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Scott M Reamer Apr 2013
Man life know just set eyes way like young world soul day hunger space mouth earth thoughts ignorance blind things mind knew final moment human creation kind creatures souls high forgotten dream love spoke self existence face holy deep bound think home void say surrender ear forever called held ephemeral red state end shall heed hope edge living waking fall sea wake garden need February thought past wanderer got men page colored tepid terrible **** proudly untitled features point painted faceless box forgot render wild spring splendor  handfuls looking half brain lost torn ancestral  unseen vision inner summer honor mister owned banner save today fear groans wasn't smoke  street fable strange year contrast black years  able pain body spoken word known motion  palpitate reeling nature culture disclaimers  cancer beg attentive frames ****** base profound double remember wholly finger death token  cries continue folk oh fishing form broken true  divides spread ah twas away breathe wait warning hallowed wish closer lens turn eye live  constant current author hung theory dangle  bramble chemical new force changes adderall  anymore giving beneath possess pardon commentaries eternity internal walk reason  long change does idea glimpse consciousness  wandering simply wonder physical dreams war  sleep told rest benign prior begging truth little  2012 born tale crow bowels allegory animal rule  exasperate making horse curse hands ones read  rearrange capture doing command fail awake  aperture seedlings shift steely sir nap spead ****** demons slits clever telling loud spits la-la-di-dah killing slip game reflected nameless ask  lovers rabid bear salivate plunder shameless  famously savior mint rides menthol bully fate traded melodies play misunderstand mammals gentle witless fine utterly savage silt tongue-less  dirt dilutes pure non-sensory taste briefly ravage dismember it''ll shedding ruined curtain  knots offers plot fulfills munificent two-act  relegates boxz bug altruistic wintergreen tossing  callously guise grovels one's singers treachery ashes mid-life mutter fashion parading  ambiguity separatist liars staple steeping neath  guidelines scoffing stitch moans civil wrote  Fictitious undoing fables table effigies serve  sonnets staged remark psalm swoll praise harken  beggar verse bread lines heavily electricity detection snow sack-happy preaching credit  spotted wicked best gravity gun campaign owe  barge choir revelry celebratory satiated sinking  headline pack hound persistently propaganda  gentlemen excluding diminished ******* run idles  occupied levies wolfishly honestly misinformation cuba vehemently dumb grace spectator erasing  toned sage crowded secrets inter-connectivity  loaned prayer hymns grave mistaken magnified  vandals selective jump leak escapes says minister  buckle mass honesty shut tar children's hats  monument doping long-lived electrical ladle  exaggerated cartoons address seconds cool cradle bleak yang's mind-framed hypnotic  walker caps folly treble claim streaks mixtures  swelled interstate elapse teasing spoon mobile  succulent witchcraft borderline fatal 99 temple stacks sups plastics creeps neurotic ills tossed  meek sipping old crack interlock wax alleyway  coughing blown freak clock birthdays societies  slow flashing viscous candy argument toothless  pills cerebral rapt wall bisect lives wheezing  photo kid starter foiled pair saturated self-castrating pre-packed naked uncertainly pill  used came chaos coated reprisal fells wrack  irreverent mirth sickly disinherited proudest  collate wheeze appearance palette disharmony  discontented bastardized emotive bio inhale diction beat spoiled reclamation loudest tempo  totally disembodied matte imperfect shells flat  struck sounding imparts flak origin severance remarked bone walls snared leaflets mocking  hot scripting adjective noun agape seemingly  resistant gawk calamity passage paintings wind  trashcans signings sits cheap makers poetry persist scrap slipping individual talk wonders  leaving questions fold actor fancy parchment  fates engenders flown jaws stripped longer music  sacrifice fakers book boldly frown sigh atop patient hang trade occupation blows spectacular  whispers worthy backward waving certainty danced suppose needn't ‘drawkcab’ second-guessing  boys forget marched motto heads tightly lies two-tone earthbound harp twice turns goodnight  lying ***** internally indiscriminate nickname  drunk convictions myth steep  in-consumption  fitting artist **** universal sick expressions bad  du spell melody big siphon proud learn sprawls song spastic something temperaments utter check  fissures stomp totality blend definitely thrall sing rug voice shade pestilence ties commiserate round devil steady brains emotional certain gate  suckling gates dearth decay weight bounce pound  carrier pangs glass startle contest earthen web  tug pressed air patience flush amassed guest gone apprehension staring empathize captain believe fading in-perceivable deathbed guarder makes surrounds scatter drooling ebb blink cob tome  venom near door lair derision draws host stairs scent parts curiosities spider webbing surprise wares tips stepping ascetics starkness realize picture surroundings dictations grand pillars  deaf limited comparisons greet visual residents  personal settings dismiss alien law stability common earthly shiftless places prelude  understanding mosaic keen trifling embodiments  geared inception whisper visible jowls kiss murky  puddle rank dawn dichotomy single faithful fraying pays tailor veil climb mores pence whim  breath wellspring samara god stony pear  shadows fruiting forebodes moonlit looming  shown passed bog gold wracked faint tongues  noble preachers mirror shifting layered depth  threads jungle narcissus bemused seamstress self-worshiping architect's wore slumber anomalous  opened barren seam lip caustic scene coupled brick gardener's clenches -with forms idle breed  embodied lore starving empathy design illusion  tree coat fabricate lucid mason scatter-all  narrative seeking imbued 16th shivering chemicals 17th 15thrisk improperly dare  deliberate plan purge try brought chapter speed  aide utmost spirit leading intervention felt  recall recent advent sincerity times diary  lackluster piously lasting happy holding hear  stem tasteless whimpers wet spine monstrosity  dripping causes position quite softly claws pallet  answer digging tearing beast satiating circle breaks skips redwoods beckoning rotted hushed  gray lapsing monoliths deities creborus  imbuement hand stroll paradigm rendered chorus shy whispering forest residual tension  surrenders tolerance lull anew sentenced  bearing tide birds dirge divergent rim joined  cogs wood hesitant mist emergent towering offer  awareness confinement inverted faultier stowed  plane sanctified blanketing trusting memory fossil flash twists laden self-indulgent fleeting invitation agony grip shore impetus lingering  crows promise gift union swallowing endless floor supposed ecstasy sensory intent  psychotropic cradling placement interned  jagged connectivity exchange congenial begun  summons singular spiral assumes ambient reciprocates re-entry fruition reached aggregate lifetime limbs birthed instinct  frightening tarry proper entire light  boundaries innocence pursuit ago discover left  youth's unknowing sacred time place meager  simple fact cast ceaseless wide-eyed literal  apparent coincidence create boldness morphed  crooked kempt mere stumble buried shutter fairy  pivotal definitive months worth shear ambition sound required journeyed self-reflections title  facets vague restless intimation gut wanderer's  leap motivate path account boy soon bears faith  question tripped reasons uproot awaited confronted days step heal provocations wisps crushing transcend chronicles instance  directness raw drove occurrence objective-less  real enters slightest confident nondescript  typify  foreshortened interment paradox bitter heart  devoid jeopardy angry sensation confidential guilty arrogance mercy compliance reprieve  vincent deadening factual sign emotion awe  inhibition shackled butterflies absence actual sciences acknowledgement violent stagnant  spiritual American doors roots lack matted fore  gestures society cause streams intensity hair impossible discord lonely hearts resounding  jest  what's flavored pains closed toxic contented  happenstance scientific knowledge yeah  wizardry shaking stifled withdrawn bloom  jitter dreads settle asocial hulton make  predisposed figurative reflections demeanors  wondered affect hulton's projected sense  morning industry arrays ghosts feeling  certainly endomorphic where's partially wrath  passer mornings jovial unease advertized asking  trash onward wished tempers media mentality connect pasts sharp-toothed scramble great colours trial test salvation continually lent  degree secretly subjection social waned  disconnected colors grimly intellectual civilization cash trading baffling particular  digest myths monumental ending seasons winter  repetition introducing agent everlasting  shoulders delivered honestly-- possession funny  continence history unsightly function suffering propulsion profession divulge familiar tugs era  importance capability perpetuation spite inventory words entirety leveling fray insight  date record continues writer getting evermore fellow tongue possessions identical proof accuracy education similar sack admittance  favor unravel conveyance guilt gives beginnings  predicting audacity definition bobby heady eaters frameless learned release stone grandeur sang  speak molds sleeps split built seats people folded  sheer pour evoked playhouse liquid boring  tellers frayed stark walked reality pleas doth  preformed shows beak pride squawks opinions  greatest bold stunning sightings he'd loudly slain  sunk watch legend precipice theater deeper compound commentator civility justly silly sin  reverent seen prophetic moral confounds notion  lacking explain attempt prolific viral estrange proclivity scorn hide blur pious strung eden's  horror cut skin arch cruel twig mother vile  pass lend woods peach shrunken trail man's canopy worn 434 eat warm limb familiar father delete.

You are what your reading lady. Now would you hold this gun?
Golden pulse grew on the shore,
Ferns along the hill,
And the red cliff roses bore
Bees to drink their fill;

Bees that from the meadows bring
Wine of melilot,
Honey-sups on golden wing
To the garden grot.

But to me, neglected flower,
Phaon will not see,
Passion brings no crowning hour,
Honey nor the bee.
Richmal Byrne Jan 2011
We don’t really understand

How atoms behave;

Or infinity;

Or how winds carry the seasons -

Like ‘Olde April ‘ with it’s 'showers sweet' !

Yes, I’ve felt them...



The clean stinging scent of rain

Scratching at the earth,

Pelting aromatic plants,

Condensing the smells of seas, winds, continents;

Infusing the sum of all these aromas in its perfumery,

Marketing it: April, again.



And Eliot said,

There be April,

'The cruellest month'.

Oh my (!)

Appealing April, with its sunny flavours,

Cascades of cats & dogs,

And dead-eye jack,

Firing frosts that just might spend the tender herb.



It was snowing in April,

And Easter was early, that year

When I took Schrödinger’s cat walking

On a leash, And April was still new,

And capable of shocking...



Now any month - could bring pitiless ruin.

The year annually

Out of step with migratory designs,

Throwing epithets out of its greenstick pram,

Its months in disarray ,

No-one knows what’s going on...





The drunkard earth sups up it’s own tears,

Reeling in its spin,

Until,

Saturated,

It can drink no more,

And every dip fills,

Every meadow spills,

Banks overflowing,

Its resolve drowning,

Questions washing

Up like a tide of interrogative curiosity.



OK – so I am really hiding in my acres...

At least I can tell - it’s April !



Enquiring lily-of-the-valley,

Puts up green periscopes.

Peering through the sodden grass,

The remnants of last year’s soggy leaves,

Cosset primrose & ramsons.

Daffodils are past their best, but soldier on

Like hungover squaddies,

Snowdrops have fat capsules where white drops shone,

Hellebores have been up since the crack of time -

Good movers - they could dance all spring!

Dingles are glinting green with native bluebell leaves,

And their mophead mates have muscled in the garden,

Quiet violets lounge on the field’s chaise long,

Coy, understated,

How British!

Oxlips and cowslips join the brave primroses

Who have been on the razzle for weeks.

White & purple lilac in green cassocks,

Will soon burst out

Like kiss-o-grams.

Boughs hung with clematis,

Still tiny shoots like birds on wires.



I am giving a prize for the first celandine on my patch;

Each little celandine - Rannunculus ficaria - is

A miniature sun uttering: Oi! You up there, old currant bun!

Here’s the template for a perfect summer sky !
April 2008
Though frost and snow lock’d from mine eyes
That beauty which without door lies,
Thy gardens, orchards, walks, that so
I might not all thy pleasures know,
Yet,  thou within thy gate
Art of thyself so delicate,
So full of native sweets, that bless
Thy roof with inward happiness,
As neither from nor to thy store
Winter takes aught, or spring adds more.
The cold and frozen air had starv’d
Much poor, if not by thee preserv’d,
Whose prayers have made thy table blest
With plenty, far above the rest.
The season hardly did afford
Coarse cates unto thy neighbors’ board,
Yet thou hadst dainties, as the sky
Had only been thy volary;
Or else the birds, fearing the snow
Might to another Deluge grow,
The pheasant, partridge, and the lark
Flew to thy house, as to the Ark.
The willing ox of himself came
Home to the slaughter, with the lamb,
And every beast did thither bring
Himself, to be an offering.
The scaly herd more pleasure took,
Bath’d in thy dish, than in the brook;
Water, earth, air, did all conspire
To pay their tributes to thy fire,
Whose cherishing flames themselves divide
Through every room, where they deride
The night, and cold aboard; whilst they,
Like suns within, keep endless day.
Those cheerful beams send forth their light
To all that wander in the night,
And seem to beckon from aloof
The weary pilgrim to thy roof,
Where if, refresh’d, he will away,
He’s faily welcome; or if stay,
Far more; which he shall hearty find
Both from the master and the hind.
The stranger’s welcome each man there
Stamp’d on his cheerful brow doth wear,
Nor doth this welcome or his cheer
Grow less ‘cause he stays longer here;
There’s none observes, much less repines,
How often this man sups or dines.
Thou hast no porter at the door
T’examine or keep back the poor;
Nor locks nor bolts: thy gates have been
Made only to let strangers in;
Untaught to shut, they do not fear
To stand wide open all the year,
Careless who enters, for they know
Thou never didst deserve a foe;
And as for thieves, thy bounty’s such,
They cannot steal, thou giv’st so much.
Wee Angus on his wae frae work
would hit tha pub fa a perk
O' Tennents lager frae tha keg
whiles chatting up tha barmaid Meg
A pint or twa there wae friens
a' bleathering awa like scholars an Deans
Debators O Parlimentary views
Ministers preaching o'er tha pews
Wae drink in hand they'd laugh their fill
tha glory Mead upon their bill
Yelping like some bairney pups
catching breeths atween their sups.

(nae wiser a man than yin filled wae ale
Nae greater a time than while drinking frae tha Grail.)

In football games they A' would linger
or singing songs for all's a singer
Nae matter how bad tha voice
a' would request their favorite choice
Happy all wae drink in hand
while holding up the bar they stand
In rattled curses tae tha bumping airms
while viewing o'er some lassies chairms
Whispering oot all dreams an desires
that drink within them all inspires
An' Angus kens that soon or late
he tae hame must tak tha gate.

Kenning tae deep doun inside
his drunken breath he'd better hide
Saying fareweel tae friens and foes
leaing ahind tha pub's warm burning coals
Doun he stummels tae tha chippy
tha air ootside tis crisp an nippy
Making him drunker than afore
he side steps frae door tae door
Eating his fish supper, enjoying each bite
thinking aboot all that's happened tha night.
Till there he rouns tha corner street
His hame sae warmly it does greet,
Falling o'er tha step ootside his hame
Tha door it opens, Behold his sullen Dame
Trying tae act sober wae all his might
afore his wifie here tha night
But she's nae fool nor blind tae see
his daft antics, his blabbering plea.

In comes Angus wae words O' love
tae face tha thumping slap an shove
Her roaring voice would put fear intae tha Deil
Hear wee Angus weep an squeal.

(What type O' life drink it brings
that great at first yet later stings
What worth has man tae waste his life
wae drinks illusions an its strife.
Sooner or later as true as Hell
Yin cannie live save by its spell
getting worse an worse day by day
while friens an family turn away
An Angus wheither he kens or no
has drifted where tha drunkards go
An time shall tell what fate bestows
for tha Curse O Ale, nae man knows.)

Alisdaire O'Caoimph
Scott M Reamer Mar 2013
Said I was, then I wasn’t
Tossed my photo id
99 on the interstate
Forgot my home address
This or last years birthdays
Cerebral teasing, electrical wheezing
Coughing up candy colored viscous mixtures
Pain pills, strange ills, black tar rapt
Plastics wax kid cradle doping until fatal
Sipping succulent sups from yang’s ladle
Freak streaks bisect mind-framed societies
Claim lives and blind young eyes
Perhaps its an exaggerated fable
More able however an argument for contrast
Long-lived mobile monument smoke stacks
Toothless twelve year old flashing crack caps
Slow know elapse forgotten hats blown home
Always sixty seconds to go, cool clock interlock
Alleyway temple made meek street ever bleak
Folly is an empty spoon, children’s cartoons
Wall starter, void walker, treble swelled neurotic
Creeps dream witchcraft borderline hypnotic
Say it was before it wasn’t
spysgrandson Dec 2012
the clanking of the radiator
is the only sound
except her breathing
which she measures
as if she knows
the finite number
until her last,
her coffee cold,
in it she sees the night
from which she came,
the blind, deaf walkers
the fuming taxis
she left
in the square streets
her eyes well
with the last drops
of the last love
of the last light
of the last star
in her galaxy of loss
only one drop falls
into her cradled cup
when it vanishes
in the indifferent sea
she sups it slowly
back inside
where the night belongs
but never stays
** poem inspired by Edward Hopper's Automat--please view link
http://automathopper.blogspot.com/
Lee Janes Dec 2012
Fresh morning leaves droop over branches,
As light dances with duet mood in the flickering blue;
Reflecting, saying ‘hi', as my eyes reply with a squint.
Birds in shadow with divine annoyance, chatter wild scenes
Not asked for, heard through the night.
Apollo lovingly embraces all I see
Motherly caressing, hugging fatherly,
Everything in view; turning his soft
Impacts into wondrous colour that reality
Deems too true. Yet none, I say,
Sing; produce your face, a pure as snow white
Face; lips blushing berry red with
Summers tender kiss and her gentle growth.
Humming a scent that velvet violets, surrounded
By golden daffodils, in which, a lone
Bee sups his ambrosia; swaying to and fro,
This way and that with a mysterious power drawn;
To his home, dropping a honey so sweet, sipped
And tasted, creates no sense if sense
Could ever your skin copy. Low waves,
Breathed from energetic wings, waft
Perfume upward, towards the heavens,
Towards it travels and down they look, all,
An elegant goddess, elegant as earth's season
Giving spring, birth of labouring waters
From winters devilish bite; they do gaze
And notice undoubtedly your dazzling sheen.
Hungrily grasping, as turtle-doves swoop
To gather her nest, before the break of storm.
Upon this soft green grass I pray, you lay
With me; humbly offered; while
Bellowing clouds creep forever near,
Thirsting for you to be returned to
Your throne, imbedded between the stars.
To lift you up on cupped hands
And to sleep dreamingly, residing you go.
Paul Butters Dec 2021
Our so-called “Universe” is an erupting volcano
Spewing out gas and solid matter
To form a cosmic web
Of incandescent galaxies full of stars
Rushing away from us
Ever faster
Until we see them no more.

We tiny mice men gaze up at the sky
To make out next to nothing
Of the wider landscape
On which our universe-volcano
Sends out its plumes.

Us mice we sit, idly supping our pints of ale:
Taking a break from “shopping”
For the better half.
Blithely taking for granted
The wonder that lies above our heads.

A cosmos riddled with black holes –
Places where Time has stopped.
Where if you somehow survived
You would be frozen solid
With no knowledge that Time keeps moving
Out there beyond the Event Horizon.

If Time has stopped
How can anything exist?
How can Hawking Radiation seep out
When there simply isn’t time?

Even Brian *** doesn’t know,
As he sits and sups his pint.
None of us know.
And as my glass empties,
Just as the universe will eventually empty,
All I can say is
Let’s have another one.

Paul Butters

© PB 7\12\2021.
spysgrandson May 2016
the clanking
of the radiator
the only sound

except her breaths
which she counts, as if
she knows the finite number
until her last

her coffee cold;
in it she sees the night
from which she came:
the blind, deaf walkers,
the fuming taxis she left
in the square streets

her eyes well
with the last drops
of the last light
of the last star
in her galaxy
of loss

only one tear falls
into her cradled cup
where it vanishes into
the indifferent sea

she sups it slowly
back inside, where night belongs
but never stays
** poem inspired by Edward Hopper's Automat--please view link
http://automathopper.blogspot.com/
Terry Collett Feb 2015
Two monks pick fruit
from bushes
in the abbey gardens,

the early
afternoon sun
blesses

their tonsured heads,
a black beaded rosary
hangs

from the leather belt
of the younger one.
I polish the wood

of the choir stalls
with beeswax
and a yellow duster;

I remember her softness,
her opening wide,
the scent of hair

as I moved in
and lay there.
The Austrian monk,

head to one side,
sups his soup
in the refectory

off the old
French spoon,
listening to the reader

read of Cromwell,
and the thought of Compline
and bed quite soon.
MONKS AND A NOVICE IN AN ABBEY IN 1971.
Butch Decatoria Apr 2017
Enjoys

peaches, pudding

Pies, tapioca,

But

often sups

on beef.
Lawrence Hall Dec 2018
(ripped from the sages' pages of the Middle Ages – “Sumer is icumen in”)

Merrily he eats the worms
Pull them from the ground!
Their heads pop up
On them he sups
As they squirm around
Chirp, robin!

The squirrels are eating all the seeds
The cardinal’s head’s a-bobbin’
The doves are cooing
The cows are mooing
Chirp merrily, robin!

Robin, robin
How well you chirp
Now eat the worms and burp!

Burp, burp, burp!
On seeing dozens of robins, one squirrel, one woodpecker, one cardinal, and one dove outside my window on Christmas morning.
poetryaccident Aug 2018
They say suffering is God's grace
rejoice in pain the helper brings
as a gift to tortured souls
evoking love in misery

woe leading to fortitude
resolute in life’s decline
there’s no place to go but down
patience grasped it’s crushed

this toleration leads the way
stoicism born of pain
disposition springing forth
making claims against what’s lost

building character as the goal
twisted fruit from blood soaked ground
seeking hope beyond the fall
stumbling forward on broken bones

now shame is lost to the void
gift of Spirit that sups on gore
that twisted love now evoked
suffering’s end I’ll not rejoice.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180803.
The poem “God’s Grace” was inspired by Romans 5:3-5.  I was made aware of this passage, the crux of the material about the value of suffering, when a friend posted a meme about the fallacy of suffering building character.  A mutual friend responded with the Romans’ passage.  I believe that suffering can provide hard-earned wisdom and compassion for others.  I don’t believe that suffering opens the door (forces) people to turn to the Divine in an effort to receive hope from a holy messenger.
Mattrick Patrick Nov 2014
Honey wine sups serpentine,
Sweetness blended from your mouth,
drips droopily from lips to feet,
from eyes to meet eyes and lips to lips

This heady mixture's supple spirits Electrifying,
Your hand’s soft skin flows sparks and light
and prismatic auras like a thousand butterflies
From smiling eyes, and soft soul lightening skin
Embrace my hearts subtle ecstasies  

Behind the cornucopia of your apparition
Beyond the vague attempts to charge  
Distracted by a thousand butterflies, wings a flutter
Smashed off honey-wines that flow from your lips
Yet all the more I focus on that silence in your breast  

Without a season, without a compass, without a question  
The first thought when I wake
That last before I sleep
Tryst Jul 2023
Bluebells, chimeless cups --
Scented veils o'er hills and dales
Whence the dew-bird sups

Bluebells 'neath the moon --
Velvet rugs for slugs and bugs
In the gloaming gloom

Bluebells in the woods --
Bobbing seas beneath tall trees,
Lovely little buds
cheryl love Jan 2015
She was told not to mix
her grape and her grain
because all little fairies
end up with is pain.
in their little tummies.
The chief elf said so.
He should know
he has pain mixing his grain.
He rolled out the barrel
weeks ago and still he sups
from the tap when he needs to
his tummy is a barrel full of beer
which is queer, dressed in green.
Like a poppy pod waiting to burst
Which wont be a first.
His greedy thirst has spread
to the little lady in red.
The drunken fairy.
The merry fairy in red.
Now splat on her bed
with cheeks to match her attire.
Like she is on fire.
Burning her brains out
with a barrel of stout
clapped out
the merry fairy
Beth Carmen Aug 2016
There,
he wonders if there is
too much cream coiling in
tendrils, swirling.
He peels the cup from a large penny-stain
and sups at sweet heat, too sweet,
too sweet.

If only it was of the richest brown!
Bitter and scalding - and it becomes!
Clearer and clearer it becomes
in porcelain mug, creamy.
And the world would be most wonderful, then.
The world would be wonderful
once more, again, the rain would once more dance
again, just as the coffee
must trace young
delicate rings on
placemats and the upper bits
of lips-

but the rain outside is heavy and stale, and the stains
are leaking, leaking pennies
Still, he stares into his coffee
sitting plainly on the table
and thinks.
Feel free to critique
The Fire Burns Sep 2016
Gauche is hiking down
Through tangled red forest on
Venus mons, prize waits

The land parts widely
The spring is already running
anticipation

Gauche lingers on rise
The ground trembles in want
Gauche travels downhill

The canyon is slick
The walls quiver joyously
A cave is ahead

Gauche is tempted by
His brother calls from uphill
Wait, the ground growls loud

Droit has found a peak
He wishes to explore in
distance another

Gauche climbs back to rise
Lingers there, Droit makes summit
The ground hums in joy

Labbra arrives climbs
Other peak, breathes heavily
Sups on dew at peak

Gauche returns to cave
Enters, earthquake, happens now
Labbra devours

Droit clings to the peak
Gauche darts in and out of cave
Labbra hikes downward

Gauche climbs to peak which
Labbra left, he continues
Down the valley, thirst

Labbra reaches rise
Rests here for a while, ground squirms
Moves toward the cave

More quakes begin now
Droit and Gauche squeeze and cling tight
Labbra drinks at spring

The ground quiets down now
The brothers leave for now
Knight appears, sword drawn

Knight approaches cave
Sword drawn, he enters, ground moans
The brothers return

Labbra meets his match
Further to the north, agape
Entwined they join

Peaks reoccupied
The brothers Knead the ground
The cave closes in

Knight attacks with sword
The ground squeezes tight
Sword plunges faster

The ground erupts then
The sword breaks and leaks, cave fills
All leave now to sleep

Epic ecstasy
Contented dreams occupy
The minds rest renewed.
Droit and gauche, French for right and Left, labbra is Italian for lips. An experiment in haiku flow.  © 9 months ago
Josh Jul 2017
The grass is wet
Drops of rain, clinging
To each lolling blade
Like minute universes
Trees, all purple, like a swollen bruise
Or overripe fruit
Bit into, to cascade juices down
The chin of one, who sups upon
The pulpy flesh
And drinks, the juice of life
I fade, and flicker
Far away, and held fast
By that simple majesty
I see in nature
In this wet grass
I see, time's endless passage
Emerald green, vibrant grass
Here, and there, is scattered
All about, with leaves
Withered, brown, old
Marking time's voyage onward
Ravaged, by the passing moments
They do not even blow
Or flutter in the wind
As they did when they
Were green, on summer day
But rest, or are all dead
And will not stir
For what might stir now
The old and decayed
No touch of green upon them
Nay, they will not stir
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
Okay did this, twice, so next time I know, its ok.
Principle thing, not a best contention,
not a we gotta save reality rehash, BTDT they say
-we came in search of the initial once…

and stories started sprouting, we were
in a fluent truth seeker attracting attention,
inadvertently kenning a certain point.
First  
only first thing ever in time, before time, once…

Lead us away from fools who lead to war…
lead us into
thought pearls, after the memorized prayer,
from my child mind kept alive, laughing,
yet the blame and shame for silence
is thouroughly roughed up
with penitent repetitions,
rote remutterings
mostly never thought through, with why
or how, 'm I supposed to know we have… you know

"Our Father"
Pater Noster, where might a tribal lad learn
the sacred knowledge needed to discern
good from evil, or right from wrong?
Each bit discerned
is not the same each time
in every way shape and form
discerned usefullness or uselessness,
from  symbolic halls of justice polished floors
leading to for profit prisons, good folk need,
all the social planners forsee guards made
from sons of same **** who'd be good guards,
generally good for something, and useless
otherwise, make fine maintenance staff,
keep the bar scenes looking local,
make us all think that's real life,
one bit per hour, on an eight bit dollar.
---------- steady, aim from a prone pose…

The soldier of the hidden pain, sups
his secret vow,
to be of one mind
in matters of the heart, tied
with all minds granted sapien status,
from birth
into a covenant
of traditional rights
and wrongs, complete
with corrective lenses,
close your eyes. Dare. Imagine.
--------------
As it is in heaven.
Which is where the spirit known to Jesus as God,
by all the Torah names authorized in public discourse, is, that is,
lives… being
as a man thinks in his heart, so is he
He Lives… within my heart, operatically
thinking BG, joke noise, top forty '68,
the falsetto
in toto repento, ayiiiiiee started a joke…

and where all our will is of no consequence,
in the course of human events, we live
and learn, if ever is a moment, now is when we notice.

Look out any window,
ask if you see more than your TV?

No, contest, tv wins. So somebody knows,
no need for me to be involved beyond this point.

------------
Simplicity enough, peace
in serene acknowledgement,
the sorting algorithms shake
and shuffle all our potential nextifity.

It is only you and me, we comprise
the agreeing parts that make up our mind.
We've made no compromise.
{in case you misread our intentions}
prize each instant outside a door.

We live after the traditional teachers, tell us
all of the teachers now are teaching old news.

Spells sufficient to alter an individuated soul's
course through the grown up world as it was
undermined
by a boom
of kids my age, all made immune to many plagues, as no babes before in history,
our reasoning capability, altered
by mandated universal literacy.

Followed with machine graded
achievement testing annually,
sorting kind with kind, readers
with readers, learners with learned,

let me explain the process,
for this once
you survive
a war with nuclear weapons, you're smart
now
you got tempted, by the flesh, far from home,
guilt of the altar boy be upon you, and also
on thee, amen, amenable to reconscription,
rescript, attention deficit, sit it out,
from on high, from outer space…
certain, formed selves,
former selves as well.
Makers up of minds and pluralities of merest
wishes, whatifery a practiced specialty,
wait for free,
pay attention to see the demo. That'd be….
easy if you see your part and play it well.

No and yes.
Thing not thing, nothing, a word, a thing
this one thing, this thought held in this word,
each word eventually individuates, and means

at the tipping point, all it means, at once.

And all the people beneath the steeple,
clap one handedly and whisper amen.

Am Big U Is Us, we be the happy fools.

------------

Many results from **** experiments survived.
I learned some history from those people.

If I lie about my faith, if
I say I asked and accepted this use of words
as real as any answer, if
I say I know I have the forgiven mind,
I say I know I have let go my will,
thine be done, I say to truth, make me free.

Who am I ? to say nay,
I am not free, but bound
by my oaths upon my own word,
no oath's more binding
on the soul than those sworn to yourself?

- I cawed the question intrusivethought
- Mark…up there horsehoe canyon meander,
- making peace a real time essential.

You do love you, you trust you, you must not lie
to yourself, first interpretation, know yourself,
to your own self, first person lovable you, be true.

Or be the brunt of all the fool's jokes.

----------------
Okeh,
It just so happens,
have you never heard it said?
It just so happens,
just like that redone forgotten dance
that I was thinking about you,
but yourself was unaware.

With myself, for an instance,
love was a given defined action,
not an act, but an action, a doing
being done, done once it continues

something like life,
if you know
you know, nobody knows everything
that the minds used
by mankind pursue
as happiness,
the ultimate state, heaven,
or, heavenly
on earth as we imagine it
must be, there,
outside the green lit temple
and all the gaudy gold and great cristal baths.

Stop there, think with me, letter by letter,
stopping
ejecting conjunctions with lost time generations,
the ghosts of the first to be officially analyzed,
delved
into,
in throaty Tuvan moan WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE
- mono tone Ai am positive
tinkly Jiminy Cricket, merest of conscious advisors to us,
still small, the trusted advisor's voice is always right,

It says yes, this is the way, leading away from temptation.

Breaking the fourth wall, we all look out
and ask the other minds, who ever imagined, not asking
not asking
to not be led into temptation. Event hue-risktical query… right?
Lead on, tempt me, thy will be done, I take no respossibility.

Whose invention was the conscious guide for children,
the mark (?) serpentwisdom on the dot.
it is a mechanism,
a construction
from life parts, a Large Language
Modeled mind, fed
but a taste of **** and Jane,
but enough to know,

the exposure to language was not the same
in all white people's childhood reality, with cousins and uncles
and aunts, who were older and responsible for the littles, who had
an experience common to the species,
after gaining bipedal locomotion and bowel control,
- for kids like me and
- plant grandmother's granddaughter
We'ld hear, with full attention on

go out side and play with the big kids, as was normal.
That, was normal then.

So now, first hat,
be first to know… as mental maker minds may
beguiled be and become aware, and laugh in joy.
Among the first grunts and sylabbic inflections, ever,
at base logos concept. Goodgleegladly crazy as that.
Spiritual truth containment spell, do tell. Child laught.
In a word. Go to the t, in time left behind ime
I am.
In the beginning of mindtimespace, at once big, init-itial
continuant material coexistence,
balancing time and chance.
The drummer calls the dance…

fit the fullness of the godhead ******
into a kid, and let him pick
his dreams using the head gear he chooses,
this is a real preschoo' child'smind preparing
to sleep routine, I imagined,
I think I was three, and the baby Peggy
who I never knew, was dead, a now noted absence,
but then there was a servant offering me dream machines,
the hat I wore to bed would set the genre for my dreams,
and I picked the spherical space helm, it came with a shield.
- trippy autobiomode triggered, I think, by Feynman.
- then I hear the **** crow thrice, I waited, another crow
- so no significance, he crows still, his singing soon stops.

Silence, soon fills with magic humms from distance, not time
spent imagining the worth, of a late autumn,
huey light bending into reds, now it's dars, some hums the same
I have found, a door into a then when I played in my mind.
I am in my right mind.
I have this cached in the collective.
I lived in a house behind the Mohave County Courthouse,
the backdoors to justice, were right across the street,
where the lawn was clover and bermuda, and children played there
on non workdays… the tendency
to think in movie sense,
thought to thought, holding hands,
we both know what that means, then both know we don't

but life, looked back at,
can be seen from where you stand or sit, stood, now
360 horizonal, the circumference, the carry path around the axel,
lever, wedge and wheel…
energy conversion to time in mind,
witty inventions, mind to mind along a wire, plain coloquentcies.
Minding my manners,
methinking beguiling a fine how do you do.
Present arms, no harm done.
It is charming to feel that look.
Command line mechanical procedural habits,
call it carriage return
hard or soft, hard, double spacing rules
from childhood, linger here
logic commands apt intention to ponder
wasted space makes no never mind,
any edit app can insert sense
since we
the users were imagined, selected
from the children,
specifically
from the downwinders families
in Mohave County,
as participants in the program parents accepted
guaranteed universally accepted credentials,
at the moment angel judging becomes credible.

First I drew a cowboy boot, and they marveled.
Ah, the program, my folks must have pulled some
puppetry spell ANDTHEN CAPSLOCKED
real Koyaanisqatsi
coincidental exposure to all skin tones,
make each feel special, let them know Radar Hill,

is the only place in town where a black man,
was employed, by the Strategic Air Command,
and he lived on my street, yes,
I only just now drew this memory from an unconsciousness,
whether in the brain or the mind, I cannot say I know.

But I know where it ends, and that makes it all pretty funny.

He slips into auto-bio mode, self causal
re-de vi fo fm am 2 restive, crochet, plait,
breathe retake the
adventure in the collected unconsciousness of me,
self-actualized,
by my arrogance and cognition, acting as if in
reflections of me,
in my grand mother's eye, down the line,
as far as
true will out, and eventually land us here.

For an instance, using the measure of the recipient.
For an ever, using the mind in a word formed
per formal
occassional fallings off the log,
daydreaming as readily relatable, mote
at balance beam, perhaps an old bull routine,
landing with upwaved curved wrists,
fingers frozen in grace rising pose.
-nice non intrusive
Myrna Loy, find her statue in Venice,
and imagine her joy at being recognized
in 1989… hers was a deep beauty, memorable.

---------------------
As an epigraph a mad conscientist might suffer to be so,
you know, we may imagine being Martians, or monstors,
thinking things,
we, on the whole,
by now, know how to read, or use
reading tools, we find our minds align with others,
presented to us as creative writers, one might thinkgno-w
we were fed the canon of civilization, a bit at a time.
Some parts we gulped like dogs,
Some parts we nibbled like cats, but we were fed.

History and archeo-knowing is growing as apex human
spread pours over the last curve
in sight, all we have
are points of light,
and if this were night and not day
we could say these points were stars,
consider this,
an enjoyable idea,
a little trip you can use, sidereally,

starlight wise, and logical progressions
after agreeing
to step past simple
into polished floor sublimnity,
in our collected nonconscious idle thoughts abused,
as we speak
in fashionable phrazes that become
command line conscience
in 5-G appliances atuning
to your tastes
in puzzles and teasers and loss leaders, tools in use,
con-science,
tech knowledge,
and eth-knowledge, used
to effect a balance. Dead stop, still.

Did you get all that? Kinda funny. I think now, I did, too.
Free press share if you would, it might make a thing think
jopfre Jun 2022
I am a person
and member of society
as decreed by our majestic queen
on my nativity's receipt.

I am a person
and that is a tree
though where its leaves end and I begin
can't be cast in concrete.

I am a person
and so are you
though where your fingers entwine
with mine they fray to filaments and fuse.

We are edgeless electronic soup
our neurons move like croutons
our dreams clot and swirl like cream
you are carrot, I am parsnip
basking under leaves of parsley.

The queen grasps her coronation spoon
from which she sups on callaloo.
ignorance
is the font of originality
from which necessity sups
thus suckling us
infusing music unique
the names of the notes
superfluous
no education no emulating
nothing not ours is good enough
self bias raised
everything to gain
giving everything
make a tape of the songs
demo #1
then its on scene

— The End —