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Brent Kincaid Jul 2015
I’m going to Republican heaven,
Going to meet Republican Jesus
After I pay off my school loans
Whenever my banker pleases
To let me out of the contract
With its usurious interest fees
And I am sure I will get there
When I am down on my knees.

I’ll have my Republican Bible
With its verses edited wisely
To exempt all the white folk
From behaving quite nicely
And making sure welfare
Is only for rich white neighbors
The rest are not allowed in
Our society except as laborers.

I am sure that Republican Jesus
Will welcome me quite warmly
For supporting the death toll
Of our Christian Soldier army.
He will be so delighted that
We vilified ungodly abortions
And how we treated those awful
Poor mothers and their orphans.

He will have to be delighted
That we held back the riches
We gained from our warfare
Ignoring our soldiers in ditches
Or maimed in those battles
We know you wanted us to wage
In the name of Republican Jesus
Out of our holy sense of rage.

Republican Jesus surely will
See how cleverly we diverted
The money to the richest people
Not the soldiers we deserted.
And, how only the people who
Did not need help financially
Got all the extra wealth we had
And we made sure of it annually.

I’m going to Republican heaven,
Going to meet Republican Jesus
And I’m sure greed and bigotry
Will just tickle him to pieces
Because it says in the Bible
The only people who will get in
Are the people that look like me
And vote for all the same men.
Flow through,
trickle down

Bubble up ~
keep your head up.

Don't think,
don't blink

Just got to tighten those purse strings
and see what that brings

as usurious hedging
grows into a bigger thing.

Are we hitting the Wall
while Street fighting Bears?

Are we wrestling the Bull
while waiting for canary singers?

Ain't no one ringing the bell
as far as I can tell.

So I am knowing, seeing, raising
IOU's

and paying it forward into
a restructured karmic debt
Written on El Toro in Orange County, CA
Brent Kincaid Mar 2017
I’m going to Republican heaven,
Going to meet Republican Jesus
After I pay off my school loans
Whenever my banker pleases
To let me out of the contract
With its usurious interest fees
And I am sure I will get there
When I am down on my knees.

I’ll have my Republican Bible
With its verses edited wisely
To exempt all the white folk
From behaving quite nicely
And making sure welfare
Is only for rich white neighbors
The rest are not allowed in
Our society except as laborers.

I am sure that Republican Jesus
Will welcome me quite warmly
For supporting the death toll
Of our Christian Soldier army.
He will be so delighted that
We vilified ungodly abortions
And how we treated those awful
Poor mothers and their orphans.

He will have to be delighted
That we held back the riches
We gained from our warfare
Ignoring our soldiers in ditches
Or maimed in those battles
We know you wanted us to wage
In the name of Republican Jesus
Out of our holy sense of rage.

Republican Jesus surely will
See how cleverly we diverted
The money to the richest people
Not the soldiers we deserted.
And, how only the people who
Did not need help financially
Got all the extra wealth we had
And we made sure of it annually.

I’m going to Republican heaven,
Going to meet Republican Jesus
And I’m sure greed and bigotry
Will just tickle him to pieces
Because it says in the Bible
The only people who will get in
Are the people that look like me
And vote for all the same men.
For every hour that thou wilt spare me now
I will allow,
Usurious God of Love, twenty to thee,
When with my brown my gray hairs equal be;
Till then, Love, let my body reign, and let
Me travel, sojourn, ******, plot, have, forget,
Resume my last year’s relic: think that yet
We’had never met.
Let me think any rival’s letter mine,
And at next nine
Keep midnight’s promise; mistake by the way
The maid, and tell the Lady of that delay;
Only let me love none, no, not the sport;
From country grass, to comfitures of Court,
Or cities quelque choses, let report
My mind transport.

This bargain’s good; if when I’m old, I be
Inflamed by thee,
If thine own honour, or my shame, or pain,
Thou covet most, at that age thou shalt gain.
Do thy will then, then subject and degree,
And fruit of love, Love I submit to thee;
Spare me till then, I’ll bear it, though she be
One that loves me.
SøułSurvivør May 2017
With holes in pockets
Can we buy?
Gain truth from
The lips that lie?
Without ever asking
Why?

Is guidance in
A folded map?
Wealth within
Bottle cap?
Does fine champagne
Come on tap?

Does knowledge come
From books fast closed?
Water from a frozen hose?

Motion from a
Locked up gear?
Faith from gurus
Full of fear?

Can oil flow
From stoppered jars?
Travel made in totaled cars?
Peace be won from
World War?

Calculating sums from nil
For naught we pay
Usurious bills
No winning wars where
ALL are killed

The wind listeth
              where it will...


We beard the lion
In his lair
Close the pane

To breathe the air.


SøułSurvivør
5/23/2017
It's 2:20am... was reading
And this poem started to
Percolate. Now I pour it out
John B Oct 2011
Blank minds offer anathema

The usurious are sainted

Devout all unknowing

Indoctrinate fragmental ribonuclease

Intentional homogenization

Transfection for incomprehension

Idiocracy I like it willing slaves

and none the wiser
Anais Vionet Nov 2021
Who are you? Self awareness is very tricky.
You’re very complicated, we all are,
people are the most complicated things
we encounter in our everyday lives.

Now imagine two complicated people together.
We manage this complexity by limiting each other,
with social contracts, to limit usurious behaviours.
If we abide by the contracts things are simplified.

Part of that is being polite - you don’t want a complex,
bank teller, dentist or policeman - our society runs
on simple transactions - perhaps 10 for each of us daily.

The wild card is emotion - that’s why *** is so tricky.
Do you want to depend on an emotional doctor
or be stopped by a really emotional policeman?
I think not.
I love university because my view of the world is challenged, broadended
Duke Thompson Jul 2014
More of a man at 20 than at 22

All of the passages about One, there were no others

Regressing into sin, no art without misery

That old cliche, right? Right.

I read somewhere that he wanted to be a writer

He wanted to be a great writer, Remembered

Taking, making great sacrifices for art

Alcohol, Benzedrine, Isolation

Checkmate, One and Two and Three

The night (this night) will be my Desolation Peak

For now,

Looking back through the pages

Who exists in this manuscript?

Who is Marg?

Who is Sil?

Won’t you please tell me?

Won’t you come fill my Head. I’m not asking

Won’t you come fill my bed?

So I need not pretend

Were it that I could let you in

Save for those rare times when everyone appears not unctuous

          To my uneasy usurious eyes

In an act of desperate atavism I return to the roots,

To the past, to the Grass,

      (Looking)

           To the glass

Only momentarily half empty

Before it is refilled

Where will we find our answers honey?

When will we cease to believe this positive psychology *******?

You don’t need to be happy

You don’t need to be comfortable

You need to Mean

                 to have

                             Meaning

                                   to create a legacy

Not shrouded in shame

    and neglect

         and fear

It doesn’t have to be the same

New city, new hope, new name

Erase the stain with pen and paper

Evoke change

See the world through baby blue eyes

   The bucolic beauty brilliantly beats and beads down, blooming

        Bright flowers in early mildew sunlight

            Or Big Sur - view from the mountains

                Or the moon

Soon my love, soon

   Swoon, sweetly suggest

       The sight of a lover’s supple *******

            And her name like poetry on your soft still whispering lips

   Tantalizing and tickling tongues

       Tickling and tucking shyly

Soft skin swimming in hushed tones, brushed bones and quiet sighs

   Wide eyed, clenching belies

       The beginning and the end of far more
Wk kortas Jan 2018
No one may contest that a contract existed
Between my client and the respondent;
This much is beyond debate,
Nor did the plaintiff in any way compel
This miller’s-daughter-***-queen in any manner,
Unless one contends that providing a vehicle
To obtain all that she had ever desired
Somehow equates to coercion.
As to my learned colleague’s claim
That the imposition of so-called usurious terms by my client
Serves to render the agreement null and void,
May I remind you that at no point in this affair
Did the respondent decline to accept the quid pro quo;
Indeed, she happily re-negotiated the terms of the very pact
She now seeks to vacate!

Ah, opposing counsel claims, my client fulfilled the agreement
In accordance with the law
.
I must say, rather sadly,
I find my distinguished friend’s definition of fulfillment
Very odd, indeed, as if the employment of industrial espionage,
Illegal trespass, surveillance methods of dubious legitimacy
(All of which were undertaken
To surreptitiously provide his client with such information
To exercise the out-clause of the agreement)
Is something the court should embrace
As a matter of statute or accepted practice.

Again, members of the jury, I know where your sympathies lie.
All along , opposing counsel has implied
We should celebrate his client’s pluckiness,
Her cunning and initiative,
Her stunning journey from rages to riches.
My friends, I would argue this;
There is, indeed, a moral to every story,
Are our obligations and promises, at the end of the day,
No more than the interview portion of some beauty pageant,
Where long blonde hair and a winning smile
Serve as just cause to blithely disregard those oaths?
Are the most sacred of vows
Less binding upon those whom Nature and the mirror
Have favored more so than those among us
Who are among the unattractive and underloved?
Ladies and gentlemen, it is up to you
To write the final chapter of our fable.
I thank you for your service.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2023
Vu. { as long as any story's told wrong}

- suffer not a novice to teach

No bet. Nothing wagered, no pledge to be paid,
no bet was made between the unspeakable name,

core processing access id-entity… we'll call Truth.
And time, if there were a wager, Truth be against Time.

- thus we develop a worth for attention.

The way life works super resiliently, bouncing back
after starry chaos leaves a constant possibility
for truths beyond our scale of instant relativity
to manifest as seems with none the wiser,

the sun could flick us from existance, and be
acting as naturally as all such suns act
after a while, maybe

seven minutes ago.
---
listening to me bellyache and moan,
woe is me I am good for nothing.

Hmmm. I could just die, but then, there
would be just cause to believe me selfish,
and selfish is something I try not to be, in fact.

Information flow, twists awry through held truths,
never taken apart to reset the spring.

Nietsche was wrong about a lot of things.
Knowing he had a voice he could
convince himself was otherwise,
he had a real raw idea of God.
That's good.
Not useless, mostly used up. Flame.

That's what the real old *** in me said.
Fretting naught,
letting go all wishery wasery,
growing old effortlessly,
be causing, as wishes are supposed,
sup-post,
same as prayers properly aimed, to
be collected to be
be answered, as information related
to pain in the brain or heart, or core
mental effort processing part, which
detects and destroys the infecting barb.
Just in time.
Release relief, unbelievable lies,
pile into icy dams, late spring
in truth
past all thorny issues,
life is not intentionally difficult,
ants - the super colony kind
run vast ecology balancing systems,
on auto pilot, pure intuitive duty drives.
On a global scale, spreading without war.

We can see we can be better rich than poor.
We can see we live on a wet ball spun
along a spiral in a spiral in a spiral, and so, on
and on and on, looping the grand loop, a little
farther along than last time,

our eyes have seen the glory, our children
can imagine thought speed, information passing

as time carries matters to gravitationally bound
points past which nothing is ever the same,

because you, cause me, to cause you to imagine
we share a plane conscious level,
as we stare across the heavens from JWST,

just adjusting reasonable focus, is it asking
too much? Asking to effect the healing
with truth that cannot be denied, and be truth
indeed…

Whatsoever, whensover, so today is fine,

infinitely fine, as a whole time bit, with us in it.

Who arranged the world's laws of nations,
?
not men in my general class, retired disabled
boys used in immoral warfare, and paid glory

and allowed to march in war winner parades,
even though, Wounded Knee and My Lai,

fester under America's Exceptional Blessing.

Agricultural superfluity, aided by machines,
and the modern incarnation of king control,
usurious
war debt, cost of plunder,
always need latest enemy detection tech.
- Confidential is above us all down here.

Who you gonna call to collect on reneged
deals, see the big picture, be visionary,
wars are lost for want of a nail, a nail
that woulda been seen missing, if the smith's
bills had been paid in time for precharge inspection.

Who allows evil to prosper,
who prospers from peace never made?

imagine you're the powerful and magnificent
leader of North Korea, or a Metro-mega Church.

You quote Lincoln, and agree with the great
promoters of idle time boredom prevention,
knowing you can fool some of the people,
all of the time. And some of the people
a predictable percentage of the time,

and all the people, after a while.  

Oakridge radiant Gospel,
"you listen too long
  you do eventually die."

- and thus it came to pass
- none found fusion, pfft.
Deep mindtimespace silence

Nonsense to any, therapy to me,
the effectual fervent prayer,

which is really
closer to need announcing, auto
awareness, missing pieces, up
ethos more or
pathos, up path of logos,
as winds winding times
recurrency circuits
up right
is not.
Down is not. Here is midway,
midterm… middle distance
**** sapien augmentedus
in the net spread
in the sight of radio beacons.
submicrowave accuracy,
acutron concept of counting
seconds worth of your attention

Practically stretched
past tensile strand strength

stretching to a C-note,
harmonica

calling all my musing friends,
come hang with me,
in my tree.

In the forest of humanity,
the ant intuitive interconnecting -umph
-- last stack, let patience prove possession --
---- Pa-airing Suckacessfull…
Yeah, blue tooth vestibular augments.
-- I can hear birds now.
Who is on war's side, if this were after
I made my case and closed it,
this is the future when we have
global access to once secret libraries.
5g- ****… radio directly individuated,
as once first accounts were coded, so
now, we are our comm device's user,
we filter using truths we used
and proved just so, we lived

asking truth to show itself in ways
a mortal who labored fifty years,
could be led to expect, jubilee,
boom,
I am free, and I am not uncomfortable,
U may read my mind and find news,
formed from used theories untwisted,

and stretched to the extent of one man's
heart fire, expanded with knowledge,
edified with activated agape, lief be,

take a second, what's such a bit of being
left alone, at second glance, become,

some kinda curious thing, clap trap.

****, all wishery is yours, it's time again,

to review the prayer/wish fullfillment section.

Did you, dear, oh, dear, what, what makes
dear the lessons life teaches for your attention,

no price, a quote, a song
"Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you without money,
come, buy, and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost!"

Isaiah 55, thriving on hope deferred,

refer again to the references,

decide yourself if you believe James I of England
was at any point a person you could work for?

My task is not to teach, unless my life proves
worth my continuing continuance, thinking

plinking, *** shots, clang… in the olden days,

when a family could live by a prentice knack,  
for taking things  apart, to play new roles,

as whole days that may be shared with wary
few, readers readied by experience, to become

as ware, soft, observant, paying eyeservice,
alert for entertaining clap traps when we all laugh.

Okeh, in a dark bijou-kiva, place where aspirations
are presented to the gathered together
to be entertained, de-brained, turned off, and

let be so, the picture show, as it were,
in the so esoterical initial induction, holiness exposed.

It is all in what you did not know, that makes
what you know now, worth living
through.

Yep. Fishing for a whole reality blessing
as living water
does occur to us as time,
we live in the flow, but we row,

because war rules the world we were born in,
and all the churches of messages etched in spirit,
written in light, of course, as on the silvered screen,
live to preach divine rights as old as lobsters's
stacking urges…
tapping scratching

And fire and memories paradiddling
cloudy smoky misty
shapes and shades noise uselessness knowing inspiring
zingers written on the door post, for good luck.

I read a coloring book, once, at a mall, in La Jolla.
"Grandma keeps a Kosher Kitchen" had a scene
to color yourself into, as a curious child noticing,
the little thing Grandma touched as she came in
from the garden of herbs and flowers for bees,

"what is that for?"
In the uncolored coloring book, it was so nonchalant,
"Good luck."
Grandma's grasp the lucid concept.
- food you know not of, love… luck
Thanks given. Praised be.

Long stories, should only be told as true,
if you, personally… lived to tell it, with no sugar on it.

Bitte, Schön. And so it goes. Kosher us, unclean other.

And what am I? Wild child left between the pillar
and the post of an aspiring great man, whose hopes

were dashed, when he crossed a line, in other peoples
ways of sealing soul stealing redemption agreements,

with a shotgun one potential solution…

by the grace of good luck from any source such
luck appears to have kept me breathing, aimlessly

as I imagine a spirit might decide, in truth, one breath
let go , allows a sense to follow, as glowing cardboard ash,
as the teller zones across old causes fought for and won,

which winning needs another singing, which cheek
this time? Which last laugh is led upto, now,

as I acknowledge the precious readers who form
the recognostic think thank thing,
deja deja
This has a sunset with it on Facebook and kenpepiton.com
Alex Mejia Nov 2015
The misfortunate will have their revenge in the first world,
until the hammer of money is toppled and unforced,
and the overlabouring encounters empathy,
until "freedom rings" over every hill and mountain in the third section of the globe and finally
the mind of avoidance in the nature of reality outcries the devil in revelation,
until then will this retribution be forethoughted.
Will you then— my pale brother listen to the voiceless?
Would you ask and then act? Give reason to the repress?
Would you feed
and clothe
and would bathe and still loathe? And would you continue to **** me?
Would you follow the way of inferior, preposterous, unintellectual, usurious, for the sake of an elusive triumphant state?
Would you continue  wearing your boots and feasting on tea,
and remembering the wars and like a hawk hunting your senseless view on humanity?
If you are my God's creation, then who am I to you?
Allow me then to say to you, that your void is to be filled with the infinite and the sublime,
and that not the earthly and mankind.
That your constitution may be molded to your heart and not you to the constitution.
And that you always capacitate yourself of feelings deeply of any injustice committed against anyone, anywhere in the world.
Because of this last one, is the most beautiful
of the internal independence, revolution, and love immutable.
Walter Daniel Oct 2020
methods fettered, advantages and breaks
extended, insults and numinous presences of pagans crept
craven idolatry ascribable degrees of rivalry kept
intensified, superordinate to unsatisfiable desires and anorectic shakes
stigmatised, wishes leading to perpetual astonishment, quakes
caused, centuries for a variety of relations acknowledged accept
altered limits, bounds of appropriation are overstepped
and eliminated, forms of every truth from different takes
are completed, esoteric states, totally upheld
a verdict of ****** reasonable risks, general history framed
and shared, shares of fully repeated trades
are allocated, limitedly missed usurious beginnings unparalleled
in cruel relations with transient rules proclaimed
with theoretical ideas, properties of a black jade
From "Aestas, or Walter Daniel's Very Difficult Poems for Readers"
http://aestas.sakura.ne.jp/
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
Prayer, I have imagined is learned in practice,
alone, in a sense,
institutionally twisted
into missionary positions, mentally assented to,
as proper - to allow novices
the easily entreated task of
messenger that once belonged to angels,
back in Jacob's rock pillow dream days,
children were not seen going up and down
some other worldly escalator of answers
answered sooner than time
allows
too fast to breathe -
we've selah,
for moments of too
much old truth to process…
- trust the data, run the numbers … use pi
- go full circle
and the king called for his prognosticators
and magicians
all wise in the ways of infinity, a pre-post-usurious
required-mental state involved in de-evolving
suspended use of knowing -from the fruit,
the writing on the wall any fool can read…
------- 2021 admin, fine tuned prayer
-------- revisited, as in a day of visitation
{weren't we just saying that mankind of the
surviving only kind, the kind the prophets
spoke of, those who endure, to the end,
the champions, my friend…
}
we freely eat
the fallen fruit,
not low hanging,
fallen, to the ground ala Newton's apple,
because
gravity was a good idea.

- but not the first one. I the state of ego-being,
- in a word, was. In this realm you share,
- unwittingly, admitted ly, you stumbled into my
- private prayer time, I confess…
- {nosigint} real time is meaningless here…

a bubble, not a bang, burp not the other,
spirit that walks on wind and oceans of opinions,
mere whatifery left to heirs joint with Jesus,
the god who said, as a man,
I am the way - as mentioned in China sometime back,
I am the truth - as Platonic as Socrates, pointed as Euclid,
I am the life - look around, take a free breath of fresh heirloom
oxygen and nitrogen and pollen and leaven and dust
star stuff, if Sagan had that part right ---
we share a bubble of breathable air,
how is that not fair?...
the idea in which we live
and breathe and have our habits solidified,
with a glance
at sort  of attention magnet, mygawd-I can't
loook away,
--- there is a spirit of random usity making fools
find time to listen
-- did you just repeat the lie? look away, dixieland…

dixie, is that some shortening bread, fry-bread
word that once meant something other than
slaves and they who own them and them
that was never owned again, yeah,
it was not a place to rear free
thinkers who could read, dixieland back when
great gramp mack he read, go west
where a boy with a gun could feed a family,
So,
that we,
they went t' Texas, which was dixiecratic,
more and more, as Comanche land went up for sale,
while we waited for rain,
'til the rabbits and rattlers were memories
of better days.

In those days, we sang, but mostly for the kids.
Yes, yes, we shall
gather
at the river that flows by the throne of o' god

-- then a rushing mighty wind blew the land
into the sky and carried it away.

Leaving us, as but dust of what once we imagined
we was, free.
Owed no man, but t' love 'im, knew that true that
makes its knowers free, like
right from the tree,
y'know.

Did you think this another game, this is still
your only chance at today.
Your move…

so that we,
they keptamovin' all the way to
Nuva'tukya'ovi
high ground, well watered, good for bees.

All that, eventually led to me, and you reading
straight from the tree life flows through, in the
knowing the difference true holds
age of earth,
the exercise in godliness.
Where waiting is patience in practical terms.
It's in the book. Do the exercise. Angel says read,
you read everything, till he says quit.
It's a genuine joy juice release valve, when we say, amen.
Ancestry .com, most unmazing threads... imagine walking to Arizona, from any where, what stories linger from those prayers...
Willows may hide behind the shadows
Stuffed together, leaning against the window
When the sun dies, they curl inside the dark
Never to be found again in the song of the rain

The rivers may pour with youth and exuberance
That darling bud that resists the morning light
Just like a little bluebird that prefers the cage
And the heart that prefers the chase

The sky may break as they soar higher
Higher in the azure skies without respite
And it will: tirelessly following Death
Where the light plays and the shadows rest

Sometimes the thousand books lay asleep
The lamp shines their light on them
As if an old man is reading
That's just a justification for living

Endless possibilities arise when there is mindfulness
There is a sense of calm to defeat the usurious
And pleasure forms the thin veneer of love
When will we come of out of the silhouettes

The fire that rests in your electric body
I have never seen it
I have only heard
But, I know I want it to take me

I know that I have a tomb in me
Without promise of eternity
To keep in my doubts
Of whether you love me or not

I believe the beauteous places we visit
They belong in palaces in our imagination
I know my love is real, but yours is not
I'm coming out of the dark into your arms
In a distant girl with a distant look
There were words that she took
For granted, and untold were some things
Stories are made of these
Suspense is made of this
Tell us a story, little girl
We want a lovely evening ruined by your charm
We don't want you hurt your heart
Laughing at our usurious ways
Adopt or reject us
You cannot live without us
And if you love it
You cannot with it
Such are the rebellious wings of birds
In flight
I don't do drugs
The jukebox plays my tune
As the uncertain potheads steal my flute
The neurotic mother is still after my case
When will I get my own flower vase
My girl doesn't stay forever
My home is for the lonely wanderer
Who belongs nowhere
He just wants the money for the next day
The usurious politicians are killing me
The burning forests are dying
The government hasn't spoken
To stop me from speaking
They cut my commerce
I would rather
Stay indoors
Than get to know more people
Unless I could help
If they could help themselves
Stay outdoors
People know more
When they ask for the Earth
If we could lessen our usurious nature
We could take a lesson from nature
Nurture each other
Save others
While others
Rescue
Some squander
Once we plundered
Old men who shampooed their dogs
All they had was their daily routine
And so should we
I don't want any more than a normal life

— The End —