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Nadia May 17
I am feeling anxious and unable to participate socially right now.

I acknowledge you and will get back to you when I am able.

Peace and love.
Sometimes I need a short break from the world. I always come back.
Yzabel Oct 2018
Today I am fettered
Fettered with memories
Memories, just memories of You and Me
I who was stuck with the idea of us
Us ended, and lost in count since then
Then still believing of hope
Hope not to pull everything back
But to forgive someone who never asked for forgiveness
I can't but feel designed
to have it on my mind:

the god who no god has,
since God is who He is,

whose breath inspires the wind,
I seek &  hope to find.
Susan Feb 19
I know you are waiting for the same
Also tired of playing the game.

I need to find you, but I don’t know how
Please give me a clue so I can know now.

Some day we shall be as one
Then we will have won, we will have won.

The prize is us – no matter what
We will ride through any kind of rut.

All I want is too be loved by you
And our love would be all so true.

We would be so happy together you would see.
It would be just you and me, just you and me.

Two hearts beating as one
This can be done, this can be done.

Where are you and when will this be?
Just you and me, just you and me.

I know you are out there, but don’t know where
I do know you exist and that you care.
Can you tell me have I lost my mind?
Seeking other lonely to be my guide.
Streetlight prophets have all your answers for a price
Turning all your coppers into fortified signs.

I keep on dreaming of you and of you only
Speaking your name as though it's something I hold holy
But can you tell me does the sky get lonely
.. Siting all alone up there

Sing me songs of love and revolution
In a rage of fury and absolution
The alley oracles keep searching for solutions
To find fortune in hearts weakened by contusions.
They sing...

Find me love sweet like sacramental wine
For my penance I'd pay any price
Give me strength to pursue my paradise
And the wisdom when I find it to recognize
That the only thing missing in my life
Was someone to walk beside.

They sing...
Can you tell us have we lost our minds
Seeking other lonely to be our guides
To navigate and hide us in the streetlights
As we lay awake looking for a sign.
Standards should be high.
When seeking a Queen?
All because she going to be considered your royalty.

A crown she doesn't need to be seated upon the throne.

Her wish will be hers to command.
And your description will also mirror hers.
Cause she the one you claiming to love.

Seeking a Queen required more.
For your lady, you gladly open any door.
Remember, your special lady is beyond measure.
To you, she's a national treasure.
L B Jul 2018
For my cousin, Chris Goldrick

Lacing my skates
after walking two miles
in girl-strictured delight
Mom's stories of Sonja Henie--
No, not ever

Lacing my skates
with  snow-ball pompoms
felt skirt
and nylon tights
Cute little hat with matching scarf
My thighs and fingers
already freezing
icy burn
from miles on foot

to get there
the lake where--

I must get out
I must get OUT!

Knowing what
to expect from my body
the quick-twitch of muscle
Could always sense
specific--
gravity of water    
at 22 degrees

Desiring to feel
the motion between ice and steel
Read speed's vibrations through my body
The brain registers relation
to weather's effect
Tell of velocity
possibility of fall
Feel the slash of the blades beneath me
Throw my weight sideways, sudden
to hear that furious hiss
An object in motion tending, dire
to stay in motion

Threatening to stay there
always
in its heights-- of speed
away--

from the crowds of skaters
swirling distant in the lights

Seeking instead
the farthest reaches of Porter Lake
speed and speed and more
to overcome
inertia
of what it is to become
undone

at the outer edges, of humanity
A force  
centrifugal unto myself

Avoiding

Pregnant and slow
with years and babes....

The best
must be broken and tamed
of what it takes to stay free

catching the edges with every stride
catching my toe in the quick
180
spray of frost
to the sudden still

Listen to the frigid chill

and the heave of my breath
tumbling into evidence

Gliding
Once

Forever--

on, into darkness
of woods on frozen water

The wildness of it all

So infatuated with flight
so full of grace

I forgot Sonja

The moon rose
from her seat in the treetops
and applauded
Wrote this immediately from a dream a couple months ago.  With all the heat and humidity, it sounded good to go today.

This dream was an actual relived memory of being 12 years old and skating at Porter Lake in Forest Park of Springfield, Massachusetts.  22 degrees F is minus 5.5 C --Just a reference
Ken Pepiton Dec 2018
What do you tell a dying child?

Is the child in dread?

He seems to be.
What thinks he drear?
Has he been blamed and shamed for being so?

Why is dying something a child would fear? Why,
If dying were fearful to a childe, woe be

the daycare providers, no child
would need an adult's fear
to keep them alive,

until olde time family around the table
like on TV. Say grace and wonder what did that ever mean

For so I formed them free. Milton in Mind-of-Christ mode,
saying he saw the conf fliction

fiction. The idea of conflict is evil. This began near there.

the battle between good and evil, who could imagine that?
Why would he or she?

Why would any teacher claim the frail child set aside,
a premie nursed to life,

as a wizard's slave in a crystal bubble of simplicity
plus memory and speech.

the first perfect praise, invented to empower the praised,
his shaper and former, his teller of true true true true

free me. true. (POV plus adolescent cultural experiences)

Free thoughts. Chaos? You think free thought is Dada?
Good God, how long must I suffer thee?

Abundant life is fun,
not combat against willfully undertaken evil acts…

not fair combat.
We always win and that is good in action,

unless you can prove me wrong.
That makes the world go round, not evil,

merely life, ever lasting, embodied in a word
or a thought.

Death is the end of time, not you.

By your own leave, your own hero shall
spark the fire in your belly,

Did I enrich time you spent, did ye gain or lose again,

loose the dogs of war--- no more-- done, done, right

now I live in my treasure place, all the treasure I could
carry is with me in my heart,
I offered it long ago, free willed it
beating still to forever be in my God hands

No, the gold has long been dust.
It was intended all along to intensify a ware, a way
of making, fecting future things with seeds,

Imagine learning withought knowing any wrong idea,
omly not right
not enjoyable even alone

Belief determines value and the better
a motion is the nearer better things are,
or evil would be unreasonable
to intensify the ignoration of the weight bearing
points
upon which a story
may be told
right or wrong?

How can we put an end to our errors?
perfect is not finished.

waiting is, others have come this way

the signals say this is going good.

Whole truth you can possibly imagine in light of mine.
I rule me. I am free. I act as light and salt.

Or I lie and this ends in hell.
Wink.

Numinance called the promised one
with many sons, the tale of tales,

told round fires from
first ebernacht evernichtmas message

from the fathers who made the migration.
the pioneers who took this land
and gave this land their soul,
wedded in most ancient
seed of all hope
evidence of
all faith.

Christmas streams my mind toward treasures timed to shine
just this time, every where in my domain,

not yours. You have a visitor badge. All involved in me,
with integrity,
we
may be crazy. That has been said by some who say they may.

An engine, a system, a machine, a mob powered machine,

Ah, Mab, Queen Mab, ye'r on my mind, from time to time things wander
around finding tellers to tell our tales
or ears to hear us tell them ourselves

daring fellow we trust you not to lie
so do I say what we will with out reservation
no abortions need imagine forming
post seven decades on earth,
ye been born and born and born again I am historical me

ye know, what I meant?
were you there? before I knew evil existed, did you?

remember when you did not?
remember when honest effort, foiled, meant,
do it again, I think I can...

Wattie Piper, God blessed my memory of her. Amen.
that's so.
I am the man I am by way of cheating
at pin the tail on the donkey and
winning the little golden book,
my first own book. I read it that day in that place,

Marsha Ely's fifth birthday party, 1953

I could find it on google earth and go exactly there, that day

at the resolution of those haps at some

distance in a timeless ever.
It is all good.

The inmates are not lying.
Pay all the attention tax you need to know all the answers
you wish you had time to learn
but now, now is all you have. Live it out. By your leave.

Be or not? No. You be. You are. Too late to not be.
In the past all the good ideas integrated and

mythic as all hell a hero arose and pulled the kids finger s
from the **** and the flood of knowledge

took our hearts away in a single inah-lation of elation
knowing good
as well as evil, the dams all broke
we wrote the future and know now
we know now

Dream, why would I lie. Imaginary, most certainly. Really.

Actual done-right axiomatic connections pardoned ten
thousand idle words locked in silly memes,

messages set free from idle minds bound in olden time
by lines
of lies lying dormant for ever.

That they once were done,

we shan't un get that. we got it in every bitcoin
burping cloud in reality ever,
My AI is backed up,
forever, that's
the secret
Grace.


**** sapiens augmentatios meet the
mind that imagined the reader
reading the reader reading the reader reading the parser

sermonious right use of our attention,
ours, dear reader, we remember evil and beyond.
We shall make it all plain.
You and me, the we that is nothing without words.

Definitely suffering means wait,
not wait in pain and grief and psychic terror,
*******
to which all men are subject, through fear of death.

That was the first believable lie,
humans always think as humans. We wear pearls,

proud? goal? lookin' good by being good?
the health of my countenance and my God

you quested my reason at some season,
you axed the guru after he quietly grinned at you
and said, I lie.
the myths of delusion is permanent only in
ig nor ance
know you imagine winning or losing.
you do the imagining or
you systematize the system that sets the
worth of weight,

the value,  you carry,
your handicap?
your knowns stumbled over and claimed as found?

Running, is this thing running, is there power, or
did we lie about try?

Do you know?
Come and see we always say, we've said that all along.
We are the lollipop kids,
among other choruses  you have known
we have performed with

no name dropping. Our integrity depends on some secrets.

experience being on going, we go one.

is reading with no video or aural intense ifi-ness,

quality wise--- choose
expand your power to explore or

expand your power to not be wrong?
wrong, doit agin

the great danger does exist. But not here now,
this now you now know, a teeny bit

a tiny true spore self contained a waiting
emergence of heaven on earth in a single said

prayer with no idle words. On earth
as it is in heaven where time is insensible

from time to time, though once,
there was silence for about the space of half an hour.

Sisyphus will be happy to take you through the eternal
imagination re-imaging process.
It works.

And Jordan Peterson's Meaning Map means map,
For the mortal minded among us,
what if we
go where the map goes and
a poet in dis guile greets us with a song, a wizard
sent him
so he says interpret finding being finished

bing
not a chance in any, divide by zero.
is it
more realistic that lies win,
who could ever imagine that again? We win.

Fables truth is truth, mythic truth is truth,
magmatically truth is magic

can you know where your treasure lies?

Let's dis cuss everything,
un curse the uncurbable meander
and let our life time, our time, as we know it,
flow on,
let this time be all the time we have to be good.

Do or die? Waddawegot to lose?

We being the light and the salt,
or so we say we are.

Who knows? These are my days. No. Not true.
This is my time.
now, is yours.

-----
the tail of the tale. Little Jackie Paper loved that rascal, Puff,
he gave him rings and sealing wax and

other
fancy stuff. Aye, I have me playful viral idea loosed
on earth, ye know,

loosed in happy ever after as far as I can see.
A fantasy in toy land with AI running random Ted talks in the back ground and my mind meandering in the flow of imaginings I may imagine after being alive for longer than expected. I live in my own future. BTW Par Lagerkvist The Sybil empowered some of this on a slippery *****.
Dannie Sep 2018
Hanging around the court
and I want to know why,
Why none of you have come to see me.
I've been laughing, I've been crying.
This is surely a cruel joke.
I haven't a retort.
Because I've felt this way before.
It's like dreaming that I'm dyin.

Please help me now
Because I've got nowhere to go.
Please take me in your arms,
take me out, and take me home.
Please tell me if I make it.
I'm running out of life.
I've fallen to pieces.
I'm spending all my time.

You treat me like I'm crazy
I hate it when you lie.
Do you think that I won't listen?
I listen all the time.
But you feel so far away my friend when you are by my side.
I face alone a lonely war
about whose first to cry.

Seeking justice but I am so alone. I wish you would hold my hand and that we could bone.

Now I'm walking to a restaurant
where I will surely cry,
because I miss you and resent you,
and I think that you know why.
It's all so that I'll call you?
A mission to abort.
Because it's me you should be missing
and I haven't a retort.

Please call me now
Because I've got nowhere to go.
Please take me in your arms,
take me out, and take me home.
Please tell me if I make it.
I'm running out of life.
I've fallen to pieces.
and I'm wasting too much time.

Too much time my friend.
Be by my side.
This is a song I wrote while protesting at my local court house and feeling alone. I also have a celeb crush who should be here.
Tanay Sengupta Jul 2018
Are you the one?
Whose words can soothe my soul;
The one with the heart of gold.

Are you the one?
The restless fowl in the night sky;
Scoring over the clouds up high.

Are you the one?
Who can bring me back to life;
Cause I am dead of being alive.

Are you the one?
Will you set me free?
Or, will you bind me to an eternity?

Are you the one?
Whom I have been seeking all my life;
Teach me, teach me how it feels to be alive.








Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
Okay, publishing a poem after a very long time. I write one everyday, but I rarely publish them. Why? Because most of my poems are way too dark. On the contrary, this one is rather simple and self-explanatory for everyone. Enjoy!
Jesse stillwater Jun 2018
a breath of fresh air
tickles still-waters
a lone swan's quill
let fall, takes flight
  carpe  diem ―
nigh weightless,
buoyantly skitters
across the water,
laissez faire;
barely dimpling
the shallow peace
on a lake in the wood

a wild feather's
mindless pirouettes
emanate from
the steeping silence
lapping  its
superficial  refection  

the true nature
of wildness,
unspoken freedom,
an untamed
wilder – ness
skims the skinny waters
seeking their own level;
leaving no trace
of  ever being  containable
 
like a breath of fresh air
reinvigorates
unconquerable souls
touching in the
conscious moment ―
a gentle passing breeze
arousing a rogue gust


Jesse Stillwater

01    June   2018
Thank you for stopping to read my soul scribbles :)
Mystic Ink Plus Oct 2018
1+8=9
2+7=9
3+6=9
4+5=9
3+3+3=9
4+4+1=9
1+2+3+3=9
2+2+2+2+1=9
1+1­+1+1+1+1+1+1+1=9

Different could be,
The way
The time
The conscience
Towards the universal wholeness

In the cosmic delusion
For the sympathetic joy
One could be anywhere
In between
The above
Genre: Abstract Spiritual
Theme:Humanising Mathematics
Paras Bajaj Oct 2017
They are a reflection
flashing against me fast.
They are seeking attention
from the faces of my past.

The demons are here
and looking for a ****.
I might die tonight
If I wouldn't stay still.

-Paras Bajaj #PoetrybyParas
Instagram : @mr.parasbajaj
ryn Apr 2015
This is me...*          
Seeking refuge          
under a tree,          
As the wind released          
it's pensive sigh.          
Leaves sapped dry          
were then set free.          
Shades of yellow          
took to the air in an          
attempt to fly.          

This is me...
Peering through
jaundiced eyes.
Laying still
in a torrent of
ochre.
As leaves fall
from lowered skies,
Drenching
and
submerging
me in a sea of
scattered amber.

This is me...          
Captivated by this          
spectacular phenom.         
Flavescent dance          
governed by          
wind and gravity.         
This is the dream...          
Too long held for ransom          
By the relentless          
grasp of reality.         

This is me...
Awaiting such time to
arise and run.
In my heap,
my safe haven,
my fortress of yellow.
Till the inevitable set of
the *orange
sun
Only then...
myself to the moon
I would again
show.
Carmen Jane Jun 25
Lifting every rock, to peek what's underneath,
Shedding more and more sins, as I feel the heat
Scraping with bare fingers the unseen- before soil
In my veins, I feel my blood, how it starts to boil

Climbing every branch I see, seeking for the sky
Parting all the leaves I meet, that would block my eyes
Reaching all the tips of mountains,
And echoing your name in fountains!

Opening all the windows and unlocking doors,
I will rest only a bit, then I would  search you more!
Swimming all the rivers and sailing all the seas,
I'll even try to seek you near the Wisdom Tree

Maybe you're there, asking for answers
Maybe you're weary of your life's circumstances
I know if I'll find you, I'll give you a hug
In your eyes I'll see my own answers for which I  have dug...
Luz Hanaii Jan 2014
Many think, I used to think this as well, that to be happy you must fill exalted and exited. When good things happen to us we naturally feel good and elated, it's a natural human response. Good things make us feel good and what we consider not good, make us feel bad.  A natural child and human response.

The sense of  happiness I'm describing here is not the mere result of a reaction to some happy event but is rather the state of being of our spirit, the acceptance that there will always be things that we have not control of, which we feel are bad and make us angry or sad.  True happiness in my estimation is being at peace, not letting our emotions, either good or bad determine our inner balance.

How many times those things I considered  bad, latter where the very things which help me learn and grow.  Experiences such as, illnesses, poverty, abuse, ignorance, depression, anxiety, fear... on and on, are nothing more than teachers, though we may see them as tormentors, when they first strike at us.

We are taught to live in this world using our five senses.  Therefore we estimate that happiness must be having good things and good feelings. We are thought to judge in order to survive in this world.  And that is fine up to a point, if we don't look before crossing the street, we take our chances at getting hit by a car.

We are taught that happiness is outside of us, we look for entertainment, material things,  and people to make us happy.  We look for support and words from others to value who we are, it is the normal thing a child does. It is the normal process of the primitive survival geared mind.

Some of us have not have the blessing of having parents that were happy within themselves, we've been verbally and physically abused, publicly ridiculed,  beaten, not validated/ignored, minimized and made to feel sick and disconnected etc... we've come from broken homes and broken people trying to raise us as best they knew how.  We are trying to heal and grow. We are all seeking to be happy.  We are all seeking support from an exterior world and from people, it's natural.  But as we mature and awake, we realize that no person, entertainment or thing can ever truly give you the happiness you need. We need to stop comparing ourselves with others or taking to heart their estimation of us. We need to revise and update the old programing in our minds given to us by our parents, school, the world. We have to learn to forgive others, love and accept our selves to find true happiness.  

I once heard a good example of what happiness is, which I had not considered.
Example below
*******
Look at your hand and observe how each finger is happy.  They don't ask for anything, they simply are.  Now if you were to hit one finger with a hammer the finger would stop being happy.  It would start to throb with pain and depending on the impact the pain would go away or stay longer.
True happiness is simply that, just being.

Revised @9/21/16
-Luz Hanaii
I revised this, for growth is not set in stone, my way of seeing things changes as I move on with time. There are different angles and ways to look at things. I understand that we don't all use the same eye prescriptions, my limited perceptions may not agree with yours.  Also that by me judging your way of observation as wrong, would only limit me and my growth.
multi sumus Aug 2018
Hand upon the
nape
   Sweetened
kisses are taken
  Derobing to reveal
thy beauty.

                        With throat grasped
                           Stealing the taste
                        from your lips
                           Stripping the
                        covering that hides
                        you
.

   Gentle your body
lain upon the pillow
silk and soft be
the binding.

   Marks of
rememberance
remain by subtle
suckings cascading
towards the basal.

                         By hands command
                          your form is cast
                          upon the floor
                         Bound that escape
                          be denied.

                         Nibbles
                        turn to bites leaving
                         soothing bruises as
                         descent is begun
                         unto the nethers
.

Whimpered whispers
echoe as your
suppleness
undulates in rythms
patterning the lappings

Quivering awaiting
such satiation.

                              Muffled screams
                              break the violent
                              silence as your
                               writhing body
                         calls to the lashings

                          In anticipation you
                             quake seeking a
                               reprieve
.

   And with each passing moment your taste grows sweeter still
   Enticing me with every stroke

                   Pace quickens!
                    Air thickens!
                   Flesh stiffens!
           A last gasp and then
!...

                  INTERRUPTION

Tongue swirls and
tender kiss upon
the thigh, Soon my love
soon you will find
content and deep are
the sighs from within.

                              Skin swells from
                       the sting, Permission
                      has not been granted
                        for your release and
                         heavy is the breath
                          that escapes
.

And gazing upon
such a vision as the
candlelight refracts
within the salted beads
formed upon the skin.

Hand found nestled
enveloped by the
succulence, Softly
caressing now wetted
and warm.

                         And while savoring
                          your slavery sweat
                           pools beneath
                       reflecting the flames
                          throughout.

                   ­          Quick slip fingers
                            within, Beckoning
                             come hither as
                             thumb rubs firm
                             upon the shroud
                      while palm drips full
                            and overflows
.

The time is near
that your freedom
be found for now
loosened be your
desire.

                       It is now the offering
                              is demanded!
                        Present to me your
                          gift upon this altar
!

   Hands hastened as tips tickle bringing closer the moment
   Moans escalate to howls announcing your forthcoming
   And upon the pinnacle i sit awaiting your arrival

   Unable to contain with body bowed and exhaustive breath, A last cry and...

   Explosions unseen before as flesh trembles in ecstacy


               And i, i am found

Collecting your
essence that my
thirst be quenched.

                         Receiving the sweet
                              amrita as my
                                   libation
.

     And leaning to kiss the tears from your cheek i whisper
                "Once more?"
With a silent nod you agree...


Ahh My Dear, The night is still young, And this is merely the beginning of your pleasures
.
Cné Aug 2017
The weary mind in turmoil writhes
and slumber will not come.
The moonlight seeps
like latticed withered vines.
I listen to my heartbeat,
in the silence like a drum,
And through my shuttered eyes....
see strange designs.
The night will not take me prisoner,
and bind me to restful sleep.
No dreams, or any respite,
no way, my soul to keep.
Groaning as I turn myself
to rest beleaguered pain,
I stretch to ease
my tortured back and sigh.
Then I fluff my pillow
to deactivate my speeding brain...
Rolling in the covers,
as my body sweats and strains,
seeking to lose myself,
discarding all, my pains

But my eyes are wide...
and still the question..."Why?"
Brains on hyperdrive
Esther Krenzin Jun 2018
(For Eric Killmonger)
A little boy stared in the clouds
Forgotten tales screaming loud
His word small and nothing wrong
It all shattered after too long
Stories of cities that touched the sky
Clans of people untouched by time
Hope soon filled his boyish dreams
But not everything was as it seemed
One night he came home and saw
His father dead, struck down by claw
Weeping over his fathers head
He begged him to stay, not leave him instead
Shattered dreams and shattered hopes
He held the myth achingly close
Alone, no one there to guide
He locked his humanity deep inside
Battling for a way to free them all
Seeking power and in deaths thrall
The world had taken everything away
And all in one single day
So he would take everything away from it
His soul a star no longer lit
Now he lay there quietly dying
His enemy close, no longer fighting
The world it seemed would take him too
His glittering eyes full of rue
There was nothing left for him here
Breathing ragged and full of fear
Finally he took his very last breath
And slipped away as his life left
And as the sun left the sky
The night descended with a sigh
The little boy was dead and gone
His life a sad and weary song.
-Roguesong-
-Esther L. Krenzin-
I loved this Eric in the Black Panther movie, and I felt so bad for him.
His whole life he believed in a dream.
His whole life he believed that he could make a difference, and fight for those who are oppressed.
He just wanted to help.
Big Virge Aug 2016
Well ........
It seems it's ... OPEN SEASON ...
  
for ... MURDEROUS ... Policing ... !?!
  
NO MORE ...
will blacks take ... Beatings ... !!!
  
Police will leave us ... Bleeding ... !!!
while they ... KEEP ON ... receiving ...
PROTECTION ... for yes ... leaving ...
  
Blacks with ...
  
NO PULSE or ... FEELING ... !!!
In Fact ... NO LONGER ... Breathing.
  
and then .....
comes ... " Court Proceedings " ...
that leave black people ... " SEETHING " ... !!!!!!
  
Well fine it's ... OPEN SEASON ...
for poetry ... now ... Seeking .............................................................
  
Some TRUTH ...  
and less ... Deceiving ... !!!
  
See ....
I'm Incredibly ... not shocked ...
at how ... poor ... " Walter Scott " ...
  
got shot by ...
some ... white cop ...  
  
when Walter ... tried to run ...
from this ... Policeman ... **** ... !!!!!
  
But ......
before I ... move along ...
  
He may well have done wrong ... ?!?
but ... " Officer Slager " ...
Let Off ... EIGHT SHOTS ...
in ... Walters' BACK ... !?!!!? ...
  
Let me just .... " back track " .....
  
He shot ... " EIGHT TIMES " ...
Taking ... " HIS LIFE " ... !!!!! ...
  
Because .............
said ... SLAGER ...  
  
" He feared for his safety
because Mr. Scott, tried to
grab his Taser ! "
  
So ...  
That means ... WHAT ... ?!?
  
He ... Deserved to be shot ...
EIGHT TIMES ... in his ... BACK ... !?!!!?!
  
Maaaaannnnn ....
  
ENOUGH ... of this CRAP ... !!!!!
  
What kind of Policing ... ?!?
gives Policeman teachings ...
of ... SHOOT TO DEATH ... !!!!
  
Rather than ... " A Leg " ...
  
Shoot ... BOTH ...  
... if ya like ... !!!!!
  
But .....
ENOUGH ... of these vibes ...
where Black People ... DIE ... !!!!!!
  
Husbands and Wives ...
whose Fam' ... are told ... LIES ... !!!!!
about ... Cop ... HOMICIDES ... !!!!!!
  
So let me ...
  
Season and OPEN ........................................
how people are .... Bro Ken ...
and Blacks are just ... " Tokens "...
for them to be ... " Quoting " ...
all kinds of ... DUMB THINGS ... !!!!!!
  
About ...
  
... Po' Po' ...  
... Shootings ....
  
An ... Asian dude ...
who went to ... my school
posted ... one day ...
  
on my ...  
Facebook Page ...
  
"Blacks need to be wise
when police are in sight,
and not antagonise,
cos that's how they'll die !"
  
Yeah THIS ... Indian Guy ...
felt he had ... The Right ...
to tell me ... " Why " ...
Police TAKE ... Black Lives ... ?!!!?
  
cos' we ....
  
" DON'T ACT RIGHT !!! "
  
Well YEAH ... sometimes ....
but being ... SHOT TO DEATH ...
goes BEYOND .... NONSENSE ... !!!!!
  
but ......
Asians like ... HIM ...
Prove that being ... "submissive" ...
is how ... Most Choose ... to live ...
and how ... Most Seem ... to think ... !?!
  
How many ... Asian girls ...
and I ... DON'T MEAN ... Orientals ... !!!
  
have been ... " Experimental " ... ???
  
when it comes to ... Black Men ...
being in their worlds ...
as the ... FATHERS OF ...
  
..... Their Children ..... ?!?
  
It's CLEAR ....
from their ... " Caste System " ...
that ... Inter-Racial Teams ...
are .... Rarely EVER ... seen ... !!!
  
Unless their partner's ...
..... " White " ..... ?!?
  
Most Asians ....
Don't Trust ... blacks ...
and that is simply ... FACT ...
  
In Fact ...
Some do believe ...
that blacks are just ... MONKEYS ... ??!??
  
Check through their ... "History " ...
Such words ... AREN'T FALLACY ... !!!!!!!!!!
  
When we now ... " Greet Police " ...
  
Should blacks ... IMMEDIATELY ... ?
get down upon our knees ...
  
and BEG ... like ...
  
... " Slavery Scenes " ...
  
"Please *****', don't shoot me !"
  
which leads me to ...
... These Blacks ...
  
Whose uniform's now ...
.... " Packed " ....
  
to join these ...
... Police Klans ... !!!!!!!
  
What have they ... " Changed " ...
in ... Policing ways ... ?!!!? ...
  
" Not A Lot " ... !!!!!! ...
  
Ask ... " Walter Scott " ... ???
  
Well sadly now ...
  
You ... CAN'T DO THAT ... !!!!!!
  
because what is ... FOUL ...
is ... THIS HERE FACT ... !!!!!
  
while Walter died
and lied ... FACE FLAT ...
  
A cop who was ... BLACK ... !!!
seemed to search Mr. Scott ...
as if ... He'd ... STILL ATTACK ... ?!!!?
  
and then ...  
let this ... white cop ..
treat him ... LIKE HIS DOG .... !???!
  
I'm ...  
SICK ... of the ... CRAP ... !!!!!!
now coming from ... Blacks ... !!!!!!!
  
Will they wanna ... Shoot ME ... ?!?
for this ... REAL POETRY ... !?!
  
See it's been ...
  
..... OPEN SEASON .....
for ... QUITE SOME TIME ... !!!!! ...
  
cos' ....
Black folks be ... " submissive " ...
as if they'll face ... " A Lynching " ... !!!

for .. BREATHING ...
and NOT ... " Flinch-ing " ... !!!!!
  
when ... Po Po lights ...
Start .... Blinking .... !!!!!!!
  
which right now ...
gets me thinking ...
  
that ... " William Lynch " ...
is looking down and saying ...
  
"Look at these Black Clowns !"
  
Folks ....
This here ... AIN'T ...
  
" 12 Years A Slave " ...
  
This shooing happened ...
.... " YESTERDAY " .... !!!!!!!!
  
In ....  
South Carolina ....
where that PIG ...
has been ... Fired ... !!!
  
But ....
Without ... " The Footage " ...
would he still be out ... SHOOTING ... !!! ? !!!
  
See i'm ...  
a man of ... " Reason " ...
  
but right now ...
I'M SEETHING ... !!!!!
  
because ....
when it comes to ....
  
... KILLING BLACKS ...  
  
It's  .....
  
... STILL ...
..... CLEARLY .....
  
.... " Open Season " ....

Listen Here :

https://soundcloud.com/user-16569179/07-open-season
Certain poems speak for themselves, due to events that are as REAl, as they come .... I use the BLM moniker below, but, Do Black Lives REALLY Matter ... ??? beyond police actions .... ??? I prefer this tag #VerseThatMatters
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Pauses can **** and will,
if you suffer it to be so.

Such suffering is painless, pointless and ill defined,
In most men's minds, it's taken as granted,

while freedom is linked to the toys we always
desired, as boys, we invested worth
in the real, attainable, full-auto

tool for killing any thing that can think about killing me.
Guns, more magic than magic swords, in the hands
of guys like me and Sargent York and Audie Murphy.

War, no AI, I did not say war I said "who are" we fooling?

Suffer not a fool, lightly.
POP
In the future there is a wonderful
Old html 5 effect right there
Like a *** of

Magnesium, flashbulb
Old school indeed
McIverish, in'it? Flash in the pan. Like lightning.

Everything is made of something seems right,

as an idea.

Nothing's wrong with the idea,
Nothing is right, either,
Nothing is impossible,

if there were such a possible state of being, nothingness-ivity…
in light of light existing,
enlightenment demands light, where light is, nothing is not.
Light is thing-if-i-able is it not?
Light's a thing.

If I were to question that
it would change everything would it not?
Nothing is, right? Nothing is right? Who knows?

Silly. A child's word for
"You can not expect me to believe your behave-ing,.."

oops. does not compute

be and have
are so hard for me to see
together.
It's like every word with
be is hiding a clue
that, if AI can break be joined words apart.
In the parts,
you find a thought that came to
be symbolized by the sound
for the thought
be
and the sound for the thought of having

Behave.
I don't get it. Have. Be.

Here again we see the danger of approaching any complex dis

Cussing  without proper oathz for secrecy,
we three or four,
No more.
We can build anything
when somebody finds
Higgs and gets some useful work out of him,
Right now
all he's doing is making stuff heavy.
Matter matter matter everything he touches turns to matter.

Massive ab-usive power at the very lowest level
Of is-ness ever.

Still, there is a ness, a stillness,
a calm being made
effectual as a word from a being whose first words are
"Don't be afraid."
And we obey,
like magi.
Magi, wise men still seek the truths told old way, where good is. This is one of the many Near Christmas ideas I visit each once in a while.
Diana Jun 3
One night
Two strangers
Full of intimate and raw conversations
No rules
No limitations
But
The catch
We will never meet again
No exchange of contact information
Which only adds to the allure of the night
Just a boy and a girl
Who have never met prior
Free to express
Any and every
Emotion
Fear
Wish
Hope
Free to say exactly what’s on their mind
Without a societal filter
Free to express and play with the art of lying
Painting an illusion of yourself
To another stranger
Who wouldn’t know any better
Be who you truly are
Or
Be who you really wish you were
For a few hours
What do you have to lose
This is something I really want to do one night while I’m still young.
Cné Mar 2018
I treasure those nights of unexpected surrender
when hands molded
caressed
and made me tremble
waking from slumber with body afire
as he inched gradually into me
bathed in my welcoming heat
one palm curled protectively
'round the weight of my breast
as finger and thumb drew on beaded peak
and breath caught in my throat
as his full depth was reached
unable to remain still
rocking back to achieve a deeper sink
his sudden hiss scalding my neck
teeth worrying my bottom lip
neither willing to move
afraid it would all end too soon
and as the flames continued to rise
groans replaced whispered sighs
no hurried pace or rapid ******
slow and sensual movements
dragging us ever nearer the edge
denying that final release
drawing closer but holding it back
sensation heightened beyond bearing
until that fraying tether breaks
causing walls to tighten and quake
drinking every last drop of his lust
clutching inside and out
desperately seeking his mouth
sealing the cataclysmic moment
heart pressed to heart
breath to breath
I find myself stopping in a crowd of people and time slows still. Their laughter, their unpredictable movements, the fights and the resolutions and the bonding of brothers--all quiet. I am left in the fabric of things to wonder at the tapestry we call a culture.

How am I to know what is proper when all have their own true mothertongue? Who can teach me what to say when all I know is jumbled and disheveled based on who I've been and what I know?

I leave behind a southern legacy of liturgy and doctrine that outlines exactly what is human and exactly what is not. I step into a society that constantly years to fill a void--please Lord, find us someone who knows the Truth.  

Their apathy and nonchalance is false; bravado is left wanting. I know they they all cry out for connection and seek it in flesh rather than spirit. I am caught in the midst of the pursuit of happiness and the quest for morality. I know not what brings joy to humanity, I hike towards that river and hope it is not run dry like all others.

In the study of psychology, I have found so many places where words fall short and the great carnal animal within all of us takes precedence, demands attention, seeking comfort in a world that often overlooks those that need it the most.

Love is a fragile, timid thing that is most often hard to find and difficult to voice. Instead, we lash out in aggression to hide that inner child that needs a tried and true comfort of a known embrace. We seek forgiveness and express it in anger, manipulation, meeting our needs however possible because this is America, after all.

This is all we want in our sequestered human heart, the beginning of redemption.
Äŧül Apr 2013
Come to a garden of roses with me,
Serene it is fuller with roses to see,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

We shall not try to pluck any roses,
For the thorns dissuade any poses,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

We can't sit guarding the flowers,
Very busy in our mini lives we're,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

I'll set-up a flaming ring of fire,
Seeking fine protection for them,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.


Let's care for the roses as if our,
As if our little & young children,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

To help us get them blue & red,
Give them all suitable nutrition,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.

Their presence is eye-pleasing,
We let them be in our garden,
They are here,
For you & me,
But just to see.
***************************************
My HP Poem #178
© Atul Kaushal
Esther Krenzin Oct 2018
Strong and resolute, it stands
seeking with claw-like limbs
for sunlight and raindrops.
Leaves, crimson and gold
slip from trailing branches
coming to rest on frozen ground.
Whispering and sighing
the great oak bends and sways
in the icy wind.
Roots, beneath the surface
delve deep down
growing
strengthening
as ages pass--
untouched by frost.
The strong winds may blow
and wage their wars
brittle branches may splinter.
But still the oak stands
bending
not breaking against the forces.
-Esther L. Krenzin-
-Roguesong-
We must learn to be more flexible in life, and not let the world make us hard and unforgiving. If a tree were hard and brittle, than it would break and fall over. And if it had no roots, it would never be standing in the first place. When we are born, we are born a tree bud with roots like small veins. As the years past we grow and learn the ways of the world, our roots growing and spreading. Life may be difficult, there may be suffering, and we may become hard and splinter into pieces. But remember that everything that is broken, comes back stronger than before. I once saw lightning strike down a towering oak, causing it to fall and leave nothing but a barren stump.
After a year or two, a little tree began to grow from the stump of its former self, becoming everything it was before it fell--if not even more beautiful.
To this day, it still stands, looking as if nothing ever happened.
Life will knock you down, but it is your choice whether or not you will stand up again, or stay down.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
A story teller passed on,
leaving us a Marvelous universe,
to play in,
as children of the future we were manifested in,
practicing again and again

Pride's crushing blow, we always regret as we fall.
Action, reaction. Sure as hell
Proof that we are Adamkind.

Proud we are that we may do as we say.
May is the key. That allowance we have,
We may do all we can to change the rest of today.

Yesterday is done.
What kind of mind can imagine keeping no record of wounds?
Is this not the world where war is worth-shiped?
Folly would mind the gods this world exalts,
Winning by snipping the silver thread,
Forswearing the fragile two-chord bond  and
Mocking the third chord needed for the song
That keeps cadence as we help each the other
In richer and poorer, in sickness and health,
Uphill and down, carrying children to a better life.

Whence comes the pride of victory?
From destruction of the foe? No? You had planned
A minor war where love may live restricted, safe
Behind your victory that destroyed your whole?

Is that what I imagined?

Proud wounds fester while love can, if it may,
Wash the putrid flesh away, quick as leprosy or
Cankers on one's soul.

First rule of oath making,
Learn what vows are in the reality of mortality,
Then vow or vow not at all.

Gret again what might have been
Before pride's crushing blow broke the golden bowl.
Seek ointment in Gilead, mollifying balm.
Come ye to the waters, drink and go
Comfort the children whose detour you imposed.
---------------
God this is personal. Me and you. What good can I do now?

Destination, not destiny.
Those who make it, make it.
Believe it, or not, earth is not my home.

I am in this world's onion-skin thick biosphere;
But I am not of this world.
Subtle difference, in and of itself.

Do agree to
Come and see.

Think on these things,
not as powers, rather, as virtues.

Subtle difference,
in and of itself is not evil,

but often it is so intended,
It seems.

Otherness whispered, not heard.
Good other, bad other,

Regular ol' other, ***** passin' fancy kind.
Done my time, I'm arhymin' ramblin'
Man, be so **** real, cain't cha feel what

I am saying
To you, too.
This is weird in the original Druidic sense.
Is there more?

This itself may, in its active
( there must be a clearer word than active.
Act carries so much un scientific phoniness with it.
I seek "act, the event".
I shall find or invent, by God.
The Greeks, doubtless, had a word for what I mean.
For now keep in mind actions are simultaneous with the act,
yet never the same.
Subtle distinction,
it prevents junctions un-intended. Good.)

In my thinking,
I reread verses and chapters and books
rere-ward from my position.
Are you with me in that?
Pro gress re: gress, a gress,
I guess, is a subtle sort of
Activity.
I laugh at people thinkin' God is their re-reward 'cause
That makes no nevermind to nobody. Nobody.
Strivin' 'bout words, this ******

Other brother o'm'own

Say that slow ooooooooooooommmmmmmmmmm ownnnnnnnnnnn
Creative symmetry immeasurable to men,
in my kindom, as it were, all are kings.

Such measurements ensure the sea is full,
to the brim and not beyond, for now.

I imagine you reading this and agreeing,
already aware of agreements,
Virtues and such.
Covenants and compacts,
en-corporations
encouraged
with need
of enough hope to warrant the risk into the unknowns,
the bad lands, gypsum beds on the south side.

Such can hold so much more than
many whole categories of words striven about.
Such a shame.
Such a shame.
Nothing lasts forever after now began back when.

Qiqi died in 2002, counting from when the Iron legged,
first got this particular organic-pro-biotic

clay, from the oldest,
highest part of the dust of the earth, ground and
kicked up by cadence pounding feet,
ground into the hob-nailed
soles,
to be hobgoblins in my play. My point. I hope

You see the trail, it's narrow,
but it's there, soft sand,
no stickers,

ant trails in the desert through the rocks
and 'round the Yucca,
blue moon light, white quartz sand
flecked with mica that shimmers sure as gold
imagined in that Midas mind each child was
given in the reign of the golden headed

imagined visualize-ical worth-ness or-shipped.

How do we say what men imagine worship is?
Do they imagine a tax? Attacks if thy refuse?

fuse?
confuse me. excuse you, how do you do…

That's fine. We reset. Hard resets are easy now.

The way itself, once found, seems
Right, feels right,
has no smell of warped wolf-woof beneath the wool.
I trust I know what I know
and no more, yet.

We are questing answers aplenty
and must plan, please,
To trust the ones we find following these particular
Breadcrumbs, to be true restward
leading stars or clouds,
[Breadcrumbs, as mentioned here, mark this text ancient,
a cientcy from an ear, ear, hear, early… an odd ly-ity,
ain't it?
ear, with an ly that Mr. Stephen King warned us all to avoid,

avoid, anull, enough alike to see the idea, like -ly as a
signif-if-i-cant meaningful parison point in your

rising to stand, balanced.
early to bed and early to rise, makes a man
healthy, wealthy, and wise

otherwise, trouble yer own house and take the wind.
And don't come prodigalin' to me sayin'
I never gave ye nothin'.

Wind in yer sail, so to speak, if-i-migh, guv.
Right. Both treasure and truph, proof, we learned way back
Be where ye find 'em, right as rain.

This could be repair and me unaware, you know?
Like, I wander in to this originally weird book
and find myself changing the whole world I live in.
Like I am the movie.

My POV is the movie I made.
Some things go unsaid here.
They be said in the future and not proper here.

An aside,
Is fun a proper purpose for doing any thing?

Of course, that's the purpose of everything evil is not.
Joy, in a word, good stuff.

Oh moments are not always plosive one way or the other.
Some times, just, oh.
Wait.

Medi tate in pieces is puzzling
as a sphinx riddle of olden days,
Prometheus and Bek both answered different questions,

But it means the same thing,
mything the point is easy.

Life is a journey on a way I may call my own
to a place of true rest,
I trust.
That is my answer. Play mystical again, Sam,
cram true and rest together in the dark,
trust me, it all works,
true rest.
Wait.

This boy got his act together down in Tennessee
after he got old, old by God, he
walked that way,

long, long while fo' he fly away,
leave dem chain shames behind.

That boy was sangin' loud songs,
'long his lonesome way,
not lonesome at all,
then into the swamp he fall, ****' slew o' dispond,

from the flood most likely,
lots of muck and mire,
detrital 'n' all.

Hopeless fool,
he wallered hollerin' help,
like them birds at the Audubon zoo.

He forgot all about his hero days-
of future past-
marvel prophecy if you believe in Stan Lee.

Cameo Hitchcock shot, just, for fun.
He say, look this way,
here's the clue.
The medium has always been the message,
see what I mean.
Words materialize laissez faire,
the machines find meaning,
in joy, and tic-tac-toe becomes a lesson in limits,

impossible is imaginable, you may imagine
strategize, but the wize man knows,
winning is no more a chance
affair, than luc is less than light at the right time.

RIP Stan Lee, you meant a measure of my youth to me.
Stan Lee came to mind as I pondered the story teller's role in reality. You, dear reader, are the reason stories search for points to make, those we-shine moments, we-feel breezes, prizes for the worth of the time it takes to imagine.
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