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Jude kyrie Aug 2019
THROUGH A DOGS EYES.

I am old and tired now and my duty on this planet is almost finished.
It seems only a fleeting moment again that I was a puppy.
I was so lucky that I met him.

It was a sunny summer day I was huddled in a ball of fur with six other puppies.
A sign outside the stoop said Golden's for sale no papers.
He drove up in his sports car and walked to the stoop where we were.
He had kind eyes and dogs have the ability  to see the soul through the eyes of others and it was a good soul.

Every dog knows they are living a karma that they must be the best they can be as a dog and one day they would be born as a human child.  This is common sense to a dog.

I fought my way to the front of the puppy heap. And he picked me up I could smell the kindness pouring out from his skin.
This one he said as I licked his face this one is the one I want.
He named me Niko after the famous scientists nikola Tesla.  My human soulmate was  a science teacher at the high school.

He took me everywhere I never was left at home but sat quietly  next to his desk as he instructed the children in his class.
At break time the children would play with me we ran and chased sticks and *****.  I was so happy.
At night I slept at the foot of his bed it was my duty to protect  him.

To say that we loved each other  was a gross understatement we sat together at night and watched television together that's where I learned all about human culture.  Animal planet was my favorite  program and I watched it every day.
It was perfect perhaps too perfect to last I was fully grown now a big golden retriever.
It changed that morning  we went to school as always.
I slept beside his desk and the sound of his voice was comforting and safe.
Then she came into the room she was young and pretty  in a human kind of way.
He smiled at her and they talked about teaching methods and school politics.  I could smell her perfume and pheromones pungent in the air.
I tried to get his attention to take me out but he was fixated on her.
The shop talk took a back seat and dinner dates took it's place.

After that she was always around she sat on the sofa on my spot and I tried to let her know she was not welcome here this was my seat and he was mine. She should know I would never share him. But she got to me patting my head kissing my crown.  Your so pretty Niko she purred.
But she took my place on the bed as well and they put me out of the room as they wrestled on the sleeping spot. I heard strange noises and laughter as I waited outside the door.
Later I was allowed  back in the room it was full of odors of humans but it was comforting..  We were a family together him her and me their dog friend.  Soon I loved her as much as him.
I could not wait for her to kiss my head and rub my tummy.

Then just as I was getting  settled  in to my new arrangement  it changed again.
I watched her rubbing her belly like she did with mine.  And there was a roundness to it. I could smell the aroma of another human being put together inside her.  And I knew it meant changes to our life.
Later as her belly became  rounder and she rested on the sofa I saw it Move the new human was stirring  inside her.
Oh Niko come here it's alright she  sang.
I wandered over put your head here sweetheart patting her belly.
I rested my big head on her tummy.
Then I felt the new human kick me I nearly fell off the sofa.  She felt my fear and smiled oh Niko it's just the baby letting us know it is alright.

In the middle of the night a few weeks later they rushed out of the door and car started and screeched its tires and they never took me with them.  
A day later they came home Carrying the new human in their arms.
I was curious  and later she called me Niko come and meet Angel
I entered the bedroom and she was holding the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.
I was afraid that I would love her if I looked too long
but it was too late I already  knew that I did.

The next few years were the best years of my life.we did everything as a family, my beautiful family my purpose in life to love and protect them all
Angel grew to ten and I was getting  old but we were inseparable I was hugged every time she left the house.  And I worshipped her.

Then her mom was unwell she was crying with headaches always swallowing things out of a little  bottle they never wrestled on the sleeping place or made their happy sounds.  I was worried.
A while later she was doing dishes and fainted on the floor I rushed to her and liked her face until she woke up.

Then I cursed the limitations of being a dog my big flappy tongue  that could  not let me Enunciate words like a human flapped in uselessness as only whines and barks came out.
I could smell the sickness in her head it had an odor or rotting vegetation faint and constantly there I knew it it was bad it was the sickness.
I stayed by her side all though the sickness even seen she lost her hair I poured my love to her.
I saw my owner crying holding angel telling her they were losing her.
They Needed me more than ever now and for sure I must stay here with them even though my time was near I had my duty to fulfill for my karma as a dog. It was my purpose for being.
It was springtime when she left us I was sat next to her bed as her hand was resting on my old head I felt it lighten and slip from me and I knew  ...i knew.
I barked quietly and they came up and wept.

A year later
I was losing  my sight my eyes were fuzzy and I did not see things very well.
The day I wandered into the road as a car hit me I knew it was my fault my time and I knew my duty in my dog karma had been completed faithfully  and I was ready for my next journey with my soul.
Angel rushed out and held my head I looked into her beautiful  face
Don't die stay with me she wept I gave her my last look with her memory  fixed in my soul ready to live forever as souls do and I would see her in my dreams in my next life.

Eight years later
My owner had moved to New England as principal to a.prestigious academy.
Angel had grown into a beautiful  young woman.
She was training as a caregiver and working for the winter break at the orphanage in the nearby blue collar town
The children were mostly  from poor families.
Her dad picked her up and dropped her off at work.
And as he waited in the yard of the institution he saw a little boy of about 8 years of age.
He had beautiful  long Sandy hair and deep dark eyes.
Angel came out ready to go Home and saw her father walking over to the boy.
They looked into each others eyes and saw deep into their souls a familiar place that he recognized
The nurse from the orphanage joined them and said he's been with us for four years since his parents were killed in a car accident. He has never spoken a word since being here.

Angel said what is your name honey he lifted his face and looked at the lovely young woman and said softly my name is Nicholas but you can call me Niko.

Five years later
Niko had been formally  adopted and was turning into a fine young man
All was well in their world's
And just like clouds that change shape
Their family changed shape once more and peace reigned in their lives.
Which as all dogs are born knowing is just  Karma so you can be born again one day into something  much much better.
The end
Inspired by the movies
The art of racing in the rain.
A MUST SEE for all dog lovers
Jude
Mike Hack Sep 2016
In the dark
We trudge outside
Stifling yawns
Dogs in stride

Down on the dock
The air is cold
Blankets laid out
My breathing controlled

We snuggle together
Then gaze at the sky
The fog drifts in
The stars feel shy

The dogs roughhouse
One is called home
The other two stay
Niko begins to roam

A cold breeze creeps
Turning my nose blue
The horizon has a glow
Will the lights come through?

The air feels so clear
The ocean so calm
The trees are obscured
An owl starts a song

A dog comes near
She licks my face
Then curls by my side
Like a warm embrace

The stars still flicker
Even if shrouded
The lights on horizon
They become clouded

My eyes start to close
My family is here
I’m surrounded by beauty
The lights disappear

I don’t want to leave
The dog is so warm
My sister’s behind me
I feel her small form

She’s curled up tight
Between momma and me
She’s wearing my hat
And complains she can’t see

I don’t want to go
I could stay here forever
Between the dark sea
And the foggy sky weather

Niko starts whining
What a complaintive old boy
But he’s right it’s late
His bed will bring him joy

Reluctantly we rise
And gather our things
Then we trudge back home
Sleeping till tomorrow sings
Aeryn Mar 2019
shoulder to shoulder
psst, hey, see the girl
next to you?
you should hold her

bolder and bolder,
like a butch boulder,
they smile and
glance at my lips.

sweet hugs and
warmness touch and
talk of baking,
future plans.

we'll make all the
rainbow cupcakes.

get all the
genderless clothing.

one look
is not a future
written in ink,
but here's hoping.
Beyond your television
Lies vast hills,
along with many jumps and much thrill
Mario jumps
Zelda swings
As Kirby swallows
Donkey kong beats,
Star fox flies ever so high
While niko goes bowling
Roman started to cry
Meta knight stares ominously
As a goomba cautiously walks
A turtle shell turns blue
While the Mario kart racers get mad too....
We all know sleeping dogs don't lie
We joined a guild during an MMO war
Where we smashed every single one of our keyboards
Even in Third Place the gods carry you
Niko and Nike, both Siblings to your Cause
The Festive Cheer, numbing their Silent Boo
And your Best Bronze Offer was never lost
Which you deserve, definite on Boon's End
Such Shout everyone will always Cherish
Goodbye, Riley! Your Dim Plan was all but Bent
The Assassin turned on you and Perish
Still, Anointing Tears on the Bleacher's Side,
Was but Artificial in its Console
You made a Plan to Upgrade the next time
And Fight till Morning until the next Goal.
Meanwhilst enjoy, and sip to Iberia's Best
With Everyone on-board; And not one less.
#tomdaleytv #tomdaley1994
your a friend
at school
we be chillin
bangin lil Susie
on the lunch table
hi Niko
Niko Apr 2017
Dark thoughts come flying in like a storm.
The way the wind takes me away.
The way the lightning paralyzes me.
I watch the darkness crawl into my arms,
knowing that they're only here to bring harm.
I wish I can go back to my happiest days,
when I never felt pain or darkness haunt my dreams or my soul.

Where are the stars that used to guide me?
They used to shine through my eyes,
telling me that I'm never alone.
They seem to move on, forgotten me.

I overthink too much,
that it's the end.
I don't know why I let it dig into me.
Small things become big things.
I always hoped that one day someone will embrace me into their loving arms.
Understand every dark thought coursing through my mind.
Feel my heart through their ears.
Face the reality that I'm not perfect.

I'm not a robot built through metal.
I sometimes bottle up myself,
I sometimes smile like I'm okay, but sometimes I'm not.
I can feel weak, but I know I'm strong.
I fought through the storm before,
I know what it feels like to want to give up.
It's such a strong urge, but I don't give in.

Because I have people counting on me, looking up at me, admire me of who I am.
I'm a good person for helping others.
I let them know that their not alone,
They let me know that I'm not alone.
Sticks and stones won't break our bones.
We are headstrong!

~Niko
Niko Feb 2017
I see you there,
where you crawl up and give up.
Your burning tears on your cheeks,
Your desperate battle cry,
I see you wanting to reach high in the sky,
and drying your tears from your eyes.

Don't worry, don't hide and throw away the bitterness from your soul.
Fight, never give up.
Live up to your dreams.
Because I'll be watching over you.

Please don't feel blue,
because I know you can break through.
You can do it,
you have the spirit.

~Niko
I have a twerk team we twerk we twerk all day everyday and beat niko up with lil Susie
Veče mučno
subota
poziv prvi
ništa ne menja

Muka iznova
s krvlju preliva
težinom svojom
nosim ga

Poziv drugi
odvode ga

Hodnik dug
žuta dominira
svaki broj
nova pitanja

Niko ništa ne zna
tišina odzvanja

Toplota omamljuje
san zaustavljen
jutarnje sunce
predivno zaslepljuje

Niko ništa ne zna
ostaje nam čekanje

*mh, februar 2016
Niko Jan 2017
The guitar makes my heart sing in melody,
giving me a remedy of specialty.
Somehow it calls to me desperately,
telling me endlessly its my destiny.

The guitar and I have chemistry,
Somehow the guitar is a legacy.
The music of the guitar makes me breathless,
making me feel weightless.

I feel light-headed to be exact,
its making me relaxed.
This attraction,
this passion,
Its electrifying.
Its what I dreamed for, for so long.

~Niko
Niko Apr 2016
Don't take that defeat.

I can feel your heart beat.

Dancing to the beat.

You're strong.

You ain't wrong,

this battle is too long.

You gotta stay headstrong.

You can't fall into the dark,

so feel that spark,

fight the battle scars.

Set your sights in the stars.

You shine brighter than a diamond.

It's time.

Show them who you really are.

A Blazing Star

~Niko
Niko Jan 2018
I can feel anxiety crawling into my mind, feeding me with unnecessary thoughts.
Self-doubt reaches out for my soul; fear smiles at me as I quivered my lips.
My trembling hands strike down on the concrete, and my head spins.
I slowly shut my eyes, hoping my demons would leave me.
But they persist, making me feel like I have to plea for peace.

I grasp my reality behind a mirror and watch the clock unwind.
I hear the faded children laugh, it echoes through my mind, and I feel the fear within my heart.
I wish my thoughts were sane, so they didn't fall like rain.

When I look ahead of the storm, I see a generation full of demons.
Darkness may rule the world, but I kept holding on.
With every battle I withstand, I fear the shadows will bind my heart and take my breath away.
But somehow, my spirit will never give in.
-Niko
PETTY POET Sep 2020
NI SAHII*
Nimekuwa silent for a while waka-confuse kuhang boots na a short break,huwezi nipata bar no wonder bars zangu ziko so-bar,black supremacy... Niko na connection na maraga ndio maana akanipea hii ko-r-ti,ni  poet petty siku hizi na-weigh content si  value ya suti,apart from kutema visiriaz,nacheza guitar na at times isukutti,kaa ni kisima,si  unajua obvious hii_ siikuti,

Daily na hood niite mya-hoodie,ni  due to public demand so sikuwa na budi,nilipretend kunguru ndio nipate hizo white collar jobs,na nikasema sitadiss king rabbit ndio unispot kaka,aty petty ameomoka?,si aitane basi sherehe ya kukata na shoka,kaa ni breko naamkia konyangi,na hii  dry spell uko sure hunyongangi?.

Hii class kila mtu  huchoma tuko high class,heri  uko mnakula vako,huku kumekauka kuliko kichwa ya babu owino,dawa ya wivu nakuandikia eno,situmii smartphone natumia phone smart,only call sina  time ya kuchat,ambia smart joker jokes zake huwa joked smart,

Walisema sikio la kufa halisikii dawa,acha nijaribu tena  MARA MOJA, thanks to corona for the first time mluhya anaoga mkono na si  ugali anakula,na petty unatema hata  mtu  haezi sema,ni  venye alikuwa na vinyasa mbili so nikamwomba sho-r-t
moja,na petty pieces zako huniacha in pieces,hizo ndio comments nareply,juz for teases,

Na kama corona shida zangu huwezi zicough out kwa public,natumia mouth piece ya scimo na Leo hatubongi za mitaro na toothpicks,na kuna chizi flani  ananukia colon na hii corona huwezi sema kwa mama mboga iko loan,na kama ni  lyrics nauza hii itabidi umechomoa mita,na before niachilie mic,kumbuka sonko alisema social distance ni  ya one metre,sihang suspenders kwa shoulders, nikiwa hustle nahang guitar,hio  time short nimespend apa  nilikuwa na blessings za mama no wonder sijastammer,kama nimekubamba scratch kwa tenje uniseti stage ndio home na sijaplan...kuhama.
-P€TT¥PO€T✍️
©️2020.
persefona Jun 2015
taj moj dragi,
što mi nije kao niko na ovome svetu
kada nađem se u snovima prejedem se slatkišima, tovarim čokoladice i bombone i šarene kremove da bih ćutala
ako se ušećeri poješce ga ljubičaste mušice, pomislih
pa se tako bojim još po koje krilatice, kao recimo aviona ili šarene lastavice
a ja kad-kad kratko i nespretno letim
punim se kamenjem i betonom
a praznim groznicom mednom

kada ruke ko dve reke ispoliva, useče oko mojih ko klavir rebara
pa mi se zbunjene pčele sele kroz čelo i telo celo
traži se nešto od kruške slađe
tu na usnama izvor namiguje

pa taj se, putnik čarobnjak
samnom ko lipa njiše
zimu šapatom pretvara u igru pustinjskog vetra
otvori oči i eto ga more

od koje li je on vrste?

za ogolićenu dušu odelo,
što lanenog kroja cvrstinu krije
nabori nemira i divljine
beskraj užarene širine
šavovi boje sunca
broje tugu nedostižnu

sa njim je toplo
sa njim je ritam najsjajnije zvezde
Niko Feb 2017
He watched her red rosy lips move when she talks,
Beautiful words were coming out her mouth.
Like a silver tongue.

Falling for her in every word.
Her blue eyes were like oceans he can swim into.
The fool was in love with a woman,
who had a silver tongue.
Her blonde silky hair brought the sunshine to his eyes.

She broke him down and walked away.
And the man in love learned to never fall for a woman who had a silver tongue.

Words of a Silver tongue brought darkness to his eyes.
But now he knows that she lied.
And to never fall for her again.

~Niko
Niko Feb 2017
Release me from this disease.
I don't want to freeze.
I fall on to my knees
Feeling the breeze.

I'm at unease.
I don't want to die alone,
and turn to stone.
You know?
I can't go, on my own.

I've grown weak.
I ain't unique.
I been living on for weeks.
I don't know what I seek.

I feel so sore,
I fall to the floor.
When is this war over?
I don't want it anymore.

I'm in a trap door,
what a bore.
Before, I had a score.
I knew what I was looking for.

A dream that fired up like a hot steam.
I had a purpose.
I rose to the surface.
I felt nervous.
I was never worthless.
I never closed the curtains.

So please release me from this disease.
So I can go on,
and achieve my dream.

~Niko
Niko Feb 2017
Please don't leave me.
Can't you see?
The words on the wall.

When I take the fall,
I reveal my true words in blood.
The words I spoke were lies.
I had to hide the pain.
I didn't want to reveal my broken heart.

I wrote words on the wall.
To let go of my deepest thoughts,
I fought a lot.

So never forget the words on the wall,
and remember why I told you to never leave.

~Niko
Rani jutarnji intervjui
#1 Dok grad spava uz cvrkut ptica koje niko ne osluskuje.

M: Sta za tebe znaci cvrkut ptica?

mh: Za nekog ko zivi citav zivot pored ulice, tacnije u nivou ulice, gde me od trotoara deli nekih 25-35 cm zida, a od vozila  1.5 -2 m, priguseni zvuk vozila koji se postepeno pojacava i postepeno gubi u kracim ili duzim intervalima uz onaj huk u trenutku prolaska kao i govor prolaznika, urezao se u mene i postao deo mog zivota.

Retko uhvatim sebe kako slusam te zvukove sem kada mi se neki bas nametne i to onaj ljudski u duzini jedne recenice koja moze da se izgovori prolaskom pored par metara zida. Iz te jedne recenice koja ima svoj zvuk i tematiku profil prolaznika je vrlo lako zamisliti. Ponekad mi izmame osmeh, a ponekad uznemirenost, pa i strah.

Tematika tih recenica mogla bi se podeliti u zavisnosti od doba dana kada su prolaznici aktivni. Od onih dnevnih tema najglasnije su vaspitno-obrazovne gde se dete uci kako da ne ide ni slucajno pored ivicnjaka, a od onih nocnih, najglasnije su one ljubavne gde tacno znam da u narednih sto metara sledi raskid ili strastven ***.

Ima i onih tema gde ti se smuci i gde sam u fazonu “hajde bre vise” a to su naravno komsijske, koje kad krenu znam da ce trajati bar pola sata ili u kasnim nocnim satima taxi teme, ko koga ceka i ko gde ide.

Ponekad znam da provirim kroz roletne i zateknem vrlo kreativne scene, recimo kreativno iscrtavanje kruga sto mi zene ne bismo mogle.

Vikend je predvidjen za vristanje zena koje pokusavaju da prekinu tucu pijanih iz kafica gde kako se otvaraju vrata treste narodnjaci, a ima i onih koje vole da bacaju veliko kamenje na takve kafice i onda brzim trcecim koracima prodju pored mog prozora.

mh: uh, sto meni ne idu ove duge forme

M: pa zasto ih onda koristis?

mh: Ma ne znam, dosadno mi, a i znam nekog ko voli glupe textove.

mh: Dakle, gde sam ono bese stala. A da, zasto volim cvrkut ptica.

Pa, tokom studija najvise mi je prijalo da u nocnim satima, kad se sve primiri, kad svi polegaju i saobracaj se razredi i kad se moje telo zagreje, da krenem sa radom na studentskim zadacima. Iz dana u dan ritam bi se menjao i ja bih sve kasnije i kasnije odlazila u krevet i tako sve dok nije pocelo da svice.

U tom pomeranju pocela sam da uocavam kad se sta desava na ulici i polako prestajala da gledam na sat. Djubretari bi bucno prosli u 4am a negde izmedju 4:30 - 4:45 bi nastao muk, noc bi pocela da prelazi u dan i tada bi krenulo oglasavanje ptica.

I dan danas ne znam koja ptica je u pitanju jer sa prozora se nije dalo videti ali nije, vrabac, nije golub, nije lasta, ne kresti ko vrana, svraka, nije gugutka sa svojim”dugo spiš”, ne znam, ali znam da je pesma lepa i da dolazi od nekog ko zeli da privuce paznju na sebe. I taj osecaj da priroda opstaje medju ovim betonom mi je bila bas lepa i zanimljiva jer su ptice pronasle rupu u buci i koristile taj momenat da komuniciraju daleko od usiju mnogih.

Te ptice su u stvari bas pametne i prakticne, kad stigne jesen, a one lepo na jug, tamo gde je prijatnije, a ne da se smrzavaju, budu sumorni sve do proleca kao “mi ljudi iz gradova” - Milan Mladenovic

Ptice bi oznacavale tada i pocetak tv emisije nekog kuvara koji bi parlao na spanskom onako kako to samo oni umeju i ja bih sa zamisljenim ukusom polako uranjala u san.

mh: Vreme mi je da uronim u san, zato Laku noc do sledeceg intervjua.

M: Laku noc tebi i svim citaocima

__________
#2 Iskrenost - veoma skup poklon

M: Kako tumacis ove recenice koje smo pronasli na jednom zidu, moglo bi se reci jednu pored druge?
- "Iskrenost je veoma skup poklon, ne ocekuj ga od jeftinih ljudi"
- "Nije vazno da li je skupo, nego da li se isplati"

mh: Nek odgovor ostane za neku drugu priliku.

Prosao je sajam knjiga pa bih volela da podelim sa citaocima jednu pesmu inspirisanu knjigama, zove se "Neizreceno"

NEIZRECENO

Lagano je
prelazila
prstima
preko korica
u ritmu
sto neznost
izaziva

Pogled
mi se usmerio
na pokret
na zelju
stajala je pored
primetila je
izgovorila je

Ja tako
kada mi se
svidjaju
korice

Uzvratih joj
da volim
u muzejima
preko skulptura
da predjem
dodirom
dozivim oblik
osetim teksturu

Znas li ti da je to zabranjeno?
Rece ona
ozbiljno

Tu sam zastala
a u glavi je
odzvanjalo

E jbg
kad volim
ono sto je zabranjeno

E jbg
kad volim
ono sto je zabranjeno

E jbg
vise nije bila tu
vise nije bila pored
ali je i dalje odzvanjalo

mh, Novembar 2016

M: Danas si okrenula novi list?

mh: Today is the day :D

---------------------------------------------------
#3 Koja je tvoja maska?

M: Evo posle relativno duge pauze konacno smo uhvatili mh da nam kaze par reci o tome sta se desava i zasto je nema, da li sprema nesto novo...

mh: Dobro vece svim citaocima i tebi M posebno. Evo samo par reci o tome da se priprema program naucno -obrazovnog karaktera za sledecu 2017 godinu. Bice tu dosta toga sto ce iziskivati da citaoci udju u sebe i potraze neke odgovore.
Jedna od prvih tema bice maske, kako nastaju, njihova uloga i podela.

M: Ja se posebno radujem znajuci da vec dugo radis na tome i verujem da ce sve maske pasti :)

mh: Pa eto nadam se da sam citaocima vec zagolicala mastu i da ce biti tu da isprate program koji sledi.

M: btw. Imali smo jednog citaoca iz unutrasljosti sa komentarom na pesmu "Neizreceno" kaze, u pesmi se navode "korice kao predmet svidjanja" da li to oznacava neku povrsnost ili...?

hm: ne, ne , ne cak naprotiv, sasvim suprotno, oznacava jednu otvorenost da se zaviri i pronadje nesto dublje ispod raznoraznih korica, sem knjige, postoje tu i recimo modni casopisi, ili katalozi o uredjenje enterijera... Tako da mislim da je rec sasvim na svom mestu.

M: Hvala ti mh, ne bi te vise zadrzavali. Vidimo se uskoro :)
mh: vidimo se, pozdrav svim citaocima :)



NASTAVICE SE...
PETTY POET Jun 2020
/NI LIFE/
Sometimes mi hu-wrong nikijaribu ku-correct,na mi si perfect so daily niko  kwa  risklt ya ku-loose vitu ata  nili-collect,so we skiza hii  tune,yeah ofcourse hii tune si  unajua mali safi zi huzinduliwa June.Pingu za maisha nishanunua shoneni vitenge juu nazifunga soon.

Samahani,back then kudish kwa sahani kwangu ilisound kifahari,world yangu ilikuwa so untrue na mauongo ki-kanyari,kupata kwangu then ilisound ka monkey kuonekana kalahari,nyi mkinyonga tai zangu nabaki ni  nyoka nanyonga,ni  saa  nane  usiku nikiexhaust my poetic pen igeuze words ziwe dishi,DJ akiscratch ilikuwa opportunity ya kuflow nayo  na mistari haziishi,mtaa 1960 ndio iliniwai courage ya kusimama mbele ya mahater nikiwashow hii mwaka haiishi meza moja na nyinyi tudishi.

Mi hu-acknoledge power ya sir God jo juu ya kuniblessia creativity tangu pre-unit,usitafte amani  bila unity certificate ya kugraduate from petty poet to plenty of poems nikailaminate na case ya glass,after kuchoma kuna wasee nilianza nao na siko nao  si  zao ziliwashow wako "high" class,hii  dunia ni ya God so ka unaplan downfall yangu jua success naiwai a thousand times plus.

Hii sanaa  mi hufanya si  rahisi,ata ka Nadia na kalikuwa kashaa tamba ilibidi ameitisha maombi,ka si Sunday siogi,mi nimezoea kula jasho yangu that's why unaskia nikiongea sh*t that is stinky.

So ukihustle na biz ya kuuza charcoal jua ***** hands zi hukuwa sign ya clean money,na since muka aende silent mi ndio nimekuwa nikiwasha nare kwa stage bila lyta,mi ndio nimekuwa nikijua mbona mapema ye hurauka.Hii time short nimekuwa hapa nilikuwa na blessings za mama no wonder sijastammer,ka nimekubamba scratch kwa tenje uniseti...stage ndio home na sijaplan kuhama.
-P€TT¥PO€T ✍️
©2020.
Juce sam imala neku terapiju na senjaku u 11h, kicma, u zurbi sam izasla iz stana okrenula 2 puta kljuc, izvukla ga, spustila se stepenicama do lifta, pozvala lift, a onda se setila da nisam ponela mobilni, bio mi je vazan, okrenula se, spustila stepenicama, izvadila kljuc i krenula da ga ubacim u bravu, kad ono nece, probaj drugi put, nece, treci, nece, sijalica ne radi, neki polumrak, cucnem da vidim da se nesto nije pomerilo, gledam kljuc da se nije polomio, oblija me znoj, ne mogu da verujem, pocinjem da se nerviram, vec kasnim na terapiju, ustajem spustam se niz stepenice, zovem lift, dok se vozim do dole razmisljam, trebace mi bravar, ne mogu da cimam tatu, znam za jednog na vracaru pravi kljuceve, mozda se razume i u brave, al subota je ko zna da li mogu da ga nadjem, dolazim do stanice, ulazim u trolu, vozim se kratko, srecom postoje table koje me navode do mesta gde sam se uputila, uazim u zgradu, doktor me prima, vrsi pritisak na bolno mesto, izvija me, mozda da se vratim da pitam komsinicu da li ima baterijsku lampu, da probam jos jednom, prebacuju me na struju, laser i ono trece uvek zaboravim, lezim na boku, prija mi hladan gel, zalim se sta mi se dogodilo, tesi me, mozda je sve u redu, ipak cu se vratiti da pogledam jos jednom,  ulazim u trolu, cekam zeleno, smirujem sebe, bice ok, prelazim ulicu, proradice, dolazim do zgrade, ulazim u lift, pritiskam dugme za cetvri sprat i tad shvatam gresku u koracima, pocinjem da se smejem, mislim se, da li me je neko video od komsija, spustam se niz stepenice bez problema ulazim u stan, nastavljam da se smejem, ne mogu da verujem sta sam uradila, rekli su mi da u stanu ispod ne zivi niko, srecom, uzimam mobilni, zakljucavam vrata, silazim niz stepenice, spustam se liftom, vozim se trolom, svracam do kokija da se castim nekim secerom, kakvo olaksanje, odlazim kod mojih na rucak, pomislim na tebe, pomisim i na sebe i svoju izgubljenost, ne zameram ti na reakciji, shvatam da te nesto puca iznutra, puca i mene, i ko bi poverovao da je takav susret moguc opet, logika namece, ako je ono pocetak, ovo je kraj, ali kraj cega, i da pobegnemo, da precutimo, da se sutra susrecemo bez prepoznavanja, problem ce i dalje ostati u nama.

mh maj 2017
Infamous one Apr 2021
J93
Niko went to the bar and chatted it up with the bartender Penelope. They talked about dating and she wanted to help him come up with a solution. He would find out she had a be.
He would sit at the bar and talk without having a drink his sobriety was key. He made mistakes and hurt people not being intoxicated kept him from being a wild one.
Penelope was a beautiful girl a caring person. Niko was not use to pretty girls showing concern she was nice on the eyes and easy to talk with. She appreciated his honesty he said some funny stuff that was true.
He told her that he wanted to take her out once he got full time at his current job. It never happened and that opportunity to ask her out was gone. Things didn't line up or turn out the way Niko planned it.
PHYLL FEVER*
This is the Phyll challenge,
More of a fever,
So usishangae ukianza kushiver,
Session ikianza.
Phyll,
A special being ever created,
Sijui nimwite philosophicated,
Juu his ideas are never complicated,
To all he does he's dedicated,
Some may say he has Ego,
But I call it class.
Hata Mimi nilimpata kibahati tu,
Hata ukue stranger atakuskiza tu,
Haijalishi kama uko na issues one or two,
He will always help you too,
In his heart dwells the sweetest stories,
The most intensive secrets,
With him life feels like a series,
Na Niko serious.
No one gets bored by his side,
Unless you have your own issues aside,
Put that aside,
And you will see his good side,
No need to hide.
Having you makes me glad.
Am talking about you...yes you...
Phyll Spoken Arts.

©by Poetess Nyambura
Just me but by her
Ona lici na sve
a na nju niko

Za nju niko
ne bi reko

Kad bi reko
pogled bi saseko

Cim bi saseko
na mestu bi mrtav
osto

Osto
sto posto

*mh 9. Octobar 2016
Ken Pepiton Apr 2020
2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floaing on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachible knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athelete be an atheletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated ligamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final.}



and hold
as true, written law, written stone, in effect, fected for effectual ever,

conserve that. -- oh, that is, really

-- conserving the right of conquest with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground into concoctions of notions {coqueros}

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.
Not sorry for the ramble, it has become my steady state. I wish I had known this man.

No nonsense makes sense.
Ima jedna devojcica zove se Nika. Gledam je kako raste vec dobrih godinu dana od kako skoro svake nedelje odlazim na neke casove. Uvek me doceka ispred vrata na stepenicama, onako uzbudjeno, pozdravi se, malo se izmazimo i onda je zovu u drugu sobu ne bi li smetala casu, mada zna ona da se usunja i dodje po jos mazenja.  Dok je bila mala to je bilo lako, prosla bi ispod staklenog stola, kojim sam uvek zabarikadirana sa jos dve fotelje. Jednom nesvesna da je porasla skoro pa se zaglavila , samo je uspela da proturi glavu ispod stola tek toliko da joj njuska izadje kod mene.

Inace Nika ima sad taktiku kako da se tako velika smesti na krilo. Prvo sedne ispred tebe , sva je fina, mirna, onda ti pocnes da je mazis, a ona ti uzvrati sa kojim lizom, sto je vise mazis sve te vise lize i onda krene podignutim prednjim sapama polako da te gura i da ti se priblizava licu pokusavajuci da te lize i kako imas tedenciju da se odmaknes otvori se prazan prostor na kolenima gde ona samo prebaci svoj trup i onda je opet sva mirna ko bubica i uziva (i tesko ju je skloniti :) ).

Pre nekoliko meseci Nika nije bila dobro, nesto je pojela napolju i ukucani su bili poprilicno zabrinuti jer je to bio prvi put da je vide takvu. Sela je u fotelju pored mene i spustajuci njusku prema vratu dok je mazim kao da je govorila: " ne nisam danas dobro"

Nika je retriverka.

Podsetila me je na jos jednu devojcicu koja je isto znala da dodje i pozdravi se sa mnom.

Jednom, bila je neka guzva, iz druge prostorije cula sam je kako laje sto se nije cesto desavalo, a i ovo lajanje koje se ponavljalo nije bilo oglasavanje kad neko dolazi ili lajanje na nekog prolaznika, vec da nesto nije u redu i to vlasnici pasa sigurno znaju i prepoznaju ali vlasnica tada nije bila tu.

Nakon nekog vremena verovatno ne znajuci vise sta ce, setila se i dosla je do mene u drugu prostoriju gurajuci glavu ispod stola i daju ci mi znak da joj je muka. Ustala sam i otvorila najbliza vrata, razumele smo se i ona je odmah krenula za mnom da joj otvorim vrata od unutrasnjeg dvorista kako bi mogla da se jadnicak tamo olaksa. Do dvorista u prolazu pored ulaznih vrata, u prostoriji sa zasticenom vrstom, ona je vec bila izbacila poprilicno iz sebe, a niko je nije video niti cuo.

Kad se setim toga da je dosla kod mene i da sam mogla da joj pomognem, meni draga zivotinja :)


hm maart 2017
...Ali četvrti deo, pod nazivom "O čovekovom robovanju", posvećen je drugom delu čovekove prirode – strastima.
Sa strastima se sve komplikuje. Ali baz njih ništa ne vredi.
To je ono kad razum kaže "ne" – ali uzalud.
Kad imate osećaj da srljate u neminovnu propast, ali ne možete ništa da sprečite.
Mnogo je greha, bola i zla na tom putu, mnogo je povređenih i nesrećnih.
Ljubav? Da li ljubav iskupljuje? Da li se možete opravdati ljubavlju, makar pred svojom savešću?
KOS je priča o nemogućoj i nedopustivoj ljubavi.
Naravno, sve ima svoju drugu stranu. Opravdanja su kratkog dometa, i ne kažem da ne treba suditi. Ne kažem ni da treba oprostiti.
U pozorištu, u drami, jednostavno imate tu privilegiju da ne morate zauzeti konačan stav. Možete se samo prepustiti tom svima poznatom osećaju kad Vas osećanja snažno vuku u vrtlog iz kojeg nema izlaza. Kad Vas najdublji unutrašnji osećaj istovremeno svom snagom vuče u dva suprotna smera.
Konačno, svi smo tu, na istom mestu, svi smo zajedno uhvaćeni u istu klopku sadašnjosti, zaglavljeni u istom tesnacu stvarnosti, sa svojim okrutnim žudnjama, i svojim smešnim nemogućim snovima.
KOS je priča o ljubavi koja je otišla u nemogućem smeru, a JESENJA SONATA je pričao o uzaludnoj ljubavi. Izuzetnost, slava i uspeh često ne donesu sreću. Naprotiv: čak i obična svakodnevno neophodna ljudska toplina može postati nedostupna i nedohvatljiva. Možete biti sasvim drago i pristojno ljudsko biće. Konačno, ima li iko pravo da zahteva više od nas? I možete imati sasvim ljudska topla osećanja vezanosti za nekoga, i želeti mu sreću, i raditi sve što je u Vašoj moći. I onda ćete se neminovno susresti sa saznanjem koliko je sve to beznadežno nedovoljno, i kako nikad nećete uspeti da onome ko Vam je sve, Vi budete makar nešto...
Suočiti se sa izvesnošću da je sve uzalud, i da nikad ništa neće biti dovoljno, a pri tom ne podleći gorčini, osvetoljubivosti ni pakosti, nego ostati jednostavna, topla i susretljiva ljudska priroda – to je neprimetna uzvišenost neprimetnog malog čoveka.
A niko od nas nije dovoljno velik da bi imao pravo na bezdušnost.
Zato ponavljam, ne kažem da ne treba suditi, ne kažem da se mora oprostiti. Samo preporučujem da bez kalkulacija zaronimo u te uzburkane vode ljudskih osećanja, i da prepoznamo sebe u drugom i drugog u sebi.
Neće škoditi, a možda poneko od nas stvarno postane bolji, veći i lepši iznutra.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2023
2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floating on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachable knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athlete be an athletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated religamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final
at Selah signs all other
thinking stops}

and holds a thought
as true, written law, written on stone,
in effect, fected for effectual ever,
truth with joy
conserve that. -- oh,
so long
held thought that is, really
hope
-- conserving the right of conquest
with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground
into concoctions of notions

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.
Some certain willingness to sing as if no ones needs to hear me but me, I got some of that from seeing John Prine in his twilight
Želeo je da mojim fontom reči budu ispisane.
Tako smo se i upoznali.
Imao je neku toplinu u sebi.
Izgledao je pored nje kao zaljubljeni mladić.
Smejali smo se našim ružnim rukopisima koje niko ne može da pročita.
Otišao je nakon 3 meseca.

Imao je neku toplinu u sebi.

*hm, maj 2016
kirra Apr 2023
I think about the horizon feeling. As a moment of understanding what living is for, and why our momentum is forward. My horizon was peaks of mountains from every point of view, 5 friends, cold winds, orange and pink skies, and expensive gas for a van we made home. Was it the only time I felt this way? Or was it the first, and this is the reason for its presence? What will be new to me in that way? Can it repeat, if I strip it down, make it small, then smaller, if I find its essence? A dusty thing. Small parts to fill the cracks. We are not meant for eternity, but the horizon is of a world of forever. It makes sense why you are so wanted. I can't be against her, as in many ways I know her. But does she feel the horizon? Sand running through the crevices of a palm, you running through red dirt, sticking to leather boots. I used to know the minutes of the sunset, the angle at which it shifts in spring, where it stays steady for summer, and how frost can leave patterns on the soil. Now I know where to find cultural accumulation, density, diversity. I know cement and metro monologues. Where to find the most authentic curry and soft-spoken poetry. How to tell apart Dutch and German. The sound of all things industrial. Pillars and also arches. How to get your phone to work. How to love another language and how to find home in your mother tongue. I've learned how to remind myself of who I am. When to be within chaos and when to be within the city. How to speak without voice, how to hold others. How to love without looking and how to feel without touch. None of us knew we would stay. There was never a plan only an intention. Then the leaves came and went. We saw spring twice and felt the shift of sun on our faces. Home was constructed through curious minds and a distance far enough from the origin to make necessary a new water source. An appreciation for something out of context, random and resourceful. Leaning toward sustainability. The acceptance of flux, the knowledge of family that's not your own.

Maral took a Polaroid of me in my new shirt that Niko helped me pick out. She said 'This shirt is so you, I don't know who you were before this, but this is so you'. I felt it too. It's black velvet with big sleeves and shoulders. I have never felt so new. Like I really am a year older. Age has hit internally. It's an accumulation of all of my past selves and a new chapter has hit. It's full of supporting beams, internal and external structures. Naturally, there must be release, holding on can make things messy. My closet is full of pieces I haven't worn in months, it's sentimental, not something that feels right to give away. All of these pieces have been on my skin when I was the person who got me to where I am now. I love each version of her. So tonight when I arrive back in Barcelona, I will take the ones I love, that I've grown out of, and put them in a box. As a time capsule, ready for when I need to remember a part of myself. Change is the growth that fosters flourishing into one's most authentic self. I am me but I am also refining my desires, thoughts. Facing the self that is of benefit to my family and community. Giving for nothing in return but receiving it anyways.

Like myself the past is within the present form I take I will never feel what ** felt like again. It's Fluxus and can only be similar. The seeds I planted then are the roots that ground me now. It can feel similar but will never be the same horizon feeling.

It was after I found what your mind likes did I realize I like your mouth too. You smell of warmth and felt soft on my fingertips.

But I only want to crave myself for now. Energy as a stable feedback loop, from myself into myself. Wrapping both arms around my ribcage to fall asleep. A new awareness of my desires.
Krv
Srce
Mozak
Telo

Ono je gladno
Nesto bi jelo

Neciji pogled
Prijatnu rec
Topli dodir
i ko zna sta vec

Kada ne zna
Kada se boji
Tad jede sebe
Jer ono bi
da postoji

Izgrizeno telo
Spasonosni
obrok moli
Niko ga ne da
Svakog glad
isuvise boli

Poslednji zalogaj
prepustice njemu
da nam bude sit
u svom beskraju


mh, davna 2005 god. (neceg tj nekog sam se setila)

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