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laura Jul 2018
in the cloister, we had coffee
talking something about the soul
today in the cold but sunlit court
with a good girlfriend of mine
is when it struck me:

a pretty Christian girl kind of day
before me, a butterfly kind of day
winging the dark fantasies away
start obeying and getting good habits
would have stayed had i any money
to get the rest of my college degree
kind of day

filling your heart with my replacements
to match my false interpretations
of your expectations of me
Collins learns Jul 2018
I have been forced,
Out of domicile,
And now **** bored,
With sojourners' world worthwhile.

I used to love phones,
It's versatility in functioning,
Obeying instructions  at all zones,
I loved making calls and chatting .

That was long ago ,
When it made me feel at home,
Simply chatting could let go ,
Steam and heartbreak loom.

Not now at this century ,
Where them need airtime to pick  a call,
Where successive missed  calls arouse no worry,
When they no bother reply at all.

I won't lower my self -esteem,
Not because of them dissaproval,
That I aint  classy and fit for hymn,
Its okey if u take me for a mall.

Needless fight a loosing battle anymore ,
You won't torture me again as u laugh,
Beaming is me at nirvana jaw,
I declare enough is enough.
Emma Feb 2017
A small clearing surrounded by trees,
Everything is bright and vibrant.
A crisp breeze blowing,
Swaying the grass.

The ground is covered by rocks
Of various shapes, colors, and sizes.
Bladed grass and ivy-like plants
Growing in the cracks of the stones.

A small white butterfly fluttering about,
So full of beauty and life:
Like the sweet-smelling flowers,
So simple with a fragrance of purity.

A soft breeze blows rustling the leaves,
Seeming to shush the world.
All is still, obeying the command,
And all around is at peace.
Written June 2016
Gods1son Nov 2018
I just want to ask one question
Is the human race obeying the mathematical rule called BODMAS?
Just a refresher...  
Brackets, Orders, Division, Multiplication, Addition and Subtraction

We have created different brackets
where we enclose people like casket
He's black, she's white, they are rich,
those are poor, she's educated, he's religious, he's fat, she's slim... Brackets

People are treated differently
Based on the class that we've put them in
Some are raised to power like exponents
Others are trapped in like square roots...Orders

The segregation has only intensified our division
I don't fit in here, I belong over there
My group is stronger, those ones are losers... Division

Disunity and absence of love has caused
A multiplication of our problems
Threats, deportation, persecution
We don't like them, we'll bomb them
War, insurgency, terrorism, hate speech... Just problems Multiplication

Every second, our population is experiencing several additions
Our population keeps growing while
Our natural resources are being exploited
And depleting at a rate faster than our population growth
Our resources are experiencing severe subtractions

I just want to ask one more time...
Aren't we obeying BODMAS?
My personal opinion...
Nat Lipstadt Jul 13
love between poets: “who will be between the sheets next week
when I’m gone,” she lets sigh-escape,
as she watches the backyard paradise parading landscape
of animals before the bay, perfect day sure to come,
her new pets obeying the early morn sunrising awakening call
to rise, everyone playing~parading, before her royal summons,
no coincidence, finger-of-god, two by two

this while I’m kissing her neck,
my arm around her *******,
and the he-intent on slip sliding down
to the small of her back,
obeying his innate,
worship worshiping and giving up,
all he’s got intense intently contentedly

unfazed, unphased,
non-nonplussed,
he’s been interrogated before,
heart is pure he answers:

next weekend when you are back in situ,
thousands of miles away, airplane housed for hours,
writing poems of love from the lost and found,
recalling this exact moment,
how I worshipped your presence,
and these words:

You will be with me in every breath,
our sheets will radioactively emit
ions and molecules of our scent combined,
and present as present  your perfume can be,
elicited, elixir, you and me combinant

she turns from the bay-view,
the animals who now mutually
worship her adoration,
watching, focused on us as observers,
she lifts me up and smiles,
replying

“oh my lover you’re the cad of cads,
king of the baddest poet-lads,
the gist of what is wrong with the best of men,
her, pressing me hard to her chestnut hair chest,
she, falling down into my eyes

take me back to bed, liar,
let me add to my aroma,
to ensue, to ensure you will miss
the best love
you had partly, insufficiently, and unhinged
completely

I’m your lassie, you my lad,
my king of cads, my lover poet,
thief of my poems and my secret speech spells,
escalating senses of one’s imaginings”


and,
along came the rest
of what was freely given,
for love between poets
man and
a woman,
is a someone, somewhere,
sometime summertime
thing

I will still smell you in my
heart, and send to you ballistic missives,
words to explode your tear ducts
when you rest in sheets that met me,
when you’ll know me by my odors,
cry out loud so that you’ll scare our animals,
no matter how many tides wash away our residue,
you will never unknow and be forever unprepared
for my return,


even though we will be each, a thousand unwritten poems away...
Nat Lipstadt Apr 8
reverence in poetry.                             everything to every person.

reader claims they can                         a necessary skill for
uncover the reverence.                         successful hypothecating and
in the scripts that                       (buying)poetry-creation outta nothing,
life straight hands me,                          tell them what thy want to hear,
for collection & correction,           and they’ll call you laureate,                      
secretarial transcribing,                        instead of good listener
binding, typo correction                       or just a keen observer-fakir

mundane are the tasks,                          just take what they give ya,
that’s all them muses ask,                     dress it like Joseph in a
don’t interfere, taken what’s given,     coat of many colors,
bow, curtsy, show respect,                     don’t let on your plagiarism
treat its aspects/instincts correctly       is all them, redressed legally

you’re just the pass through agent,   true you, gotta be smart about it,
patient for no payment expected,    variant spellings, swinging verbs,
be our adherent, not our truant,      be discreet, they’ll call your script
we appoint don’t disappoint,          a real keeper and give love or sun,
accept our patent, render legit        mucho poem emojis accoladeya

as for this reverence thinge        devil in a blue dress, walk the streets
if I do my job ok, on any day,     grabbing snatches of overhearings,
any poem could save a life,        pressed into a single tunic, you think,
if I get the commas placed,         he a genius, knows my thinking,
just right, the periods period,     exactly,  what a great poet and
while obeying the speed limit    con/hu-man par excellent

them muses so **** pleased     even fool muses, too full themselves,
by this true confession released, muses who think we stink and
and self deprecation,                     couldn’t do it without them
they call me reverend,                   great pretenders by stealing
imagine them silly folk,                everything in everybody and
calling a big fat liar.                       all thieves and cape riders,
reverend, duh, the end                 original liars, pants on fire



before midnight and after 3:20am April 7~8, two oh nineteen
any message you send becomes my intellectual property, fool....
sometimes two poems intersect as you write them side by side,
related, distant cousins
Upon Reading a Patronizing Review of Ferlinghetti’s Delightful and Revelatory Entertainment, Little Boy



The only problem with the Proletariat
Is obeying the pretentious ***** that
Insist on calling us the Proletariat -

Resist their Insist!

For I will not be labeled by some artsy-crat
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

Lawrence Hall’s vanity publications are available on amazon.com as Kindle and on bits of dead tree:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
Lucius Furius Jul 2017
"23: July 24"
"24: October 5"
"25: February 19"
"26: December 14"
  
The words went right to the pit of my stomach.
All doubt was gone.
I'd graduate/be drafted in June.
By September
I'd be in Vietnam.
  
My high school gym teacher had been an Army sergeant.
He stepped on our stomachs as we did sit-ups,
"toughening us up".
I've had a problem with authority
(unsuited, temperamentally,
to obeying unconditionally).
I'd be a poor soldier in the best of wars.
  
But if a job required some independence/ingenuity --
a pilot or a spy, say --
and if the cause was right
(World War II, for instance),
I could fight as well as another guy.
  
I don't like fighting,
but I'm not so naive as to think it's never a necessity.
There's always someone who, given the chance,
will take our possessions and make us their slaves.
So who should decide
if a particular war is justified?
This seemed to be my own responsibility.
  
Vietnam? I decided it wasn't.
Weren't we protecting a democracy?
No. Thieu lacked popular support.
Wouldn't Thailand and India fall?
No. The domino theory was questionable at best.
Weren't our national interests at stake?
No, not really.
I'd decided I shouldn't fight;
They'd decided to make me fight.

The physical was set for March.
Unless I failed,
I'd go to Vietnam,
go to jail for seven years,
or go to Canada for the rest of my life.
  
In studying Army regulations,
I found a fascinating chart.
It showed for each particular height
the greatest and the smallest weight
the Army would accept.
I'd heard of people who'd gotten out
by injuring themselves intentionally.
Some exaggerated a minor back pain.
Others faked insanity.
Losing weight seemed nobler;
lying/mutilation, not required.
  
The low for me was 118;
lose twenty pounds and I'd be out.
(At 5'10", that's pretty thin.
Could I do it and not get sick?)
My parents thought for sure I'd die.
  
Help from doctors was out of the question;
on my own I studied nutrition.
Cut down on calories,
maintain needed nutrients
(protein, essential fats, vitamins, and minerals).
Once I found a working combination,
I stuck to it without exception.
Cottage cheese, wheat germ, and fish were staples.
Bored fat cells chose self-immolation.
My weight dropped to one hundred and twenty.

In cases where the weight was close
I'd heard the Army sometimes winked:
("Oh we'll fatten this guy up").
I decided to lose to one hundred and ten.
  
Contrary to my parents' fears --
though vigorous exercise made me dizzy --
I really wasn't sick at all.

The Army sent a special bus
to take us to the physical.
Once there, we stripped to underpants,
moved like cattle from each room to the next.
I weighed 110.
They classified me 1-Y
(examine again in a year;
if still unfit, reject).
Losing again would be inconvenient,
but free of worry since I knew that it worked.
  
I'd brought some food.
I drank and ate it ravenously.
  
So what did I feel on that bus heading home?
Triumph? Elation? No.
Relief, sadness, and guilt.
Relief because finally I was free of this mess.
Sadness and guilt because someone else
would be made to go and fight in my place.
It's true this person, on some level,
had chosen not to escape --
but maybe he just hadn't thought it through. . . .
  
Now for a bold statement from a slimy ex-draft-dodger --
I'm sure you'll think this hypocritical -- :
Each of us must be ready to serve.
Responsibility for protecting things we love
can not lie solely with the professional military.
(Future wars could overwhelm them.)
  
Service isn't always guns.
Service might be joining the Peace Corps
or electing leaders who effectively distinguish
false threats from real ones -- and pre-empt war.
  
Wars should be rare, ****** upon us.
No more propping up tottering dictators.
No more shoving "Democracy" down people's throats.
No more sacrificing 10,000 soldiers so we can pay a
      quarter less for gasoline.
  
Wars should be necessary and just;
everyone should serve.
Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_025_draft.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
RACING INTO OUR FUTURE

We walk backward
out of the sea

our laughter gulped
back in our mouths

our words
drifting back down the past

until they are only
the original thoughts

our clothes falling
back on our bodies

as water falls from us
un-wets us

here I
pause

then press play

the memory obeying
my mind’s command

as we happen again &
again

racing into our future

as if it has

never happened

yet.
JaxSpade Apr 26
Time
Is in the valley
Of deception
And we peruse
His face ticking
Perceptions
He is the master
To our slaving over
Every minute
We desire
More than our creator
Time
Orbits every spaces
Surface
Every matter
In every purpose
It passes age
With galactical rotations
Spinning in different directions
Obeying laws of obedience
Ticks and tocks walk across
Numbers in calender socks
Every wrist displaying a watch
So we know what to obey
When it looks at us back
Domenick Oct 2018
I write too often while thinking of you

It's late, everyone's asleep and my confidence is beginning to bate,
it feels like I've been awake for weeks straight, I can't extricate this state of distrait, everything is becoming harder to assimilate and I can barely differentiate reality from the reversed universe that my mind manipulates and creates,
My heart palpitates, my thoughts tumultuate and my lungs refuse to inflate under this weight as I begin to dissociate
What's great about my universe is that you can honestly relate,

Others understand in this mystic fantasy land,
There life isn't so bland, our existence was planned and best of all you and I roam hand in hand obeying your preferred god's demand,

There I'm not terrified that I will die with the afterlife unverified, the answers to my questions are clarified and my smile isn't forced or pried but instead a happiness that's justified,

There I have a perilous quest to distract me from the distress of the universe's careless emptiness, my feelings abide my behest and my mind doesn't remind me of my pointlessness,
Regardless I'd be happy nonetheless if I could leave all the rest just to retain your caress.

10-30-18
"Good times with this guy".
Connor Jun 29
We were holding each other together

Happy but wanting more

You made it obvious every time I caught your
gaze

But I couldn’t do it

You called me dumb, but I kept your words from earlier closer than I did that

You thought I lost my nerve but I was just obeying your wish

The one were you didn’t want us to kiss

But you must have changed your mind when I caught

Your gaze.
indigo blush Aug 7
released gently like a bud through the sepals
moments after it pierces the air,
the silence is shattered. pop.

one tightly coupled set of subatomic particles
obeying force fields
punctures another, uncouples the sinews and liberates. twang.
breaking the harmony of a mini universe

sticks and stones may hurt but words don't
is this a ******* *******,
amendment irony
amendment travesty

sheathed in the 2nd that protects it
this is a curse that travels with a singular aim
Alizay Aug 27
Quiet laughter, loud heartbreaks, deep within my soul.
Love is outrageous, full of thorns.
Your soul weeping, your mind screaming, but no one knows.
I'm smiling on the outside, but my hearts aching over and over again.
As if my emotions don't exist I stay quiet. I've been a robot, obeying your every word. But this is my life and I'm about to burst. I can't take it anymore but I stay quiet as if my emotions don't exist.
<3
Obeying any moral law,
  reason wills unto itself

To play the game the way its staged
   —all freedom thusly dealt

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2019)
Nnaemeka Mokeme Aug 2018
The day of your life
and the night of your day,
which one is more important
and relevant to you.
Both have their place in the
scheme of things.
The two worlds are busy
working and building,
constructing in conjunction
with the divine to create
a masterpiece of wonder.
It's really not in your place
to control any of them
but to work with both.
They move subtly to construct,
sometimes with aggression to
change and balance all things,
with or without you.
Actually you have no choice or
control in their decisions.
Man becomes helpless and
hopeless when they begin to
exact their power of supremacy.
You can only command nature
by obeying her principles.
Both are needful and are
blended together working
in synergy to bring to us
a desired end.
Man is placed on earth to enjoy,
but not to interrupt and interfere
with the divine.
A master plan is already within
the blueprint of the architectural
design for a magnificent
and excellent living.
Yield to it and have peace.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
The inner force
1- Believe
He couldn't believe that
He could imagine in fact
That can be the weakest
Convert to be the strongest
The kind waves that carry ships
Can be overlapped and damaged them
The fire that warm people
Can harm and hurt them
The boy lost his mother
His father was confused
He tried to heal his son from bad temper
His son cried a lot
And stayed alone at his room
His father asked many doctors
He went to a lot of physiologists
They advised to get new friend
For good luck, the boy found a small cat
They would be friends for all times
His father suddenly married one
He introduced her as she was kind
As she had two children
Son and daughter that would be fun
He refused that marriage
He insisted at his opinion
The woman appeared as she was kind
She dealt him as an angel
But he refused that deal
The kind can look at inner
Heart or self at inner
The father had wild desire
He married and got her in
After while she brought her kinder
She dealt him with her best
At the beginning, at the first
After that,
She appeared her solid heart
And began to hurt him for reason or not
She got very anger
When he studied and her children not
She hurt him
He had to wash the dishes
Before he went to school
After his return he must sweep
As well as clean the flat  
When he complained to his father
She lied on him and got him as a guilt
He was punished by his father
He remarked that when he complained
She wore naked dress
And mothered his father in obvious
Then they closed their room
After that he would be punished
He always ate at the kitchen
He ate the residual and bad food
He slept also at it
While her children ate well
Slept at their beds
Dressed well and did their home works
Without any annoy or disturb
His father lived in another planet
When he saw his son's hair cut in bad way
His step mother punished him by this way
His father didn't ask
What was happened at any way?

2 the cat
Once, when she found him playing with the cat
She lifted her up
She warned him at loud
She threw it in strong
The cat screamed at aloud
The cat fell without movement
He cried and tried to get her
Safe
He found his step mother’s heart solid
He called her a devil
She became in anger
She went and lifted her
She threw her out of the window
They were at the third floor
The cat downed without movement
The boy screamed a lot
The neighbors didn't get help
As they knew that she was worst
And his father ordered them in rigid
Don't give advised
When she tried to get his son straight
She hurt him badly
He could move heavily
He stayed waking and crying
She approached and hurt him strongly
Ordering not to get any sound
As his father would be coming
He lied silent
Till the silent covered
Every inch of the land
He opened the flat's door
And put a shoe before it
Preventing it from closing
He descended quickly
But his movement was silently
He thought that she had devil’s spirit
With millions legs and hands
Like octopus which stretches legs
And catches his victim and eats
Those could watch him
So he was been feared
Of disappeared and hidden ghost
He carried the dead cat
As the thoughts he felt
He got up to the flat
He found its door closed
He knocked it softly
As fearing of getting her up
When he disappointed
To get the door opened
He fell down crying
He curved around himself
He crawled into land
He was crying and wishing
To get die at that moment
He lifted her face up
He prayed to his God
Asking him to get himself dead
As the cat was dead
He looked frustrate
His father dealt him badly
His step mother dealt as a slave
He couldn’t open his mouth
Or even tried to give a breath
Of opposite that would be assigned
Of not satisfying to her plan
He finally got up

3-The chickens’ home
He ascended the stairs
He reached the last floor
He opened the chicken room’s door
He slept hanging his cat
Covering with hens over his chest
Over all his members
So he tried to get warm
In spite of the cold
He got up according to pick up
The chickens’ beaks
At his lips and face
He laughed for a moment
When he saw the cat without move
He cried and lifted her at the hill of chaff
He ascended and knocked the door
Ordering the chickens not to touch her
After he cleaned his clothes as he could
From their stools
She opened the door and released a high sigh
His father came with astonishment
When he saw his son at that manner
He laughed and tried to hang him
Forgetting to ask him
Where he was
Forgetting to show him his pathos
The wife screamed and wandered,”
Oh! Bad one
In spite of hurting him
You laughed at him”
The father ran and returned
He caught a stick
He hurt him in strong
The neighbors looked
His step sister and brother watched
He got up with big sad
When he stole out
He ascended with inner sad
His horizon was collapsed and closed
He expected everything wrong
He expected his future lost
When he opened the chicken’s door
He laughed at loud
He found the cat in fight position
With chickens those attacked
He carried her and celebrated
He danced and jumped a lot
He forgot his hurt and pain
He kissed her a lot
Then he hid
At his bag
When he was out
Her step mother kissed his father
She also kissed her children
When they ascended
His father called at him
He tried to kiss his son
He screamed and said,”
You are not my father
I wish one of us was dead”
That was bad wish
That son wanted to be achieved
There was some fault
Man could be remarked
Or all would be lost
He cried and ran
His step brother and sister took the bus
While he went on foot
The father hesitated
Then he went to his work as he thought
He was late
The boy went to school in sad
4- School manager
When he was at classroom
He got the cat out
He put it in desk
Ordering not to make a sound
At every inch
There were haters or lovers
For anyone had alive
For his luck, his classmates saw her
Who hated him
They laughed at loud
They might bassps with remarked
The teacher ordered him to go the manager
The manger called his father
He was coming on the following day
The manager told the boy to let the cat
As it was not permitted
It would get great noisy
It would chatter the mind
It would decrease the concentrate
The father looked
He talked to his boy
You must obey
All you will be punished
The boy refused saying she is my soul
She is my only family
My sister, mother
The manager interrupted,”
And here is your father”
The boy looked and laughed
“my father was dead”
The boy interrupted
Then he bowed to the land
Crying and screaming
The teachers, workers some pupils
Entered
The sound was sufficient to get up the dead
He said at loud
He said in clearest and repeated
‘’my father was dead”
She interrupted,”
He is a live
He is kind “
He screamed,”
You are liar
All of you are liars
He didn’t pay any attention
To any harm occurred
The only thing he is clever at
Obeying her wife and follow her
As he is the small kid
Especially when she dressed
In naked”
The attendants loved
He completed,”
If this cat was hurt
If this cat didn’t bring the class with me,
You will not see me”
The cat had a mind
She looked as proud
Of that speech was telling
The manger let his father to take him
And tried to get him calm
Otherwise he will be in
Physic hospital”

5-The punishment
The boy returned with anger’s father
He told his wife
To get that boy in moderate
He told her everything
The father returned his work
As his wife advised
His father advised her to deal with kind
She said,” She will return his mind”
She looked at him
She said,’’ so, for this
You would sell all things
Father, lovely mother your brother
And sister
Your manager
Boy let that devil away”
He said with loud,” no!”
She said, “You will be devil
You will enter the hill
He wandered, “why?”
She said, “As you didn’t obey me
Let her go or you will not know
Her way”
He screamed,”no!”
This scream vibrated wall
This scream wake up deepest sleeping
She laughed and said,” Oh boy! You feared me!’’
She completed,” let her or”
She went towards her
She lifted her
And threw it at the floor
She stroke her head
At the solid floor
Trying her to dead
The boy could not stand
The boy could not stop
He pushed his step mother away
In spite of his will
In spite of his polite
But he wanted to save his love
She got up
She threw the cat at the floor
She downed without movement
She stood in front of him
She caught his clothes
Saying,” Oh! Hero!
You will see your deserve!”
She threw him towards the wall
His head was strongly hurt
He fell unconscious
She dragged him to the kitchen
She brought a sharp knife
She put a steel rod
Which was used in grill
She said,”Mrs.
Who begged, was my neighbor
Advised her to bring you
To work with her
But she wanted some decorate”
Occurring at your body
She completed,”
I will cut your *******
Then I will get your eye blind”
The cat was hardly nearest
For his good or bad luck
When she saw her
She laughed and said,”
Let’s begin with this mad”
She caught her and brought the knife
The moment between death and life
The moment between day and night
Equals blink
The boy’s mind was returned
The boy got up and hurried
He forgot his headache
He threw his step mother out
She laughed as mad
She said with loud laugh
The neighbors swore she was mad
As they heard her mad
Laugh
She prepared towards him
After putting the rod on furnace
To get it red and hot
She faced the boy
With sudden move
She downed him
She prepared the knife
To be ready to cut his hand
To look petty  
To get mercy
To get a lot of money
He screamed
He called
“You are the devil”
She laughed and said,”
Am i
I will take your eye!”
He screamed, he prayed,”
Oh! God help, help!
No power like you God!”
She laughed and said, “Where is he?
He could not save you
As there was nobody
Except me and you!”

6-The reward
She said, “Oh! Idea”
She threw the knife out
She got the hot rod out
Saying, “Well, I will let you
Blind
As I have mercy
I would not let you hurt
Watching your hand cutting”
She approached, approached
She caught the hot rod
She was confident
But suddenly something was up
Something was on her face
Something hurt her strong
She was the cat
She didn’t let her
Until the blood got out of her eyes
The cat moved towards the hot rod
Forgetting his hot
She hardly lifted it up
Hardly caught it
With her weak mouth
She became so strong
She put it at her tongue
Till it was burned
She couldn’t talk
She was dead after days
His father apologized to him
He didn’t tell his father
As he was not believed
The cat lived at home
As faith and strong one
he inner force, do n't be proud
God
Emmky Sep 2018
There's this pressure every woman has to deal with
People want us to want a child
But what do they know, calling me selfish at my age of fifteen
When my biggest struggle is getting A's in freshman year

I have no intention on filling this world with
Another zombie, creature that's living with no need of thinking
I'm not even sorry for my choice, come on
There's seven billion people in the world, why do we need more?

No, philosophical zombie, don't go with a crowd
They will control you and manipulate your mind
You will lose yourself within their commands
That you're selflessly obeying 'till passing out

Their psychotic destruction is tearing us down
Using you as their weapon, breaking your limbs and loosening your nerves
How am I supposed to put you back together when I have
Problems slipping through my own fingertips myself

We have to find ourselves in this post apocalyptic world
Search through empty halls and broken windows
To see our reflection in the shattered glass covered in
Blood of victims of those brutal killings and your reckless behaviour

Your actions and my upbringing were the cause of this fatality
Leading to the mess we found ourselves in
Both still lost and broken, my vision blurry with ashes and cracks
On your delicate body shifted in unnatural angles

No, don't reach for your mama, darling, I know
It hurts, shh, don't cry, little zombie of mine
I promise it will be okay once the dust settles down
And you will be free to see colourful dreams with your blind eyes

But untill that day I'll wrap you in a blanket, so the world can't see you
And make fun of you and your unhappy being
While you desperately cry for some respect and love
And I'll try my best to offer it to you

You don't have a name and you will probably never be there, but
Don't be afraid of worms, they are coming for you
You can fight back but at the end of the day
You can't resist because your life depends on them

They guide your living, what you can and can't
They keep your dreams to themselves while it's possible
And once faces of relatives are twisted in grief
Little worms come for your soft flesh and chalk white skin
For my future, if any, child
i can do what you say
and complete every task
i can bend to every whim
and answer every question you ask
i can break myself down
to make myself last
i can keep on going
to the point i should be past
done but i'll keep obeying
slow to argue but my work is fast

but even if i do what you say
i'm still me on the inside
nothing changed about who i am
i still feel the way i did last time
my beliefs are solid and i don't
need to argue about making up my own mind
you might own my body for now
but i am the keeper of my own mind
you try to tear me down
but physical pain isn't something i'll be moved by
you try to twist my mental functions
and i admit you are successful sometimes
but i am still strong in my beliefs
even if the life i lead with you is a lie

i can listen
i can clean
i can be silent
i can be what you need
but despite what i do
i will always be me
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
Sung and did not miss, watch this, where'swung
a dub when we need vees lots and lots of vees

the first friendly used many vees where we use double yous
vees and bees sound so much alike, s'ard to tell

Simultaneous, as always,
other-ther things begin and end while I am contrating on
a single point being made

on a single pin,
which is
bearing witness to my assertincertainty that at least
one thousand three hundred and ninety-two messages in lieu of angels,
numbering in the billions if Sagan was right,
fit
per pineal node post initial exterior inhalation and that first draft

look at this will you wontyou willyou wontyou
one thousand three hundred and ninety-two
guitar pickers in Nashville,

Ten percent of whom are sworn to sing Rocky Top
at every open mike in town every Saturday night

and we survived, didn't starve or go plumb crazy, though we tried.

It's good to be alive and remember imagining being

abundantly more alive, and
you know

or not, I can't say.

Did you read how Paradise, California burned for lack of rain?
We heard, Down here in the Lagunas.
All kinds o' folks prayed all kinds o'ways, and it rained.

Mud-makin rain.
Is it wrong to think the rain was called, if you can't imagine
rain obeying a request for the jetstream to dip?
Not here, we think right happens
right here on purpose

if you can imagine that a prayer,

wave of a wing tip, an eagle's
with permission.
this is the eagle wing effect, rightused,
should any attribute this to butterflies in China or Brazil.

The eagle acknowledges the Pine Valley hummingbird
who consented to make its final migration,
so the rain had a path to follow.
Paradise burned, that was poetic, mythic, for a moment. But with the jetstream where it was stuck that day, satellites told the humming bird to call the thunderbird from the north. And the old man swept ashes.

— The End —