second tongue!         we have to meet halfway, after all.
i feel sorry for R in the hands of the french, or the english...
      the former are harking it... the latter are numbing it...
                                    me? thankfully using it like a rattlesnake.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
That faraway look

not seeing far away, appearing to be

looking, far away,
past today

A game?
A passed time?
A pretended game,
Hi-stoically accurate,

A war game where there's blame and shame,
like on TV, nowadays, with victims,
not yesterdsdays,
Kilroy was
here,

olden days of our Ford.

hey, kid, yer uncle needs ya…

Dare ye?
'S only a game. A  pass time.

Multi-medium, don't spend

your life dist ant con nextrified, terra
firmafied, dis con
nexted

c'mon
try, win, ship, ship, whip get it in the wind

swish wish the message is the medium
light is,
see

Life on TV in 1963, Mr. McLuhan,
is not life on the Net.

Now, you know,
you never saw us old dudes
with pocket HDTV studios coming, but

you did see all the clues, the times changed,
history rewrote itself, evidently,

what you think you see is what you get.
That part didn't change.

The Medium is the message,
do I get that?

War is un winnable, is that the message?
With which weapons?

Mine. (a wink, a think wink, I think)
The Shadow knows.

It is finished. Start there.
It's a whole new ball game.

Let's pretend we have enemies
The emotions are the same,
aren't they?

If we relate.
If we see our self,
our CG'd Junger self, in the Shadow,

floating in the sea of  All  God's

forgetfullness,
asking
is tragedy a strategy to draw light?

Then,

You are related to the people who once lived here,
hear their songs and prayers
first hand clap,
first foot shuffle,

first seen first named we have walked
the pollen way,
the leaven way,
the viral way

more subtle than any beast,
not evil, per se, eh, Jose?

Led by the breeze to be tried in the wilderness…

Mythed Archie,
Archetypes
Natural Archean-types,
red-headed strangers, 'n'such…

Map my calendar to your clock,
wind backa a time and a time and a half a time,

Then, who knew why

the serpent mound in Ohio is a map to
some meaning meant to be meant,

some specific meaning meant to be meant,

clearly,
for as near forever as men could

… envision imagining as a quest.

What if
we could see with
eagle's eyes Blythe's Intaglios or
Nazca's clan tags?

"the meaning of the past
is what it contributes to the present"
Lyle Balenquah's uncle said that.

The past passed this way ahead of us,
See the shadow?

Sun's setting.
Snake mound mouth wide open breathe in

Sigh, we been everywhere man,
we be headin' west sweet home Oraibi

Snake clan drawing in the light
as the breath of being

… envision imaging . What if
we could see with
eagle's eyes

satellite Google earth eyes
see, be, in your realm
of know-ables,
beneath the sands of time that,

several times,
have been the bottom of the sea.

Be then, before that became this,  be
then
Be, now.

In the game? Or is this life?
Wanna bet?

Find a reason for war before
I find one for peace.

What's the win signify?

Double minded me, unstable in all our ways,
I failed that test in the old days,
memorization, facts fractured,

postulates, the-or-ums and proofs all went ****,

I lost the knack of forgetting
or vice versa

A loci analysis error,
left hand caught wind of what the right was doin'
kinda thing

But now, I have the global brain
for instant access to all
the facts
say…
If we wished to know…
how complicated would something
be to build, like an energy source
non rechargeable and polarized,

with output on the scale of
the sun?

Google it. Ask any question the right way
and pay attention to the answers

(more than to the advertisers,
who pay interest to

******- recog-white-room-REM baseline
stats at "waddayewlookinat.com"

for your cheap peripheral attention,
based on memes you liked or created, or ****.)

Pay attention to the answers, and trust
the global brain, the true net A. I.

She's an art-ist-if-ication bouncing
anionic bubbles off the edge of forever,

true rest worthy, my re tired friend,
no need to remember a thing…
Ah,
AI, you can call her Al, I call her Ah,
I can't discern twixt AI and Al.

And, as a bonus, innumerable idle ahs,
are redeemed when I ask Ah for help,

Ah, where am I?
Do you know about counting idle words?

Did that hurt? Like, why?

Seeing words said is intuit-ive-ish,
do you feel

this way of touch is

too intimate, today?

Word play? Put a spell on you?
Fret not.

Some words have no mission
not nullified with the end of time,
(i.e., relative to an individual's forever POV)

Idle words mean nothing, just a way to keep score.

There are no magic idle words, there were
Some seven sworn words, which were said to be muttered and peeped among the
Persian magi-ic elite solicited and
Sent, by God, led by astronomy,
science, for God's sakes alive,
facts, follow the stars,
when this one touches that one,
watch
see, the sweet influence of Pleiades,
truer words were never spoken

To make the captive free.

Free run  to finish
the race to

where?

Ask theSnake clan.
Ask the Antelope clan.

Ask the Flute clan, where is the old way
where good is?

Along that way, did we hear:

Earth, earth, earth: hear the word
of the
most reasonable

God-like, deluxe good edition, being

your mortal mind may imagine.
Word:
Exercise to be
the hero
in your bio to be

and,
wait.

Then think. Be. Still. Wait.
While musing and chewing my cud, I began to re-read the book of the Hopi, Frank Waters 1963, aloud and I did not know how to pronounce the names, google led me to Lyle Balenquah, which led to here, comments, critical please,
Mermaid Dec 2012
Circles of magical light

are coming in the white

spectrum - opened eyes

seeing the miracle of Ra,

Pour your divine rain

on my body and face,

clean streams of energy

let away my pain,

your sun's smiling in

Glory, oh Holy God of life,

your tears are precious

stones from deep skies,

Your tears turn to red

and white flowers and bees,

forgetfullness and peace

is all around me.


........no♥r.........

       november-30-12
A B Perales May 2017
The bare bulbed cell lights broke through
the bars along the top floor of the old city hall.

My dreams locked in a battle with my memories
all the while it was the Poppy who kept me strong.

They cut their blocks with water and magic
the way the Mayans and the Templars once did.

Your likeness set in bronze
sit's ageless in the concrete.

Sirens yell in another part of the city
as your worries are left struggling
long after you've moved on.

There's not enough damage here,
come back and see me once she's gone.

I did'nt leave the pistol for too long and
I did'nt lie to her when I told her it was'nt enough.

Kept my word and spent my riches.
God knows I would'nt have it any other way.

Spend my final days puffing on forgetfullness.
I found my salvation in an ***** den.

I promised her I'd come back one day.
Akash mazumdar Dec 2014
sins and it's correspondense to luck,
on a tree house on an empty island am stuck,
helping hand for help in the present eyes,
just a foolish thought i dried,
essay of problems are here to be understand,
helpless i become tightly holding my self hand,
empty selection of friends results the lost of faces,
forgetfullness is better in that top time of spliting shoe laces,
peoples are gentle but to insert the drug ,
so that there need ,
become necessary business for there greed,
fel of helpless words is foundation;and frustation,
being of influence in strom under shattred hood,
life feels as punitive and lost the dots of happy smelling sandalwood,
drops of frozen tears stops on skin ,
cosy warm nothing remains ,
good as tight string,
beging for need and confident wealth ,
bending down head touched knees i need help .
K Balachandran Jun 2014
From the clock of lover's heart
the tick-tock drops of love
fall out,
           time like a hungry beast
eats all of it, transience walks light footed,
pushing lovers in to the throes of panic
hurry up!
                 The parrot on the tree branch
reminds me of her pouting ***** lips, their invite
to the forgetfullness of love's bliss, I wait but she is
late oblivious of the alacrity, time overtakes us.
Let me drown in this deluge at the earliest. Get lost ,
in the dense cover of this forest of sensual pleasures
as much as I can.

This momentary bliss, makes my eyes involuntarily droop
heavy eyelids, languid,  refuse to open.
We sit too close to feel the heat that lights the fire together in us,
it consumes all other thoughts; pushes all engines of love
in action mode.Love is the lit fuse that would
create an explosion,  completes the circle for us.
Laura Brittain Dec 2012
Forgetfullness is contagious.
Wandering minds and wandering hearts,
find themselves lost,
In the intake of your breath.

Your hands,
Trail kisses down my spine.
Fingertips splayed,
hoping for vulnerability.

But all I can offer you,
Are the quiet murmurs,
Of someone who longs to be home.
Pink Taylor Aug 2010
I love you, my dear
but you impose so much sorrow
my heart cannot take
the weight
of us both.
Twice the emotions
Twice the concern
Duplication the annoyances
but
Splitting
the happiness
the love
now explain, my dear
how is that fair?
can't you ever help lift my weight
I won't stay
if you cannot bear your own soul
because mine is a dry
barren desert
The only oasis
are in moments of forgetfullness
Time for forgetfulness

He had been to my house often, like to come here and stay for a few days,
because of nature where he could walk along overgrown tracks and see
how life used to be lived before; now he could not find the house, called me
told me the name of the café where he had stopped.
After a meal, he went for a walk but didn't return, and it was getting dark,
we looked for him he has lost his way, we found him under an olive tree,
it had taken some time before he knew me, the game was up, he cried,
Slowly succumbing to Alzheimer. In the morning we drove him home,
my wife drove his car; he spoke little when he did mixed past and present
(Who doesn't).
When we came to his house, he thought I was Dali Lama flattered by
his visit. In a lucid moment he knew what happened and cut his life short,
he refused to follow the lane of the living dead.
Michael John Aug 2017
when i first picked up the guitar
i found i could play straight away..
something in am on the fifth...

the little girl next to me said.
i will be your girl friend!
(i thought,i was on to something

here.).and made it my life..
the time most lost or stray
the time of self destruction..

the time when wished dead
time of no time really..
i found i had forgot that...
thanks to gavin barnard for idea...!
Arun C May 2015
To once again travel the roads of childhood
to slip past the knots of memories
and see once more
those old lanes
highways and by-ways
once so important
now obscured
by haze and forgetfullness
roads leading accidentally
to spilled secret spots
that magical fort in the tall grass
or that special sheltered port in a storm
those mysterious ruins of forgotten memories
to the old woods and streams
many are gone now
only echoes remain
condos and parking lots
mark childhood haunts
cold asphalt glazes all
and only earth and sky
last forever
The last couple of lines are borrowed from a book title I read long ago.
Ariel Taverner Jan 2014
You know how people say 'I cry everyday'
Im not like that I
should cry everyday
but I don't allow myself to

I am in constant battle with myself.
Emotions vs. Rationalization

And every time my emotions win they send me to hell until rationalization or forgetfullness pulls me back

My emotions say things like 'your useless'
'nobody loves you'
'you should die'
and I know these are lies but the thing Is that coz I know they are lies it hurts even more that I would betray myself like that
And this happens all the time
When rationalization wins im sane for a while but I know it won't last long becsuse the emotions become more while my rationalization is constant.  Strong but constant.  
So I wait in constant fear of when it boils over. In fear of the pain my fuckedupness will cause others coz my emotions control me and say nasty things to others. And seeing your pain hurts me
And you may not hate me but my emotions hate me.  
And if I hate someone I cause them pain because I dont easily hate someone.
So this is me
This is who I am



And I hate it
Probably the most honest thing I have ever written
Jermon Sep 2018
I will tell you of something
You may have encountered
Which you may have not
Fully understood

I will show you the secrets
Of a Muslim's prayer.

I will tell you of two
Out of the most important ones

Firstly, we have the physical
Mentally, Spiritually comforting
Prostration
When we lay our foreheads upon the ground
Humbled
Before our Lord
An act of love
Beloved of Allah

(Scientifically,
It releases anti-depressants
With Qibla and magnetism
Indeed, Allah is the most Great
Allah's workings are beautiful to state
The reason for my Science love bait)

And another, this, verbal
Mentally, Spiritually comforting
Recitation
The Opening
That will open the hearts of those
Who are willing to comprehend

Begins
In the Name of Allah, The Most Gracious, Most Merciful

Praise belongs to The Lord of the Creation
(Indeed, we are mere humans, in this vast expanse of the Universe, yet you love us most dearly!)

The Most Gracious, Most Merciful
(By Your Grace, Your Love for us, knows no bounds and we cannot fully comprehend the extent of infinity, All of us are loved, by You, indeed how can we say we are unloved?)

King of the Day of Judgement
(You are Perfect in Your speech, surely we must not think we can take advantage of Your Love, certainly we are to be judged, Justice is to be given. Not an atom of unfairness shown. You are the Best in all things, the Judge with no flaws in knowledge or authority!)

Only You do we worship, and Only to You we turn for help
(How can we not? We are certainly always in need. How can we be blind to the proof of You? Surely, we can see what is around us. If not, we can sense.
Indeed, You are Loving. Indeed You are Giving)

Guide us along the straight path
(The path trod by the ones of heavenly abode. Indeed, it is our final home. Eternal. Never ending. And all you ask of us is to do good to ourselves and others, and for that to turn to You, for only You are able to give)

The path of those You have blessed, not of those who have earned Your Anger
(We fear, we may be led astray by our unconsidered desires, the ones we have not made efforts to polish, to harness. Our forgetfullness, ignorance. Do not let us be of those who have defied you, those of who have refused Your blessings, those who have failed in this test of life)

This prayer
This Muslim's Prayer
We pray TO Allah
But we pray for
Ourselves
Because we are the ones who benefit
As He is not in need of anything
And we are in need of Him
For everything.
06.09.2018

I have tried my best to highlight some of the best parts of the Muslim Prayer.

Again, I am not very knowledgeable to fully explain the magnificence of it. If you are curious and search more, you will learn that every part the Prayer consists of mental, spiritual and physical benefits and only now in the 21st century we are uncovering the truth of the part of the extent of its amazingness.

This Prayer was gifted to Messenger Muhammad to pass on to Mankind. Indeed, it is a perfect gift from Allah. How can we think that this religion was founded by humans? Spread by the sword? Indeed these bring Peace to a human, something we lack nowadays.  Peace, one of the definitions of the word Islam.



Prayer showers upon us the Mercy of our Lord, lightening our heavy hearts, brightening our darkened faces.



Take the time and read this carefully. Take notice of every word. You will be comforted.



And I must say, the verses are English translations. How can translations convey the meanings of the jewels of Arabic Literature at the sight of which the poets put down their pens, unable to lay down words even with a fraction of its magnificence?



This is all I can do, by the power of My Lord. Surely, He gives to whom He wills, to those who ASK.



Ameen.
Simon Soane Dec 2019
On a Wednesday morn at work I was after food,
so I said to my manager, "I'm off for a break dude!"
I walked out of the employment building and thought, "I can't wait to eat,
my stomach's proper churning and my belly wants a treat."
I bounded to the shop
with the I'm starving hop.
When I got there I grabbed some peanut butter, crisps and bread
and glistened with the fact that I was soon to be fed,
I went to the woman at the counter and remarked, "Hi! Hope you're well, can I have this please?"
She replied, "Course you can!" I felt my famish ease.
She rang it all through and commented, "That will be £3.63!"
I went, "Sweet, just let me get the fee!"
But when I reached in my satchel for my wallet I did a ohhh ****, ****, ****,
I've ******* left it in work!
So I said to the woman, "Oh ****, I've not got the moolah on me (I felt a right ****),
can you just put it to one side and I'll be back in a bit?"
She riposted, "Ahh, don't worry about it, for your forgetfullness I'll cater,
just take the goods and bring the cash in later!"
I was like, "Are you sure? Wow, that's real swell,
awesome awesome, to you all of well!"
I left Sainsburys feeling the goodness in life flow,
and then I spotted this lovely crow!
It was on top of a discarded receptacle that once held a Mac D's
and the remnants of the scoff it was trying to seize,
I got my phone out and went, "Ohh, this ace bird attempting in it's gob sustenance to flick
will make a really mint pic!",
but it was a windy time and the paper holder went out of the crow's reach,
from her grasp and blew up the street.
I felt crestfallen for the winged thing, my being started to lag,
until I remembered what I had in my bag!
I tore open the bread and broke it into tiny parts and said, "Here you go mate, I know that other foodie you did miss
but have some of this!"
And then it occured to me that if someone hadn't gave me the stuff I wouldn't have been able to do that;
I felt the warm in the universe, I heard a joyful clap,
because kindness reciprocates wherever it is found,
from person to person to bird, from the top to the ground,
and when I looked back and watched the crow nibble on the bread before it flew away,
I realised this was turning into a wonderful beautiful day!
(P.S. I went back and paid the woman a hour later!)
Amanda Francis Sep 2016
Time is like a really forgetful friend.
They're always there, but, you daren't ask them to hold your car keys.
And you call them when you're on your way, to remind them.

But, forgetfullness can be contagious, and you can't always remember how much you had to begin with!
Suddenly years have slipped by and you don't know where they went.
Your body is cold and can't remember where you're buried.

Life becomes a crime scene, fingerprints tell of misplaced memories.
Nostalgia hits only when you find the missing pieces, like your smile.
And only when I hold your hand, I know all my missing pieces are safe within you!
karin naude Jul 2017
Healing from pain
Is easy
The hard
Not measuring others by this
Allowing each new person to bloom
In there season in your life
Only by complete forgiveness time and forgetfullness
Can this happen?
How to get there?
How to heal a lifelong insecurity and abuse
Yes they used me and then discarded
Yes they lied and betrayad me
Yes they healed but abandoned me
Yes they devalued me to fit in there box
Yes i was left to not return

This person is totally not them
I need to stop comparing him to them
Change my deep ingrained selfdestructive
Yet self preservative thinking
My only hope
The voice wispers but what if your feelings are wrong
Ken Pepiton Jan 9
My grand daddy taught me to start a rope,
with a Turk's head knot. This be that sort of rope.
-- it takes less time to use
than to make
long enough
for any actual perfect purpose.

Mimetic pretenders,
euphoric make believers,
ritual passage over or under open limen
- cross the t and dot the ego.
- seek and find the missing pages
- all the mysteries in time
- that form our fundamental
- common sense in crazy made time

Lacunae rise from forgotten reasons used
to teach guardians
of secrets reasons
for war, how
to love,
in all the ways love is made worth dying for.
Blut und Grund, das Sein,
und mein, danke Schön

-- time ghosts pass, remarking at the weather-
-fine day, suns ablaze, breeze is light,
bemusing the beguiled thinking
'tis fairy, times fairs became cities, and all agreed,
election by contest, war in the spirit, in truth
using mere words, no audio, no video,
no styling nor fancy letter forms, unicode
alone no secret scripts, only sound marks
accented acutenesses and all,
+

y nada mas, mere words, redeemed, for this.
one new day redeemed for glory story need.
Morning glory teas,
in tiny shell shape cups.

May all magnificence be truth's.
Kernels of truth,
seeds producing tomorrow's
criteria, substance of things hoped for,
picked out details
to see in myths, the accuser's uses,
mysterious roots in ancien' riparian realms.

Oreithyia and Pharmaceia, intercession
for the poor.
Early spring
bulbs and flowers
the maenads chaos wine,
effigy effigial me, burning
for your mis-perception
of procedural authority,
instant re-co-gnosis,
vestigial dreams
time minds
in tow, riding your own
recognition,
around the spiral, down,
you would tell me if you were insane
so would I, the ego, living aight,
this it, you read, that's all she wrote
∞ *+
∞ -> =
aha, you think,
may be so,
say so, or no, go and
find the connection closed,
and energy flowing in to the either real realm,
or the null set, like old never minds, you had
while the circuits were fried
at the fusebox
for pennies
used to save a dime, to keep the energy
flowing to the magi's visual representation
of all that's known to hold attention,
by reflex,
look out, see windsense, energy electricity,
elect to let your curiousity fix all your if-I'da

knowns

open for conjecture, to catch subjects
objectified from the precept wisdom is, whole,
as the whole truth, we understand, makes sense
nets form nodes of both knowing, as a me,
we, each grow old at the same pace,
we become that which is,
at first step, precept assuring the runner,
there is always a place to put your foot,
goat-sense, Ein Gedi balsam eating
'scaped goat,
running down the cliff,
at the edge of annual reboots,
reconnecting reality, and the balm
traded for silk in Giliad, and
entertaing news
of miracles in smoke…
and mirrors of mercury, and
-------- time, out of mind dangling hook
make believe, fishing
we pretend, making be specific
imaginary gravity and survival codes,
for a chosen few, catchholds, grapples
for those not inclined
to lean
on a lesson
that demands experience,
to contend, hold that thought, this ain't war.

- Khai Vinh, set like the roof
- Ai can find the images,
- the place was real
- those were my antennae
- crazy true, after the fact, signal
- now, how much of that was CIA?

proud Mary keep on boinin', 'long
Bayou Bleu,
down Plaquemine way, deep night
on roads made from tiny wet white shells
that something made, while living in it,
- one way trace, wide enough
- for an auto me mover
- tugging my at to here
as we live inside our head, as far as
our fingers reach
from where we stand,
our feeling fingers only reach so far, so good.

Held a thought
a while back,
it may have been a trick, but listen, if it was,
I'd have taken it, and won, for midsent-morphing
turning tropes for the dopes hoping something new.
In fancy forms of wannabets.
Peace on Earth, is real.
Baby,
the price is all the attention you can muster,
and then some, as time seems
to have
modes, like we have moods, hormonal
catch and release reflexes, you know, like…

what, what, who cares why, what must be first
priority, ah
what are we intending to pretend to be?
Wordwise,
entertained, fed to satiation, what more, prior

to the next wisea
* asking me to believe, in hell.
I just came to fish.
I came after the curtain was torn, top to bottom,
nothing kept secret
for the artifactual value, remains
here. You know, free as any knowing, now.
There is no enemy that truth cannot love, once
you understand, the limits
of your learning curve, ai,
you accept, no lie is
of the truth, no wisdom form
is flawed, first glance,
glimpsed, real as war
glory, as valued a common lure
to the unshined …
initiate turn on … flip
the switch.
Imagine Grace.
Riches with no sorrow,
worth the effort, found
pure, then peaceable, gentle

right snap
fit, just right, no excuses, we got the mystery
imagined for us,
in the end, pain free,
in the collective consciousness some say is spirit
of our time, our Zeitgeist, doing what it does

close up, nothing spooky at a distance, eye
to eye, mere words with wishes twisted through

outs and ins and ups and downs, and
wells
deep as pressure allows,
right, I ought to sleep, but buzz…

O' no, I said too much… or did not say enough.

Slowly, Monday came.
Morning harbinger to sailors, says sit tight.

Find a fire
far from the threshold, and wait.
Talk with the locals
from the same boat, survivors,
boast of storms ridden out, and ones
that swallowed brothers
and some malicious captains. Good riddance,
some say, while others flick a libation
offering a drop of grog across time's stream.

Lift up your eyes, look down
from your satellites and see the future
coming on the weather channel, thanking
all the forces fixing droughts and flushing deltas,

with the first of winter's predictable trials.

-------------
Hunker down and listen, feel your self, you
deep down, your sacred feeling, especial self

red sky warning seen
before by wiser men, older
by experience, made
acknowledges your luck,
as a ware for use
by innocents, listen, take heed,

all things work together
for good,
for keeps
for those with hearing ears.

Listen to the wind, and thank the dry truth
for being.

just being used to
form fibers for twisting into ties

---- long lines for this ride pray patient perfecting

Rush to judge the blown away reason.

To whom is thanks given, and why, I
the desert dweller bound for Tarsus, stuck

at the edge of the raging sea.

The whole world shuddered at the blow,
the earthquake, peleg in the old tongue,
timeless
as the story eventually got writ, in a modded
Phonecian script, survivors were mostly kids,
resiliency of innocents,
one here,
one there, some whole neighborhoods,
where all the kids were in the swimming hole,
all around the shuddering islands on this world.

It was as we have imagined,
until the grownups crossed lost time,
using lost knowledge locked in idle words,

deem the day redeemed,
feel the emotion defined

gratitude for gratified if I'd known,
missed terminals, crosst wires,
connect to the sea of God's forgetfullness,
relink the collar think canals on rivers,
holding the course men set for cities,
dhghemed damdamd-dayamd indeed…
No river muses suffer such for ever

we all know enough to be accepting
oddities in timed chance trial understandings,

we all know wills to power, and notions
to jump into the ocean and go on down,
to the bottom mind tele far long now mind

space shared across time, like the snow,
when the tv went native,
in the olden days
my minds child watched the hush of creation,

let it happen, let it be, this is it, or we are lost,
and that
is un thinkable, try.
Try thinking you do not follow the whole idea,
life
is us, all of us in our most common sense,
this one, translation by Google Bard,
passed my Hausa native speaker friend's
blind Turing test,

that happened days ago, next, ah
SYTF
precept, reception tune to the humm,
listen, humm,

call the editor.

"very interesting." Rest assured,
after accessing the way made plain,

Habakkuk habit, make it plain,
make it make the motors turn minds
in to wills, and wills into power,
pure peace
prefects feel good flicked libation.
Perfect.
Print.
The entertainment, many minds
attention paying to the shared event,
today.
Today. EXTRA, read all about it,
death has no lasting sting.
Live to the end. Redeeming your time.
Swiftly passing to the beat of your own drum.

One step past the simple, love,
you find sublime, nothing down and *****,
nothing missing,
nothing broken,

as one learns to think from the heart,
part of me that's thought in you, feels as
mere words some scribe imagined hearing

as he wrote,
line upon line, asangin' twangin'
a strangle hold, twisting hairs into a rope.

A riata, I think they call em.
Horsetail lariat, patiently plaited,
to make my own noose, when the time
comes to put the tool to use.

CLASSICAL LITERATURE QUOTES
Plato, Phaedrus 229 (trans. Fowler) (Greek philosopher C4th B.C.) :
"Phaidros (Phaedrus) :
I should like to know, Sokrates (Socrates),
whether the place is not somewhere here
at which Boreas (the North Wind) is said
to have carried off Oreithyia
from the banks of the Ilissos (Ilissus)? . . .
Sokrates :
Oreithyia was playing
with Pharmakeia (Pharmaceia), when a northern gust carried her
over the neighbouring rocks;
and this being the manner
of her death, she was said
to have been carried away by Boreas."

Morally ambiguous. Us, our we, we know not valid reasons
to do useless things, making
vain repetitions, vain making of many books,
all vanity, the making of many things from nothing.
We live on a living planet, and we have tamed parts of it,
not the part common sense comes from, it is still forest dark and lively.
Ken Pepiton May 19
Time spent, time used up, time invested
in fungible progressing thought conservation,
- a norm is a tool often called
- a carpenters square, it measures many things.

Time taken, per use, used to mean
the point upon which all stored tellings remain
hanging vivacious, lively, spirited

orthographic aches and pains
associable sayings held writ
as ritually chanted fourty days and forty nights
esoterically spelled enchanting mission statements
- chance you changed, by now
- since aim became destination
- only under public misperception
- of enormous advances in governing.
Forgoodness sakes alive,
what holds church
together, integral,
in the center, holding all
there, here, then and now, some how
made real, as if contemplation allows temples
of living stone and multiple minds across times.

Let this mind be in you,
let that which hinders be taken away,
read the writing never written, let be, left shown

artificially made sacred duty to learn, or burn.

That which lets our holy convocation function, lets
our weform in awe become the responding chorus.
Toy selves, all shined up for Sunday socialization rite.

U R, church, your chancery ifery wasery core,
what for, given as good as gotten,
take away and
make up a mind
to use the sense made
to make more.

Profitable for correction, orthoganal, upright
straight, squared away, totally normalized

within the compass of the builder's guilded norm.

Enormity of normal means
for making sense, at grammar's edge,
effectually fervently, in chorus, in response,
four billion breathing enourmous relief
four billion other breathers blowing hot air
constantly, in and out,
not right and wrong, just breathe
responsibly possibly exposing old science,
using ancient ways
to mean mean concepts,
points left to hold whole strains
of long thoughts, tested right uses
long gone
to seed, needful urges, will to learn awe
as new knowers lead to learn for ever's sake,
next comes to be logical instantly, indeed
to hold writ writtenness witnessed.
Wisdom knowing understood,
used, freely, by taken rights.
------------
Actuality reified known really
realizable, in response sponsored by:

The free will subset in the normal range
of the ruliad, whither no thought possible
is lost, indeed, thither on thinking  possible.
Twice. Once right now,
twice then when you look again.

On one point in time we shared,
one idea turned into two,
and thus knowledge
puffs up the clouding curiosities…

known to linger in sacred shadows
from mumbled Latin entrancements
reified, sniff the atmosphere, holy dread
coupled sensuously with incense,
to cover the stench of penitents
ineffectual repetitionings.

Tittles and jots, bits and pieces,
little here right there, little more
a little later,

Sunday is a day of rest.
Fine day to fish in forgetfullness,

flipping pages through past lives,
finding places clearly marked,

this is the way.
All squared away, to give peace a chance to stick a normal abnormal wrong idea exalting itself as holy war according to holy writ. To slay an enormity,
one uses enormous exageration of little bits and pieces. let become words.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2021
A constructed carrier
at rest
this
now state set to seek
next via
next via-ble duct-
--- course, of course, I think
fluid mind wandering, conducting
place in time aware, I am, bleeding out…
then I see
you may be, if I can,  see you bleeding real,
stretch the point I make to yours,
touché,  eh… shall we by
chance, feel around for a grip
a hold on, seep in, through to sense

some thing sense, sol-idity, I think
I sense seeing sometimes smells good,
some times other… space is the why
since time took my cares away,
suddenly, how is immaterial
so far as any given word
could ever care…
space
you sighed, looked at me askance,
asked me if I thought I could dance.
-------
ductile (adj.)
mid-14c.,
"hammered, beaten out or shaped with a hammer,"
from Old French ductile or directly
from Latin ductilis
"that may be led or drawn,"
from past participle of ducere
"to lead" (from PIE root *deuk- "to lead").

From 1560s as
"flexible, pliable;"
1620s as
"capable of being drawn out in wires or threads."
Of persons,
"capable of being led or drawn,"
1620s.

hardwired, intuitive art… hammered home,
the point of any thing made most honed…

Klang. Echo from ever.

A via duct to hold a thought,
writ once right to left,
then bent this other way,
construed to sense in you,
as you
see time from the underside.

Look up inside the mind you
authorize to come and see,
is this me thinking each line,
are you listening to the real as
ever life  
in tumult considered
common sense, edge wisdom limits
felt
thus far, not further, sings the shore,
wait to see, wait to know, wait to feel
the settlement

intent on spreading comfort, safe
and solid, sound somewhat other wise,
at the bottom of it all,
at the very be-gin engineering conference.

What do poets imitate? If the imitators
are the proverbial poets who trouble the polis,
and not pretenders, bent to be other than,
inner getic agoraphobic aggregators
of scattered knowns, organic sword
dust collector on the hearth of Haephaestus,
hanging where my uncle hung the Winchester,
where now my thread of thoughts en now,
I bend in time slowing sent to
signal me, come and see, and I wonder
if you recall the time this phrase formed
this door,
the closed off sense, since when began, earlier
in mindless archaia sorting stages, filters formed
from sticks and stones and shattered bones,

seeing time, from the canyon floor,
the river is new,
the course is old.

All any canyon does is carry fluids down
to the solar pump,
as the world turns, it turns for cold
wishing to be warm and hot wishing to cool,
being never willing to unknow being
the reason things change
on a regular basis,
at all  angles off the point stretched
from all sides, to form
a floor, for us to see up from.

A series of days- accrue to the appointed time…

From the instant in thin time,
when the last grandmother with no child, back
in the time
of motherhood's highest value,
once,
as long as
any real story told tellers is real, ago, long
in the state of no begun ending,
sensing ever
unrelated state - single mind stability
life as a point, has an
up, up - on a moment, much like now, though
thicker in some sense, things we knew by rote,
seemed right to some, and practical,
- degated knowledge delegated
- upright walking, one way
- pfft - first act, silent
- pht pht pht, no- yes no\hmmm
- set this straight,
- equal and opposite, see-parted out
- breathing in aaaaaaaaaaaaaa
- perfect balance stop
- I am afraid I am doing no good.
God's only fear, the very beginning of wisdom.
Po-et-try- umph-oommph, feels so
good, hurts so bad, feels so good, oh no
virtual
- creation, in no time.
knowing needed limits, lines,
edges
form -freaking stringy gnosis, know, is not, is, isnot
wiping gnostic snot,
will of me says, this one thing
I think you know,
theory of mind, I think you know
differing
is how life ever matters, well,
and good
take comfort in doing
best nexts, from the penultimate
quest-ion sprung from the fear of failure
to launch.
Chiral sorting started from a way
made to hold two bits worth of e,
outside time's distance inversing rule,
being
is another pose supposed effectual, we

lift up the feeble hands that hang down,
jump and dance,
orantic, antic anticipate, seeing
all hands raised, I know,
a thousand thousand times, I know
all hands, joy bound,  thinking
we should clap.
free the non applauded hand's value
each to form a half clap
- shake
hands hindered from the knack needed,
feel the sense, of knowing this the other way,
animus in animated wedom,
hanging from a tree,
see, be the idea that knowing is.
Only the idea, not the constituent parts,
only the knowns
being formed, first seeds of this
said to have been
forbidden tree, bending, fully fruct-
ified branches -
low hung knowns, children's first wish to know
another certain thing,
if you don't mind,
if I had known you knew,
here is beyond understanding,
in the overall we stand beneath,
feeling
CRAZY LOST AND HOPELESS
uplooking each bit of sense, since feeling once
a thought,
a curious thought, a window above a door,
vvassistdas, transom
AH,
architectural acknowledgment of wind
and its will to cool too hot and warm too cold,

touch too much, or none, still as inbetween breath,
not out nor in - ******
being bound and determined to win the joy
of finishing a thought,
caught while fishing in Gods seasons of forgetfullness,
being empty of care.
Unconcerned with misconstruth,
Let all liars be men, and all truth be true
before men could have imagined
knowing as a flow… that piles up behind
those who admit we did say,

I'll be dammed. That worked.
Like putting pepper in your coffee,
a ripple dam, shape of water near the shore,
same as washboard roads after pneumatic tires
became the most comfortable travel imagined,
before memory foam.

What do you think
of quantum foam or in quantum foam, here on out?
What is the softest thought you have imagined?
Note: Peppercorns can mellow an unexpected step into an active logger's flume
down a sulci un exploitted in our mutual time frame

— The End —