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Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
Is this not prayer?
is this tool not the tool I hoped for? The pen
filled by the ever-flowing flowery ink
that re-news old knowns
left to ripen under bald and hoary heads
in stoney hearts softened by seventy years worth
of salty tears
and sad songs

"great was the number of them,
wombed ones all, who sang of the victory to be"

Miriam and Hannah, Deborah and Jael, who
retold those tales by the rivers of Babylon?

And who fueled the furnace seven times hotter,
to signal the unbelivable fourth.
being likend unto the son of god, though the
analogy seems
lacking evidence that the likeness can be reproved.
Look again.

This magi-tech converged from all the poetic,
pathetic
ethos of logo marks making proper
ification of a rythm's
un legit singin' in public,
on the corner, wit' Willie and the po'boys
beat me daddy six t' the bar---
Oh
--- those ethnic poundings on my skull,
--- send those feelings, urging, grow grow grow
--- 'til the roofs cain't hold hope in

then

hear come them ol' time thought cops,
wee gray dominees preparing dominoes for

one reason,
dominos are never stood to stand, but to fall

touching one, touching one, touching one

whisper, rest
the waiting is over, this is the time
to start all over.
A traditional hermit's prayer found
scratched on the inner edge of my skull when I had my wisdom teeth replaced so I could chew the meat of the gospel dried to stone.
Belive, beliv and believe are ligit by right, but not same same, don't blame me.
Harmony Sapphire Apr 2015
Exemplifies everything we try.
Purgatory trapped in dejavu tells a story.
A time warp to another place.
Different years past, present, & future erase.
To cease to exist from this time & space.
No recogination in my face.
Paroled to abuse victims to use.
For themselves solely to amuse.
Insanity has blown a fuse.
Innocence & development is confused.
Never an essential priority.
A false undeserving authority.
It shouldn't of happened to us.
A stranger "mom" mistakenly trust.
Corruption & sin confines.
A hellish nightmare of mine.
Could not foresee to prevent this crime.
Unspeakable at the time.
Disbelief of this unstoppable grief.
I can feel what is real.
Unbelivable & inconceivable the past can't heal.
Of what is real & what is fabricated.
Blurry, foggy, memories that's debated
No perception of time that is waited.
Delirious, confused, & dehydrated.
My agenda & purpose is contemplated
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved
Ken Pepiton Apr 2020
at each juncture there has been this choice,

at each, I made a guess, right or wrong,

leave a mark, breadcrumbs work here,

we, me and thee, thou und Ich.

We have sector Bravo in the realm of or and if with optional whens and thens,

leading to now at any given point,
on a wave,
in the grand skein, not scheme, of

things, plain ol' ano-nomenal imaginary players who play by
rules, we imagined we will be
determined to bind into
a line anchor
and allusion to
string theory can work from here up,
we've been weaving options to unbelivable lies with single strand
single use spider wings, believed to be electro magic-ish
by the rule
we

made up. And that was the tic. We made up rules,
and survived.

Opposition to tyranny is obediance to God. Jefferson's,

under whom we stand nationally alliegiant, globally benes wise,
we owe earth our pledges,
those agreements, when you know what the ideas cost,
the idea in alliances for safety, with

treason to be the cost of rearing a child,
who witnessed the naked Noah
reflected in the window
of the U.N.

oh, we are tangled in religion as defined by priests.

Lest us slip the sureely slippery bands of earth and touch the masked
face of God, who winks.

Hiyo, silver, away... time slips are a benefit of fifty years of

seconds guessed worth noting as wonderful, Kodak Moments or Ahas,

here, one of those buys you days and days of retelling the same story,

until today. When we both got here at the same time. A-team meme.

And a wink from the programmer who bet it would loop.

See, as the Joker said to the Thief, in Boston, there must be
some kinder way outa here.
Enjoying the hellopoetry out of the moment
The wind that rocks the cradle
the hand that shakes the barley
the magic in the moment is  memory
who are we?
You dont believe in miricles for you have never found
evidence that's physical
my N word look around
look at us existing, I think therefore i am
look at what we're living.. the greatest show in town
where did all this come from?
what does it all mean?
any answer is unbelivable..so to doubt the unbelivable is obscene
you find no evidence in nature
but super-nature's outside this
only those in love can feel the loving in a kiss
your everything is nuts and bolts, youre only skin on bone
I wonder if your real eyes see a house is not a home
maybe you dont believe in miricles
because they dont belive in you
maybe like your sceptic brain
your heart they see straight through
and my beliefs are dillusional?
Just illusions that i see
Yet 'atom' means invisible and they're almost matter free
so dillusions and illusions are also your reality
and even you are a dillusion
you're just an illusion that eye see

— The End —