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CK Baker Feb 2017
There were dividing lines
between Springfield
and Mariners Gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union

it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals

camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the Pleasant Street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)

there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours

it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Connor Reid Apr 2014
A duality of elan vital, two people
Spectres of emotion
Intertwined by a fuselage of bruised skin & tendon
Tissues become orbital, gushing towards grafts
Helixes of snot, **** and lymph
Boy & girl
As they embrace the animating principle and eachother, they fuse
A one piece tapestry adorned seamless with no hem, beginning or end
Always was, always is
Patiently turning to liquid as their being unzips
Lying figures of runny makeup and genetic *****
Quintessence, a texture of synaptic potential
Corpus Callosum
An entirety of self, lost in imbued disintegration
Theory of mind, looped & bound
I will water the thought
Roots envisaged in dystopian amygdala
Piercing data packets with a frost-like intensity
Forgetting our obsolescence moments ago
A neuron dipped in nylon
Theta waves and the non-euclidean crux of dissociation
Ghosts in the machine, your macro god
The sympathies of fractional distillation
Digitised/assimilated unto the nanosphere
Cold hands and brass backs galvanised in oscillated tears
Commodified, sold out and bought
Stretching, from purple, white and black
slowly losing its colour, amorphous in shape
brushed across a smudge, ambiguously chromatic
Monetised flesh god
An eternity bathed in starlight
Cutting an incision in the sky to allow entropy
Divided dimensions of energy
Fleeting and intangible
No longer a delirium of seperation
All semantics become light
As a rusted vehicle passes overhead
And all the worlds questions fade out of existence
Flutters of red tape and foregone growth of practice
Sinew flayed, integrated towards information
Our minds shared
In circuits and resistors
Photons and electrons
We radiate
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.
Shashank Dwivedi Sep 2012
Make your dark parts bright
By taking your life towards success light
Darkness fears from glow
Be a warrior and don’t blow

Success is ageless for those
Who have confidence and faith in prose
Cowards are those who limit the success
Braves fight for causes and are life, masters

Walk alone if no one to help you
But to be brave and true-
To God and yourself always
Enhance your power and raise

Keep your legs on earth, but thoughts high
Think for new and try
Beware of opposing resistors
Be with positives and life readers

Life never ends for those who want achievements
It gives chance to all who show commitments
Make friends, but remember goal
Stand in moving streams like a solid pole.

(26 Dec. 2009, Lucknow)
Cam Stoker May 2014
technology
Frayed wires like spider webs around a broken motherboard
Pieces of green fiberglass and resistors torn
Shattered glass where the screen used to be
Yet the hard drive still carries pictures of you and me

art
Stick glue and duct tape; stitch up what was worn
Pieces of cardboard heart and soul mended; keep each other warm
Splatter paint on each other in white to renew the canvas
Draw new memories in melted crayon

biology
Be the wind that blows new life into my lungs
Be the hiking, the fishing, and the sun
Be the tree with strong roots; grow tall
Be the stone support beneath the waterfall

sociology
Together we can establish a friendship
Between the past, the future, and especially the present
Never give in to tyranny or fear
Live on what you've learned "no more tears"

arithmetic
One plus one could equal me and you
which is significantly equivalent to two
I won't make you divide your legs or multiply
Just hold up my numerator so i can touch the sky

language*
にほんご: 愛してる
Français: Je t'aime
اللغة العربية : أحبك
English: I love you
Poppy Perry Aug 2015
Thou shalt, at the heat of the sun, bear thy flesh and bear thy head
Thou shalt sacrifice animals to be cooked in witness of the sun's infrared,
And ingest these victuals in such sun's cosmic light
Thou shalt baptise thyself under the closest water in sight
Thou shalt spread thyself with lotion before lending presence to it
Thou shalt lay upon the soil or sand in unending deference to it
Thou shalt compare thy skin and colour with brothers and sisters
To separate loyal bathers from misunderstood resistors
Thou shalt honour the dark and hold those untrue with severence
Who employ bottles or sprays to to give an imitation reverence
Thou shalt not look bare upon the sun, and keep thine eyes concealed
Thou shalt burn thy skin and be born again, after skin and guise are peeled
But the most import is given to the ultimate pawn of piety:
Thou shalt never speak nor hear
Of the modern solar diety
Jonny Angel Dec 2013
If I was a droid,
life wouldn't feel the same.
I'd see the world through holograms,
kiss cold-lips, feel just a bit of heat in my LED.
My joints would be motorized-gears, not sinew.

But would I even have the emotion to want to kiss,
any desire to engage in such physical contact?
There would be no need for any of that.
Everything would be just useless-information.
There would be no warmth from the sun
on my Teflon skin, no ***-***** to act
on my lack of inhibitions,
smell would mean nothing.

So I guess,
if I were a droid,
I'd be bored to death &
not living, just existing
in a body containing
diodes & transistors,
hard drives & resistors.

I'd be integrated, solid-state,
driving a data-bus to nowhere,
doomed to misery,
a pathetic, an unfeeling state,
without a real date.
Graff1980 Jul 2016
I can only resist
for so long
challenge that which is
so strong
before my mind breaks
and age takes
what makes
all resistors great.

I can only be an insurgent
casting shadows of love
instead of waging raging
battles of blood
for so long before I am all gone.

Right or wrong but mostly right,
I can only fight this lonely fight
before the light fades
and I say goodbye to my
better days
Zoe Sue Jun 2014
Be a soldier
**** men
Be a hero
Be a civilian
**** men
Be sentenced to death by THE man
No no
Let me clarify
It's okay
When the man kills the man who kills the other man
Because we can't **** the men in OUR great country
Treason
Just the men of OTHERS
Loyalty
And I think of it like sibling rivalries
Ganging up on one another
Under the same roof
Now
Let me tell you of the greatest country in the world
Settlers
Brave souls who had to evict the native Americans
Because only savages don't have guns
And resistors did die
But we won our land
(Christened in their blood)
Grabbing at it like pocketed gas station goodies
And it was easy enough
To suspend your conscience for long enough
We learned
So last week I decided to walk into the nicest house I could find and claim it mine
It didn't work
Maybe next time I'll bring my guns
And as their fear becomes my power
I don't know what I'll become
But I think Niccolo put it best
Better being feared than loved
So we point our nukes at the bad men
The ones that live in the less civilized  (less american) parts
Because violence is NOT the answer, kids, but war is
Civilian
If you wish to ****
Go buy a gun
And **** yourself
I hope my sarcasm translates well enough, as it makes up the majority of this poem.
Victoria Lantz Jan 2017
When I’m vibrating at your frequency, the spark that lives behind my belly button jumps between two carbon rods. The electrostatic movement attracts others with similar circuits, but there are so few wired like me. When I do meet a parallel electric force, I can’t help but remove all of my resistors, letting the amperage rise. The resulting voltage causes most to recoil in fear, but occasionally a series connection occurs. The power in that circuit explodes me into you.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2022
In effect, this is science, this is history,
this is art and language, holding sway,

-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,

not the passive resistors increasing
capacity to have the whole world sneeze.
I live to speak out, yet I have no will with which to shout. My side won.
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
A voice. No a breeze, whirling a vibe,
ping,
signal down my left-ear hole

gap - do I follow this sprite, a whispt hiss,
this way,

come and see.
Here men invented history, the written story tell of
piles of cities on cities, where all the books was boined.

why did men do that? I listen to me ask,

ology was invented here,
ology-gnosis mist interp o'sin,
that started here, the corrosion
on the contact points between the Sybils and home-base,
Storytellers forgot the melody. The mason's lost the knack.

Written words, those froze the gods in place and
anointed the roles,
in order of importance to the common weal and woe.

--Anachron active.
There are ever resistors to restoration of the flow.
Now is part of ever, you know,
so as Three-channel-era professors seem today,
so were Oral
Storytellers from the initiate class,
doing their duty for the old school ways,
used to
make a child sacred, offer it, the sacred thing,
where
death is symbolic, the heart is taken, with the mind,

a boy or a girl is taken from all reality, and offered, as a living heart and mind,
and gut,
offered
Sacri-ficed, arti-****-of-truth-to-be made knower of things others cannot handle,

---- snake kachina dances past my per-ipher phor phun...
--- loss of focus, that's
the crime of buying what only initiated and locked-in magi
are ever allowed to know, by God, say the words written

in script captured from the scribes who came from Phoenica,
as
testified by the Sybil in throes of ecstacy, you will never know...

so, make it worth my while, the seer of such things says
to the widowed mother
whose hoplite husband fell off a cliff running from Thermopylae.

I'll get your kid in the school of the prophets, through the door
of dark and mysterious learning,
requiring a substantial League of Delphi guar-ohnteed low usery,
standard "borrower is servant to the lender", fifty years period.

--Anachron off.
Listen.
Do they have this in 2019? Timeslip. It's on Youtube, there's
a blockchain on the door, though,
nothing is sacred any more
than before.
It's time the whole story hidden where ideas ignored in idle words
have been received,
be told.
Erasmus, looks up, try this, he says.

Ha, ala Textus Receptus, Magustory of Blowhards and Slowbellies.

Some future, alls I got to say. This is some future we all imagined,

is there an option? Maybe, as in, whose may overides mine?

There is a whole story, I learn, as I wander through the ruins...

Rabbi, where do you live?
He saw me, calling from the ruins, he winked and said again,
Come and see.
Online Western Heritage Classes, while tending to the peace in my valley.
AK93 Nov 2017
You took me out of the sea and then taught me to breathe oxygen without water and then questioned me for falling for the only daughter of those who believed that praying to god would grant them relief from the impending slaughter that they signed up for in order to see the true path that lies beneath each brother and sister no matter how strong we build our resistors

— The End —