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rey Jan 2015
standing between us is a one way mirror
i'm one of the observants
and you're an innocent child who doesn't know anything
Ken Pepiton Aug 2022
The work words have to do, I do as well
leaving being as having been begun
ghabh-
also *ghebh-, Proto-Indo-European root meaning
"to give or receive."
The basic sense of the root probably is "to hold,"

Able comes from this, thus
ability  

8 billions, say
- the ob-servant says,
half are breathing in, as half
were breathing out,

certainly a few were out of sync,
so some of us sneezed, one would think
to effect the fectuality, unawares,

stutter steps, bridge march, aware
smell the honey suckle smell, no,
discern a subtle dif-fer tle,lit-tle
bit
literal not sames, similar sense, smell
seeming
how more aware have we all become,
we who lost taste and smell, while
experiencing a pandemic in our time.
Eventually endemic.
How rare are we in history? First wave.
Mindful, some how, now
my taste and smell
systems are back,
on.

Off, again, try to remember the smell,
of linden trees in Helena,
and wonder, set a mind on wish to know
will wonder, the worth of which we know

but fail to consider until… un til, tilling soil,
un
I think, et I'm y conjoined, to reconsider you.

At my bitterest root,
my jealousy and rage,
- alleluia, you know the drill
my will to act like some ancient god.
Cursing all I ever was.
-disconfabulating my own legend… uses
time, in points made.

May I guess we know each word,
writ and read, in this medium sprouted from
science with held from those
limited access faith confirmations, holy secret
ways out of paying for all the idle words,
never taken for the sense intended,
foremost
sense
posited, as a point in time,
we agree, I can, we did

--plea, please explain, make it seem
as real as any dream, we can't handle the truth.
-pointless-
- why carry the weight of knowing
think of nothing
in a word,
yet
not in time/
-- a spirit from the mortals fearing death
lives in this lie, cultural *******, fear of measure,
spit an image, imagine a nation, from dragon's teeth
spat, shat, splat, all the same, fat rain sound.
-- crack of the gavel, give us rapt attention---
order, order in the court, when, in fact,
judgement begins where Jesus says God is,
in his forever state, in me, of we, who
took him at his word, be true, live.
the way
courtesy commands, as judgment begins
in the spirit
of the man,

The right hand ignores the left hand clapping
-present the feeble fable

Discord sown among brothers-
hate the owning fact of life, only one breath,

- listen to the retold old word tale
- endemic demes enforced knowledge
- from **** to last told tale… we are this
- this is epic in each occurrence… we realize
smoked ribbon winds around in
form,
the long winter mind, all hearing ears, feel
from our gut, we obey. We join image-e- nations.

We dare ante-cipitate the motion in the dance.
All public opinion re
arrives at one point. We have no reasons for war,
we are not the users of others, we give, and
have been given unto, in some inexplicable way,

peace in time to rest in it, dabbling in old lies, left
binding cultural ties, as all reason for stiffness wilts

We listen to the Wendigo,
who wound the ******* greedy winding wake,
when the forest was aflame, and the wind had no cloud
that did not poison rain.
- meandering progress, not steam ship progress
sense posed reason aitia, to the t/
spirit and image in the idiom/
sublime

Now, the teller, looks to me, reminds me
of light perceived as punctual, flashing,
aha, waves in passing
understood.
Effectually.
- we stand as one.
- In the ready written mind.

All but he who takes a knee, ala George Washington,
under the leafless tree, in the olden vale.

The point of any thing, is made for, f-word for or fore
before, forsaking, one must make for some sake,
no relationship to four, for some reason, get
as a service, do what you do. Right.
Why would one enabled to do good,
do otherwise?

Ignor the answers you ask for.
Pretend poetry never makes
sense in terms of poetic good, exhaled, relieved,

passing coolness in the air.
- as gentle spirits some say do
Orderly arrangement, left mind, right or most versatile hand,
point at any thing,
bend that finger,
as on a trigger,
we can, we
know not how, we know, we have, we hold certain
positioning words as one mind may, I know,

I just got my smell back.
Like that, but after using your James Webb visualizing augments.
The wheel galaxy, just as imagined… we see

In effect, this is science, this is history,
this is art and language, holding sway,
we all know earth produces on a cycle, right,
greed breeds and brings forth famine,
famine finds us eating our corporations…
Jubilee, reset
-ship, shape, worth-shape, sense make,
peace where war was, one point
at a time.

Hold that thought, this is intended for

an audience, as the Terminal List,
was made to entertain military minds,
mental peace enforcer traits, keepers
of the secret, duty to the concept,..
live free, or die- for no reason,
save the Platonic essential lie.

Peacemakers were not intended,
we want valient warriors, at the core,
not the passive resistors increasing
capacity
to have the whole world sneeze.
And blink,
To sell words redeemed, mercurial recovery,

as from first people stories, branching away,

chaparral, between the salty sea,
and high reaching pine

fishing in a sea of social forgotten schemes/

Self govern, but in these days, not the future,
self govern now, participate in the present,

NPC over sight, non intervention-invention,
installed when you agreed, you watch,
do not rewrite the ending/

So, story being told.
Story being made up to conserve,

serve a certain truth we know, winter comes
some times for too long,

so we consider the ant, and remember Wendigo.

greedy gut, cheater, long time ago, we know,
we all can be the hungered beast.

Wait, and see, some day, we see the peace pass
for understanding, and we wonder into a we,
state of awe, as a we aware, we think

whole worlds and only words, at once.
Making peace from confused principle things.

We can, others have, agree; we are the best/

--------
Welfare, fare thee well, we said

we are as rich as ever was,
but we live a quiet life.

Pressure from some outside source,
begins be gins beginning to squeeze,

and pull and stretch, who needs the show
shown every where,
there, those other people, who own
no means to make a living form we are
reality personality types, all observants
become familiar with,
predicting winners, if it happens

I coulda been a contender, the audience
always know,
just how it feels, to be on your own,
a compleated unknown enfolding old Dylan licks,

Wendigo, there he go,
lickin' his chops, BG words are all I have
to take his breath away,

soft, and gentle/ sub-tility, wait, as sufficient

seed becomes something, never just a seed again,
and then just a seed a million times, in the wind.

-------------
3:55
I've driven myself to reflection
point,
observation con services ob
scene, objects mis directed, rect-
ify, io I mean, finger mover, on demander
I, free, willing, hunting wendigo from fantacy
conforming to hate manifested, abhor evil,
-never rests, never
rest in stranger's peace of mind,
find plain old apples in the tree, free, no fines,
no charge, non sense, an-tic

click onoma-tope -- under all of history, we know,

scribes, alone, found time to write, after reasoning
in the agora all day… ancient minds, WWSD?

--- listen, I am ashamed to beg, so, what does
your tab say, listen, I'm thinking

that's too much, here, take your ledger, wipe the debt.

Clean, no remnant from which revenant wrongs make claim,

first story told was told as lies, intended to deceive.

Knowledge is truth's gift, we live and learn
and pass it on. One point, inevitably crossing now.
And leaving a ripple, no marks

Yet, behind all that, this peace in mind, as a state, mindstate
timespace space time

taken, for granted bequilement does not disconnect,
knowing from known, and proof from pudding,
true rest,
reason for peace taken, in knowing, some body
had to believe, if it feels good, suddenly,
you know, every thing we eat
turns to ****, unless we learn…

that is good. Deal with it.
Homework, listen again to Braiding Sweetgrass.
C Feb 2014
.
In a bubble
She crosses halls
Mingles silently
Walks up the curb
And down
She captures eyes
Barely the hearts of the observants
Not a single hiss,
Not a mutter nor a shrug
And she walks away leaving their eyes with nothing
Nothing to look at
But she leaves my heart
Hanging a few inches above ground .
Gravity has no hand in this
Only she does.
Ken Pepiton Jun 2020
2020 - day 160

Monday, June 8, 2020
6:46 AM

Dissipated selves linger, ghost-like,

suggesting no new motives toward sur
rendering my heart and mind to spiritual,
haunting dreads, from
others interferring as rioters in mobs
so far away as to be
non materially consequential,
immaterial matrickulaters and haters of those
peaceful
stochastic bits of me, extending beyond
my reach,

as I was taught, a man's grip ought not
exceed his grasp.
A man's grasp must extend his reach, as
knowing expands my point,
hold on

do not let go
re
ify me, ifier, ify me, make me hold this truth,
self
evidence, of exceeding complexity phasing out

in an alluvial fan at the bottom of the fall.



Escape velocity, achieved, see the glimmer...

pop. Fear, as false evidence appearing real,
comes clowning into the per
ifery, with haps, suggested I
happen to see a you reflection in me,
touch, eh

weak to strong to breakout, as when
a farmer breaks a dam to loose the flow,
click
electrical and chemical process-easy to imagine,
from now, limenal
information
lingering from ads absorbed for seventy years,

be a man
smoke Camels
be cool, smoke Kools,
be peaceful and green, smoke Salems
be separated from the common filters, smoke
Parliaments with the recessed filter,
for discriminating taste, less tar.

be seen as longer than thy fellow smokers,
by a millimeter, a silly millimeter,
smoke Benson & Hedges 100s.

Spit Redman. Sublimenally, on my shoe.
Three doors, front and back and cuspidor, ha ha ha
-
what's a cuspidor, Grandpa?

Really? In public, in the halls of Congress?
Seems really gross, as in yechy.

Imagine the smell.




A murmuration of sardines, or tiny noseeums, or starlings;
how much data is being fed into
the wee controlers of motion,
using seven degrees of separation
-- there is an algorithm,
boids, minimum distance
match velocity
move to center mass of neighboring seven

interacting as equals, but
do such birds
crap on one another?

Cellular automata, made living thoughts,
if you think life thoughts,
happened with no reason.


--- life is software
Rule 110 for class four cellular automata

in seers see where darkness was and wonder,
what would this reveal outside
the edge between order and chaos?

a phase transition in a heaping scoop of sugar
slipping into my coffee,
seeming to change the taste ... see

Disney-if-ication, drawn from a silly song you
can never un get, once it gets used
metaphorically on a difficult
person who thinks wrong.




Be entertained by the nobel's
jewels...

struggling to overcome, come over, entropification,
bursting into ever
as if
nothing
is real, and we feel it

we, me and my seven touch points




knapping is a step
by
step knack passed along by seeing
and doing,

those who see and do, see more life,

"I came that they might have life, and that,
more abundantly."

Practice, patience makes practice possible.
Once the way is known,
epigenetical throat clearing noises made
the teacher
imagine drinking knowing straight from god
for showing how,

{like those gurus who claim snot is brain juice with gut messages}
to find
edges, between big gap, ligandary leap

speak

foxpeatwogene meme, mimic try

we do get by, thinking past the next imagined by
the mass of enculturated human flesh
eating itself alive, from fears
loosed to drive the heard,
to the edge

Stone knapping, see, this knack my grandpa had
ai ai ai, mustathought that
in code, rule 111,
there were no words we knew how to say
this is the body of knowing,
this is the bubble of mutual being,

this is spaceship earth, coming online, all hands on deck...

pass it on... we are no neutral observants to a realm,
realized long before there were words for
right and wrong, once the purpose
became living to learn to teach,
how to live,
once again, now, this becomes the knowable why, this
is the reason
things are ... at all, balanced
on the edge,
of any universal
reality....

see, we get what we see, it is many levels deeper,
the reason for that, is many plexities deeper,
but

we had to learn to speak your thoughts.

"the same yesterday, the same today,
the same forever, is"
an idea en and in corporating
conservation of energy in its ever dominant position
in opposition to entropy,
in
thus, the good versus evil trope, where death is evil
and living is good...
breaks out from Disney-ified,
ifery-wishery
trippy tropes to insert non-player observers who steer,
pilot,
infantile minds making distinction
of sharp and dull
"between soul and spirit", judge the message as the messenger,
in a word,
by being a word,
two-d between tweened being, double minded, as an

egg the size of the bubble of knowns, think:

deep space looks like those big detergent and corn syrup
bubbles sweeping in a dance following your

seeing eye, hearing words now, where, a while ago
you could have seen that guy
on the beach making bubbles so huge they swallowed us

whole
and here is the edge of reality and what we imagine.
Word worlds of pure, merest of mere, in formative goo

see, do, see doe, see, see, see
spot
run, fetch the thread we started with, aha

edges, once past, appear as threads in future patterns...

the day is fast approaching
when we,
the we who find our names in the book life keeps,
we bet on reason being balance...
we cheated, knowing we won,
having read the book before the movie,
and we became,
we trans-formed our mind, as if oil left a film
of frictionless space
we fit right in
between the inner and outer bubble, see, look,
that big bubble walled in Dawn and Kayro,
we watched the bubble man make
{beach bubblers are faithful to Dawn, for the Exxon Valdez ads}
that bubble
is two conforming bubbles, one in the other, and
in
between the walls of those bubbles, is water,
liquid flowing water,

I think life is like that out where order and chaos phase
shift at a human scale, see
on the surface of the earth, amidst coast chapparel in spring,
I am watching life being done on all sides,
counting my center as one point,
I have seven points to project perception through,

this may be the quantum foam of universes, seen up close,
and we effect slight sight tugs or shoves and a neuronic
approach to create
an ifity network of knowns,
anonymous in ever after,
but a happy place.
My point in being.

It has life every where you can imagine looking.
It was here when I got here,
so nothing I did deserved this,
this rest of the story,
after the maze, my self evidence flowing into expansive reality never
earned, via service, not my pay for
right usefulness having,
been made of me,
my being
good for something. Having a knack, or a green thumb,
no,
but I was an amusing child.
And
amusing children are assumed good, by the goodness in us,
not the goodness in them,
they are good for nothing but the medicine laughter brings
from a truly happy child.

- perceptron, eh? mebbe exclusive-or gates, xor-gates,
- support vector machines favor Feynman's series 4 NANDs
- time travel back into favor, default mode, on a grand scale
- neuronic capital interest come
- pounding
- on your door
- think harder, pay attention, once the rest is known,
- no body forgets the point in getting there.

Right, activate knowledge wholistic algorithm, give Turing his due.





We alter the unfolding of the universe, somebody said,
in the per-ifery of possible attention
holding places,
handles for grasping and gripping to hold still,
a
moment,
con sci useness, settles into sublime wonder, sound familiars
shhoo sue-serated edge, silken webbing
slipping through
-- look, see that lizard's blue belly? did you? I took a picture,
but the optical translation chip can't see that color.

pines whisper selah.


Richard Feynman, bongo player in the band that built
the most famous mushroomcloud in history,
suggested to my mind, in a book, surely
you're joking, mr. feynman,
a sort of time travel information can handle,
a redo before next result
sort of action
and
that there may well be time to start all over.
He thought a series of not-and gates in the flow of time
might --- no
this was me meandering, NAND gates in threes

those were what I was thinking while Rupert Murdoch
layed out a priori assumptions, re
things in threes, spiritually having a point...

for me to ponder, remotely, and ... drift along in wonder ifity,
if the rest is not the perfect reason for growing old in 2020,
and not earlier... I don't know what is.
While walking in Pine Valley, listening to an Audible Great Course suggested by my AI, an aspect of which is measuring my steps, with GPS. I am never lost. No path I have been down kills you for good. Also still feeling the after glow of curious grandchildren.

— The End —