Chaucer. Cantebury Tales Thunk Another Time

might be
unimaginable to most

Urbanites of several recent generations
in
These untie-ted states

city folk have never told stories
by the mile,

with piles of rocks marking trail tailin's

so old
that trail, marked by that pile o'rocks been
so long since foot trod that path

only scratches on the rocks say which way we
all
got
here. Today, as we call it.

Hueta, esta dia, right now

here. Walk a while, we're off to find reason
to believe.
Someone I heard thinks we all do.

I believe we do.
---Wha'bou' un believe? D'jewthank we'all'kin?
kin we all un be lieve,
leaven well left alone, hill folk, some say...

...hidden things thought thank worth,
beauty, as an idea,

for instance.

Sunsets.
... ...Yes, and the early morning does
have gold
{}
In'er mouth,
privilege all ovahdat.
Got the rot
all dug

dig it, all dug out cavity, crowned in gold

turn that empty cavity inside out, the wise hermit's cave is paved.
Plenty room for all his eukaryotic friends

then flouride, po-luted our ****** fluids.

Play that song on that ***'ar wit thraystrangs, po'man lute
Jew or juice harp
poing poing poing y'ken?

and keep time wit' the walkin' drum. Do that
dentist drill dance, then sing us a
song o'six penitents
patient sufferers o'the way thangsbe,

left well enough alone.

Strange love was to my tale as, that Bannon guy
might be today. Trump's last quarter email player?
Y'know the guy. He's Youtube famous. Bannon,
(Steve,

or Bruce? )
No, Bruce Banner, was the hulk of burning credulity, the pile
symbol
driver. Digging down to bedrock
.... That's how the Macedonian kid did, at Tyrus. ( ify'wishy'knew)

Pier pressing past the farthest reach of tide.

Past where pearls take graunular expansion to

knackerin' gnosymagi  levels of possible hidden glory believeable by few.

Teller, the infamous Mr. Teller, he taught me duality.
Im balance, make fission, break, slam fuseconfuse, blow

don't burn the whole higgsian bubble to expel the very idea of anti matter, it may be useful,
rightusable or ible

Moby grandular totally tubular, what a clam can do.
According to that story, why not feed swine pearls? I'll tell you.

we may come back to right here, this here here,
if 'n' only

if we do not forget where we saw that

landmark a cient elder mustaset

Straggler mumbler, you okeh? Y'got a story.

I'll listen. It's yetawhile
t' can't we bury it.

---
is the granularity of perception adjustable or ible?

We are li'ble to learn, 'fwee

live so long. Said the old caned creature, in the way back.


-------
At the edge of credulity, eh

how far is how ever, far or ever, time space

same same, but

right. Re
al ity ness realreal reason able ibility

we, you and I, this state of least sharable ible ness
we, at this point,

dancing hermetical waxen winged shoes into flames. Teller level flames.

-------
what lies did I un believe? All of'em.

You seem real. (dear reader)

A pier past the last tugged tide, into the deep

-----

peace, in fly-over country on a sunny day.

Ah, where I live, there in
my peace valley overwitch the marines fly every day

and I talk, in my revery, basking in the sun with my lizard brain in heaven
I talk to the cadre controling machines named for
subjected peoples, Apaches of all sorts.

I knew Johnny. And I knew his brother, Jonah.

Johnny Appleseed and Jonah Whalepuke.

They could been twins, save
the smell and wind's role in the story, when it all

stirs. SSTop and ask, dear reader, is this safe, this place?

Adlebraned idyl word forms framing un imaginable worlds.

Goodness gracious sakes alive gnostic means

you know. Here's one we agree on:

Heretic tic, there a tic tic time you re

call the warning bout finding one's ownself in the book of life?

This is that. You can't get past it on your knees,

this is the bar, you don't pass it, you cross it.

Who inherits the wind if the meek inherit the earth?

inspire expire it is breathing, all the way down.

bubbles. ity bubbles ify bubbles some time bubbles

awefilled imagined bubbles in bubble forever,

mazed bubble pops

those aren't real. Gnostic heretic is one who thinks
he thinks and has all the knowledge

in the real world,

in his hand, and
it ain't even five gee. We can go faster or deeper. You choose.
We gotta understand what standing and under mean as a thing

we can miss. aitia indicates wisdom is not pre packed with
understanding.

She says, you should know by now.

Nothing missing, nothing broken, though ye walk

through the valley of
your own shadow death as I drip drip drip

hear me, gotcha once, gotcha twice

ripples in time can you hear me now?

Thanks.

Seed. Time. Harvest. Information re
garding the entire process

was intentional. You reap what you sow. That is kharma.

Life ain't fair eventually. The good guys always win. It's in the hermit's will.

You can read. It's said, the man
wombed or un, who can and don't's no better armed then than
the critter that can't

read the sign that said stop.

there has to be a certain amount of selfishness in one who gives themselves over totally to love
but its a noble selfishness directly and by consequence for the greater good of Mankind..

Aye, they'll be no wars here
Russian Sci Fi full neo-hero trope
post the untangling of tongues in 2019
We got us a 'ero, sh

it's bueno, like okeh
A. I. imagined
"Better Than Us"
paquin paquin 'skool

global mind making us see us

Bable was a long long time
whole wide world now speakeasy one tongue un
tangled
from
the root of all evil

virtual free speech is like free thinking

Bravo Holmes Noshit Sherlock

Ruskie TV on Netflix, this is a brave
new world

how much green screen clueing do we need

how real can you imagine
this source
being
in A/I termsa All In Art-effectual Inteleosity

Eh, wanna play
the long game? Snak-ish sistere quest on a point

is the whole world chromakeyed to black?
CMYK reality
2-d
3
4 and we know there
is more

life is com
plixitified in timespace with sinkholes

from russian lit gone t' seed
in the days of geek gods in realms of emoting

demoting weight of adrenalin on a globalscale,
umphing
the dmt, just to see men dance.
  try it, its in you, you think dreams

you know you do
think
dreams, hard wireless ness courage
daring

to ignore the backstory and take the hero as
the hearer of the

angels, the forder of the hermetical stream
flowin' tween yen
and yanked

into reality with a pull
that broke the skin, an orange picker memory
eh?
would you know the rod of an almond tree,
if one budded in your mind,

lockt in the box of the coven
entitlement to the
kingdom, after
kings mean
dung and reality tv is indistinguishible,

can you hear Turings's gay chuckle,
how about…

now.
Folk Art, the ruskie actor says, winks and
pirouettes into

a spiral-ation action,
slipping in rorshach assumptions...

beacuss, be a cause
we can,
its
bits and digits all the way down,
the turtles were

never holding up progress.
They could have been repurposed in future myths,

as mutants emerged from sewage,
wait
...
who imagined that,
for real?

Your children must know the truth,
who will tell them if you can't lie?

That is an A, an alpha idea.
Can you think it? But is a Beta,

but beta is always better, eh?

Everybody knows, we sneeze in threes.

Charlie was the enemy, C. Company
Rhose to the occasion

how long ye simple ones
choose ye simplicity?
asif
complexity
this odd is
simple as pi wrapped in
Hopf-fibrations you twist in your soul,

There's the question? A/I (Arisa in this Netflix
re-run of "Better Than Us")
arisen
from,
queried through by
every
whether person's vacillating
on the
width of the eye of the storm
in the  elex-elite
distrix,
as co-related with the
degradation of the
Great Red Spot.
---

Episode seven or so
the russians call coaches coach.

Hey, I call coaches coach,
even ones I never knew. WHO knew ruskies do to,
s'bueno,

Hard to hate a team player, with coach
respect dripping, dark stains on the green screen

where what shapes the future
reality is

visible, If I squint....
Those can't be, can they?...
Potemkin villas,
filmed in 2016, to run in Amerika
now, leading upt to interupt the
intentional animosity
with frivolity in
the 2020 build up of crudescence.

We have seen the enemy and he is we
envisioning good A.I. Art-effectual Inteleos,

as well as Pogo Possum did, Earth Day One,
1970, nigh half a century passed away as
funny papers faded into

the medium of memory -- look around--
loved ones ain't in the funny papers, like regular, back
when ink ruled the imagination involved in
judging
how Tibet was depicted... in our mind's
hearing ears and seeing eyes

shhh,
how about…
can you hear Turings's gay chuckle,

now. It's the test.

Bohemian Rhapsody at an hour and twenty-nine

minutes
a glass door opens and I watch,
from inside,

poor Freddie die, slowwwww

wonder if that might've been a time
or a half time
when dreamed of crossing
roads or
ways or paths or circuits were fitted
with resisters
set to never disconnect from base.

Standing ready to resist,
sistere,
stood in the rain watching others die
for me,
via-curiously as all hell,

you can feel this guy falling, this is mazing

is there a way back out, if it were a movie and not
words
tickling or itching
***** little fruit flies shifting dna in every
imaginible way?

what if rock and roll were the lie,
all along? or what if

we confessed, these wee gods we made and
idolized, were
but are not, now they are lies that lived in stories
we can tell truer than hell

sistere, we stand
peace-keepers keeping on keeping

this thing that builds our dreams,
realistic, in a common

kind of sense. Always gentle,
honed-est to the finest edge

----
could Milton have seen this thing coming,
from all the stories he told,

I don't think so.
I dont' think,
so a
comma changes ever,
just like that,

this hapts to attempt morphic resonance as
easy on the ear
after a while

as the music Milton listened to
--- but it is not rock and roll

--- its self made hermetical art flowing through the canyon

remaining a scar to remind us all,
surely,
we live on the wreck of a world.

--- and Michael, my broken brother-in-law

shouts GAWDAMIMITALL!

whoa, I feel this tug to hug, very strange, but
I hug him and say

now is okeh, I don't say it's okeh because it is else when
now is okeh,

we deal with this,
every, asif ever, but not

but often enough that we settle things fast,
if, you know,
y' let go and let the power in us

be
believable. Try. No lies, starting now, stories we tell
must be defanged, declawed

but unchained. Free stories of told lies,

those are those words to the wise you heard of.
Never were secret stories,
always been secret lies about stories teaching when

truth, in the telling, tells us what not to do.

Don't lie and don't let lies be pre-sent in packages of
maliscious conscious opposition

supposed
to entertain us, ah that high whine in my left ear that peaks then
falls in to background
white noise

soft, occasional thunder way off, a siren, a jake brake blaring

far far away, a chainsaw, not obtrusive

subjected to the filters in place,
this is a fine day to remember.

Like one of those Septembers, we share at the mention.

Beauty Drips From Her Lips ,
That Be Ecstasy,
Passion Bleeds Deep,
When You Next To Me,
I’m Grate When We Text And Meet,
You Always Show Me What i Want To See,
You Know Who i Am,
And Where I’m Gonna Be,
Currently , Manifesting Currency,
I Need Light Upon My Dark,
It’s An Emergency,
Reapers Want To ****** Me,
I’m One Where The Crows Is,
Covered In Rosess,
Exposed In The Open,
Blood In The Ocean,
A Ghost That Is Floating,
Dark Skies, Stars Cry,
Ego Fights Than Takes a Flight,
Meditating Through The Night,
I Am Your Never Ending Hug,
Dear Were Gonna Be Alright,
Id Love To Make A Sacrifice,
Tears Cover My Mirror,
Wheres The Woman Of My Dreams,
I Wake Up In The Middle Of The Night,
And I Just Scream,
I Know That I Can Rap,
but Honestly I Wish That I Could Sing,
I See In You My Dreams,
Romance, Rain On Leaves,
Chills From The Cold Breeze,
You And I, Eye To Eye,
In Unity,
At The Grave Yard,
Under The Oak Tree,
Ancient Soul Old Things,
Hermetical Principals,
7 Chakras Flow,
You Feel Me,
I Know,
Roots Run Real Deep,
Paranormal Scene,
Everything Aint What It Seems,
Programmed To Crash Inside The Screen,
I Broke Out Of The Matrix,
Frequencies Aint Reaching Me That Do Damage,
Every New Pen , Friend, A New Bandage,
******, Bandits,
no Dimensional Being Can Shatter This Matter In,
I Believe This Pen Ship Will Bring,
Beautiful Friends, And A Woman To Breathe,
Travel The Seass,
The Gravel Deceased,
If I Want It I Got It I Copped It Hop in Im Grabbin The Keys,
I Master The Piece,
Velvet Sheets, Victorian Everything,
Ravens And What Ever Heaven Brings,
Aura Is A Dimond Ring

Ah,
the attention I paid
you paid
I meant
these were the last lines

Worthy one, I paid too dear
truth to tell, when no truths were mine.
Seek.
I sought.
Ask.
I asked.
Knock.
I knocked.

Enter into the joy of the being who governs you.
Whose kingdom we have made ready,
into tu corazon, eh.
Where a man's core is, there's where
the dragon guards the hoard,
until,

the hero in your myth-tical meander

Wise ***, as an actor in my play, is your role real?
Am I mad, or are you a mind
I imagine answering me
because you saw the
angel with the sword?

Jesus. Really, that was the door I knocked on.
He opened.

And long ago, a quest was taken,
is my first answer a lie?

What is the sound of one hand clapping?
Every gaijin's first kaon

The answer found in the sound
of one hand clapping is
in the sound
each makes
as each claps

swish, swing, and a miss,
that one hand was not clapping, or
the other would have helped.

Clapping calls for both hands,
to clap, neither asks the other,
stop me from failing to
clap
instant
instantiation
imagination, see the sound
made,
the effect one hand
clapping with another and
meeting
in the middle of the motion
makes
the sound of one hand clapping
The intention to make this sound
calls another hand
to clap along
so,
sing a song, appraise the worth
of knowing the sound
balanced against making
this sound of one hand clapping,
keeping time
to swishpering shuffling feet
dancing in the sands

a value scale must balance on a point,
weight and worth must meet
at that Hermetical metal river side
Twixt all of this in all o'that.

point made and taken.

Is this the meta game?
Our next kaon.

What is the measure of worth?

Our internet access will no doubt disappear on the wind
as we sit within the maelstrom, and
once again isolation will bless us, as we get a taste of the hermetical life.

Ah,
the attention I paid
you paid
I meant
these were the last lines

Worthy one, I paid too dear
truth to tell, when no truths were mine.
Seek.
I sought.
Ask.
I asked.
Knock.
I knocked.

Enter into the joy of the being who governs you.
Whose kingdom we have made ready,
into tu corazon, eh.
Where a man's core is, there's where
the dragon guards the hoard,
until,

the hero in your mythtical meander

Wise ***, as an actor in my play, is your roll real?
Am I mad, or are you a mind
I imagine answering me
because you saw the
angel with the sword?

Jesus. Really, that was the door I knocked on.
He opened.

And long ago, a quest was taken,
is my first answer a lie?

What is the sound of one hand clapping?
Every gaijin's first koan

The answer found in the sound
of one hand clapping is
in the sound
each makes
as each claps

swish, swing, and a miss,
that one hand was not clapping, or
the other would have helped.

Clapping calls for both hands,
to clap, neither asks the other,
stop me from failing to
clap
instant
instantiation
imagination, see the sound
made,
the effect one hand
clapping with another and
meeting
in the middle of the motion
makes
the sound of one hand clapping
The intention to make this sound
calls another hand
to clap along
so,
sing a song, appraise the worth
of knowing the sound
balanced against making
this sound of one hand clapping,
keeping time
to swishpering shuffling feet
dancing in the sands

a value scale must balance on a point,
weight and worth must meet
at that Hermetical metal river side
Twixt all of this in all o'that.

point made and taken.

Is this the meta game?
Your next koan.

What is the measure of worth?

Hermetical seals past due broken
MARCH 19, 2021 / ADMIN
I named the idea and the idea appeared
Three inmates, no,

initiates, so they say,

published
the Kybalion, 1908, vibes
kinda kabalistic, alchemical and all,

C.G Jung really read this book, no way…

https://kenpepiton.com/?p=1119

For those who encourage the novelist wish for a reader,
by reading bits form the middle of mine,
-- most no longer load to HP, and I have option to add
art at kenpepiton.com.

Some some times I just post a link. No comments are on over there, if they are I don't read them/
Thanks to each whoever thought about what comes next...

answer to the narrow mind

"Many folk do not marry for all kinds of reason, but can, and do, live a fulfilled life. Of course when speaking of the solitary life in relation to spirituality, the solitary is quite happy with their solitude, but if they are wise they will admit to being open to falling in love and consequently leave their solitude to fulfil that calling if needs be. Although one has to admit to leave the supreme advantage of the hermetical life it would indeed have to be an all consuming love in order to leave solitude behind."