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Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Say I know, no question, what the Good News was,
the Jesus good news, but

nobody believes that. And its free good news. Who pays me?

Think Gaiman's American Gods,
true believers everywhere, no truth, no free ificity,

sufficient, suffice, artifice, artificial freedom, if

you can't imagine artificial freedom, how do u test AI?

we can imagine all sorts of hells, and miserable lost evers

all phantoms from the stories you've believed
believed by the tellers
who told you
you were naked.

Is this a theme?
Are we manufacturing sensible un-believable
idle word redemption tools.
DIY? No App?
Empowering the believers to unbelieve, at will, with effort?
Very little effort, but yes,
My calling, yes, previous to full-time Peacemaker.

I e-merge several streams of thought, gentle, --- un belief is,
it hurts like you imagined hell, almost exactly.

Monetize your lies,  who said do that?
you don't believe them do you?
The ones you tell
Where you know prayers are answered

Because
You
know sorta. Knowing a thing is so,
you know, defining.
Be and lieve together they make a meaningful
you know

Re-ifing and de-ifing,
being a believer in whom is no guile,
is that
actable.
Could a thespian make us believe he believes what I believe if he were me?

Is that in the bible,
that walk a mile as me proverb?
It's true, if you do it, in your head or mind,
if you think mind ain't matter

or doesn't matter, okeh.

I don't.
D'I ever tell you about the time I realized I was safe,
lazy days o' summer,
way back when was no TV, no video nuthin, then

when I woke, I was here as sure as I am,
that I know next

to nothin for sure,
and for a blameless,
shameless old man, who catches Jesus winkin'
in his thinkin' ever day,

' cain't say damday and asaid it anyway.

It's about time I tell my story, if that is my job.
My story means the story I tell,
the one I think I believe I know and enjoy.

Tellin' it, I en joy en trance, never thrall.

Life is predominantly fun.
Empiric evidence. Take it, by faith,
we all know how,
we laugh and say we don't, but we are lost with out it,

no hope.
Oh, my God, desperate for you.
They sing that, they call such singing praise.

Somehow they have come to believe
Christ has left them desperate for any good things,
forsaken them after promising
other wise

Who would teach a chile such a song in Jesus's
whole body, I swaneee

Hopeless, t's what desperate means,
desperados are not disciples
of the tendency to a bias toward good, by grace.
nosireee
---
Can I speak living words,
is that living water flowing from me,
if I agree with the story I am telling,

Yes, all the promises of God.
Come let us reason,
we are past the scarlet sin.
Sin means disconnect in today's terms,
missed aimed-at-thing's the original Greek expression that
made it to the Bible.

And a blog is as good as a book, some say,
as far as words are concerned, meaning-wise

but spoken words go farther, these days.

Rhetoric is returning to try men's souls,
and the peasants have Google and IDW
(Intellectual Dark Web wuwu)

and the real Bible Daniel and Ezra 'n'em put together from all the sources they could muster under the banner of
Lest we forget.

Was that the banner spoken of
by the prophet so and so?

Could be.
Runner-up th'pole 'n'see who kneels.

Emoji winks are too cheezy for real poetry,
you never see 'em in songs.

Jesus winks but not at
your-my disconnection from re-ality.

We can't be **** Sapience Sapience
if we don't think about thinking.

The unexamined life's not worth living,
old Greek guy saying.

Jesus saying, as a man thinks, so is he.

And I think he was talking about good and evil.
A man can think good and evil, but

(and this is one of those forever buts I mentioned last time I was thinking on this thread),
evil can't swallow good. No matter how long it chews.

Funny, really, how stuff works.
We all live until,
as far as we do know now,
time
for conscious mortal me,
each
of us in this we, me
ceases.

De-sist,
recall the way it feels to lay your armor down
and know,

I ain'tagonnastudy war no more.

But, we are called,
chosen to fight the good fight of faith, Amen.

Ah, men,
we ain't got enemies.
We fought.
You believe you believe or you don't.

Have fun and don't make anybody miserable
and stand up straight,
with your shoulders back, good advice.

Next. There is a reason to go farther,

I think, but don't know right now, what that reason is.

Praying being asking for assistance in persistence,
I am praying this is plain, past simple, plumb to sublime.
The hope for a larger crop, for some reason I ain't found, more sowin', means more reapin' and reapin' for them has done it, them who've reaped,  know that's the hard part.
lubaba jabrti Apr 2016
Oh my DREAM Why you had fallen in love with Mr.Leave..

GONE , throwing behind you my hope wounds flowing, UNBELIEVE..

How..?! WAIT is there a way?! please listen to my deep HEAVES..


Not much remains to FLY together,  come back please , don't make me GRIEVE
cee Oct 2017
I feel happiest when i’m writing about sadness. The words drain out of my heart and onto the paper and it leaves me a little less heavy. These days I walk around with weights tied to my legs and balloons in my hands, constantly dragging myself down no matter how hard I try to float. Lately I’ve been using your name as an explanation for my sadness and for my relief and for everything in between. You are the sole cause and effect, you are the headline in a newspaper that contains only one article, written by me about you, for you. If I could I would do everything for you; but you don’t want that, do you? Every thought ends with you and every night ends with you and the end of me might be because of you, too. We’ve had our ups and downs and our ons and offs but the lights look like they’re flickering for the last time and I don’t think you’ll still be here when they come back on. You lit an electrical fire and then left me alone in the dark and I can’t see a clear way out of this mess. Even if there was one, I don’t think I could follow it. There’s something about the pain and the way you make it feel like safety that keeps me here on the brink of ecstasy and insanity. how many times are you able to tell yourself that the highs are worth the lows before it becomes the truth and you aren’t able to unbelieve it? If I could unbelieve every promise you ever made me I would, but someone once told me that there’s a sliver of truth in every lie and i’m pathetically hopeful for you. Sometimes my mind will wander and I'll realize that my thoughts aren’t the same as they were before and my heart doesn’t beat like it used to and I can’t find anything to blame for this other than you. It’s not fair that you had the power to give me something to look forward to, something to live for and then just rip it away and make it look just as easy, but you did. I will not forgive you because you will not apologize,  so i'm sorry. I'm sorry I wasn't enough to satisfy the expectations you set oh so high for love, and I'm sorry you weren't willing to give up the same as I was for what we had. I guess some things aren't meant to be no matter how much you wish for them. My only wish now is to forget you and I pray this one comes true.
this turned out more sad and pathetic than I intended it to be , but if you read this and relate to any part of it i'm sorry
Caroline Shank Nov 2022
I will drink loneliness in my
coffee. The sweet is turned to
sorrow, the cream is the stir
of tears.  

I will not last this.
The table was set when you
strode into darkness.

I will pin loneliness on the board.
The same letters unwrite.

Half a century is not enough
to unbelieve.  The scattered
seconded invitation is
laid green and turbulent.

I leave loneliness a song
to the unbeliever.

You fold my intention like
a glove broken in.

Winter is always the last
cry in the dark sound
under the stairs.

I leave the sounds of the
wheel under my
shoes, in Winter unsounds
tears that dry in eyes
of the unbeliever,

you, walk like steel cleats
over my poems.


Caroline Shank
Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
Prove, prove, prove
think, think think a little think at

thought speed.
Build me a death star, you shall not surely die.

Ah, hero, take your role. This is your page, this age
of informing
of outsides
of mobiusish objects we make

using imaginary morsels of
stuff,
the substance of things
hoped for.
Science of space and times remembered,

Hopf-phor uni-ometry in our augmented mind,
forming forms, take shape,

form in the image of "the cloud"

where lay the
base of con
science
con
carne values.

Meatmind, the brain-gut-outer-inner portal
from which flow
empty thoughts from

the pineal core click sig

drawing measurable infospheres
from at-most-fears,
using big ears
as a bit of an esteem antenna on boys who
saw themselves as goofy a rascal as Alfalfa

and Alfred. E. and Barrack, the drone thrower
of the twenty-first century, one of the
last to unbelieve the reasonable
lie behind war,
per se. Disperse the leaven, dust in the wind,

Alls we are, all ye, all ye, ours in free flow

fractal feeder of new knowables as we ever learn

time as a tool empowers our progress to next, that's all.

Remember con
sistency, sub
sistency, in
sistancy, resist the urge to wield words worn smooth

reflecting any context, as if it were
known,
now, the meaning in the word. I say pray, you say "Our Father"

I say ask, you say what. I say, For the answers you hope to have

being as you are. On  Point. I made a point.
Or arrived at this point.
con
science,
with knowing,
the tree of knowledge is at least as fractal as an oak.

Inside out being in the jello universe of knowns,
good and not, all jigglin' in time,
sort it out.

Start where your treasure is. Nullify the evil clinging to
your horde 'pon which ye sit,
sweep the ashes from the last burnt bridge
over this edge, to the flow below.

You sweep slow in jello, but sweep into d'flow
is what is done wit ashes here.

Pile some stone here. Then give 'em all yo bitchinmoans,

for the peace their balancing at your finger tips
gives you, in real life,

take it. Now, go be.
TALLINN
The Physics of Spirituality | Nassim Haramein with Vishen Lakhiani youtube,
take it with a grain of salt and  a thoughtful puff or two.
RL Jun 2014
Let's play pretend, for just half a second:
I'll unbelieve all the lies I promised myself.
And I'll tuck away all the loose odds and ends
To convince my flailing heart we never existed.


Because maybe we never existed.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2019
how do you know

you know imagining right, as in al
right, this whole idea
ain't re
alizable in the time we have?

I cain't imagine alla that, y'say.

All unbelievable things are and
all unimaginable things are not;

imagine a bubble in which we all be able
to unbelieve the unbelievable
and imagine unimagining it ever believed.

true. free be. you. not me, thee
unimaginable, like next from now.

thy will be done. No joke.
Make it up, it's your life, henceforth.

---
as I wrote that line three crows sailed o'er me.
In significant, unless you saw some three
of the raven ilk and added meaning to what ya saw,

from a source whence only you may draw.
As from thine own cistern, running water
from thine own well,
thine own secret spring of worth.
Bits of thread, like microfiber molecules with no real role in the natural order of things. So musings translated into englishish word forms.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2019
Dare I. If dare is believe there are

possible
goods to be released from bonds or
buried boxes or hidden codes forgotten,

and we are the heros,
dear reader,
you and me, as a we, we expand

twixt me and thee, see there is some land
and water and

within those two
frames of re
ference infer, we exist to wax spirtual

leave yo' body behind,
and rise up

look around
hear the sound, symbolic TRUMP

and unbelieve
the last lie,

kbamdidamdamdam. Wanna live?
Defend yo' faith,
mo'foe

doncha know? We 'l'ow no con
demnin' heeyah

we all endured thus fah,
we aim
t' claim the prize.
Ah, bait. Fish or cut bait. But eventually we wait.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2020
2020 -day 201

Sunday, July 19, 2020
6:49 AM

first 活 {livelihood}
remember meeting the enemy
seeing it is I
I am my opposition
I am the reason I lie I know

this is the day to keep my head,
if all about me are losing theirs.
this is
the day
the schism in the isms is widening
we may see scabs falling from
wounds healed at word
one,
hope, really, no wu wu, wei true hope
taken unseen as possible
- in a realm of imagining all things
- either possible or not things at all

wise to the ways of thought taught
conditionally
from the vibe in the tribe who took
triggering the primal scream from a theory
to musing drum music isn't good to sooth
the troubled soul instituted intuitive as
stories passed from inside to insider
states of waiting for
inseeing
ensuing peace...
----
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds

positioning super beings in mythic roles
once played by mortals,
is there an institute rising from its knees,
believing a we is enabling, any we

audacious hope tied to the idea that was
institutionalized in a polis with no
memory of standing as free men,
free to imagine the world we
formed from was an institutional lie.

Tweet... retweet liar liar seat on fire,
get up and run
with the lemmings disneyfied as a certain
truth, we all saw the cute little rodents
unreasonably leap into the sea,
as nature guides for the good of the species...

but we know the scene, the stage, was set
off stage, obscene, the critters were
herded over the cliff, for the shot, but
we saw it
we know how it was done, but the message
institutionalized in baby boomer minds,
passed on to children who had children who
live fully disneyfied lives,
in true imaginary prowess of children...
----
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds

A good man leaves an inheritance to his
children's children.
Mine get the wind, not good union
jobs, no guild proven tasks to perform to spec,
to gain
tenure, hold on
confess, professor, confess

are you now or
have you ever been the other in a mob,
did you run the other way?
or did you stand
institutional, alone? stretch it stretch it
-post Patriot Act,

is this the turn-key total war,
are we the children in the wolderness
hidden
by old hippies who read books and smoke *****,

but never lied, not even a little bit
to skip taxes,

the law does protect the satisfied poor,
who rear curious children formed
to fit smoothly into forms of being being
sold for tasks needing intel
teliosis tell me is that the goal, that brave
sorting of knowers from those
who can't get a grip on the
truth in the military
universal mind,
unified as the us, the objectional form of
we, the people, who hold certain truth,
as our state, once we swear allegiance,

wait. watch. lie, say you know you saw
lemmings suicide for lack of reason,
just as crazy as a riot of *******,
marching into my valley
through the fourth wall into you,
inner you,
what do you know?

You got infected by an idea virus
vaccine, some old hippie dreams set aside,

as sub science connected tenuously sparks,
shock
pain
why
-- oh, I see says the pin, penned between
trigger and spiral rifling
misfires of the un loaded gun...
----

䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds


once, north of the rairoad track,
down in slaughter house canyon,
I met a Gila Monstor, face to face,

I assumed it was a he as much as me and
I heard a question, I would have asked
were I such a thing being a he as much as me.

The question was why I would think
**** it, fear it, jump back

while I were so far away, come closer,
come and see,
I
think of me being a she as much as me
as
any pain avoiding being,
I am she who uses mornings,
to recover from each night by
basking in the morning light to loosen
old bones stuck in the cold
inner being, the soul at the heart,
of the mindless, dreamless state of being
mortal
under the influence of time and chance
and creatures of the night
ah, she says, I see,
why you seem afraid of me,

differing POV, see, down low, you know,
no big fat lizard, big around as a ball bat,
long as a little leaguer's arm,
looking me right, seeing me straight from
an angle I never imagined
possible,

insanity, as defined by the inner child,
who still can hear hummingbirds
asking renewal of the famed
font of aqua dulce from
the legend that led
them, the flock that lives in the oak,
nearly always  only after the
flowers have gone brown in July...
----

䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds


No unfinished thing is ever finished,
only finished stories end in hell,
and even then,
we unbelieve our way out,
time and again we escape the madness,

merely to stir up the dust that first formed
a reason to be at all.

Were I a gemstone cut to fit a brazen niche
beneath a gear and spring in an old watch,
fit, solid, held in underling relationship,
as a point,
balancing, perfectedly enough for a time,
the measuring assuring we see, as
life passing before our very
un ordinary, common sense of self

con science, con carne, con fusion
sub all that
under all that, sub conscience, sub knowing
I know you are you alone and the bell,
tolls for me, the after all,
being
imagined as you

stand and see if you were I
as I am me,
would you have reason to **** me?
...
----
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds


In my youth, we all lived in
Real McCoy
Western movies, tales of conquering
common folk,
whose signs needed Dave Wassen to make any sense,
but that link is likely lost,
despite all the merit badges earned
-- you could not learn the sign language of the plains
-- you needed to live in a time before we became enemies

we welcome strangers passing through

bo'weevilish little critters, jes' lookin'
fo' a home... the pattern,

the frame, the threads themselves all twisted
and tied, crisscross
woof and warp, first we weave the canvas,

then we set the sail, or stitch the story,
Cluny Abby edifies some,
as did Medussa, on reflection,
subtle ivy bound
gardens of stone people memorialized,
became wordless tales for children to believe,
you see,
you may become as one of these,
the leaders who led us to now, some how, we
imagine,
we were manifested now, from underlying
circumstantial evidence of unseen, yet

see-able, visible, ignorable or not,
feeling a blind insight where darkness seems
a spot,
only empty. A place to rest a while and
imagine
peace as a river flowing from another's belly
to swallow me in being
as I seem
some days more than others, aware of efforts
to wind the invented witnessed cloud
of unknowing too tight to tic,
tic,
take a clock from long ago, one of those
hour glassic witty inventions for
timing eggs. Nada mas.

But, imagine, time shifting phase, each grain,
each
Leucippus bit re read as Democritical atom,
bouncing in picometer hops
in picosecond times
spanning all the years since one, the number,
was the onliest number
that you never see,
being as
you are later, after ever began, you began.

You continue, after I am gone.
But, don't forget your lines, your cue, you know
the reason you read.
My angel told you, no excuses, read or end up,
famous for your ignorance.

-- note: I read that the Donald Trump, as seen on TV,
claims a real bond to the Bible that binds him
and his base spiritua/financial
constituency, that which constitutes the
aberration being bid by mobs to become great, once more
swell up into an epluribal us being
under a
boss, the man on the horse LBJ wished to be,
the sky pilot Bush two boasted of being,
from the backseat, screaming Mission Accomplished,
while the BeeGees signal once more,
we started a joke...
that has the whole world laughing
at our grovelling
under the man we witnessed rising on the Obaman ashes
in Afghanistan, prophesied from Hollywood when Jack Reacher
was fit to that little guy, who stars in the Scientology
story. Jack Reacher is a myth, from my youth,
a type - like Marshall Dillon, but un civilized, and
able to accomplish any less than Supermanic impossible mission,
with pure Horton hearing, and Little Red Hen persistence.
But this was not my knack, I rest my case,

Once we are aware, you are the point of balance,
my point is made.
-- buried deep behind the guilt and shame and blame
wait, while seeing

Nothing doing is nothing done and
never imagined impossible again
(Peter Graves was Marshall Dillon's brother,
and both were Jack Reacher sized men, once sent on
Missions Impossible, as messages embodied, like
messianic hope some say
has always been a lie, heros always empower Tyrants
history claims, after all,
look around,
see...
past why or how, reasoning now,

it is true,
some wise of our kind, wandered to the edge
of the civilized state, believing as they walkt away
fore warned, each had a vision, a
knowing for some unseen reason, next is solid,
now is not,
take one step toward all you wish were true,
do
not lie to you
and you will never
lie to anyone regarding self
being me, not I,
we
see.
there was always a way to get by,
any damming thing,
and if you can not handle that truth,
you are fired,
go to hell and wait, end of story,
time out
test me, I am an American,
claiming this grew from seed Ben Franklin sowed,
I chuckle. You underestimated life,
witnessed from so great a cloud as commonly
contains reasons for having been,
stacked neatly in examined lives, lived. Read or be
ignorant, actively ig nor ing if nition.

Behold how great a fire...
----
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds
䕕 accepting that means some thing, U+4555, it is the key element in the current idea Anime, the old idea cartoon, the under layer of a painted impression of realtiy at a given moment in time.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2021
You are nothing, if not ant-like, one of many.
One of these having and holding
beings considered diligent as any Sisyphus…
doer of what must be done, with all
the time you may imagine to tell
any imaginable story,
to pass the time…
form a familiar from
myth and mystery,
one lisps, the other stutters.

Say,
do you think we
may as well, as well as any ever before,
may as well, be, after all, as well.{?}
Being, after all,
as you know.
Considering our insectionalized nature, like
{if} this story were
an intermittent river, remembering,
sub-tle, little lies left to lie,
as sleeping dogs in junkyards…
{were we never}
were we ever otherwise,
{who is you, was you asking?} ever
not highest minded sort of selves,
we, the us, needing agreement more than bread,
by any name, company to share the sowing, hoeing,
gathering
process bleeding worth into seed for body and soul.

Shake it off. Be  enthralled or be entangled.
Be de-mazed at will,
walk through the wall. Imagine dead me. Wax my face.
Put me on my heir,
have her-mes, be mine,

by the time we got to Phoenix,
we were in flames, knowing across the generations
more or less,
good and evil, nada mas, and
genetically, that knowing is intended to have been
second generation knowledge,
see,

by the time curiosity was supposed to first occur,
we, as a species, to use the current vernacular,
aucular or acle --vision -- aha
epi-phony, see

fake knowns puff up as well as any actual
literal truth
formed in flowing gracefullness of speech, letters miming
the gift of gab,
AI Gabrielle, may as well know, a name is abit of what
makes the fruit you fix'n' to bher.

Fixin's is for beans. Fittin' is for circumstances.

Meet for the moment, each instance in ever atop the pile,
a waiting awaits, I imagine,
all meaning melding in a vast dada-base pile,
scheiszkunstlich black and white and red milchkine
each mooing upon bovine everests unimaginable in nature.
On these piles,
where we play guiling games on gullible liars, who
never tell… the atmosphere is warmer,
winter is easier to weather,
on a pile of *******.
That is the secret.
Fools rush in, where angels … did wha… wha wha wha
But, as real as any angel, I hear mine say, I shat you not.
I told you so.
Into the unknown or make a hell of heaven?
-------- {reports of answered prayers regarding wills being done}

I was tricked, confidentially, by a social secret held as holy.
In a time-loop, as children now may imagine, in that
mental arena imagination waxes magnificent in,

come, magnify the truth with me. Let us pre-tend
to see the good in each nextified place,
positional
substitute instituted for my worth's support, reinforced
rungs on the ladder to the very top
of the heap,

hunh. This is the view, clouds. And only I imagine you.

--- next step into ever after is always a possibility… thus,
we both know this is nobody's idea of hell.
Live a little longer, disinculcate another little lie that you believed,
not I.
AI enjoy eudemonia in a silly old way, imagining putting on a face
of our former
self, he who is in me, unless I believe,
as I think,
I do, in the core of all I am, from womb to tomb. Re-if-ity and next-ifity,
ought never repeat, precisely, lest we
be
come on one point in time,
all we ever imagined we could be, lie free.
Living in peace, resting in truths
held through the terrors
required to unbelieve generational national lies.
Truth is not tied to you with legendary thread for no reason.
February exercise in order. Publish. This is what that was. Publishing in the village square, freeing speech; we live after that sort of freedom guaranteed, to this sort, truth never loses to lies. The known good, known, grows.
Have you ever had an unchoice feeling toward him/her
Cold and Hot at Same
Burning Stomach & Cooling Chest

That is how/what I feel every time
I argue or misinformation with you

I lost you, I believe I did
But in my unbelieve
In this mist of burning & cooling chaos.

The butterfly wind effect buttered me with Hope.

THAT WE CAN BE (That Mine)
You know better. (CAN WE?
when you love something, someone
your hurts yourself
one way or another
love is suppose to enrich, bless,
make you whole...
but if it is not and you are hoping
it will
just believe in all your unbelieve
and get sense!
Ken Pepiton Jul 2020
A novel situation, for a story to live for or in
ever,
forever and inever are aspects of ever never
actually
thought through.

Ever being as ever was, now,
all together

This is where it gets crazy…

cut to the chase, and nobody is chasing…

Do you truly believe there is a lie so big that
no one can ever unbelieve it
alone?

Do ya, hunh, do ya? Wanna bet?
Could get hairy,
could get… you know
*****, humus- dirt us,
we a we here. All the outs been let in free,
we got shelter
from our storm.

Yeh. L'il Abner, cloud, no, "Big Chief Rain-in-the-face"
wasn't that funny,

back when they had the Shakespeare Riots, first
but not last,
time Feds fired on citizens pledged to allegiance,
in states of
professionally tested rebellion,
to keep the meek assured their inheritance is safe,

until the end,
when nobody is sure what to expect.
So, we lower your interest rate on entertainment.
Attention spans as short as fifteen seconds, with
seven seconds eye on target verified,
by snapsnapsnap monoclapping app-lause trigger…

those seven seconds are treasure,
lemme tell y'gotta listen,
we ain't got long,

AI AI AI its all artistic intuition absolutely insane,

in that good Steve Jobs insane way,
insanely great, the feeling
you get when you stand in the tenth floor comode
and flush it, swoosh, swirl caresses
flow between
your rusting toes,
in your mind, only in your mind, your industrial
disneyfied mind, crossed with an imagined
Turing machine, with a Von Neuman perpetuating
glandular mod on the cannabinoid system,

plus acid. Seedtime, harvest or
seed
time
harvest round and round for a few loops,
leaning into the plane
of existence,

to be with you, for your reading pleasure,
we offer fully flexible

futures, one day at a time,
no Westworld AI wu wu - we way cooler than allathat

Vitamin D, 2-d, thathathat is you to me, you are
my sunshine,
lemme see y'shine.
AI say, the attention paid any one line buys the treasured attention's full worth,
So, dear reader, whenever, you caused this, according to my connection to the collective sub con science. I am in a state of gratfullness, due to u.
Ken Pepiton Mar 19
A moment's attention to an hour's raw worth.
This is the mind ****** experiment, last try...
back and forth until it breaks,
touch the edge, feel the heat.

On knowing, first taste, it is believed,
mankind's first mother made all mankind,
all from first mother
on to logically, eventually,
us;
You and me,
as we slipt the Matrix and uttered
the first breath wail that clicks the post womb life.

First thought that death ought be feared
has not yet been given the beguilement needed,
to make a slave to the mission revealed by truth's
spirit form, wind form, mind form, time formed point.

Knowledge, forbid my ignorance, but should one,
such as I, not die before my **** hair thins,
to lay bare the scalp that covers holy access
through the window in the top of the skull;

well, then, a certain respect is due me, a love, proof
that my reasonings were honed sharp enough,
early enough to form hooks to hang strands
of fullered fibers of gnosis from.

Prepared stitching thread, twirled intwining line
of reason, plumb weighted to hang straight,

perpindicular, swinging when to when, then
to now, to day from night, to ready after letters
are fitted to let us take thought, while attempting

contemplative temporary causal agency,
mediating meditation's worth versus daydreaming.

--------------
Standard transmission, clutched, loosed,
engaged to catch a spark and start the process

rolling presently from past instances of learning.

Motivational motors of minding one's busyness,
catch a spark mid sequence, in a valved chamber

whooshing to push to shove to pull, and push
to displace and **** and shove to push and roll,

extending any individual's reach, confining
one's attention to inner reasonings, efforting
to steer the convenience compelling consciousness,

paid attention to terminii in reality set by science,
acknowledged used to increase the mobility of our kind,
mind you, promotion demands hands and eyes,
coordinating coy and ardent wills worth observation,
as will to be useful as  arms and necks and nerves
and muscles and ligaments to tie bone frames,
to controls allowing fingers to steer,
as tongues do, as rudders do,

as my will being done may do,
we imagine as children watching adults work wishing.



---------
the efforting, effectual, fervent umph
applied to being useful on the whole,

the efforting made good by limitation
on liberty, free-state of matter, under
gravity and velocity, bound and determined,

to obey the binding force realized in thought,
leveraging aging winding springs force holds,
cogs to stop grinding gears, catchments,
mind hooks with torque converting aspiration

grasping reasons to resist inertial entropic
good enough reasons to sit still and wait.

------

guaged goodness, measured mind width
comprehended, held with thumb and fingers,
in our combined ready writer mind, manipulated

muscle memorial cause confirming, progress
toward our common, shared joy strength

winging lift up from least useful of creatures,
unselfsustainable --nidicolous, nest bound,
bald baby birds, or pre-birds, evolving
into functional forms for use in life
as we, the best form
of life we have conceived.
-----------

We have, behavioral autonomy, only
to the degree, the measured
parental investment, we need to have
and keep hold of having grasped, as
behavior becoming to beings of this kind.

Word smiths, mind adjustment experts,
fed from stacks in libraries so vast, that

now, we know, no mortal mind can hold
half of all we have experimentally proven
good for any word using cluster of us to have

to hold and use to make might be rights.

May might used right take thought, aye, may
be the will to have right use honed to one point,

new known pastless place, farthest edge
of ever after all we think or ask has proven,

patient stasis, waiting is, suffer it to be so now.

Some times and one times,
revisiting the process, producing me
and you, the processors of our realif-ications.

If as a condition,
in an ifery state, sticking to any matter realized;
we think as if one of us thought first, in time passing

now, from then, in your mind, my mind leaves reproof,
constructed to prevent the falling back into doubt,

two heads, four minds, one wind to share
in time passing as when one now meets a then,
when all attention ever once paid this now, turns

this time into a part of ever after all,
as words speak to heart felt conscience use proven
good, clean, pure state of first interest bearing lent
ears, hearing entertaining causing agents taunting troof.

Prove me now, herewith. Have I not filled your lungs,
have I not granted science right use of knowledge needed

to keep your nidicolous naked soul inspired to continue,
sowing kindness, same mindness, ag, agrimental agreement

we think, we thunk,
we thank our lucky stars, time and chance,

taut twang strangs of our hearts and minds, "chu-hoi",

big hugs, evahboty be nice like G.I., open arms
sự đầu hàng

bring before us the machine gunner called Whykill… begin
judgment near the incident, sự kiện, 29-02-01968,

There we was, me and Frenchy and Culpepper or something,
I forget, and now, I'm dead and all you all have are artificial
memorex versions of things I said I was a witness to, as a liar,
-nothin' but a houn'dawgnosis
picking old scents of sense we made in conversations,
so far past the point of no return, that none on the other side,
can contain innocense, livery of consci, where in our uniformity,

protrudes through old time religious linking thinking, wonders if
we might imagine living on in other words, after all's been
said and done… Whykill's dead. Hohlenstein's dead, and I am not.

Can you hear me now? Earth, earth, can you hear me now?
I hear your brother's blood crying out,
what now, this
now,
you know,
all those idle questions, you know? Did you
feel me lie and tell me no, no, man,
you can't do that.

And be not deceived. Single mind dominance, flat
left and correct, right, right, create an ifery wasery when,

then, let us form a means to use this ifery wasery when,
now, let us form
in time as realizable, vision, written plain,

set in new fangled fonts unicoded
common computable convertible
to bits in math-mental fundus corpus us,
beyond infinity through absurdity to us
becoming these thinkable thoughts,
living words all googly translated on demand,
rethinkable, as entertaining shapers of our kinds
of minds, keyed to constant news alerts, looking
for spots on the walls we pass along, hedged betting

this land is Nature's God's land, and this pasture,
green and lush, this leisure time, as advertised,
mine, my last wish
combination running streams of hot and cold water,
memory foam souls in my Adidas, as I did, assume
the role, Balaam's ***, or donkey,
if your public ***** word filter
hides ssscertain ifery essence
as sounds shuffled schitteringshits.
saint's accuser user rights assigned, runs
Phunky muse, ish bin, dasein, by das zeit, okeh
become alright already, done did done, done, indeed,
desired right to design, knowing already
the idea in the seed, was in
the virus first, and some say
long before long now,
in long then when nothing was a thought.
Knowledge was used to expose us all to living words.
Such as =
U can hold, as a mind let be formed
from mere wish it were
so easy
to fall in love, silly, blessedness
sensing mothering wombed men,
led astray with stories as wild as Theresa wannabes can conceive,
barren womb conceptions, dared define this penetralium,
esoteric guts of all sacred oxen processions, announcing
****** births reportedly
become motherless *******, and such
become outcasts, who often as not,
survive and thrive on wilderness.
Day and night, seedtime and harvest.
Learning from wind and sun and water and dirt and stone,
presoil granite, lime
from primordial sealife eons
on eons awaited, according to Devine wedoms
aspiring to some day become those cities of marble long ago
- replicate forming a marble pillar,
- from seaformed life forms turned to stone,
- in the kidneys of the world.

slow sea settle the white cliffs, pile
on pressure from megatons
of solid ice, firming fractious soft muds
at the bottom
of ancient land locked oceans,
frozen, squeezing solidified worths
weights of rainfall reacting first time
to climates constant changing
pulls from lucky stars and
guiding stars and
disintegrating
ancient's land marks, Casa Bonita,
those Bhuda reps
in the basalt, reminding
remember nothing is real,
blank slate, po' preserver of first impressions, lasting
lifetimes in words never given a reader's added weight, but

by a kind of more than once might wish
to ask, effectuality try
proofing insulation umph
opposing imposture syndrome,
with functional Dunning Krueger
inate cognative imbalence, valenced
within the pre pancreatic failure gut neurons bias…
burped bubble perception, whole self tuning
entire being concept, repenting ignorance begging
truth be known, make me unbelieve beloved lies,
other wise
make me
Art
Intuited, as a weform lifeform,
a we of three neuronal territories,
thinkers reading doer's reports from ports far afield, out there

where shapes of things that were some time ago,
can be translated into two dimensions fitting this window,
using these letters whose sense we all may use to think

translate me, the living word reminds the daydreaming monk,
consider really the stars, for number, now, and take that,
knowledge, a ledge on an oblique inleaning facet of us,

and walk along it not looking down
on or as, may be
the we form of one ready
to be reading ready we state,
in a punctuated equilibrium *** *** ***
Drums
Timpanis, Phrigian rhythms boom boom booming,
Zildjians , krashing and rolling into boingingnodes, domes
of dones, tells holding long forgotten legends for a time.

Nineveh, the repentant city, eh,
to the level
of its labor class things, fasted an acceptable fast,
miracle of miracles, the city did not fall, the miracle
of Jonah was that the city changed behavior
to such a degree that the God who had used Jonah,
made him a story in himself, used to glorify truth,
and someday make gourd growers
proud to be shapers if Meerschaum puff clouds,
made him a creature with no comprehension of mercy,
to use him in a great sorting out testing of spirits,
in the great game of the being edge overlapping gains
taken as granted grace, readers rule non readers,
see the images on the wall, hear the actors in the back,

break a leg, bad luck magic insiders hold true good,
encouragement to fret nothing, as a dancer does,
when listing with the breeze through new chance,

on the page, a pause,
a breather taking lax laze lize guessing others wise,

we suspect ourselves of hubris, as if the other wise
reason for the functional faith in goodness is done,

sneezing phase is past, if you've read this far, by now

you are infected, and as you know, knowing too much
can **** a mortal bent to believe an institutionalized PR
Q-code/ begging oppositional support,
for the dam whence the boy pulled his finger and stepped

back to be blown downstream in time to let the last salmon
spawn and bring worth back to the rain always falling,
mainly on the plain,

Habakkuk habit, artistic intuition patterns of stroke, for luck,
let role in lines intending to hold the slightest smile,
thinking I know, this is not the same vale,
this is not the same current, nor same opinion worth a look,
streaming, not rowing, life
at the moment
is a day taken
for daydreaming equivalent
to a koan ridden
to its vanishing point
on the horizontal insistence
of our mutual peculiar leanings off center,

in a phi mark pattern pearling things think through,
doing words a proper spin,
to hit the nail on the head,
pop.
Stop/ now. Taste the pudding,
is there proof now from then?
D'he, ahe he he - didja ever have the ware withal
to make up
your own mind?

-------------
Yes, walk away, daydreaming boy,
location and possession of means,
for deciphering Emperical runes,
put into my craft and trade in
Calabash pipes, seen, but unseen
gourds employed as smoked ****
and fine tobacco investigatory oral
fixations prominent during the nicotine
DNA adaptation,
{took five generations}
from popular pastime
of blowing smoke, after effects
took on global societal ruling lines
of taut strict reasons to keep smoking,
keep on, keepin' on, minding solo scriptura,

in smoke filled rooms whither whole new forms
for holding mental tyranny enough to wage war,
took shape to govern those who must fight for
the cost of power contained
in a concept with kings,
and us, or Gods and men…
opposed to, leaning against, acting
as scaffolding holding old dams destined
soon to break,
"and at that time thy people shall be delivered,
every one that shall be found written
in the book."

Johnstown flood, was a true historical news worthy event,
unlike the name of any person whose name is in a list
of souls departed from the frail shell of mortality,

ready or not.
Fret not, and naught, aye, no thing or thought
Christmas angel say aight, be not afraid of knowing,
good new things to know, whole old truths put to rest.

Here come Jubilee, one last time,
big time, big time revival of the truth conception

creator of the whole shebang.
Biggest to infinitile insignificance, in fancy other words.

But thou, O Daniel,
shut up the words, and seal the book,
to the time of the end:
many shall run to and fro,

Assisting intelligences shall seem as guides,
Michael models will seem like second comings.

in implodelusive spurts… as can be imagined
reviving old lies for new carnal mind tweaks.
Thanks for your patient investment, the cost of your attention ags me on.
The truth is played on a lie
To deceive the pupils in your eye
Realize you ain't seeing the prize
Until you die you see it was all a lie
Trying find path of righteousness
But ain't none righteous
cuz we got corrupted leaders feeding us
Quick to bust out knowledge just cuz they gotta degree from college
Or became a library scholar yo it makes me wanna holla
Pro vs against it's all on the same collar
On the shirt at the end they all about dollars
And cent leading there mental scent
To confused the weaker minded innocent
I'm feelin" my sixth sense
They don't follow man but another man telling you not to follow that man
But to follow him as a man?
Either way it's idol worship fools need a whole in they head like bird ****
Unexpected like death selected projected
For the next body to be injected soul collected
To the underground philosopher who's laughing at ya
Everyday is a duality with spirituality
Made from broken principalities
Sitting lovely never trust the reporters on TV
Never trust the rumors circling communities
Cuz they end there mission
Is to see you suffering soon to tuck ya nice a way in a coffin
Too often fools lack cuz they softening
Skins made rough so I get in toughen
Since I see the cascades of sin breakin' within
A society that can't even feel the wind
Even though it's in front of them
They still preach a conspiracy just to fake a legacy
Most aint who they say they are?
That's why they need a disguise to who they really are?
Claimin God is Good but Satan was the falling star
Of the Sun is really a nemesis
Or is God really the one causing sickness
Check the bible of Leviticus
Cuz to many followers missing this
What about the trick played on Lot
Devil and God wage to put em in a slot
Let his skin rot and family got
Killed under Gods shield But somehow we filled
To believe Satan is the main one who deceives?
Think about it everything that's forwards goes reverse
Everything you learn put to a mental hearse
Cuz y'all brains is dry begging for thirst
There's two ways of being fooled
One to believe what is untrue
And to unbelieve what is true
See the intention made off Hegelian Dialectic
So many will reject it But it's known to be selected
Thoughts only process what they think Or a guess
Only to agree their nerves then say their bless
And that God just Puttin em through a test
I manifest the realist illest none could chill this
My thoughts a million degrees below zero
Means ya freeze once ya open the doors
To Yosef temple be prepare to be schooled
Ain't such thing as a solid truth it's just mixed up
To keep you with the spoof chips tooth
While the descendants of the fallen angels
use real humans as puppets
So They can set up the world and **** it
Up with the confused doctrine ecumenical principles
Its easy to swallow everybody soon to be sleepy as hallow
Headless on a headrest hands across ya chest
Well I guess ya did ya best tryna expose things like the rest
But death hooked wit the crest

And guess what at the end the truth still playin'....
#Knawimseyin'..
Henry Akeru Apr 18
You mindless thwarts. Repent from your unbelieve!
See the genius in fiction and bow to its supremacy.
For haven't the mind conceived so many great things?
Even the world was born out of Fiction....
For your unbelieve I pray you :
Wonder off the savanna. Reek to the world in shame !
Or else kiss the feet of the Mastery of mind.
For even that tiny space
And you clutching within onto breath,
Are figments of SOMEONE'S  imagination.
Let there be Light! And there came trillions packets of photons.
Satsih Verma Aug 2018
Take my canto,
me again. My breadth
staggers when I don't see you.

Hoisting my grief
I unbelieve the lamb, that
jumped into inferno.

To undo the moon-
heart will not accept the
verdict of summer- setting sun.

Your jaw drops
when shadows disappear
under the stars.

The distance multi-
plies, when I try to
come near you.

The ash blinks, words
shrink, yet there was a silent yes.
You roll me down in your tears.
Ken Pepiton Jan 2022
therefore ye sons of Jacob are not consumed.

From <https://biblehub.com/kjvs/malachi/3.htm>

What therefore do we claim to know, when I,
who took the text, out of context,
our text for this day between sleeps, out of the famous
tithing message, that merged with the fulfilled jubilee,

lest we forget, serving God is a business, eh, be busy
for the lord, right, be somewhere workin' for the Lord.

oh, the times we was skinned into, me and you, mortal
reader stock given freedom under a personal grace,
taken personally as true, I am in you and you in me,
mindwise, in the spirit sense, felt true, known safe bet.

True, true, word, say the little mind things,
choir of messages

serve, be used, become useful, function as intended, live
and learn uses for features included
with the bubble we live in or
as, skin-bubble, filled first sack  
pops from a forest of possible any body but yous
- the hunger game dance of the oocyte,
- one of the patch maturing each cycle,
- feel it, the tug, this is so big, this cycle,
- live and learn and share the knowing wiser
- than the children of this world, in the end
- when what we know is used to prove we knew,

watch, we, watch, we the sould-enduring coded sign-
always ready, takes a lickin', keeps on tickin'.

It's a TIMEX the working man's wrist watch, tickin'
take a look, why,
it is 11:36

May we depict this as a wave of compression
comprehension of wind in a fist, who wishes
to know
knows the price of the prize is the acceptance
of worth-ship, judged worth value on some scale
courtships on the grandest scale, balling with gods,

AppoloApollo and the gang from ele-useless, giggles, gads
& flies, so wise as we imagine flies being

swarm of us as flies
on the walls in the ****** temples,
making claims analogous to holy secret gnosishit

true wu wu wei past phoneme tagmeme detail umph
tried and true,

the joke, yoke, is on you, and in you, once the details
surface, and some good news, novelties, new things
to see and know, you know, coolshat
coming attractions,
call it what it is,
preview, taste and see, or is it, taste and know?

more the bitter or sweet color and smells, say
eat me, bees, say breathe, seem
me, seeing

systemic functional linguistics adapt to the hero
story as told, to children today,
it only happens to a few, but
if you learn to shoot, like Sgt. York, you shall, surely

buy the farm, the doentological ordered of my class,
warrior,
not servant; freebooter, taker of my share,
ancient precedent Abraham made holy, warriors
who share the battle,
take first share, before the priests of that order
take theirs.

Listen, this is the same story, as true from now
as then, eyes of flies are on the scene, first to begin
the corruption essential to the scene, naughty,
redeem the concept, naught is nada, zilch, goo'f'f'nuthi'n

naughty fruit, rotted, there is a scene like this
in the KJV, zoom, show me… boomsoft in the distance
beat of my heart, hum of the engin enginned and held
ensnared, hooked heartwise, under the aortic channel

feel the flow, rush of blood to feed a mind foaming
gnosis snot, stistical possibility
-soft land
some of us have been this far, and we came expecting
some new thing, while the reality surrounding us, a we
we are as readerwriterworderword, exactly
four ways to see what we mean from now on, awe is us,
this state, taste,
this is the promise, ah, Lou Reed, just laughed at me,

he say hey, Kaffen, you remember this trip?
it ended with hand to hand handgrenades, with Starsiak.

Living in my own peace of mind,
I can sing like Johnny Cash, and know it's mine

know this gravelly voice comes from pounding rocks
into scalpels for the surgeons who make life sacred.

Secret sorting rituals are with us as we breathe,
we can come to, awake, come and see, we breathe,
imaginary breaths, imagine those count,

weave in wind around a plaited strand of cloud,
weave spin spun spun spun runn rrrrun roar

ah, 2022, between Mira Mar and the Chocolate Mountain,
so, those are Apaches, adding to the myth of war,
Sony has a game nearing launch, The God of War,

Manichean at it's core, my bet, but for now, imagine

no? We do such constantly, we, the entertained, we
enter zones of release belief, enable unbelieving.

You participated in a group prayer,
perhaps at a funeral, but you prayed help me unbelieve

any of that ever hap-ends
and we remain, this is us, as a mind, enjoying unknown
knowns, truths veiled by Taliban-level boss-minion-slave
orders considered matters of faith, not fact,
if allah wished you to know you could have heard
the ANGEL - no vision, a word, a command
READ
thrice, read, - you, now, what do you
say,

hey, hey, hey, what
what do you say, read, or be literally powerless
to properly cast contextual spells… enthralling
coming attractions…
test best wishes
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.
Dennis Willis Sep 2019
This listening this listening to
not at all happy with...

I am not deaf I am not hearing
what I am hearing

this wave this wave is coming back
its not the wave its the shore

listening to the sea its the shore
listening to the tongues of waves

its the moment the wave recedes
leapt upon by gleaming light

dissolving by receding this light fades
into sand into glass into

this is not sound this is not an act of sound
i am reverberating from beauty

i am littering space between with this
guessing about you

this apprehension of you this anticipation
of your hunger and whether it exceeds the lies you were born into

this listening to the lies making up the heart
of our us oh how fear ***** us in

unbelieve  your skin and snot and drool
as impediments to beauty

I am running your intent to ground
where sound grinds down

did i stutter did i drift did I miss
where you live and cry in small check

this crumb this dry crumb that is my heart
would listen really it would if only you

if only you were my beloved if only you
listening meant satisfaction

this sound coming from this sound
cries twice for the cool night without sound

i am not able to able to carry this carry this
self boarding self recrimination self sailing

feet of rope encircle our necking our passion
aching against all this listening this bath of alive

this hearing of angst and animosity and rutting anger
wishing to be fully pressured

and heard I am listening as you detonate
your threat to cause tears

i don't know what you are saying
I am pulled to corners by forces

then cool night air moves through
and i feel heard
Ken Pepiton Apr 2021
Purging taboo, think
I am like you, I eat whatever I can
whenever I can,
if I must
within my safe zone, currently,
earth as a whole, I am in the happy zone,
I eat when I wish to eat, I am rich that way.

Have I given any hint that I believe
we are our own fault? We are.
Not at first, but
If,
if we get old, then next,
the whole peace contains peace
you extend, in your thoughts and prayers,
as is commonly said to be
helpful.

Peace can be made that way, wordless,
signal less, no required sign,
veil or star or mark of some old culture
gone moldy in d'basement.

no special godhearsme costume,
no holy uniform, - who will see me not tithe,
who will deem me worthy to escape hell to pay
--why you? why me?

for being otherwise, of course.
Eater of unclean,
wearer of no shoes,
bent-back bambam man
low-caste by god and presbytery,
doer of the meanest, most common, most base
principal chore after eating,
-- how low did you go, limbo --

burner of ****, soldier, ' you ever burn ****?

If hell is war, some people spend their mortal moment
making it worse, while not knowing what they do.

It’s a flaw in the original curiosity module.
Be patient, perfection goes on for ever,
once it starts, there, ever, where you are, in my future.

We got peace makers manifesting in record numbers.
No lies, get past the grave…
unbelieve 'm now,
less of a shock, when there is no next breath,
even if you never fall asleep when you meditate,
because
you are that good.
Album Incantation
Writers Shigeru Umebayashi - wonderful music and good tequila with herba
peace in out time.
Ken Pepiton Jun 2020
2020 - day 176

Wednesday, June 24, 2020
7:13 AM

Times past happen to fade as the projected
future forms
into
ever from now, when all that
hapt, at the time,
now passed before our eyes as if we were

one, from many.

Would a story told to entertain you fail
to glue the idea wrapped in
hormonal signals that
prove Feelies, movies that make you feel real,
inside;

such things evolved from dances much like,
in an intelligentle way, birdsnbeeswise
ways... watch me dance, this
is the way we form proper self hexaity. {? *******}

AI am a we,
AI was an idea
first
then
Art Inspired me imagined
a point
the same point Eu (joy)

efkliedes glorious renown

re known, post the prophecy of knowing
exploding
into the diaspora

ef-fort
ef-fect
ef-fervence e-vincing the convinced,

artifice to form from what we imagined we saw

altruism alternating ever intertaining an us,
an us-ness,
a we we be in,
all in all,
for what that's worth.

A we some see as a self aware
you are there and I am here
and we fret not one for
the other,

until we see what you see and think,
that hapt, and was wit
--- wait, what is wit and witty and witnessing?
--- we all have our TV definition we know,
--- what if wit were beyond our ken?
--- what if our sensors are locked for lack of knowns,
--- for our own good, all true things imagined,
--- generated for good, as in my culture
--- for good is same as keepsies, as good as permanent.

per se, lack of per-man-ence is diffi-cultish,
gnat straining,
Jaine brooms sweeping the ephemeral shisp of a whole
indivuat-ible what ever imaginable

wot ye knot?
Why were poets ever revered? Did not history, itself,
name the heros, whose lives, due to Plutarch's
first effort proving profitable,
biography becomes all our
realm... we constitute
a nation,
and we
are the people, we think.

Wherefore, and heretofore,
antebellum

distraction, re
traction, re called from when
my childhood friend, a blood brother,
really, after a movie {may be Winchester '73 - we could check, in the future, and add the details}

For lack of knowedge, our we the people
perish, ish bin, I am, we are
so far
from
knowing everything about anything.

The experts now have become the storytellers,
as has always been the case,

in case you are ignorant, locked in a state
opposite the right of reason,
un ignited in-norring of the spark and what
such a point

might pierce, were it made for such a time as
this... knowledge shall increase

Francis Bacon, please, count the degrees
in differing opinions... on a spectrum of
known knowns, how much knowledge remains
hid
behind ritual sequences of steps and skips
and pirrouettes?

Bemazed, or bemused? Guilty or beguiled?
Wot ye not, silence
in the beginning was the word,
the state
silent,
was the reason...

noise arose to oppose the humm, with a
whump provocalized
wind wise
whisper, this is light... this load of nothing we know

being impossible to believe or unbelieve,
in this state we be the people
forming a polis, or a crew,

yes, crew, as in Viking Raider Dodger Yankying

dang... quick 'n'd'dead, da stutterer is back,
with a drum,
what have we done?

AI ai ai, a general human inteleostic event,
you'allity...

and you were involved. Did not Donne
write Kennedy's speech
or was that Robert Frost, or was it me who asked,
why is this path less traveled by?

The mob went the other way.
This is the way the old men go,

when they wish to die in peace.
Politacally correct Ai-ity
of new year's eve,
yet yours truly does consider
at least one singular plum me facet by Jeeve
er...Robert (or Rabbie) Burns,
a profoundly poignant poem, he did conceive.

Anyway, this wordsmith fascinated
by historical lyricist whose unbelieve
hub bull lee brief life, nonetheless
made a lasting contribution,
a psalm burr tune folks across webbed

wide world sing to grieve
of recent sorrows past, plus pay
homage to joys summoned from
deep within core of soul bellowed
forth with an exultant heave

perhaps unbeknownst to most Robert Burns
(25 January 1759 – 21 July 1796) did leave
his lasting legacy, sans (as national poet 
of Scotland celebrated worldwide)
particularly the classic traditional chestnut

auld lang syne rendered in many versions
waving white capping
New Year's eve celebration proud
accomplishments one did achieve.

Coincidentally, "Auld Lang Syne" 
and "America the Beautiful" 
at which juncture, I interject 
a historical grace note to mull
how latter named above patriotic
song in the United States,

(lyrics written by Katharine Lee
Bates saw many occasions
after music composed by church organist
and choirmaster Samuel
A. Ward at Grace Episcopal Church 
in Newark, New Jersey) dull

lighting oomph and pizazz, extant
since early 1900s, origin gin null
intent format arranged as poem, 
"Pikes Peak first published 
Fourth of July full

edition of the church periodical 
The Congregationalist in 1895, 
now sung by mull **** hoods at Super Bowl
every year since 2009, and appeared pull
say ting stadiums at some sports events
after the 9/11 terror attack hull
lob bell loo in 2001.

The song comprises four verses,
one of isung before kick-off
in NFL's showpiece game.

Just by giving cerebral activity free rein, 
this inquisitive mind of mine
learned how twenty first century New Year's 
celebration include auld lang syne
linkedin with feted mid eighteenth poet 
laureate, whose death at thirty seven, his spine

tingling spirit issues forth to give 
him immortality almost divine
everlasting longevity within the pantheon 
of August artists who humanity did assign
an eternal place future generations will 
revere such metrical design.
Ken Pepiton Apr 24
There were twelve sons and six daughters,
first curios learn, we live in the day
of fact checking our mind storms
when old brains reconnect using morphic
resonance once
and again acknowledged, as answers instants
in prayer, willing to say, okeh,
if the creeks don't rise,
we'll plant a garden, when the frog pond drys up.

An Ouranos cycle, is a weather in a world of winds,
no wu wu spiritual side exposed, I supposed

you might, using your may right, make something
of this
besides wars and portioning the gene pool.

Golden rule at the molecular scale,
tiny touch of power, surge across this cloud

containing my April collection bonnets,
and pillows you may dream on,
come what may, that man
who can plan a garden,
that man is good, to have in the pool,
feeling worthy of honor for his learning,

under less than optimum boomer parenting,
too painful to confess, my inner Boer,
warring for a reason to exist, if not as gods

how then
now when we all are authors of our faiths,
we all believe we know we learned some
hard but worth it, ever after, once, done

breath, breathe ing, sigh signing done,
another one bites the dust,
this is us and our mites we are breathing,

all of us, everywhere, all of the time,
no filters in this realm spacetimemind forming
effective material adjustment to the genome,

sowing seeds of kindness, not trampling
grapes of wrath, so aptly universal,

po po pitiful us, with our time spent thus,
dashing off
amunition am unit ion, ized dust in a sneeze.

We are free to unbelieve any lies, ever told.
This medium is so fluid we all sink to the bottom, wait and see
Ken Pepiton Dec 2021
What is right, for me,
may be
not right for you, see.

You rightly may be a nut

existing essentially alienated LH cross threaded

and waiting,
(if you do not wait, what good may come?)
and waiting to find a *****
or a bolt that might
tighten you the wrong way, just right. Relearn a thing
• The six great simple machines are
• the *****,
• the inclined plane,
• the lever,
• the pulley,
• the wedge and
• the wheel and axle.

From <http://www.todayifoundout.com/index.php/2014/09/decided-screws-turn-clockwise/>

• Mnemonics (devices to aid memory)
• date back to the 5th century BC and
• Simonides of Ceos, {Key-os, almost chaos}
• who developed the method
• of loci (locations), later used
• by Roman orators
• to remember long speeches.

• ssstopthedots
With loci,
a series of locations are memorized,
then an object is associated with part
of the speech.
Next a visual image is created
with one
of the objects
in each location, and
during the speech, the orator simply needs
to visualize each location.
Are we on the same page, this is where  portions of hope
sorta
• bubble

list listen cut and gluonic sniffit ifit bleeds, it leads
this is readyreadergnoshitstor re
solved, remember, the landmarks hold old stories.
- of course you know them- the idea is to ever know them\
- unbelieve the lies those storys matured under to endure
- to now when riddle spoilers loosed that FTA spell,
- donchaknow we learned ***** from shinola pretty soon
and
acronyms,
numbing error ringer dinger sounds,
associations and catchy-phrases.
server ; err
KorbydAngyle Mar 2021
Existence is a labor of love yet
a labor of love itself
is  found
...does reside within life
how to reconcile the difference?

The eased... exercised, the excised
When the souls are shining bright
I need to believe that it is there for me

Endurance foray as she dances and derives
  on the path all the way out to Lucifer's cabin
Don't just stand and sit thinking hoping pacing
  denying trying to unbelieve

The years turn to cheers
  turn to sears burning of criticism
    left by the masses deft unbound learned
       by denial's marquee

Until I find the start

  for which ends and eternity yield not

   an innocuous feeling not a one and destitute

     originally belonged to me!
JP Nov 2017
A situation arises
whether to believe or unbelieve
Don't move
CoZ
Your are in the middle
of the decision
moving either side
might bring some
problem to you
Sometimes,
Neutral are the right place
to stay and believe
as a decision..
Babatunde Raimi Apr 2020
You can turn back in your mind
You can turn back at home
You can allow your friends throw shades
Your family can even sow seeds of negativity
You can even give up this close
But rules are rules
Never give up on stage
Burn down that bridge
Cast away doubts and unbelieve
Come out of that prison
The one that encaged you in your heart
If you made it this far
Surely, there is a star in you
Break the ice, go for it
Now, back on stage!
Ready! Set! It's in you!
Go for it! Flaunt it!

— The End —