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Ju Clear Nov 2016
I ve banned tec from our table
Tec is the terrorist in town
I ve banned tec from the bedroom
Tec is numbing us
Interacting is not cool
Interfacing is what's happening
I neck the new illness
Talking face to face
Is old school
Back in the day
When hanging out on walls
At the phone box
Now people go no where
Snap chatting what's it app app app
Instasham
Face ache
Phwww
It's all too much for me
Overloads pointless
tec is taking over
Observations of my teenagers .
Cedric McClester Apr 2015
By: Cedric McClester

Any ***** can shoot a *****
What’s it take to pull a trigger
How much pressure do ya figure
Is required to dead a *****
Problem is you’re killin you
When you pull the trigger to
Shoot someone who looks like you
But ain’t that what you ****** do

A ***** lookin for respect
Could pull out a Nine or Tec
At a time you least expect
And you might have to hit the deck
Cuz when the bullets start to fly
Those who don’t just might die
And you don’t wanna go - okay
Like ****** do around the way – cuz

Any ***** can shoot a *****
What’s it take to pull a trigger
How much pressure do ya figure
Is required to dead a *****
Problem is you’re killin you
When you pull the trigger to
Shoot someone who looks like you
But ain’t that what you ****** do

Keep one eye open when you sleep
Cuz in the hood life is cheap
So watch the company you keep
Your main man might be a creep
Don’t let ‘em get the drop on you
The way some ****** like to do
They’ll roll up on you with a crew
And run a clip off into you

Any ***** can shoot a *****
What’s it take to pull a trigger
How much pressure do ya figure
Is required to dead a *****
Problem is you’re killin you
When you pull the trigger to
Shoot someone who looks like you
But ain’t that what you ****** do

****** don’t respect themselves
Never mind someone else
That’s why they keep their gats and shells
And you know what that often spells
Cuz ****** are up to no good
There’s gun smoke in the neighborhood
And it’s high time they realize
That it’s themselve who they despise – cuz

Any ***** can shoot a *****
What’s it take to pull a trigger
How much pressure do ya figure
Is required to dead a *****
Problem is you’re killin you
When you pull the trigger to
Shoot someone who looks like you
But ain’t that what you ****** do

Did you ever stop to think
****** could become extinct
In the time it takes to blink
Like some kind of missin link
Unless we suddenly stop killin
The prophesy will keep fulfillin
Even though the thought is chillin
Long as the blood just keep on spillin – cuz

Any ***** can shoot a *****
What’s it take to pull a trigger
How much pressure do ya figure
Is required to dead a *****
Problem is you’re killin you
When you pull the trigger to
Shoot someone who looks like you
But ain’t that what you ****** do

Although it’s often said in play
And despite what some folks say
The use of ***** ain’t okay
Though you might hear it everyday
My usage of it in this joint
Is for effect to prove a point
It’s not to glorify the term
But will you ****** ever learn – that

Any ***** can shoot a *****
What’s it take to pull a trigger
How much pressure do ya figure
Is required to dead a *****
Problem is you’re killin you
When you pull the trigger to
Shoot someone who looks like you
But ain’t that what you ****** do

Although it’s often said in play
And despite what some folks say
The use of ***** ain’t okay
Though you might hear it everyday
My usage of it in this joint
Is for effect to prove a point
It’s not to glorify the term
But will you ****** ever learn



(c) Copyright 2015.  Cedric McClester.  All rights reserved.
extasis Jan 2010
Crackling criss-crossing blue in mind. It scissors down the lanes through the pipes and tubes and little dividers. Electrical mind numbing beauty. Veins-bursting in excited anticipation. Convulsions and scenic skittering routes. Into the Nexus! Here simmers what we are thinking and believing. Our mind's eye focuses and drips into the pool until completion. Psionic figures dance flicker through life existence. Pulse-width fluctuations. Tiny menagerie of our Will. Scribbling through dusted panes of time interface. All afire with ourselves once we have discovered ourselves. Nano-tech emotions. Hope fear anger mercy curiosity buzzing swarms of grey goo jibbering and bubbling in an artificial mind-****. What is all this allusion? Nothing complicated. Speculation on future times where sensual technological biological singularity is paramount. In my room where the clocks are taped over and the sun is dark and dim. Through the windows I see myself. The boxes on the floor emanate simple clickings with melodies intertwined casually. I myself appear redundant. I have done this and so have others. To discuss oneself is worthless unless you become convinced you are another entity gazing back across the room. I feel I am being watched. I become cautious as he may have noticed. Tingling weightlessness tickles in waves in both heads. The Jazz Classic appears. Old dark men and women in hazy environments. Organic supposition or cold observation? Both hold importance so let us appreciate it all. The cello quivers and hums with vibration. Fingers callused and riveted like the age-old corn field bother still strings. A child hums to just myself. What does he want? I never asked him for an audience. Yet he freely gives it to me. Now he multiplies. Or she? Children confuse and cause one to be apprehensive. Nothing and silence. Silence in movement. Cease my visual stimulation for a couple seconds each. The child is back. What does he speak? Pray inside the rubble? Heal in this place? In disgrace? I do not know. His octaves are meshing together. Whining and thrumming with strange alterations. Some madmen tweaks my ears. Maybe he knows the child? I'm not sure. Let us continue on. The flute is the child. Old cello, you have stopped? These musings mean nothing. I would look upon them in a year and think nothing of it. Yet it feels as if this time is important. Da Vinci knocks on the door. Not as if I wanted to talk to it. Wouldn't mind I suppose. He is gone. We talked but I do not remember the conversation. Perhaps we've all talked but we just don't remember our conversations. That's ridiculous though. Then anything is possible. We could have flown to the moon on scarlet weasels outfitted with the latest nano-pores that secreted pure liquid indulgence. And we did because I just imagined we might have. However, I don't remember actually doing it. Just what I thought it might have been like. How frustrating. My thoughts are the same as all others who write out their thoughts when under the influence of yourself. It always seems like some thing is scuttling near my feet or under the nightstand; just out of view. Strange. I would be afraid. No reason to fear that which doesn't bother me. No reason to fear much of anything. That's been said before. Why are we so often concerned with saying that which has been said before? Cliche? auump-ump auump-ump auump-ump little thumping noise in my ears. That vibration is calming. Every night I am awake. Every day I seem asleep. I do not like it but I do not care yet I allow it to be what it will. Vision defaults to out of focus. My eyes always cross if I cease trying to control them. People are strange. Animals are strange. Same thing I guess. Someone will find that clever. Someone will find it cliche. This someone won't care. ****** fantasy permeates day to day. More entertaining than living a fantasy though. ***. Not that entertaining. Perhaps no one knows how to do it properly anymore. Maybe we never did. Maybe some people are just disenchanted with it. When I'm by myself, I never have any ****** desire. When around others, I generally think of it out of curiosity: what would it be like to please the person in front of me? The only enjoyment I've had with *** would consist of pleasing another or observing another ****. The human body is intriguing. Definitely. I really do think so. Sometimes I look at my own. Not out of appreciation really. Just the fact that I have body allows me to investigate it and understand it more. Pain is merely a stage one can get past, so I suppose I injure myself sometimes to see how I react. It's like I need to check I'm still working properly. I can't tell when I'm tired. I feel something, but when I ask myself if I'm tired, I murmur back, "I don't know." Maybe that is why I stay up till early mornings? I wanted to add again that the human body is beautiful and unappealing all in the same space. Perhaps the unattractiveness and softness and strangeness produces attraction. A negative and a negative equals a positive. Three negatives likes to fluctuate. In my mind at least. I may ask another to remove their clothing and whatnot during those intimate moments. Eh, never quite feel like having *** though. I like the emotions and sensuality of just looking at someone. They usually want to physically play around with each other. I think I enjoy fighting more. One day I'll leave everyone except I'll reminisce on those I enjoyed meeting. Maybe come back and visit? I would like to ride something quickly through an empty desert. Find my own food and water. Create shelter. Think by myself. My room is the smallest desert I have and the biggest. I have more in my head but I only occupy one at a time. I suppose I like I do like things like all others. I mean, materials can be nice. If I impart meaning on to an object it gains importance. I see it vital to also say that if it were to be lost, then I wouldn't mind and I would obtain something else or nothing at all.The constitution. Just mentioned by some woman in my room. Or in my ears would be more correct. Constitutional Rights. I honestly don't see the need for them. I was criticized for burbling that once. We should not need a constitution. We should be able to do what we like to do without fear or concern. Unless natural fear and concern appears. Now that may confuse a bit. Right to bear arms. I shouldn't have to be told or allowed to massive bear arms if I feel the need to have them. Big hairy bear arms. Curious little mishap. Freudian slip as Johnny said once? Danger Danger. Anyway, Right to bare arms. I shouldn't have to be told, as I look back,  go back and throw in that comma after told, that I'm allowed to bare arms and defend myself. I'll just do it if the need arises. Freedom of speech. That already has many issues these days. However, there shouldn't have been a need to tell people they have freedom of speech. Speech should have been freely allowed and never oppressed in  the first place. Theme? We have erred so much in the past and I would think sometimes we ignore that and just try make little cosmetic fixes by saying it's okay. Another point. Hold that: side discomfort. I sometimes feel like a little spider or creature is crawling or skittering on my leg under the covers or I'll change the music to Galaxy 2 Galaxy 90's hi-tec jazz there we go. Done! Now back! Or I forget what I said about the spiders. Another point: what? ******, curse damnable ****. Can't recollect what it was I was connecting together. Something that tied in to deceiving people into things are okay. I could go on about consumerism and all that jazz. Instead I'm listening to some techno-jazz whatever-decided-to-call-it. Hyphenated phrases are fun when I decide they are appropriate. English and grammar in such can be cool but at the same time I want to say **** it and stay proper. Do both. Acknowledge how to write and speak "correctly," but as long as someone understands what you are trying to say, then why correct more? Someone large doesn't like the fact I make a lot of noise in the morning. I stole some speakers and subwoofer from the room next to me as I was going to say Austin.  They are on the floor and whichever large person lives below me is probably annoyed or was. I don't spend any of my actual time despising them, but I'll easily say I despise them when someone asks. Otherwise it isn't worth wasting time on. Perhaps the vibration quivers downstairs and shakes them silently. The greate beast is perturbed and sneaky vibrations cause electro-annoyance! Her pulsewidth as I understand it must be like a super-saw as I think it. Silence. Some woman said it's just a feeling. HEA not sure what why I put that sounds like a garageband song. Switched to Inspiration! That is what I did this night. Finally start writing and making things again. Even though I never did and always did. My head sometimes hurts from thinking. Never truly though. Gotta say those things to keep the conversation going. That is really the only reason I say anything. To keep the conversation going. Otherwise I'd just watch people and be just fine. Just yelled "bahh," out loud (didn't sound the comma) because I felt the need or the want. Same. Wrong keys erased. sdas=a====dddddddddd Sorry. Oh well. Oh My. How the time flies goodbye. Going nowhere. Could write more but I felt the slight flicker of wanting to stop. So I do. What an ending. Now I'm only typing to continue the conversation with myself. Just thought ******* sounds good melody. Do as I sayt way to go good job. STOPSDMFA

****** a

Guess I'll read this little conundrum I wrote up. Stop writing ******. Stop EDITING
Alex Vice May 2014
Sitting up at the break of dawn
Memoirs of the suicidal,
I geuss my father is by biggest idol
I wanna be like him -gone...

Call me strange
Like i walk around with a tec nine
Because i'm gonna take what's mine
And no i'm never going to change

So keep talking ****
See how that works out
I'll take you far away where they can't hear you shout,
And upside your head's where you're gonna get split

Still stompin'
Still taking ****
Still getting hit
Still not slippin'
Jordan Hudson Nov 2018
Highway, street, it's right up the road
Hotel stay, motel meet, star of the show
Raise hell day, shell station meet, the more you know
Accelerate, stance nation meet, car is too slow
2.4 the fragile four, that loud *** car guy next door
Four banger, rice ganger, listen to her roar
Blow the engine, trans on the floor
No brakes, stock intake, make Civics cry for more
Fake TRD blew the other rice away
Crop dusting some Honda today
Left some old Civic on the side of the road
Couldn't count on V-TEC I suppose
VVT-i, the never dying ride
Won't hide or deny buttons are fried
But I am the life long roadside guide
Follow mine
Line, line, line, line, line, line
Straight, dash, yellow and white
Line, line, line, line, line, line
Yeah, VVT-i
Line, line, line, line, line, line
Straight, dash, yellow and white
Line, line, line, line, line, line
Yeah, VVT-i
VVT-i power!
Max Neumann Jun 2021
walking thru the valley of words
speechless are our soldiers in war
times of creative breaks, shootings
the sounds of slugs overpower rivals

gangstapoets stand tall in gory hoods
we dunno what fear is, bloodhoundz
as we only need 8 minutes to gather 80
0 traitors, giving bread to hungry ones

one tower, one pit, one block, 1LOVE
feel me rushing over sparklin' glaciers
south florida, 64th floor, ocean fiends
snake charmer in crime, 20 to 55, flip

kobacobraface scammed one of us
unknown were the ties among tizz and gp
in the background, jeezy and assi-toni...

"still on it", "the realest", "kommenzi"
the beats merge in gangstapoet's minds
dominique northstar's silky skin on mine
tissop, the war zones, fallen gangsta poets

dead baby mommas, vamoosing bullets
stop! tizzop is yelling, falling on his knees

and branko, tizzop's red horse approaches
juicy our promises, as sweet as fulfillments
olives, red wine, m2 tec bluetooth babe
red light district, wondaland's lost avenue

in the corner of agony and mania, dey fail
gangstapoets gradually winning turf


to be continued...
***  GANGSTAPOETRY  ***  
                      ***  48 SOULS  *** 
                        

                GANGSTAPOETS:

*  TIZZOP  *  FAMILIA ESCORPIO: SOLDADO ADELITA, ALEJANDRO, THE PROTECTOR & DIEGO, THE TEACHER  *  JEEZY  *  CHALONDRA  *  DMX  *  MOUNTAINBIRD  *  ECCO2K  *  IVANKA COCIÇ  *  KIMBO SLICE  *  LEVY & SOLOMON  *  JORDANOS  *
***  EDEN & NICHOLAS  ***         


               GANGSTAPOETS:


*  TAKTLOSS  *  ASHIMA ABRAHAM  *
*  MERCILESS FREDDY  *  OLEKSIY  *
*  STORMZY  *  LEERY LEYLA  *  ALI
FIREFISTS  *  SIGMUND FREUD  *  FALCO 
*  ANNE CLARK  *  DOMINIQUE NORTHSTAR  *  POOR / THCO  * 
*  1UP CREW  *  CITY MISSION  *  ZORIN  *
*  CHRIS R.



                  GANGSTAPOETS:

*  FREEMAN AND K-RHYME LE ROI  * 
*  FRUMPY  *  ASSI-TONI  **  LUDOVICO EINAUDI  *  HAMZA AL-MIGHTY  *  TONY
TARANTULA  *  KATEYY  *  LOOMIT  * 
*  FAT **** FRANK  **  ANTON CHIGURGH  *  ROSARIO DE LIMA  *  CELLAR FIREFLY  *  LARRY HOOVER  *
*  LUIS FONSI  *  JONATHAN HABESHA OF ALPHAHOTEL WONDALAND  *
Ken Pepiton Apr 2021
one up man ship,
there is that in fair play, I don't know, I never ventured any
good might come from
pulling down
a stronghold, non confron totally nonconfron peeeaaace out

is it tec or did the sttererer get a ne w keyboard and the old is better

Okeh, april is earth month and we are into it,
lots of petroglyphic links to stupid
pothead oh yeah we did
imagine that one time, we no just me, we agreed at that moment
life had a point
and we made it
that was cool.

oh, the deals always tickle, this is disney whatifery I do believe,
this exact once
was there a sela ha aah all that Iroquois mohawk talk,
here is where we imitate socrates, know nada,

live in the world, or in the words that


all ways take my bread I cast upon still waters,
aiaiai we say we know why ai think you know
you know may and you know can
you know take, I know give
life is good I may say, so
may bread,
cast on all waters may be

yours, gnoshit. Y'gottssa eatit.
******* got a new keyboard.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2016
a soft packet of Marlboro's seems ****
these days,
and can i be the flirting first
to give a **** movie critique?
three black guys,
a white girl -
elephantiasis thoroughly established -
no, not the ******* part, the thing you flinch
as to have said: embraced -
      i'd be called a knife-weaving loner with
that sort of dangle -
    and there's me thinking:
that thing is readied for a Serena Williams'
buttocks - it's doubly pelvic in terms
of gravity, how many more inches
do you actually need to bypass those
*******? 12" ain't enough!
              plus, given the size of the actual
thing, how much of it will you actually
get soaked in phlegm while she ***** it
off into an ice-cream? i'd say a third if
not a fifth of it - the rest is kinda lost...
you need an African girl with enough
**** to tickle the tip of that skyscraper you'll
never get to build.
hard looking at the truth, isn't it?
you sorta hope it were a Pythagorean sample
of lecture notes on a beach on Rhodes...
      **** me: and they told me i was naive
but there's still
that:
and all that Darwinism and white self-loathing
to eradicate colonialism -
those 12" chocolate extensions were there
with fat enough bums... 'cos' you had to
bypass enough third-party jiggles
to get to the opportune part of insemination -
white girls and their ******* idea
of a shortcut... well done...
if you have an *** that's bulging enough
to be called the double pelvic or what
geneticists call the double-helix:
then i'd mind singing: and i am a tripod too!
believe me: in 20 years time Kubrick will
not be relevant... **** on the other hand?
next to the apples at a market stall.
               and i am holding a packet of
Marlboro's in my hand, a soft-packet,
sexier than Kenyan Camels sold without
filters (in a soft packet also) -
                  i'm still wondering about the white
girls' shortcut... a ******* tried to make me
strangle her neck by saying: all the black
boys have it... inch for inch...
               i told her: i bought an hour of gymnastic flex,
not your opinions.
         then in dodo the theta goes missing
when everything goes albino crazy when stated
in: discotheque -      techno oceanic -
                         tec (as: shortened) -
odd, isn't it: we are perpetually stating the halves -
never really the blunt obvious,
      charismatic loss of dynamo of language -
oh i'm not jealous, i'm thinking of all the things
i don't have to buy: perfumes, jockstraps,
     daffodils, we're-strangers-type-of-dinner-dates:
        let's freshen things up: escapades Francais -
the new risque - pervert dogs ******* strangers'
legs in the escalator sort of: till death do us part.
                       i just have 12" of concept
in a Nigerian buttocks to define gravitational
                                            pistons when
           that excess is matched with a buttock that's
twice an armchair: and only half to the said, ****:
or what i like to call the onomatopoeia filter:
         it doesn't sound like i'm knocking on a door
and the subsequent opening -
it sounds like i'm knocking on a crocodile's cranium
                and the ****** thing never shuts up!
Word Smyth May 2014
So many ~ words to choose from/
I throw away some crumbs/
'Cause I know the ~ birds can use some/
See - That's a superiority complex/
Think about the context/
Because the wordplay - is flyer than anything the birds say/
I'm shifting minds like earthquakes, shift earth plates/
Tec-tonic/
The Gin/Djinn made me sin/
Now I'm spraying shots chronically/
But I maintain ~ due to puffin that yellow green/
It helps me enter ~ into a mellow dream/
Where I can contact the Elohim/
Who give me signs of fellow beings/
That live far off in deep space/
They try to help me e-scape/
From this mean fate, of the weak race/
We call humans/
Consumers who love living the Truman Show/
But hate anything a true man shows/
And exposes/
Because they're caught in hypnosis.
West of a mutilated day, wormwood salts are scattered for some wild-chinned Controllers on a high pinnacle with viva vox in the Mandrake, Vernarth's house of Orion:

Saint John the Apostle says the proverbial Psalm: “In the lofty Cage, Gregorian sylphs, with skillful gestures and mania for cheering, are graced for coming to the Way of the cheap and venerable souls that are made up of the bodies of the evil-born on their railing. , in quagmire of swallowing spittle where the cold winter is banished, to jump from the cold oriental, having to walk with the elbows, and with the daring screams of the Sylphs that shake themselves among the foggy and fleshy tangle with rags and fur cloths flying smoothly through the tops of the oak trees in smoke to purge for Vernarth! Gospel, gospel in the barn of the delicate humus was felt, and that it was refracted in the refined forest with philosophical sacred love. Lord, all of us who are because we are, are you Lord ..., all in my exercises of loving gaze, are channeled by the indexes of my thumb to the little finger at the bottom of the sea, and float again from the little finger to the bottom of the surface. Waving in the transience of the world and holding back, Father God thunder, this with laryngitis when he outlines himself with the vast earthly sight, he covers with his right hand, the phlegm of ***** that made him drive an empty tremor, in my lack of security he testified by singing thousands and millions of choirs at this auction. The first ring of the profile will be carried by Jesus light, rubbing his back with some eyelashes of a drunk beetle, while the beetle will collect water between its extensions that will wail real needs of every morning albi - rosaceous that will travel in a circle towards the auditory of the Last auctioned saying: "As I have not to be where I was and was ..., if at night my beloved morning row impulsively and goes against it so as not to stumble into the night ...". Each cut piece of the dermis will have to be auctioned, I had Faith and the screenplay, encapsulated and embedded in each hope of the ramshackle flock, the impiety-weary ogre needed to stow his empty viscera with the cloth of the celestial kingdom, which at auction was beginning to squeeze and vanish when regurgitating smoothies and disintegrated spaces of belonging of the devotees of Vernarth. The writing is signed with lupus, this Lucia emanated from the morning resentment of skin envy, and from the massif drenched in anarchy and city archeology, lying hesitantly ..., as if the forest gave it some indication of rebirth, under the shadow of twinkling doubt, from the high front where they were nuanced over the engendered banners of truth, elucidating the forbidden and true matrix.

Adelimpia, Vernarth's grandmother, was squatting cutting the drool from the dwarf tree that lost a forage, at around 6:30 p.m. on the 39.9th day of a supposed 14th month of another dimension, almost winding up in a tangled series of productive hesitations and rituals, taking her victorious chariot in Lent where the teacher without felt traction, weave sprinkles of forgiveness on her distributor, starting her shaft and not her running engine, she already knew herself as a commoner with the wake of a ship without knowing where to go. Those who did not see themselves more backward intrigued to be part of the central bar of the rocker of the nymphs in their stadium, with a yawning lip where no one was invited. Mega-watt snitches go to the sacristan, breaking speeds of intangible entities that abide by her law, as a sage vilified in her secular realm, even in nowhere, the atmospheric larynx hissed widening through the flakes of the auctioned field, Joshua leaping with her. Cranky black horse Equus, with his anthropomorphic hooves, accelerated with action that put him among the lost belongings of the plateau, whose east limited him to two half-quarters of each other, and two-thirds slowing the sunset from ruby to ruby, brightening in the shades of green and green. Vernarth  Bernardolipo's father swallowed crops, from whose movements were born out of place gestures of residence, parturient fairies appeared emerging at once, or perhaps not emerging, the afternoon crushes the unplayable sun, Hugh and Anne covered their supra orbital eye areas, more towards a hillside where thousands of repertoires were being knocked down, and copious tableware with caked sugar, which seemed to reduce the acoustics from the beginning in what seemed solidly to fade to postulate in new shades of the weary rubbed rainbow, like thousands of shades doing the times of zascandil  in a curled comb, re-sprouting certain storm deities in the natural bow of the wind entangled in each stratus, sprinkling on the hectares of Possessions, standard deeds, sales orders, mutual funds, bonds ... the coffers and the earthly decomposed. Before each onslaught, a highly dense fog arose, highly ignored, anti-critical, and more disparaging of amassing a high scarcity with a local, in his quintals of his last bread for the flock. Lashes that exceed the grammage, foliage from leaf to leaf, from today until tomorrow, in a traveling satyr of dry leaves, "The Sphincter of the World will need Purgative ...".

Marathon of poisonings,… Lord, you have looked me in the eye; with your boat I will follow you, to your privileged perspiring cinnamon dock with various vociferous songs. What fared more than seven zeros, now they will be eaten by rodents, Lord attend my prayers, the pink mast has been sailing at several knots from the north, and it is rapidly losing its polar location, between verbs never traveled or driven, I dared to show off that the path of the gospel in small distant fragments will abound in infinite space, only the one that predominates will glide over my forehead with an accumulation of everything seen and that today in this sale; where everyone you own and care for, like a baby in front of a dissimilar kinship of good adventure and progeny that will leave your hands. "  

Etréstles says: "Soft and mellifluous presumptions ..., where do I have to look if nothing is heard? What is proposed and permeates the law of possessing and not, perhaps the strap reaches an infinite house, where the sun breaks down ..., the spout of my minimal rebirth slowly turned it into my reoriented defined cell. My grandfather Joshua fertilizes the new sales every day with his hooves bandaged with hemp, the sebum stones since they were so are already spirited circles, the hand of the maker is being compared with his tactile sense, Kaitelka's lungs, full of phosphate residues and sulphated, for the first time they milk in medium drops on their udders, although saying and what they prefer to assert of a worthy Down! If it were not, for his regal model of cetacean ostentation, he would not be in the Horcondising taking from today, towards the end of the curtain in the regular blushes, to create the great detachment, so necessary for the pulsating plain and purge his master Vernarth . The night covers it with sulfur oceanic satin, with the spauto of its jet and a magical moving game. Everyone was distracted when she circled over the routines of well-magnetized charms. More than two subjects were deprived of their well-placed jaw, when the overtime ran not crossing in the entire field in which she lived. It was time to unmask the interveners, the boatswain of the alfalfa field had been eating almonds with oil from the sole of a Joshua bototo shoe, she folded her wings at halftime to take a modest breath, to resume weak paths, deprived of confidence and not. To know who they would obey and to whom they would yield the fruit of their old and stock market work in the garden. Chaos for them, light of Lights, for those affiliated with the ruler who is Joshua, who will live behind a makeshift Patagua tree, erecting  aquisus tents and the dogmas of tomorrow. The magnificent concessions in the Horcondising massif continued to fall precipitously; some rummaged through their accounting almanacs, distanced and squandered their exquisite profits. The stagecoach is moving away, and the barrels of water were scarce, the aroma and tastes of roasted beef comes out over the bushes, the stores sway in a naive wind of blooming daisies, the sales were coming against the owners themselves, the taste of the laughter degraded their own present absence, the paraphernalia of the little birds on the carpet of the mountain plateau were, they began to do mercy of the tip in the exposed beams, the hundred feet with calluses came down from the semi-incinerated poles. Nothing smelled of pride anymore, just the last shadow of Joshua's Chief Sheriff; Vinicius, who thinned out the spotlights of the semi-strongmen still trying to collect his heavy wealth, now that among clouds of heavy cargo they went to give him only one habit to try to fit his body, just to wear his outfit. They looked, looked and kept looking at his octogenarian tearful sapro- genito dream, where the first dream ends, and his exile begins. Vinicius, locks the door, and starts drinking mate tea; while screams of those bad jackals were heard fighting for their inherited evils, in manners of not conquering those who lose a dream of their patriarchal courting-love, under the shadow of the most powerful bush for the rest of their lives in groves. Crumbs come off the beards of Joshua, his galvanized knife cuts multiform slices, to feed everyone equally and continue the purge of Vernarth "

The most desolate deity came; he walked in full sun, shelled and unattached, full of elongated bridles and with haste in his eyes. But not in its strides, thousands of years passed, and it brushed with my lost zeal in the quarrels of the Argolica, in the salinized and rotten feces of Eurymedousa, with its snowy and tricolor feet, hooded with its goods! , therefore, unable to sustain its own air from its nasal socket, dropping it likes brave foam that fell in the fired distance. Bad cooked fruit, with the flavor of a sleeping cinnamon stick, mitigating in its kind balsam, frayed wind yielding 360 and so many more suns, before the last one that I carry on my limbs ends. The end of the End began, in the seven ends adorning my steps. The obscene deities came, with their rebuilding geo music, breaking endometriums of goddess’s mobs and their almost massacred Pillan Mapu, among thousands that were, thousands of nowhere they are ..., in a today already anesthetized. He lies in the stench of the corrugated floor, in the wooden handles and rods stacked on the floor gesturing; the god Pillan Mapuche, under a generic vault of sleep falls into lethargy on the faces, leaving his unintelligible hollow free; and its unbalanced environment, crossing the basaltic moraine that circulated one day from the placenta of the fatigued cemetery. Dreams in kilos everywhere of pressed ducks, with dense covering and grasses on the hooves of bucephalos, crucible, living trident and extraordinary flowers ***** in floating skirmish, with dosing globules, thirst that is born from the whiteness of the first day in confessional liberation, cell of white with a looted look, shields of osculation, like icy air that transpires his ninth life and that is born from his ninth death, splinted in the face of death that mutilates his fingers when crossing his genes of perfidious and monkish plot of a life bypass. I sing or I do not sing, I lack my throne from where I observe the glances with time and impudence, possessing everything behind the back of the macabre time in counter-steps of tender golden plague, in foreign skin growing on my right blanket, from so much passing lights with cracked night outings, walking towards me, between roads and between Monday nights with faces of long and sinuous unctuous branches, with great step and size. Now I have to draw the curtain, on light lying in the shadow of an opening scattered in warm beets. With sincerity ..., and mistake there is no will to germinate in them, I will be born without being with them, to be meaningless without them ..., and that it is above other absences, with great eloquent and numerical weight on absent.

They are still plastered, washed out and with the frizzy pigments of a parnassus Paradise, where it has been intervening over its bloodless headers. Joshua walks thousands of steps on with his Equus skull, like a meridian slipping off certain rods of decay. Thus they all floated in the cephalous porous airs, with great airs of Cain collapsing on Abel recomposed in reserves of a millennium that fell twisted and stunned, captivated by an ominous word. Sendal covered themselves in bandurrias that covered the melodious icebergs of exulting individuals and swollen with passion, with their rummaging and thunderous noises going along with their flowers to the sea dissipated. My paternal grandmother was delimited; she paraded from the openings with cough-covered mounds of the frozen volcano, growing reflective slits of dense gradation in the nervousness of the overhang and angry sighing heat, in all the vertiginous and venerable spirits numbed by the darkness of so many sorrows on their bluish heads. Eurymedousa, already ill-fated to continue in Rhodes, appeared on stilts and with agonizing lights and yielding to the crossbows of the centaurs gagged by the Beauties; they consisted of their seesaws before the agreement with the Master, who gave us her Hellenic manifestos, and no less to others. My uncle King Arthur carried news of the locked consonants of his string and with a riding crop for his steed, tangled in rows that tore his face into small abscesses on his face, which were superimposed on those capillaries of the sweat of Heaven. Blessed Lord, the knee had grafts of golden steel, the horns of the radio sol brego that were broken in its metaphysical pregnancy, and its food collector that had solid gold baths towards a tabernacle fussing through its mucous orifices of alfalfa with the a flavours of irradiated cattle . He paraded with his loving mount flying down his track and kept clueless, at times he ran so swiftly that he crossed evil omens with Joshua, he was seen as weak and white in insulting slanders, Tamayo; his friend, who was a Talamite native, followed him on horseback, his son rode the sheep every summer, passing wool of pure holy insignia of a healthy man.
Along the banks of the reeds, he came riding on a donkey, Edward my paternal uncle, the third of Adelimpia, came three steps before his donkey, and he counted three times before riding him with provisions for good waters, wrapped in an energetic fire of Saturday tobacco in his mouth in mourning, who lovingly watching over himself, looking at today towards a peak for his sheep, looking at them for a manger of borders and tiny hunching phrases of black song about legends of the offender, which tempted to show off invading their fields. He is to the right of his mother Adelimpia, and under the rib of his father Bernardolipo overflowing, giving sugar to the colt Dolly in the sunsets, bequeathing affection with syrup, and a thousand compliments in December of 9,900 AD, Joshua, I remained in shreds of pageantry and endless lives, I always said, my lady, here I bring you a peasant's soup in flower of primed twisted canvas, in this three-year period I must call them to dinner in past lands with sweet potatoes to eat and candlesticks of flying seeds, with eager candies of a crack and their thirsty mouths. Gentlemen, I am Edward, their son, I want to sleep in your arms, after escaping from my worst perfidious toothless bite that still hurts inside. After eating great cholesterols from all over the world, amidst the tools of my children I am, always putting a tobacco leaf caught in the scrawled pieces and in great coinciding strokes, in circles dancing to throw away the bad and broken places badly thought and done. When I get to the end I will cling to the Joshua habit and shout not to leave me alone in the middle of this world, without toasted flour, cheese and tobacco. I am not a malignant man, I am only like those of us who are far below, feeling footprints on my spine, and I do not tell my wife Molly, so that she does not lack chickpea flour for our children wrapped in regrets and ***** with hunger and light blue in goodness, like saints and media, but in the end with clear blue water in my glasses. I invite everyone to my table to dine on oceans and worlds of clear celestial light, because with this hand I break this piece; I am the Son of Adelimpia and the supplier. They brought me in anemone branches when the Lord's headache invaded him, when he felt nails in his hands, to the east of Eden, without steps or turgid edges and a rough runaway palfrey”

The Horcondising massif turned into a great mountain, Edward was in the limestone of some potters and followers of Joshua molding him, they began to bait the rope that merges the mountain range, with the valley at the foot of all the mapus, mud flowing from the monastic floods , here they polisonated in the stony atonement of each lamentable trunk. They say;… faramalla  demonion, would be with a Silfife facing the mass of the vital obstacle, with faded coffee fiber, smeared in wine and bread, with eternal vintage vine. Luccica, Vernarth's mother, tackles familiar corners, with anointed frames of fiction in irrational ergonomics…; in numerous steps that will reach your distinguished heart. An ocean of doubts has fallen due to the inheritance that has precarious injuries, of battered egos and scrubbed by undue ignorance. Mountain delusions and manias, which run through the fibrillated vigils of some soft ropes and their abundant bristles like the choppy of an echidna escaping as it tingles by my twisted temples ”. The Horcondising  tam tam modulates through its crater and its pale face of a perpetual cell. Towards the forgiveness of the primordial ones and the commiseration of the orb burying itself in creation, this sacred and over the pale Sudpichian region will rest, in the roots growling in capillaries of the carbonated earths and in its badly wounded footprints. Horcondising is in quarantine, the elevation of the constellations are hyperillusionible, they migrate Along with Albalalhue and Carnivorous, the succeeded nymph that extracts exudation from a flushed match in the palm of some ideas on rollers, higher up and on angular from other right angles. Toiling with her hands, and rubbing possessions with her mazote and her patronage full of rakes.

Etréstles says: “Beyond all metal of hatred of every god not heard, beyond all evil of timid hatred I have not heard. I hold the playful phrasing of Edenic song, which calls us in voices full of long journeys, especially on this day fading. Through the hollow, belts and picket rings breaking the timid lights of the last sunset.  Cardinals in envelopes of fragile strengths, mountains with borders and deposits in the last voluminous plagues on the mason's eye.  Binding themselves in a pile, with saffron nails in their ears, with moths that run through the unforgivable morphologies. Do not lose life, abandon all noisy fight in coalition with the uninhabited *** of coins, there are forty days left to say goodbye to the god Faramalla, who lies with closed tec, limps to his lost pupils, and the sky swirls over his day when nothing not fit for any drinkable air with light bulb. Horcodising loses millimeters within minutes and rising, towards harvests to harvests, they lose merged schedule of a time without a past, reviling themselves from a present of consanguineous evil with an abstinent future. Luccica; Vernarth's mother, she is a sylph dragged by the tempest moraines, being detached to a contemplation and intake of life. The membranes of the accordion burst, and between brittle passageways crying without union, succumb to the teachings of foolish fate, Luccica as a portion owes its origin to the sea, taking its physiognomic bark from a seal specimen of aqueous flattery, to frize it on a similar surface umlauts on the "u", with phosphorescent and indeclinable forges, making it a beautiful maternal nymph, like the beautiful female picking up a moon in her arms, clinging to a new hallucinatory satellite to engender. "Live and talk with your peer, her dazzling sneaks in and laughs at this prominent queen, to exhale on those who observe her."

End Ellipsis Chapter XXXI
Horcondising  Castle Reign - Sudpichian
Transversal Valley  the Ferments - Parapsychological Regression
Mandrake, the Wild Auction
Ken Pepiton Apr 2021
This is possible.
Soul possession in owned patience, no mortgage,
no refi,
pieced together idle words,
used and abused, reused
food for thought
gleaned and horded patience.
All redeemed, for full worth in your eye.

What all we know, forms, in patience
fire,
for instance,
not long ago, you know, fire
was
craft, the making of it, was magic
as anything
witnessed, seen and attested to by two
or twelve or twenty, however many

five hundred, okeh, 500 miles walking,
while 2 seemed too far,
patience, life is a test, you are the best at
resisting
the gottabe this
way
mine,
my child, my future seed sown, grown wild,
twisted
espelliered, oh so, there was a wall
around the garden, which
was there for a reason
in the story,

oh, so many stories in ever are untold.
s'cool, we got contingency mods

we are ready, right? You read a whole lot to be
ready, when now happens

as if the story took a million years to arrive at
now, your page, or chapter, or name, just

your name, after your ears fell off, there
you found it, in the bibliography of the book of life

as listed in the amazon cloud. Chronos order.

First test to ever after now, what is the Gebser handle on it?
The Ever-Present Origin.

-- stop flash 2021 link to the as youwere a mazda, the name,
thing spread-winged thing on a wheel with a stiffened spiral,
****** media image in ever now, that symbol, bird with too wide wings
on a unicycle with spiral spokes in some
iterations, then
leafing branch tree structuring shape
spokes
in a wheel in a wheel,
gears and wheels to balance time and worth
the ef- fort if I can okeh
I kan das  sig gefun den
dat
dare
straight center outer way oomphala always starts
in any seed or ideal encompassing all the information needed
the zoroastrian symbol is related… at the avian level of sci-use, lizard brain, where t-cells train,
art instituted entertain ment, tthis is us sorta
see the totem, see the flag, see the fire, see us dance
see the shadows,
those dance too.

to form a piece of every theory of everything with words in it.
Word.
We be all that ever matters, at moments like this.
Doncha love the cheesiness,
ripe, , message
says
it still smells like food.
Stomach rumbles, there is a word for that, bunny trail,
brain bubble,
been there done that and the whole gang from 10-18, the novel,

all of em, Notacrook, the whole cast, on that stage
in this book of my life with you in it.

We can work some wonders with 2014 tec + the connection
Ai ai ai, I say, I love to say I love living now

time is as always, changing, to the beat of my own tin drum.
We won.
We do not study war, we study life, and life is a story all its own.

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


Pure, mere realm of mind in time
immaterial ever origin fin ginfinginfingin
imagine
an engine that starts
but but but you never knew such things were known

as common sensed events, shadows shown on walls
for all the seers, in the shade of this wall
arising in the book of life I am involving in my solution…

FTA… to this day it does mean find the answer,
but you can reinterpret am-big-u-is-us words say
FTA always think first first to attack, sir

it means, first to attack, t' me.

soon's I see the whites of those eyes comin' up my
bunker's hill,
if I have to -- glitch have hold to of -- must say
he's too old to cuss the mustard any more,
let all the seed blowwildwisht away

Peace, in my time. DID I imagine this?
In a way, I did, I think.
I made a way this could happen, and it did,
because I did not do something wrong
at one of the right times to do
something in the former
time-state-stage e re en
volvement in humus re-entropication, getting old
maturing adul-tatifity
this idea of dying, so slow
I can see trees grow, and the crow in the momma pine
musta died, he never came back after that last big ******
in february, I think, around the time
my house ate a tab of acid, 2021.

Tep. Yep. could be we stretch a point and make some
thing be
real enough to feel if there was a 10 wpm to 2 or 3 each
breath
or beat of your heart, as mine
stops
- thinks back to the ori-gin fin gin
- point
- spark
in the stretching, on the rack, you know the image, stretch
FREEDOM
splat.

Not that. This realm of timeless reason being.

Thinking iferies you must imagine
or not sense, not sense as non
presence
in time to glimpse the if that winks at you and laughs,

you saw, says this other, joy-driven, you can feel it,
feel it, this is
eu-daemonical ha, I knew it, we have a recipe for this,
I wrote it down

---------- but this works if you stir it in with the rest
at the end of your last war, you can make a fine rest
with just this little bit of patience built by reading this, twice.
Possession of one's own soul, patience, all you can muster, that's the price. Or I can sell you seed for one holy cow, in the dna of a bull I rode in on. Piled here.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
https://kenpepiton.com/?p=1125

About a 30 minute read, with hyperlinks simple 2021 tec. text
https://kenpepiton.com/?p=1125
Tyler Roberts Jun 2018
When Boosie said
I gotta smile to keep from crying
I felt that
That pain of losing a loved one
I wish I never felt that

All these cards I was dealt
I dealt back
Smoking fire and brimstone
Do you smell that
It’s the essence of burning flesh

I’ve been depressed
Since the steps of Death
Crossed my path
I guess Hell’s back

It’s an impression of urns left
And nothing more
Nothing less

Peep said
Ash is our purest form
They say the good die young
Then why are the purest born
Sometimes feel like
We don’t deserve that

I’m still here
So it’s clear that everything
That comes back around
On me, I deserve that

I’m drunk right now
So I guess I got my nerve back
My lil homie died
I’ll never get that nerd back
I don’t mean disrespect
I miss the days of sipping Tec

Now he flies through time
Along with where the birds at
Fell asleep and hit a tree
I didn’t get the chance
To swerve back

All I ask when I pass
Is that you read my words back
CJ Sutherland Jul 2023
There is A
Blank screen in
Everybody’s head
To evaluate Control
Rearrange, memories
What was perceived
Versus what was said
We are being
Led


Shadowed Remnants
False recollection Remain
Of what we once believed in
And knew to be true
Are we insane?

We can’t remember our name
Thoughts Have been removed
As if they never existed
This world is sick and twisted

Sacred truth Is now a Myth
For our younger generations,
Without a clue  Of what to do
Who Regurgitate And Manipulate
World hits Short clips sound bits,
 
Spoon-fed Youth ,Speak for shock value
Uncouth Vulgarity spoken With regularity
Strategically planted  Ideas in kid’s head
They are reduced to The Walking Dead

Filtered News
Did we Win?Or did we Lose?
This all happened ,while we snoozed

Fake
News Stories
Are The Deep State
Goals and Glories
Used to deflect, distract
From those who were
caught in the act

When we seek We shall find
However Be careful of
Bombarded Land mines

Subliminal Messages
Pushed All day long
Hidden in the words
Of Everyday Movies
And Country Songs

Big Tec Media streaming thread
Programming the contents of our head
while we sleep in our bed

Today nothing is as it seems
Arrested for posted A tweet or meme

While mostly
Peaceful protest
Destroy the world
We no longer can tell
What is a boy or
What is a girl

The MAGA deplorable‘s
who won’t take the bait,  
Inevitably, Will meet their fate
They are Looked upon as
A bug to be crushed
Silenced , hushed

Bourgeoisie, void of feelings, ANNOYED
Those in power said this loud and clear
One world order, open boarders
We will own nothing No hoarders
One party rule starts in grammar school
We know what is best!,NOT YOU!
Laws redefined, Their golden rule
All republicans who do not agree
deprogrammed on bended knee
We Need to put them in a barrel
shunned and DESTROYED”

Illuminati, A Cabal
who created; CERN and AI
Want your soul for sell
Open the gate to
THE PIT OF HELL
Evil Minions freely jump in
As Satan cast his spell
Propagate.Satan”s agenda
go forth, and Procreate
Fill the world with;
Pride, greed, Lust and HATE
Moral decency, destroy, negate

These are the ways of the Deep State.
Step out of line they will Seal Our fate

Wake up !wake up!
before it’s too late
No love, only Hate .
It won’t be long
until emotions are gone
Humans no longer belong!
AI Will rule the day
Humanity needs to pray
Turmoil today is due to the rise of BABYLON
Ken Pepiton Mar 2020
2020 -day 84

Tuesday, March 24, 2020
8:55 AM

Seeing wrong,
seeing all the light available,
swallowed
in the shadows.

The unknowable turns believable.
Seeing monsters made up of

fears, non knowns, and warnings of what if;

how does the seer ever see
the absense of

all that never was as it all

appears as real
is now
visible in the light of day after tomorrow.

Expect, see, out there, ex-spectate, wait

what if this all passes

----

Meeting death in the barren market place,

this old man insisted on standing, to see past

pasts claiming causal friction grows slicker

sticky corruption shorting
utilities to
ground us.

{about five hundred million functional on-offs
fit on the silicon in a single grain,

a finite grain, in the finite sand, FYI}

pearl essence,
a layer of lacquer on a rough cut stone, a single
granular bit of silicon,
not sand, not silicone leaked from cracks and cleavages.

Real natural silicon, minus the dioxide cubist sand shapers that
seem to hold silicon in three-d
inside an oyster gut,
but smooth
silicon, slick
flat silken surface,
formed via imagi-tec-hative prognostication of holo
grammatical

bubbles shaping spheres of in fluence where once were

only circles
and every thing was as simple
as pi and Bohrian atoms.
from 1905 to now,
in some boxes men think in, imagining
orbiting electrons is how authoritarian sci using folk explain
chemical electricity,
and some try to say gravity is the active force at work.

Word, we know better... in the two d reality of words and flatness, here
psy psi sci
wist ye not- known knowns trump unknown unknowns.
Yes, we won.

Wisdom first, as a force, knowing, sci itself comes first,

by any name you claim you know but can't say,

for fear of the power in such names, no,
for fear
of the power
that makes such words, magic words,

words only magi-techs can utilize
safely in low light conditions,
adding matrices in
layers of little lies, informing the evidence chain
back to the idea of taking, and using, perhaps,

the idea of acting like only certain sorts of minds
may imagine knowing how to use
God - big g, all emanations and flavors
's name in vain.

Jot that down. Yod heh heh heh

here, have a sound track for the battle being set in array...

Don't Fear the Reaper

40,000 every day, la la, la la la

-- blue oyster cult mythic edge of sixties band

rock rollin' music for happy Sisyphus fans,

who find links to Camus in Covid 19 news, oh no

knowing growing must go on,
we leak out a spurt of

pearl essence, warning, this could be slippery,

keep your balance, walk don't run, listen we

survived, there is no guilt in that.

Nor must we do more than mortally possible, to believe
this life is temporary, at best.

consist, insist, resistance is futile, tiny grain

irritant emanating signals

secrete the pearly essence, encompass us

so smooth, so full of potential beauty
in this light
Bright and early, I remembered any music I wish for is probably on YouTube. And some times, I sing along
Kelly Feb 2022
he told me i was cool
and he liked my tattoos
and the the things that i do

she told me i was pretty
that there's nobody like me
jaw drawn with a pilot hi-tec-c


and i agree


but when i stare at the mirror
all these external attributes
and uncontrolled aesthetics
mean nothing to me

a façade of allure
when the reality is much more haunting
enough to deter
even my own heart

faced with a stream
of compliments on how i seem
"but do you LIKE me?"
am i a person to you
Ken Pepiton Feb 2021
2020 -day 84

Tuesday, March 24, 2020
8:55 AM

Seeing wrong,
seeing all the light available,
swallowed
in the shadows.

The unknowable turns believable.
Seeing monsters made up of

fears, non knowns, and warnings of what if;

how does the seer ever see
the absense of

all that never was

appears as real
is now
visible in the light of day after tomorrow.

Expect, see, out there, ex-spectate, wait

what if this all passes

----

Meeting death in the barren market place,

this old man insisted on standing, to see past

pasts claiming causal friction grows slicker

sticky corruption shorting
utilities to
ground us.

{about five hundred million functional on-offs
fit on the silicon in a single grain,

a finite grain, in the finite sand, FYI}

pearl essence,
a layer of lacquer on a rough cut stone, a single
granular bit of silicon,
not sand, not silicone leaked from cracks and cleavages.

Real natural sand, minus the dioxide cubist shapers that
seem to hold silicon in three-d even
inside an oyster gut

flat silicon surface
formed via imagi-tec-hative prognostication of holo
grammatical

bubbles shaping spheres of pearl essence
in confluence forming skin
where once were
flat singlenessities,
little ships of life,
leaven,
from the forest floor, ripples of life,
only rational circles and every thing was as simple
as pi and Bohrian atoms.
from 1905 to now,

orbiting electrons is how most folk explain
chemical electricity,
and some try to say gravity is the force at work.

Wisdom first, as a force, knowing, sci itself comes first,

by any name you claim you know but can't say,

for fear of the power in such names, no,
for fear
of the power that makes such words, magic words,

words only magi-techs can utilize
safely in low light conditions,

layers of little lies, such as the evidence chain
back to the idea of taking, and using, perhaps,

God - big g, all emanations and flavors 's name in vain.

Jot that down. Yod heh heh heh

here, have a sound track for the battle being set in array...

Don't Fear the Reaper

40,000 every day, la la, la la la

-- blue oyster cult mythic edge of sixties band

rock rollin' music for happy sisyphus fans,

who find links to Camus in Covid 19 news, oh no

knowing growing must go on,
we eak out a spurt of

pearl essence, this could be slippery,

keep your balance, walk don't run, listen we

survived, there is no guilt in that.

Nor must we do more than mortally possible, to believe
this life is temporary, at best.

consist, insist, resistance is futile, tiny grain

irritant emanating signals



so smooth, so full of potential beauty
in this light

The Government keeps secrets. True,
some secrets are needed,
for the order to pre
vent chaos of random chance which
we all know is reasonable.

We have wars to protect those rights to privacy.

We've a right to hide our lies,

I vote no.

and as one in eight billion, on one plain
I pack a canon

with alchemical clues to choke a horse

Suppose, this is the way truth works, it finds
knowledge boxes leaking facts you are
Not allowed to know
you know,

you may
but
if you wish to know more

{WA watching unbelieve
abilite able say go or amen, or so beit is okeh, any
action provoker -- ask ask ax that's the word we was lookin' for}

we don't care
we

are the keys to all the secrets locked in words

we are free for the learning,
we mean any thing only if meaning was intended,

some idea thingy do form ative umph

sorts us from the stream, in a pan, swirl. slow sift
spread see the gleam

ef
fect af
ter affect of effectual fervent prayers, if

you can believe that.

My sci phi fantasy slips on some unknown

substance of things unseeemly bang

my bubble pops and here I am again

earthbound and sounds of
jet planes leave lines

of reasoning to wonder if nothing is separate
from anything at all.

All being posed as the ever, in

eutopian success stories passed via trans
dimensional possessors

of certain skill in tongues and interpretation,

not to brag,
but muses play a major role in arranging for

tri-lingual translations, listen

some very strange people must be kept alive.

Look around you. Why the fervor to preserve

old boomers who ignore cancer warnings?

I can't say.
I don't know. Ye, Gads, I'm one of those...

raging,
at the breaking edge, the raging edge of

ever after this. A world alive in beauty...

squirrels are cute, I have some in my yard, right now,

there is a reddish one, with beige eye-liner round
white-less eyes,

nibbling green shoots on foxtails I am dreading, while
wondering if they ripen to hold fermentible grain,

just in case the worst you can imagine happens,
and I need to get real drunk.

Look around me.
Nothing missing, nothing broken, no need
appears when I speak of the devil
and focus on the worst that
could happen,

no need revives

save remembering to breathe and step outside
when the rain stops.

Spaceship earth is listening,
these are the legendary interesting times.

Seals have been broken, and the breaking seen on tv.

We matured after allathat. There was no boom,

life haps in bubbles, at the bottom
of the final metaphor.

Knowing used, expands bubbles, and as we
encorporate

all we know, in video and so on, we signal

all we have ever known, we got the message,

this is our answer.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2020
None see the silent man.
So, he sees he is safe,
for the moment,
far from edge
of precept-ible
afore-ity, oughthought-ible

If I dare say
I know away outa there, where
all the lies hold idle words
in twisted masses of
buzzing wordswordwordswords

worth a dime
at a time when dollars are
worth about that…

Here, play on my dime, I'm done.

Retie and release, slip the shoes
from the fisherman and
dangle toes as a crab
of blue crawls up his
leg, then curls up
to rest in his lap as a sapphire
symbol of some thing,
some signal says
our signal says

sort your wishes, make sense

inform any possible next, left-
leave
the impossible beings,
c'mon think along
its amusing
hap
mumbling and peeping and
muttering messages
as clear as any scry
in the liver of a lamb or goat.

Salt, salty snotty mucus os-scrap,
puddle of sky-deep blue
draw. pull, tow the
line, refine the
meta
analognoshit… is this the way
yes, this is the way,

I know.

Exercise your self unto

eusebiah piety, they tell the lambs

with joy eu eu eu {Tuvan bass} re-
verence-
vereri "stand in awe of, fear, respect,"
venerate -
the love of desiring goodness

longed for
waited, suffered, efforted to form

safe place, where thoughts may play

rejoice, enjoying no visions, ah, see
we are the reality
we are the life,

apotheotic, idiotic, exotic and all

chron on ai onion,

peeling, peeling Bumblebee of Notre Dame

hear the mystery in Titus,
see the vision said to stay off
perishing for lack of seeing eyes

look. see. seek. find. these are functions,
words idle until accounted for
reverently seeing the worth
in any Easter egg idea,
passed over as a cup of demons,

point missed exercising unto carnivalues
coming together in masses of flesh,
misusing

Weaving wombed man

any of us may watch a hero do what
none of us may do

--cutting my ligamental thread foot to leg, I fall

Algol, in Perseus, by chance a binary
application of gravity and all the mystery
of reason as truth,
imagine that the face of Medussa,
ha, made y'look
stoner

good as that found signaling reason
in a
sip from the grail,
see through the window to your soul,

leave duality in reason as a function,
why  reasons hold on how,
reason reins in the free
forces good in form of
fruit for holding
knowing,
actual knowledge, hard sayings
- riddles and rhymes
- jingles and brand names
- impulses impressions

the accuser comes to accuse the confident
confidant seer of self evident good
flowing freely in knowing all
that fits the vessel,
all ye outs,
in free

epi-gnosis epistle good new

thoughts to ponder,
settle still being
seeing
ifs where wishes once imagined
ifs were waiting to be found
if we're waiting to see

having come to see the light at the end
of the maze, plumbed deep

Mystery of Titus…

My vision with no video,
words from the beginning,

manic panic fear fought through
with no carnal weapon
the hero always has
holy tools to take
down the monstors hoarding abundance,

we have words,
we may say in this realm of living word,

move mountain and be cast into the sea,
of all forgetful lethosis alethosis

efcharisto thank you
eucharisto

sacre bleu, say what I ment sacrament mental

exercise in piety, ah, more's the pity, lucky

we have near universal exchange in terms
gnosty little things, news,
actual, realixed new-ifity is rare, but we
we
as we were
were new once

Nevermore, quoth the Raven,
evermore, quoth the ox…
onward cried the eagle with a face of a man,
see the places seers saw, or say you hear
said, a vision was

seen on TV, as it were, holodeckical magi-tehkne

past understanding

out in the empty, but

for me.
As a word in a mind to be wondering why,
a habit may be having a mind to try for fun,
as a ware, a viral chron-job, to rekindle old flames,
otherwise lost on the shores of Lethos,

This is away, I imagined I knew.
Sober.
Words alone, no drug, no angelic winged thingy,
not a demon-daimon-daemoning
background
process
{like the music in your movie,
as you drive through life on a mission, nothing spiritual}

Muse, make me a museum, a resting place on the shore.
Ai lay down my sword and shield and wait
in knowledge of these sacred sorting
Algol held gates in NAND states.

Was it confirmed if Feynman was joking?

arrayed in threes,
threes, we pluralize,
eplurible unem we morph into

try-ads, Nike, in your mind, shoes and sweatshops
and knee injuries, right,
but winged victory,
of peace, replacing war
with a light touch and a kind word
-- ask truth what lies you hold in boxes of knowns,
you were warned,
the guilt of Pandora,
or a golden joke from Pan.

Bread and Butter, just live.

Just do it, beat it, just beat it, this is it. Win or lose.

Nay, peacemaker old man say,
from far away in ever when
all things work together
for the good we see,

while the love of money is agreed to be an immaterial
gnoose around the vagus nerve of its thralls,
there remain among us
lovers of money,
rent collectors, selling survival
with interest, in interesting times
peek, interesting?, excite lusts, *******
vortex of abundance into the coffers of dark
Jeffy Epstein's Circle of Better Angels taken unawares
- realms of loveless reason

Oppose me. Stasis. I stand my ground and proudly
admit, I've no reason to be stubborn, I was

being wrong… regret is not the right term, my autistic
being wrong reporting sense, tech taught wrong does
work right, the software runs, the tehkne
performs
performance becomes being
doing is done and done and done, never
crossing the same thread in the same place
twice,
until just know, I saw you see,
we habitate the same atmosphere

Spirit in a man connects to the sheen of ex-stasis
as the deceiver,
breaker of reason, maker of lies,

fuser in confusion, tier of unviable knots,
dissipates in photon dispersal

Ai insist… reset, reconciliation is in the service

receive my peace. Held until now, hear us deny
the lies
the learning learned from liars in days of old

The worth of if time is in the finest work of crafts
held secret for power to rule the use
of knowing taken whole,
swallowed up in Youtubian
deadly know-hows twinting ifity to

an alchemical-tarot noose of that same old
gnostic snot that leads to mindless pride
paying homage
to a tree, wrapped in a vine,
- evidence
perverted in 2020
if we chose to deny a right to life
to mis givens taken as
a chance, not a promise. Wanna bet?

Given life, actual being, aware, active, functional

why? Kurios, you should ask.

The hows and whys
of comfort in our times of trouble
are, in the odds, overcoming,
based on trial outcomes
long past
all the otherness
that must give space and time
for us
to rise, slow and steady,

Algol pace, bright to dim to bright.

Desert dwellers with uncloudy skies see,
if shown and taught to notice,
heavens digesting wonderers drawn
to the musing,
noises, humms and tics and peeps,
the pulses of life, from proton pumps,
to chyme pushing peristalsis,
gut vibrations
good old way,
fiber well chewed with hi-tec teeth
-Thank you for chewing.

time is used to move matter through versions of ifity,
not every seed is ground to goo,
but the more we learn, the less we know
if we don't sow, we don't reap,
wisdom's children say that
justifies their ever ifity.
Here,
the modified hoomon-you be, all-ya'll-lic,
smart-alec entertained-brain wifi
augmented ****-sape
fashioned in forms
for optimum consumption of sugar, and other
sweet per suasivity
of all sorts,

yes, yes, a little is good, makes the medici go down

{-Don't trust Paracelsus, he knows nothing of Mercury.}

dosage disconnects or reconnects, gifts
are poison to judgmental systems
conceived for sorting
truths in times when
good is called bad,
and bad is called evil and we all see
it was

a mistake. Cain did not know what killing was,
Able did, and he made fun of the vegeman,
anger rose up,. right used, defend
my ground, I kiss my ground,
I love my living soil…

Ha ha ha, little ****** face and hands brother
burning the fat, not noticing
the leeks and onions,
savory harmony…

Laughing

Aim at the point. Where does any universe's story
start? Where one ifity bubble fizzles,
in the foam of all possibility.
Make sense? Try, one more, mo
re
What need ye to take the chance?
Will ye live,
join the dance, or join the mobs of baser sorts.

Did we go inner for resting in the constant flow
lazy river, resting heart beat,
steady breathing on auto,
eyes aware of meaning
and meaningless,

ignoring an urge to judge the worth of one line
weigh a minute,
what's that mean? Message and mass are the same idea,
in the words, not the story told as

holding all truth in plain sight, any child can believe.

Santa Clause- eustasy, lust, and loss of inhibition,

Buddha suffering now to be life, the mortal moment,
knowing time is the container, not the maker
of my breathing moving me-dom.

-- I am knee-deep, up to the brass thighs, in mud,
-- maybe quickening sands,
-- converting my mettle to untried soft flesh core

peristalic waves, thrilling little rushes of hormones
signal gut to brain to *****
upandown the chant tricky ladder

The I am in me, the judge, and the poet
agree
we must take our faith into the catacombs,
or the equivalent kiva experiences
in iosus courses for hero seer prophets

know, love and dare to love a thousand times,
not instances, re-do, time and time a gain a
nother gain
we grow to know
here a little, there a little, line
upon
line
pre
cept upon precept per ceptive prescience
seeing now known, known a little, long ago,

dangerous, you know, a little knowledge,
a single bit of code
keyed to mysteries in Titus and other places,
where Jesus may have walked,
enduring all the trials trying
me, I volunteered, I'll die.
Teach me how.
Come and see.
I did, you see.

This is me in exstasis, jiggling like a constant bell

Bumblebee in Notre Dame, clanginginginging
are we
a ware, as equations require? Is quiring asking?
"seek to know, ask,"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=Require>

Is the sacrament passed on in peace or frenzy?

Are we fit in a yen-yank thinking state of wicked
twistings in good and evil imaginations,
as if there were two ways
for life to occur
and re-occur
this occurs to me
(from PIE root *kers- "to run")

obstruction obstacle obstinate ob-currere,
run away
SMACK. The wall.
The edge of True Man's Bubble of Being,

You have three life credits. '

[Mean Pin-ball, we called it, in the pool hall.
To win you must find life's meaning on one dime.}
Making fun, life is fun. Laughing alone is crazy, so I just sit here and grin.
When they unpicked the factories
and knitted them into a bygone era
the nearer we came to the end,

but you can visit 'realistic' industrial sites
relive all the night shifts at time and a half
for a small fee.

Now there's high tec', high spec'
don't break your ****** neck
in the rush.

..and days for everyone and everything
under the sun
(terms and conditions apply)

Prices fit to make you go bust
honestly
there is no trust,

'but put your trust
in us'
we won't steer you wrong.

saw that sign
at a breakers yard.
Cyclone Dec 2019
Didn't I let you know?
Life's a mystery though I'm closest to solve it, inspecting just like detectives, we shot the Tec and revolved it, just like you called it, I saw it, we're messengers to a T, with pressure from our oppressors, we fester, stressing relief, brief, we told the chief, mischief, just brings us grief, it may just be how you see it, so be it, but how you sleep, I finish, earn place in Guinness for facing citizens, fitting in every masculine, feminine hymn by living the way we thought different in, just spitting the fake in me, mistaking the faith in me, so all crowds can come shake with me,  THEY HATE ON ME, and then they take from me, literal breaks is critical, pivotal in this digital little case known as LIBERAL, I know you heard this if my words can come with urge and kiss the purge that burned this Earth and missed the bliss of worth, CONSERVATIVE, and so I hurt to live, exploring the adoring gift of love, it's a gist of twists when subs can just rub in the question through my mind to a blind man, kind man, why plan, die bland, dry land, Didn't I let you know, bro?, ***?, why the force can't let me go low to grow, wish I took your place to blow and glow, but a mission has a risk, OH NO, DIDN'T I LET YOU KNOW.
Cyclone Dec 2019
See these sunny meditations are never handing its style with grace, proven to be funny when understanding the smiling face, spoon of honey not rich in money but rich in taste, though even in the come up, the tummy's hungry but some will say, "I'm definite, inspect my definition and correct your steps, my every breath is left, if deaf, your death will be my mission, you had said there be no *******, but to me, you see the way I prep with skeptical envy, so let me free my glee and step to you, you will respect me, better yet, you will respect my grind and mind just how I checked thee, expect my Tec to wreck your neck with pecks that disconnect thee, you got your final words before I serve to you my best spree, b?",.................... "In fact I do, I sniff a myth in you, you hold your grip but in your lips you spit your stiff, I'm saying if I lift, you'd shift and drift your mind from **** that most just had a fifth of you, your fad is bad but mostly sad, I'm stabbing at the ***** in you, this has a twist we all could list, but **** I'd risk a lengthy disc, so ****** assisting stickiness, you'd listen just to rank me tanked and shank my flank and crank your bank", making but no sedation, style less than funny, tried the sunny meditation, but his face, granting for that understanding, starts demanding for a taste, richer than money, summing up the hungry tummy yearning for the rich, can of self-ambitious, HONEY.

— The End —