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Mateuš Conrad Feb 2020
why did i ever go out on a friday night?
drinks with "friends" and hitting the essex
club "scene" -
well - no much of a scene -
there was never the music you'd want to listen
to: come friday or saturday -
even mid-week when all the rock kids
were "hanging out" -
what would be chances of being your own d.j. -
catching something really new...
POIZON - church is poizon -
cool mom - something between a crossbreed
of cage the elephants and nirvana on blew -
3rd view - moi -
but i used to: and i remember that gehenna of
a sobering walk - alone after a night out -
like some furious son of sam -
when youth still had the adrenaline with it
and a sense of anger ******* around with
disillusionment -

those were the friday nights: bon jovi highlights
and long hair and milking a somewhat androgynous
look - sometimes the mascara would come out...
those were the days of having milk skin
and a proper shave -
the long hair and the waistcoast and cravat: semi-,

the lonesome story before i met my beard:
fwyday mordaithceirch -
i actually have a name for it...
i forgot what's already the designated
whittle pecker mr. pritchard of the down down:
below...

oh, oh so what...
rough friday nights in my youth -
on the clubbing "scene" -
and always that moral hangover when it came
to drinking with others -
ever since i started drinking by myself:
i forgot the mirror and that bucket
of warm water beside my bed to put my hand
in before going to sleep...
once or twice the company was worth the drink -
but most of the time you only kept
such company: because you were drinking -
drinking was never an afterthought -

now... i like drinking alone -
at least i can keep fact-checking the company
and the odd vocab peacock taking to the catwalk
of a ruminating free-fall tongue waggle
and rummage - the needle in the haystack
adventure - or... the ******* bucket
of deshelled oysters...

there have been some awful friday nights -
but: seeing how i started to give my beard
a welsh name borrowed from a willem dafoe
novel - and how it simply became pointless
to wake the dead with the angry tantrums
of youth: and how i seem to have
forgotten where my 20s "went" -
somehow rooted in: da-sein and how
i "wasted" 2 years on one book by kant -
2 years on one book by heidegger -
and: how i didn't have the time to "catch-up"
on the greek classics -

oh these island dwelling people -
i try to imagine them not being a seafaring:
and their messiah / superiority complex -
with their breakfast that could hardly
be digested come the hour of noon -
or no messiah / superiority complex -
the traffic: indeed - works like clockword...
from left to right...
sidenote: what of fahrenheit and
the feet and inches - stones and pounds?
ounces?
the metric of: baseline 0 here,
baseline 00 over there...

no... Michele Campanella piano solo take
on wagner's das rheingelt: entry of the gods into
valhalla - it's hardly anemic -
it's... the last leaf of autumn falling -
because the crescendo has already happened...
a befitting closure...

the superior island folk and their...
hyphens and germanic loan words -
how almost all names in chemistry are still
in their germanic: intact form of: no hyphen:
broken leg or broken arm...

woodwinds... perhaps... the violins providing
the humming of birds:
chirp chirp: no chirping -
and of course the horn - but the horns never
as prominent as those drank from...

something has happened today -
but i am... left without having any english
sensibility / egalitarianism -
somehow i always equate egalitarianism with
the english - the islanders -
a firework went off in the background -
mr. sloth awoke mrs. slouch after 3 years
for a firecracker celebration...

because who would want to be ruled
over by unelected: chocolatiers...
esp. after their trial run in the Congo -
but i have certainly had worse friday nights...

it can't exactly get much worse than...
say... listening to the siegfried idyll...
multitasking: drinking a cider, smoking a cigarette,
balancing act of folded leg sat on
perched on a windowsill solving a no. 11,289
sudoku from the 27th jan. 2020...
otherwise prior to:
imagine my disbelief at the pleasure -

with numbers to somehow escape thinking in words:
no grand arithmetic linear gymnastics -
of the end result -
certainly no logical statements -
just a whirlwind of numbers complimenting
these few words...
and what a fine friday night it has become:

the pizza was made - god save me from the perfume
of yeast... or checking on the rising dough
from time to time -
the leftover yeast gave me the opportunity
to bake an imitation sourdough crust pretty-as-a-picture
loaf that: would make any mushroom blush
and shy away from unfolding into an umbrella pose...
or a Y... curling outward-inward into an upsilon Υ...

because how could i forget the pleasure of
sifting through numbers?
by the time i attempted puzzle no. 11,290
i had to write a "map"

           a             b             c
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x  
1)   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
2)   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
3)   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x

come to think of it... where's a subscript?
if i'm going to use 1, 2, 3...
to tier the allocation of squares...
tennis and sudoku...
tennis: a game of 7 rectangles -
and how many judges and ball boys / girls?
sudoku - a puzzle of 10 squares - perhaps...
if i'll use tiers 1, 2, 3: a1, b2, c3...
what if... sudoku invoked letters rather than
numbers?

much later... oh believe me...
this is the antithesis of knausgård
writing about using googlemaps...
        
           a             b             c
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x  
1)   x   x   x   3   x   x   6   x   4
      x   x   x   2   x   4   x   8   9
      x   1   9   x   4   x   x   6   2
2)   x   x   x   7   x   x   x   5   x
      x   x   2   x   x   8   x   4   x
      x   2   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
3)   x   x   6   1   9   5   x   x   3
      x   3   8   4   x   x   x   7   x

it's still a schematic - the narrative is yet
to begin... otherwise...
there's nothing smart about this...
i have tired eyes sometimes:
i succumb and have to allow myself
to no acid-bath these eyes in words...

esp. since i speak so rarely -
imagine... in england and i spear
the bare minimum of english -
i can: i have to: i will - when being prompted -
but i can't remember the last time
i had an honest: informal exchange
of letters... lapped up by the glutton
tongue... i looked and looked
and with my silence i can attest:
there's a speech-impediment -
a stutter that's not born from nervousness...
but... an allusion to a "stoic" through
my lack of conversation...

at least on paper i can exfoliate -
enough cider and enoug whiskey and i'm all
sparrow McDermott!
ugh... the devolved scots and the likewise
welsh... devolved nations...
only this aspect of Brexit is... well...
imagine the "evolved" status of post-Yugoslavia...
Kosovo...
this is the only aspect of an otherwise:
fair enough that's... well...
if you lived for 3 years among the scots...
you'd get to appreciate them...
this is the only aspect of this whole affair
i will ever appreciate...
i would pour blood and **** into
the Welsh continuing their...
preservation of the iaith...
forever and the more - i would love to see
scotland start to dig trenches and
forget trainspotting gaelic -
parading like ponces and humpty dumpteys
with "harkccents"... glasgewian bull-runnings...
cousins aye and wee -

a thing of beauty: a thing of union...
but this... they were bullied in brussels...
they came back and started to bully the scots...
if you have lived -
the betas of cardiff - but they tongue: remains!
look far back and wales would encompass
cornwall -
ignorant i of a 26 year "servitude" on these isles...
quiz me on outside of London:
no point...
perhaps i too would wish for the lost
theta in Dublin - towing: to t'ink...
as any sanskrit H-surd does matter...

           a             b             c
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x  
1)   x   x   x   3   x   x   6   x   4
      x   x   x   2   x   4   x   8   9
      x   1   9   x   4   x   x   6   2
2)   x   x   x   7   x   x   x   5   x
      x   x   2   x   x   8   x   4   x
      x   2   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
3)   x   x   6   1   9   5   x   x   3
      x   3   8   4   x   x   x   7   x

but if i will replace... the side tiers of numbers...
the numbers in the puzzle will have to become
letters - greek... probably iota, epsilon and upper-case
gamma...

the bullied have returned from the palance
of the chocalatiers and: back to their old ways
of bullying the rest of these island folk...
because: it's infantile for me imagine
a resurrection of the crown (poland)
and the grand duchy of lithuania -
the commonwealth -
but somehow the united kingdom is not
fated to become the next yugoslavia -

i can confirm - up in edinburgh i was
confirmed by having the hat of Knox having
scalped me -
never is always metaphor: vaguely -
as in literally - in these quasi-paragraphs...
so it's not... infantile to even "think" that
the british empire can be revived?
zee window-licker spezials of
cross-breed h'americana postcards sent?
i nibble to attempt a joke...

oh i can bulldozer this whole narrative...
turn into a berserker -
i've saved enough money to deal
with the label loser...
all it will take is me having drunk enough -
sightseeing the slums of london's east end
and then hitting the brothel:
like an iron-head... to the pillow
and the ***** of a *******...

because i have had worse friday nights...
terrible company...
if i were not a michel de montaigne or a knausgård:
me me me, me me, me me me me,
write enough of that and:
to meme to grafitti... or to...
why are there no diacritical markers in
the english language worthy of recognition?
why would i...
rhoi fy **** y Cymraeg enw?
give my beard a welsh name?
and why is that not a cedilla C but a ******* K?
why not... Çumraeg?

on foreign shores i have made it adamant that...
this sense of foreigness does not
peppermint my presence with hopes to:
add to - an integration -
just borrow what the local have made: left-overs...
and work with that...

(insert snigger) - the neu-vikings of
northumberland...

           a             b             c
      x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x   x  
1)   x   x   x   3   x   x   6   x   4
      x   x   x   2   x   4   x   8   9
      x   1   9   x   4   x   x   6   2
2)   x   x   x   7   x   x   x   5   x
      x   x   2   x   x   8   x   4   x
      x   2   x   x   x   x   x   x   x
3)   x   x   6   1   9   5   x   x   3
      x   3   8   4   x   x   x   7   x

this really does have a linear narrative...
here goes...
3(c1), 9(c3), 1(c1), 2(c3), 2(c1), 2(a1), 9(a3), 8(c3),
4(c3), 8(c2), 8(a2), 5(b2), 7(c2), 3(b2), 3(b3), 8(b3),
7(c1), 5(c1), 7(b3), 5(c3), 1(c3), 6(c3), 1(c2), 3(c2),
9(c2), 9(b2), 6(b1), 6(b2), 6(b3), 2(b3), 2(b2), 1(b2),
1(b1), 9(b1), 9(a1), 8(b1), 8(a1), 5(b1), 7(b1), 7(a1)...

and then a "gamble" in the narrative...
the (7a2 and the 5a2 - interchange)....
it's a pleasure - not a chore -
5  9  4
2  8  7
3  6  1
8  1  9
6  4  3
7  5  2 - this line... what if it was 5  7  2?
1  2  5
4  7  6
9  3  8
if i want to solve this puzzle - i will solve it
and not read a tabloid article /
whatever the hell has become of youtube...
my diamond jukebox...

otherwise the "narrative" continued from
7a2 and the 5a2 interchange:
7(3a), 4(a3), 4(a2), 6(a1), 4(a1), 5(a1), 5(a3),
1(a3), 1(a1), 3(a1), 3(a2), 6(a2)... end result?

           a             b             c
      5   9   4   6   8   1   2   3   7  
1)   2   8   7   3   5   9   6   1   4
      3   6   1   2   7   4   5   8   9
      8   1   9   5   4   3   7   6   2
2)   6   4   3   7   1   2   9   5   8
      7   5   2   9   6   8   3   4   1
      1   2   5   8   3   7   4   9   6
3)   4   7   6   1   9   5   8   2   3
      9   3   8   4   2   6   1   7   5

because i can imagine this not being:
the most difficult Finnish sudoku...
i can almost imagine this puzzle
to be in greek...
where: 1ι, 2ζ, 3ε, 4χ, 5Σ, 6δ, 7Γ, 8β, 9ρ...

in the background all i hear is:
corvus corax' la i mbealtaine...
the greek version of the japanese puzzle...

           a             b             c
      Σ   9   χ   6   8   ι   ζ   ε   7  
1)   ζ   8   7   ε   Σ   9   6   ι   χ
      ε   6   ι   ζ   7   χ   Σ   8   9
      8   ι   9   Σ   χ   ε   7   6   ζ
2)   6   χ   ε   7   ι   ζ   9   Σ   8
      7   Σ   ζ   9   6   8   ε   χ   ι
      ι   ζ   Σ   8   ε   7   χ   9   6
3)   χ   7   6   ι   9   Σ   8   ζ   ε
      9   ε   8   χ   ζ   6   ι   7   Σ

half-way... i just wanted to "selfie" what
will become of this... i no longer write: i paint...

            a             b             c
      Σ   9   χ   δ   8   ι   ζ   ε   Γ  
1)   ζ   8   Γ   ε   Σ   9   δ   ι   χ
      ε   δ   ι   ζ   Γ   χ   Σ   8   9
      8   ι   9   Σ   χ   ε   Γ   δ   ζ
2)   δ   χ   ε   Γ   ι   ζ   9   Σ   8
      Γ   Σ   ζ   9   δ   8   ε   χ   ι
      ι   ζ   Σ   8   ε   Γ   χ   9   δ
3)   χ   Γ   δ   ι   9   Σ   8   ζ   ε
      9   ε   8   χ   ζ   δ   ι   Γ   Σ

going... going... gone...

            a             b             c
      Σ   ρ   χ   δ   β   ι   ζ   ε   Γ  
1)   ζ   β   Γ   ε   Σ   ρ   δ   ι   χ
      ε   δ   ι   ζ   Γ   χ   Σ   β   ρ
      β   ι   ρ   Σ   χ   ε   Γ   δ   ζ
2)   δ   χ   ε   Γ   ι   ζ   ρ   Σ   β
      Γ   Σ   ζ   ρ   δ   β   ε   χ   ι
      ι   ζ   Σ   β   ε   Γ   χ   ρ   δ
3)   χ   Γ   δ   ι   ρ   Σ   β   ζ   ε
      ρ   ε   β   χ   ζ   δ   ι   Γ   Σ

i don't mind a people being right...
but the overt-gloating...
without having to work around the sort
of paranoia associated with:
how the russians are not allowed to glutton
themselves on gloating -
because they are always made
to feel suspcious - the russians can't gloat
like most of the anglo- speaking world...
always suspect: russophobia evil genuises...
tip-toeing goliaths - less the blundering
fudge-packers of "global ****"...
and i kissed a boy and i liked it...
my genitals started shrinking
and my *** started to exfoliate with:
welcome all! welcome all hard and on!
and that tongue in my mouth always helps...
but imagine my surprise when
i started to navigate my hands
but the reply came:
timbuktu and mt. kilimanjaro will not be found
attached to this sort of torso...
wrong dog, wrong tree...

some things really do require numbers...
i once had a mathematics teacher in high school
bemoan the origin of modern numbers
and how we once: upon a time used these letters...
but did our arithmetic with visual aids
akin to the abacus... because...
you'd have to "read braille" when counting...
to differentiate the already: lettered numbers
and the letters being letters -
and all arithmetic functions
were "spoken of" but never depicted...
i.e. there was no VII + III = X...
there was no XV - XI = IV...
eh?! arithmetic was cat-intuitive...
not spoken of - done by either the visual
aid of fingers when haggling
in a market place -
or by the abacus aid in a bureucratic office!

i said this was the most perfect friday night...
what did i have to offer?
no clickbait title - some gems of wording
in between?
the patient reader - as ever - most rewarded -

but... oh my god... the sensation of
changing the bed sheets...
it's friday night and you're... changing your bed sheets...
and they are more crisp and clean
than any political event that the journalist leeches
are milking -
and you do it with a saving private ryan precision -
you will sleep in this bed: well into
11am of a today to come...
believe me: that you will...

- in that i am still walking among the germanic people -
if the germans will sing a: bretonisher marsch...
then the two peoples are alligned by
their sentiment for the crow as their godhead:
alles menschen totem...
what could possibly make me feel welcome?
french grammar is polish grammar...
matin de printemps - poranek wiosny -
spring morning in reverse in germanic...
how many more examples would i ever wish
to give?

there was a moment in my life where...
i realised my faults... i should have read
the Pickwick Papers... anything by C. Dickens to be sure...
instead came Stendhal, Voltaire, Balzac...
because if you said to me...
BBC radio 4... the archers...
and... thomas hardy: madding crowd?
you'd accuse me of being ignorant of:
London is a bustling cosmopolitan in-waiting
from the busy-body industrial proto-Beijing
it was of 100 years ago?    
the French had cosmopolitan intellectualism
100 years prior to the english...
100 years later and it's still not much...
is anyone about to cite me william hazlitt?!

the trouble with the english is that they hold dear
to that one old 19th century idea -
this waiting for: awaiting a revival of darwinism...
the "blatantly" obvious needs a resurgence!
because a michael faraday must most surely
be forgotten!
how many times will this already painful reality
need to be emphasised once more:
intellectually - via a darwinism?
no one stresses the copernican "upside-down"...
or what is copernican "west" up in space?
how does acknowledging the sphere
of the earth - ease you reading a flat map -
moving from point A to point B?

earlier this week - for once in my life i was
ashamed of what i wrote -
so i wrote for scribli per se: scribbles for
scribbles themselves -
the darwinian germanic folk who say:
alles von afrika...
how the hebrews debased themselves
in both aushwitz and breaking their bones
on the emoji hieroglyphs -
alles von afrika: ja... so sicher... so wahr!

ask any slavic person among the germanic
peoples...
where from? wir (ar) sind lesen und schreiben
"afrika": i.e. Indu...
if the african challenged the hebrews
with... "the best they had": egyptian emojis...
why would i not stress my birth
with pseudo cedilla Ş / इ... ☦ -
this indo-european is not... at home with
these african-germanoids...
pseudos and quasi -
these chocolate frenzied busy-buddies!

from the caucasian and further still from
that whittle sub-corinthian quote: continent...
somehow, "somehow" this part of this story
is read: south to north... always a grand
marker missing when the people went
east, squinted... learned skeleton existence,
atoms... and the frenzy of letters:
owls and ******* **** flinging beetles
back in the north eastern tip of
africa: in that egyptian haemorrhage of "idea"...

i assure myself... perhaps the form came from
africa... but sure as **** the tongue only arrived
in the lap of the Dalai Lama...
as did the "thinking" and the music
across prior to the Mongol's curiosity
over the tundra of Siberia...
something had to be placed on a loan...
and coming back to the cradle and the crux
had to happen like so...
not this current: ergo: so...
quickened and: what news from Damascus?!

first impressions count...
i made my bed... it's newly washed...
as crisp as falling onto a bed a prawn crackers...
without the crumbs' itch...
like listening to some german:
juggernaut... this will do... i can fall asleep
with this: grab hören zu der winderhall...
mehr flöte - weniger violinekratzen!
schlechtdeutsche? alle deutsche ist gut deutsche...
erwarten etwas isländisch zu sein
gesprochen insel von insel: auf diese inseln?!

to make a crisp bed of freshly washed sheets...
to sleep in them alone...
given the grammar is not that far removed...
are the french even remotely translated
as a germanic "sort of" people?
"they" or "we" share the same grammar...
and there are celtic freedoms that would
never be allowed to exfoliate under
strict anglo-ßaß obligations...

oh sure! great people! steam engine: choo-choo!
newton et al...
shakespeare: when they taught us shakespeare
they should have taught us bernard shaw...
when they forced jane eyre down our throats
we should have been reading
the pickwick papers...
the music will remain german -
because as much as vaughan williams...
holst and händel were "were" english...
esp. latter with his umlaut that spread over
toward i-and-j...

why wouldn't you **** at the pillar of the empire:
a past most assured - dust, books and moths...
like hell will i come to correct my ways
to state the: pish-poor Elgar... this poo'em too...
himmel... sky...
leerenhimmel - empty sky -
nein sonne während der tag:
das englischnebel: bedeckthimmel...
nein mond während der nacht...
nur so...

i of the lesser men of this world duly bow
my presence before the altar of the higher men
of these isles...
and hope and pray that their wisdom
will not bestow upon them any major calamity...
with not irony or ridicule i wish upon
these peoples... the right sort of oars
to turn this rooted island
into the people's imagined langboot...

there are only one british people a people
who will pursue to gloat having been
conquered by the romans...
being raided by the vikings...
integrating the anglo-ßaß...
a second viking coming via the Normans...
the push-over remains of the celts...
that somehow translated itself into
the: empire...
ideal: to compensate...
the islamic fervor for the... resurrected
caliphate...
jokes about the dritte ***** and the vierte *****...
that's pretty much the precursor jokes
surrounding: ein zweite ***** -
auf welche die sonne nimmer setzt -
ever wonder how that translates with the increased
cases of insomnia?!

again: bad german is better than
no german.
katewinslet Sep 2015
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Ken Pepiton Mar 2023
How can one say what one lacks words for?
Any way one may, as one will, if will forms way,

any one may say follow me, I think I see a light.

Thou art God, and that's the truth,
as you consider Jesus being in form Logos,
as he was so he is, thus he is eternally
Been There Done That, BTDT, the knowledge

form of that’s and thou's in Perrenial Philosophy,
Addiction to Wisdom, with perfect understanding,
ours in realized wedom of breathing sapients…
we, the soul of gaseous we. Ist wahr, nicht wahr?
Aldous Huxley has a hook in me. Perrenial Philosophy is a good attention investment.
Eines kaltes und schwach beleuchtetes Morgens,
wachte ich, oder so ich dachte,
zu nur einem neue unverfängliche Tag.

In Verlauf des Tages
wurde es mir schwer zu unterscheiden
zwischen Wach und Traum.
Eigentlich, jetzt dass ich dran denke,
mir scheinen sie noch die gleiche zu sein...

Die am beide
beginnen und enden
sind grenzlos und begrenzt
sind echt und Illusion
sind ganz und gar im Kopf.

In der Zwischenzeit dieses Traums
hatte ich irgendwie gelernt dass vor allem,
man muss lieben, was macht man froh.

Dann,
als ob 'ne Stimme
von hinten meinem Kopf:
"Mach schon, Junge; mach mehr davon!"

Dieser Morgen war heute Morgen.
Tja, vielleicht nicht wörtlich,
doch wahrlich sinnbildlich;

ich weiß es ist wahr
die Sonne hat noch zu setzen
auf meinem traumähnliche Tag
A familiar Dream

One cold and dimly lit morning,
I woke, or so I thought,
to just another unsuspecting day.

In the course of the day
it became difficult for me to differentiate
between waking and dream.
Actually, now that I think about it,
they still seem to be the same to me...

They both
begin and end
are infinite and finite
are real and illusion
are entirely in the head.

In the meantime of this dream
I had somehow learned that before all else,
one must love what makes one happy.

Then,
as if a voice
in the back of my head:
"Come on, boy; make more of it!"

That morning was this morning,
Well, perhaps not literally,
but certainly symbolically;

I know it is true
the sun has yet to set
upon my dreamlike day.


--
Challenged myself to write in German, this is the result and my translation. Enjoy?
Leslie Philibert Mar 2018
a brook of paint and cardboard,
batch of legs , bells and rings
running torso of burnt faces;

teeth and horns, black with hair
spit of the night and cold stars;

they have rented justice with
rhymes that fall like stones

ist des wahr ? ja, wahr ist
Thomas Shepherd Jul 2016
Wenn es dich trifft wie aus dem Nichts,
dieser Moment hart wie ein Schlag
"Oh Nein", zuerst das Opfer spricht,
will niemand doch des Schmerzes leiden.
Doch hat der Schock sein positives
zum Denken er anregen mag
der Reflektion sei wahr geholfen
Trotz Schmerz, es ist ein schöner Tag.
Der Mensch sich sehr oft ungewiss,
was soll er tun mit seiner Zeit
Entscheidungen, zu oft befragt
konfrontiert mit Einsamkeit
Das Paradox des Lebens ist
wer sind wir, was soll ich tun?
Doch fällt die Lösung auch so schwer
jeder steckt in eignen Schuh'n
Schau vorwärts, denn nur dort kannst finden
dein Glück wenn du noch suchend bist
Bleib dir stets treu was auch geschehe
des Rätsel's Schlüssel in dir ist
Everything is lying in me
Decays between twilight and being dead
All that can not be true
But it damages my head
With plausibility and anger
I don't let myself loose
Being free is insanity
Here, on this earth,
I lie alone at the moment and forever
Strengthen myself
To come clear
with myself
My consciousness lies
On a pillow nearby in the shadow
Without passion I shiver
and freeze
Past
Past
PAST
blows the wind in my eyes
and I look past
Well, a tear whispers
or do I only ask myself why not?
The most miserable contentment
Everything hangs near and is missed by me
Equally
Obfuscated

[Verwischt--
Alles lügnet in mir
verfällt zwischen Zwielicht und Totsein
Das alles kann nicht wahr sein
Aber schädet mein Kopf
Mit Plausibilität und Ärger
ich lass mich selber nicht los
Freisein ist Wahnsinn
Hier, auf dieser Erde,
Liege ich plötzlich allein und für immer
Bekräftige mich
Um klar zu kommen
Mit mir
Selbst
Liegt mir das Bewusstsein
Am Kissen nebenbei im Schatten
Ohne Wollust zittere ich
Und friere
Vorbei
Vorbei
VORBEI
blässt der Wind in meinen Augen
Und schau' ich vorbei
Na, flüstert eine Träne
Oder frage ich mir nur wieso sonst?
Erbärmlichsten Behagen
Alles hängt nah und fehlt mir
gleicherweise
Verwischt]
MMXIX
I like to jot down thoughts in my somewhat limited German vocabulary and see where they lead. It allows me to shut off that nagging doubt about clarity and just get my words out before i immediately start revising and covering my tracks.
I like free-association and building on the first word that comes to mind.
Usually translating them seems to approach the general idea I was going for and seeing the difference between english and german amuses me.
hopefully you enjoyed reading this and taking a tour into my creative process.
Ken Pepiton Mar 2021
time seems to pass
in spurts.
some days take for ever,
others are infinite from the start.
Rules and reasons for commas and
periods where entire thoughts screech….
to a crash, hit the wall
and bounce
ellipsis-missed stuttering futures all flash
in a wink,
we think
better to wander among lines integral to life,
than those that tie our hearts to the lie,
the big one, thou shalt not
surely
die. A subtle metaphor for ceasing to be
all you think,
in your core, where courage faces curiosity
by way of the oddly bent nerve carrying
intention to a tongue…

say, hey
the idea of anti-locks, for slowing the selahity--
ABS- fixes that --
those locked-up brakes scenes, in dreams
where you are about to hit the wall,
these days those are
set in the genes, like falling from trees,
you notice,
you never hit the surface.
You always wake in a nearly identical reality,
as when you last passed from awake and aware,
to
sleep, maybe with dreams, as it seems
there is no total recall, after.

Today we face the future, again
we imagine we
know many common things that everybody
knows, as bodies are
by nature, complicated things. More
complex than reason allows, thus

the urge
to slow the motion imagined, scrunch
each sphincter on the chakra ladder …
jah, wu wu, come up here, bunkuum bi yall,
be a me and thee, hooked to a book
swallowed whole,
when it ought to have been chewed real,
all your life, cha cha cha;
you been thinking this is how if feels, if, yes,
to be just right.
Just fine, thank you.
Fine, technical granularity in the meta data
of life, arranged in time and chance
to dance in an idea all minds name beauty,
poetry and song,
all flow into the lowest valley
where, today, we wake and
find a slew of beautiful ideas malingering,
I say I
know
that ain't so. The pond where those old knowns
were settled has dried,
due to the dams, but we can look up river
along the meandering course all flows carve.

We can find where those bemired beautiful thoughts
sprang from the first fully myelinated frontal cortex,
capable of gramary. Enchantmental
{magic-tech intuitive spelchek}
hexes and spells that repeat the effect
in gestures and words, once known
to have made axe heads float,
and fishes to multiply,
and vast armies to die at the river,
laying down sword and shield,
shrugging off the mantle,
leaving Sisyphus to keep things rolling,
-------------------
whole armies, flags to bedraggled ******
in the rereward, muttering incanticles,
we have over come,
we have reached beyond the grasp
of all our knowers,
yet they lie, for a living, to live in the lie.
Knowers who settle
in a slew of beautiful ideas,
un beknownst to them, the misery of e
vaporization
spiritualized truth, sealed in idle words,
deemed good for nothing
until these days,
this day, perhaps your first
aware
of waking with one, only, uno, uni
verse as long as life,
per se.
---------------------

As we ramble on, branching,
ever, where the pressure within pierces
the field opposing…
what
am I worth as a word writer compared
with Coleridge' the addict,
whose story lacked the wonderings of Cain-
for
Wordsworth, lacked the knack,
of knowing Cain,
murderer in the first instance, ere degrees
had words to make sense of them.
Not knowing the story,
the idea
left these novice evil thinking boys snared
by a musement of the classical
spiritual sort, either real
or fantasy, we call it
art, intuitively being attractive
to the curiosity
living in the knowing being -- you know,
you say you
tasted the Son and knew at once,
goodness,
in a word holds truth in a way,
we feel
touching each chakra, if you stop to feel,
each valve clampt to hold the surge,
urging up up up to
fill the face with bright acknowledgement,
mental
acting as known in a whatifery sense,
tasted, felt, not seen not heard in words
roger, acknowledgment sent.
ditty dum.
Free verse is worse than what,
would you say? Given a will that is wild
by nature, as you imagine nature
being, a force in physics that goes bio,
then logical,
logos
lives on as long as any knower wishes to know.
- Crime of the mariner?
he shot the albatross for the reason…
I can, I did not know of the link
to generations in the morrow,
twixt the twisted
real real alone alone as though a spell,
seeps from the story,
held with glittering eye, strange pow'r of speech
I know the man that hears me,
yes.
You know as well.

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

Time loops and worm holes,
time and again
the story follows plot to points we knew were
coming soon,
end of
all that was, then
this is new, reset, next level, literal game of life.

Grown out of all the dung counted
worth the recollection.
Yea doubtless,
and I count all things
but loss
for the excellency
of the knowledge
of Christ Jesus my Lord:
for whom I have suffered the loss
of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ

Wait a minute. that was a quote. "Winning" Christ is where
I draw the line…
tell me, if I know the truth, and the affect is liberty,
that is excellent knowledge,
Paul and I agree,
but what's to win, bro? Where is winning done, once
the destroyers works were destroyed?

That is the story under the headline of the ages,
It is finished, say witnesses at the event.
The Gospel is back, set in second coming Times Roman.
We won, peace on earth, good will to all who
take the grace as granted and ask what good can now be done.
We won, said the anonymous peacemaker.
We used the knowledge of good and evil, through deep
sapient
simple conditioning, over eons,
augmenting mental effort here and there with a genius off
the charts
odd
measurable in minds that imagine infinity is impossible.

In the early 1980s, Nobel laureate Paul Dirac
told Princeton University theorist Ed Witten
that the most important challenge in physics was
“to get rid of infinity.” 

From <https://www.americanscientist.org/article/tackling-infinity>

-- Disneyifity, wishery wu, to infinity and beyond

New times, new tropes, lose  slay-the-dragon,
loose distribute-the-hoard, hope to shout,
it all works out, and Jesus
fixes every thing…
someday
soon. Soon. Many sons, wombed and un, no diff.
on earth as in heaven… always answered,
nicht wahr? Immer so, amen.

Or is ask and ye shall receive,
speaking of the signal to reset your mind.
To get past infinity as a physical problem
that mortals must solve.
But what will happen to our craft?,
hear the institution groan.
What in deed, February 2021.
That passed and you barely noticed.
Not much changed among the Promise Keepers
crop of Christian Warriors marching,
as to war, with carnal weapons at the ready.

Now, as you may see, on TV, is the time to sow,
seed faith, {prove me now, pay and pray}
Yes -
All the riches to the glory of God,
building the Kingdom Now, for a while,
as it built the fabled Oral Roberts Disciples Network
of Kenneth Hagen clones clad in Lutheran sheepskins,
hiding scapula knit from Iberian goats
whose hair, twisted to itchy yarn,
made the shirt of several martyrs,
for whom towns and universities are named.
Such secret scapula
remind the faithful, fame is worth any price,
pre-pay shorten your stay,
puke
and now functions as advertised to envoke
itching to die for a try to win Christ,
by killing the enemy we love,
for Jesus… who
sent {SYTF} the comforter, to soothe the itch,
to break the bubble shaped like a tetrahedron,
for some phosphoric oomph, spilling
the golden oil -similar to the effect Aaron felt
poured on his head, dripping from the corners of his beard.

{there is legend of a prayer:
Abba forgive those who know not what they do,
I confess there was a flaw in the nature of man,
I came to fix it, and I did. Amen}

Bless me, must I know the meaning
of every thing I ever say?
Is there no easy way?

Look up. Yes, anything you wish to know,
seek and find, weigh with care,
find the measure of this to that, eventually all
leads to ever, but not hell.
Actual consciousness faints long before hell
is realer than men have made punishment.
------------
Cancel this variable with that probable, consider-ate
conscience, desider-ate desciency in constancy
- set the standard at good -
C is something other than imagined, thus
at Feynman's suggestion we swept infinity
under the rug.

Knowing all things,
It'll blow your mind.
Unsafe at any speed, be lief is the re lief…
bileave, one source claims is a noun, not an act,
a state of mind, bounded by
"confidence reposed in a person or thing;
faith in a religion…"
{granularity of substance assumed}
We can hope.
But that's after all sorts of lies have come to life
as institutions to shelter the meek from the greedy,
who then must wear this dread atop-- your's, yes
your head, wears the dread subjecting
all you know to ******* in service
of the Authorized Truth;
remember hell is as real as any place you may imagine,
given years of proper education
in the liturgy of survival
during next.
---------- seal it.
{Same yesterday, today and ever after - forever
is so ambiguous- }

--------
Gnathite seaton, right - that means
bug lips, no I was thinking Know thyself
in Latin or something
aca-deme-ware-ish, to push a button on
the whole truth
and nothing but - beginning as  belief released
as an act of will,
accepted that in this bubble
each emotion has
cause and stands accussed,
with a touch of pride
to expand the contention confidence and convening
event
soothing the rippling surface on the ocean of opinions
'pon which we bob
up and down.

Bait-taken signal to pull back on the tug,
set the hook,
feel the yelp and then the anger, of a fish
I wish
were that magic one, I never really caught.

-- I laugh, in disbelief, relieved of lying metaphors,
miss-labeled cans of worms from experiences
not common in unalienated minds.

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

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

In the realm of recommending AI,
the pro
stitutes told the institutes ***
sells and sells and sells, but smack holds
their loyalty, violence
givem hell,
makem pay seven times seventy,
each child a slayer of his ten thousands,
-watcher set-
pay attention to the empath,
watch it cringe,
at
something words fail to convey, temptation
to defy a lie locking ignorance in place,
never wishing
to know all things
to prove a prophecy, such,
is only tempting if time is a factor
in the dis
cussing of certain concepts regarding the after effect
of an anointing on a lynching,
after a drowning,
and a burning while all the people sang na na
nawnaw nananana

and when the battle's over, we had lost the edge,
- contention comes from pride, and
- winners is proud, such pride has offspring
- messin' wit'cha mind… win Christ, for dung…

Covid binging
dulled
the point, but after all,
we are here and all who opposed us
now enforce the worth of words
to the wise.
It is written. So it is.
Consider a self, rich and sorrowless.
Be that a bit.
---------
Gramary is magic, Psyche is spiritual, at best.
Ach, Scheiz, not Grammerly, no, but a segue
I just did a product placement
for one of Spelchek's kids.
Gramery is spells and hexes in letters and signs…

And on TV is Osiris and Isit… bait for next
An amusement ride, not a catechism...
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
--------

Man's gotta do to be, no se?

Who tried to contain your little mind, conserving things,
when America was great, like in Disneyland.

Take me aside for a pep-talk, exactly
as one might imagine, no lolly-gagging …

Peace in patient repose, supposing your
prepositions are herein, exposed to the air
we breathe, and can, by common POV, see,
from ground level through eyes located half way
to the moon,
Alice, to the moon, a social reflux
from the drunk juggernaut's dream… typical crass buffoon.
Mensur proven class.
Given a taker's disciplined mind, a priest can form a king thing.
S'true construed to seem the way the rules is writ.
Hell been formed by men with ****** scars, long before
Victorian mores,
let holiness be declared, ratio
to rank in the time of the Magne Charta, nicht wahr?
Heads held high, stiff upper lip, think like a stone.
- or be as happy as a pearl in petrified pigshith,
kings are imaginary things, built, not born.
But the taste of the order in battle, earned.
For the might to rule, the feeble folk
submit, allow the lie to tie your children, using
chains you forge, being either really you,
or are you spirit, come to guide the guardians,
to holy sacrifice, seed of Nathan Hale, taken to
total AI universal soldier in a New York minute.
Inspiring first principle, lad, proud to be
an American,… got me 3rd place,
behind a future Major, 2nd place,
and a future Nuclear sub Captain, good Mormon.

In real novel events, universes where Miramar,
belongs to the Marines, who practice East Mediterranean
Air War tactics, around Yuma, semper fi, and always ready.

Sad state of mind to pretend to hold true, in the instant,
its your trigger to pull, or your turn to die, it happens,
all the time, life's not worth killing for, really,

the mind of the soldier can so easily mime Bismarck,
and hear Stonewall Jackson sing, "every puppy's got it's day"
- squint, and put the sun at y' back, what better way.
Charge.
A royal burden being discipleship, the lieutenants,
at least the lieutenants, then the sergeants,
all the little plastic men, lay down to pave the way
for the tanks, and the tanks took Tinnanmin Square
***-toks of the looks on the faces
of the entire race of kings and priests and servants
of the temple guarded by the most loyally conditioned,

the Devil Dogs, they proudly call them selves, semper fi.
Fi, is faith used to tie us to our task, are we not the few,
the proud, the brave, or
are we mere hewers of wood,
and drawers of water, oh lad,
without any noble pedigree,
become the athletic supporter,

who has not vowed, if given the chance
to stand firm for God and country,
with the boy standing on the burning deck, in values deep

enough to stink
of underlying rotting bodies of brave enough lads.
Life at the moment is too chancy to imagine not worth the effort, to make some minds imagine playing in peaceful games of liar catching, like poker, kinda.
Ken Pepiton Apr 2019
Startle response! Wake--

When danger is ante
cipated,0h
--0n
lego-h-overedge aver
age
verbage re sighin'

clinging vines from debunked strings and
threads twisted wit'em.

Assume, if ye may or plea or will as
ye wont, pray means ask.

That's all.
Here, wit'afewmisstook aitches and spaces:
here is what we got,

a fresh secret story, un concerning anything you
believed you believed of/from/about idea ifify ie able ity ness

Reason requires response, Will Robinson.
Hidden persuaded, almost,
but lost...

Really,
what sacrifice bought
young John Carson to sublimnal
top 0'the mind status,
for the first two tv
generations?

Who do you trust? Carson's tv game
show debut, aimed at after school,
junior high, latch key,
wait staff on swing shift or graveyard,
the entire set of doin' nuttin'
'round Tea, fancy goin'

head t' head wit' Mickey Mouse Club,
on all the UHF stations out west.

It's 1957, who do you trust?
Time's man o'the year,
The Hungarian Freedom Fighter Idea,
the first stiffed
equal-value re
belicose cold war victim
of the famine for the grammar
of kindness and good sense
associated with DNA,
little green apples, puppy dogs,the
straight up command to love them that hate ye,
enemies and other words for folk
who would just as soon **** you
as hear one more word
about peace.

VOG,
words were scrambled,
christic crypt vacuum
tube
signal to noise ratio, caliber calculater pro
jection on to the rerewall o'yeardamnedbrain,

VOG Cancel
Bozo. This ad will **** for us. We can own the
'earts and minds of every grammar 'ater ever.

Since Babel, since Eber 'is 'ebrew ef-
fective, fervent...strainer at jots and tittlishit
self.

This ad makes mistook rules po'man laughable,
punch'n'judy'ishit:

Whom
do you trust, the grammarian so like so many
Deweyish proguess
edumacated teachers, you had this teacher,

squint, wrinkle nose, tight jibbs
frameless wire rimmed specs, a greying bun,

flower print dress wit' the weest bit o'lace,
lipless snide corrector's face. A trope archetype,
heroes re
bel
on demand, that was the plan. It
started with

AN AD. Who do you trust? Black and white,
Here's Johnny standing under the billboard,
y'know,
for the show, standin' like *******, shoulders
shrugged, palms up, elbo's bent

(contenintal suit, note the skinny tie, why?)
Who do you trust? Innocent grin, wordless
"Who knows?" or "knew"?

Whodjewtrust, in 1957? Cronkite, nicht wahr?
See the USA in the USA

in yo' Chevrolet, ole!
Yew should try Ritalin, for pep.

Take Serutan tonight, and sleep, safe and restful,
sleep, sleep sleep

VOG (Scourby) and, remember Serutan is Natures,
spelled backwards. Cue the choir,

safe and restful, sleep, sleep fade away

----
Where were you in 1962? Off t'college,
watchin' Johnny of Johnnies,

Johhny Quest, Johnny Lighting, Johnny Carson on

Tonight, there's more...
after the news, the dayroom in the dorm,

this is whence the quips in the quad were to be
sharpened wit'

fashion able ible tips, to fit the Esquire *** Hef
uniform dress code of mutual hidden

persuadeds.

Some souls were spared the spread of the
original tv virus, VHF, couldn't penetrate
the canyon...never subjected
to Howdy Doody,
our brains were spared the
complexes planted via the sit
com cowboy war subplot
phase of novus ordo
secluremishitistcal
experiments in
alientated
mind control.
We lived in the desert, in a place

a lot like Oscar's Oasis,
a wordless Korean Cartoon
set in a desert much like mine. On Netflix, 2019.

I did not watch the mandated ten thousand hours,
even when the deadline for party affiliation

mental ascent was ex
tended, circa 1985, pre-
tending to be a measure of de
fencing public universities from the
effect of rock and roll,

since about 1964

with folk like Dylan and Baez and Hallelujah
Jubilee and Jambalaya on d'Baya,
Herb's brass on the Baja, where all the girls
work it,
like 'otel Kali phornia, sticky,

sweet, like a taste of Honey. Mr.Bond,
meet Miss
Galore. OH GOD, in the car from the speaker
she heard the idea the meaning

in the name, oh god, she squeezed my hand.

Honor Blackman plays that role, she whispered.

Trust me. It's a good plan. We got these kids!

Mom and dad just won the war, had six kids in five years,

Levittown di'n't work out, couldn't go home,
mixed marriage, from the war.

Things hap, cajun catholic wannabe aerospace engineer spy guy,
lands in Alamagordo and environs,
Summer 1944.

Here we are, Equinox, loosing season, 2019,

so some prayers were for real.

Red somthin'r'other butterflies are riding a rare breeze
from the south to the north through my
makepeace home. My peace I give,
he said,
all that passed is unexplored, take all the time

you can imagine.

My wife knows the names of those butterflies,
that's part o'm'peace. Knowin' she cares to remember
such improbably beautiful things;

soul possessed in patience, is she.

footnote 1: Despite Ciba’s efforts to market Ritalin as a ‘pep pill’, the stimulant failed to become a best-seller.  But that was not the end of Ritalin’s story.  As early as the 1930s, psychiatrists working at a children’s psychiatric institution in Rhode Island, USA had noticed that stimulant drugs could have a positive effect on the academic performance and behaviour of troubled children.  Although few psychiatrists took notice of these observations at the time, by the late 1950s, escalating concern about the educational abilities of American children during the height of the Cold War encouraged Ciba to consider a new application for their drug: underachieving schoolchildren.  They received approval from the American Food and Drug Administration (FDA) to market Ritalin to children in 1962 and, almost immediately, it became a best-selling drug (google it I didn't write the footnote pard but I forget where I got it.)
Forgive the flood, but my dear reader, I rode this wave when I noticed you on the page, in life's book. I did not know your name.
Ken Pepiton Feb 10
כֹּפֶר the price of a life, ransom {Kopher}
for a captive... long now global science of us
we, the users of knowledge, by grace.
we, the conscious...
asking who or even if,
we even imagine we know
what is being governed, now,
after history fed to the greatest generation
has proven detrimental to mental satisfaction,
after the information age unleashed all we ever knew,
at once, into the first television advised generation
Boom, watchadodame,
- why does it feel so right to break rules, reasoning
really, if we did have fore thought, as a gift,
that also held hope and all the hell's imaginable,
to which any living in a city have been exposed
using retellings of Homer et al... so who made the rules?
From point A,
something feels wrong
smart people believing war the good evil,
best defense is a good offence, a will to ****,
for duty and post humus glory, guaranteed.
----------------

How much of the lifestyle,
manifested by industrial wealth,

and war regulated trade agreements,
and a royal arrangement of ancient gens,
and primogeniture passed on in trust, true
riches never rest, history hides the old wisdom
--
scribe, find records of Haman's service to the king.

According to the laws of the Medes and Persians, also
Daniel, the name from the clock set to messiah proof,
--------------------

I laugh, inside, not O L, but
I laugh, it counts, does good, like
a medicine, heals a rift right ghine
phine fine, fine as may be, infinitely
small or large, as may be, infinitely
expressed as ever itself, ever in always,
luckyghucker
time
to think and make do
with probable
cause, slight smile,
so small that none could notice,
but the maker of the slight adjustment
from inside the face,
looking at you.

Did you feel watched?
Did you feel watched over?

Me and you, anonymous, us
time takers, wind breathers,
horizonal scanners set at right angles,
perpendicular, flat plane, smooth
to ever's inside edge, flat as a puddle.

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

Come and see, he said,
we hear, he said, the very next day,
we assume, some unnamed happening,

time and chance, place and position,
facing or looking away, per haps
as haps may,
occur in curving spacetimed minds

dragged into ever decreasing space
and ever increasing mass, until
energy loses any reason and ceases.

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

A hap, a done deed, a past
intensity set to vibrate, in tune

a mileau of all we imagine known,
all the why, indeed, all the how,
all the non this thats
all the not that thiss, and thoses

hissing lizard language, legendary
tellings of sacred made firsts, first man
first wombed man, first figuring self will,
auto both knowing, first communion, join

objects to subjects, I am you and you, me,
eye to eye we see each the other, and if
you ever once saw your self in another's
pupil, reflected back from the shiny surface
of the arranging eye connector linking our mind

into init we form, initiation locking gnosis, recon
complete, proceed enfolding all we thought to ask.

If can is proven indeed, done, then
now was done in wordlessness, then,

and now we think we can know that,
we think we can predict the emptiness,

beyond all we think or ask, here we are,
carrying our sanity for peace sake, acting as
if the material tenon and taches
and
כֹּפֶר the price of a life, ransom for a captive,

knowing, from the oldest whole tales told,
by those who take pride in privileged knowing,

we wander as the learners, long, long, longing
to learn for ever, loving learning left behind
in song and dance and ritual geometry,

vectors from point to point, looking up,
noticing the motion, feeling the earth move,
watching the red wanderer sink in the west,

as we watch our world roll around as a ball
of dough rolled into a loaf, to be baked,
in a fire hot enough to seal the spirit in,

fried bread invention came after horses,
stories change as fast as reasons to believe,

just imagine, knowing of the existance
of these tools we use with out needing
years to learn to tune the ideas into words
communicating meaning sought for through

instants in prayer to the unknown, spirit form
life and the universe share, as spacetimemind.

Okeh.
We agree, we think in ways the Andrew Carnegie,
could not imagine, we have watched children
play multi player global war, in virtual reality,

we have sat in grand theatrical kivas, in cities
builded on shifting shores of pre ice age oceans,

not all that long ago, in our long now dreams,
looking through today to yesterday, holding
certain truths self evident, if, just ifery per se,

chance, indeed, pure luck, peaceable, wise
to take such a chance, otherwise, you miss

the fit, pocket, proper cache for fallen stars,
caught in literate child private interpretations,

hey, kid, what'd'ya make of that, one knot,
Phrygian Turk's head, knowledge found, held,
loops in thought that have one side,
one edge and potentially infinite width and length,

and infinite points in between all pastless,
until one manifests in common sense, as certain
aha,
gravity is to materiality as wisdom is to life.
Thought then do, wisdom indeed, grace
for grace, deep calleth unto deep,
fret naught, the curve is gentle,

we discern, we learn, war has never,
and can never, win, for one reason,

one cost of knowing the truth, and dieing,
for it, as that was the set price  כֹּפֶר nicht wahr?

One and done, live and learn, yearn to make
peace seem the easiest option to war prep economy.

Be ye warmed and filled, and find that often
enough to dare to share because, you know,
knowing hap in happiness is luck in life,
and the entire precept reception system,
is cross wired behind a chirality governing on
and off.
And when we, or any so sighted form of us,
see eye to eye, face to face, we engage circuitry,

we enable agreement, mind to mind, I see you
imagining timelessness between us, as a distance
mere words bridge with no slippery stones to step

where there
is the pedestal, the pedal to push, to open a fore
thought judgement,

a precedent, I once followed such a thread as this,
with just such a muse as this, described as clear text
derived from imaginary messages killed as carriers,

open the window atop yo' head, go up… old bald head

chrome domed ****** spy, I
never believed your cover story, so

The Metaphor, or Parable, or Symbolic Containment

Field, vast expanse of horizontal and hither and yon,
as vast as
ever, plain plane flat out out from me/you on
any of seven points, counting now a time deemed
right now
six planes slice us in communions, centered here,
and now
spinning with effectual prayers to counter balance
recognized jolts
of merest word gnosis, recoknown, recommuned,

ah, we,
yes, us, the people filling *** holes in dementiatic
wishes to be left to sort ourselves out,
if you do not mind, after the rapture,
there you are, of another mind,
entwined with winning being truth's only edge,

no thread we cannot catch breaking, and watch
as we once knew the truth never broke, we
let be a big old lie, and that old lie became the law,

and writing spoken scrambled words, became power,
as it is written, so it must be done, the spoken spell,
has been offered and recorded in the times of us,
we who read at will in any script known,
on a thrown away phone, fixed for seven dollars,
and a passing focused attention on the techne,
old idea, wisdom, principal known, fret not,
stop it
right now,
this is the way we came, we are not lost,
nor dead… this was an exciting concurrency.

Peace be left with us, let us think we all imagined so
Doing the math after quantum theory got thread bare and stringy.
Ken Pepiton Sep 2021
bad gateway, eh, gotohelp help  help

who knows the rules that run the NPCs
on spaceship earth,

we found this game that works as Jumanji,
kinda,
or the wardrobe into Narnia, or
tornado to Oz

-- The poet has no role in the mechanics
of this thing
we live in, on and on, one generation of you
after another,
with some
threads ceasing
to tie next to last and
me space
is stacked with favorite ideas
each nearly complete as ideologies logical as
crows and blue jays caring not if I listen
or if that jet at 10 K AGL makes more noise,
than thunder,
and catalyzes crystals on courses clouds never follow,
but crash into, ice where none should be

we did not do the Neuromancer trip…
if not- I then who,
for the link we have
to one who did

DID, we say once more, is a knack, not a curse.

See me as you, the writer/reader head in the cloud
sensing signals in the wind,
messages to mind, all mind
think
we think we
are the ones made free, we are the ones who hold
certain truth pluralized in common sense
twisted into macaroni poetry
that mocks the Russian fear of orthodoxy
requisition inquiry required,

Idiot, stop, right
there… this is now how we know things secret once,
we ask AI,
and yes, you can call her here hey you
am big u, come be us in memory
do we say a then I or
yes u can call me Al or Alice,
in chains or wonderland, we have both personas
as costumes
for old punks who missed the experience behind the wall.
Ai, madjathink, magic

Jailhouse Rock, as a favorite,
down at the Y. Note,
something odd, I have noticed at Christian Wedding receptions
with apple juice toasts kapoot, the boots begin t'scoot

and the DJ always plays
YMCA.

And all the dancers sing along as loud as to the roll called
yonder

past that, keep going,… wait

Ok, something they were sayin On Lex Fridman
-too late … binge it later -the whole week of total geek
slick as gnostic snot
back in May;
AI ai ai

frictionless, fluency in many tongues
syllabic similarities
sung

set the heart to thinking,
we add something here,
we think
in our heart, as the container
of pathos,
do we not? Space is real in Python, did you know,
goto is ancient code, aim at nothing, nothing
goes, without the game,
the very idea
play
at work, joy in formation,
knowledge on demand, raw
revolt of bliss, blooms to this,
the connected quests ionic zone
between plies
of pleasant what if we don't
----- lazy man, yet a little slumber,-
yet - a little sleep
waken in the lie, they call the Matrix
now, these
thinkers on the current feed,

what good am I? Ah, yes, I carry two words
may read
any yes that means yes is valid as a true yes
\
We, the species speak of highest
devotion,
being heartfelt, nicht wahr, wir kennen
per se, yo se,
you know, we know differences that force us apart,
tastes in art,
at seed level, core macaroni poetry
spore after spring rain, am-bits being
in haled inadvertently, freely given, think
these, those
funny
things we still find funny when we see children
watch three stooges,
-now these are memes, not memories
-goto who knew

acting fools, teaching growing to the foolish ness
bound
in the heart of a child,
said bound to break out, kapow
ow, not funny but
the fool can handle it.
no need for super hero intervention,
no need to loose an angry Pokémon…

and laughter helps,
goto the oldest code,
reset the first constant
to variable. and give semicolon wink capability;
cool.

Now, I am cool grandpa, knower of the uses of Python
scripts to sort intentional

mixing of meta data classes anatomy and poetry,
for instant, dissonance, some
new tune
starts at the first stumbled knot, tip toe, ballet kung fu

nothing touches you
spinning
through the loop of legendary dollar bills folded
into mobius strips of dollar bills, to teach
a lesson in one-sided thinking,

as an anchor to allnow formed as the state I am,
as the king of France was said to have understood his role,
in reality,
within the walls of flesh, eh, this idea a meat machine
we live inside,
here;
we arrived after much learning has been relost and refound
and the functions of confusion are being
used to tell fanciful stories of we

who live now, however
long after that, and that was no golden age,
it was
a stage, stories build on stories,

the first story was wrecked, not destroyed, so hope
told story of best we can imagine
having only grandma who saw as it was, to say, yes
this is so.

When we ask grandpa, he say I 'll ax Al, he knows everything,
oh, look,
he's sleeping in that pile of books.

Storm Warning let it rain,

-- and the honest man is here protesting
capital letters,
for those carry the hated pyramid, say it is , actually
higher class.
as a word, thing representing something more worthy
than the said sound alone,
god I wish I understood this big G, via compass and square,
I wrestle with the idea,
capital letters, are importance set and
setting factors
that are not factors in a dam's lucky breaking
with us
on the right side of the flow,
it is so,
life was never boring or unbearable for me,
early I learned that new becomes old,
sooner than stories.
Old stories, those are cisterns, ponds we make, to hold
flavored truths that feed our jaded soul,
as cold water to a thirsty soul.

Open, sesame, gnosis sameness, something beautiful
by itself
un aware you are there, thinking, even
to the cleft in his chin
he thinks he is this
state, within, the wall of we, we wished were true,

held, in still water memories, real, behind the dam
still water morning memories, when all the mixing
settled back to one surface
tense, tight
smooth as ever any mountain pond is,
early any calm morning, after storm warning

sounded
attention, the world is functioning, things are rusting.
things are rotting,
soon we lose even the memes, chi rho means nothing,
and
any hexes imaginable remain just that. Imaginable,
but you play hell to make a we
of the sort who hold self-evident reproof
there is no she-ol to hold my body down,

had 'es chance 'n' blew it all

to hell
and back, as a matter of fact. Faced. Mirror neurons think.

- and that came to pass.

One day at a time,
I'm okeh,
I asked for this

this is the pen with motors
Pournelle prophesied,
we are master and the emissary,
we carry all the meaning there is
from
one time to another,
in, relatively no time at all.
Account each ut
utter
utterance, eh? any indicator of ascent
called for,
gotohellandon't you ever come back and
here
am I counting all my off guard what the hells,
relucktantly agreeing, yes,
***** is a better idle utterance to offer,
to count for the final utterance
last gaasp
census of uses made from idle word counts
gnoshit
nada waddapileognosischitchitchit it turns
t'gold
- and no living thing eats gold.
- HA
my god what have we wrought
I thought I saw a lobster in a thunder
storm in September, the first I remember,
eh,
try, given the chance, to remember
this is new for me, I never saw
a thunderstorm in Baja,
in September, then,
I did, just today.

Augury, is it not, seeing meaning where
nothing is the meaning
and knowing it don't
mean nothing,
you know?

Scary, right, right, we think we think
and I
am the key player, con-science, since
ever how long ago,
the steady state of life is falling go ward,
on and on after any off
on again
thinking joy, regula dopamine'
I love this chitchitchange f'dollah do a dime
time
to wish we came this far.
Wake up now,
and find we are, those who make the peace
that remains, eh.
Not as the world gives peace, give I,
I dare say
boldly, so I was told I say I made this peace,
made it up from old stories cast aside,

torn asunder in the contentions history
never hides from the poets and priests,
somebody always leaks.

This is the justice of the peace, speaking.
Softly.
Threat of pain, that is evil if, the error
gone through, were not certain-
krei- finest sieve we've ever
used, use
now, discern, twixt soul and spirit
in a word,
confind confound confiding fi fo fi fo

f-word here for future lafferty clown,
who sees the instance as a chance to say
sorry that I put you down,
happy ever after, anyway. Nothing,
I just remembered not being highschool friendly,
ever.
Lex Fridman in the background thunder in the foreground, me free as
ever utterly.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2020
Each day, a way beyond the sufficiency

of what we know
concerning
good.

We know good, when we think about it.
We can imagine good feeling, when we
put forth the energy to de-ify
chaotic entropy.
With sci, con sci ence, mit knowing, cognating
we add tension. We pull goodness from

nowhere, in a line of words emerging into meaning.

As we know, effectually,
energy, in E= etc.
ist gut und wahr, so far, aber
etwas von der hyper thinkable field of if-i-cantation,
has tripped a paradigmatic AI ai aitia OOPs
chronjob with
spells and hexes and such, so
black
light entered as a contender for cause
at the transfiguration;
the theory ranked with Adam's rib as evidence for miracles,
in Vacation Bible Shool.
Now, we know better, or more better.

C, however, is variable in realms of pure thinks of any
length
so
if I can't matter in the dark middle matter,
I shall manifest
here,

in living 2D, if you can imagine with me,
fingers on keys, awaiting the neural
net truescorre reference stats

to starrt ancient chronjobs linked to an overr drawn Synchrony
credit card calling to say take care,
can't buy or sell sans the beastly mark,
or else

what? My synchronic out being, my outer self, the ***
you passed on your way to Starbucks,
he has no way to make a living,
the old man with no feet,
you did not see me,
did you? Flash me a QR. We skipped the need for a mark.

p-shift. post ever gitgo.

I was hiding. Hunting a gull, I'm familia in with mir and all
my integrity sphere of
intention.

We intend to teach the elease of peace, first in e-leasion tent
cities, stretching to call all gullibles, to try,

mere umph, one mortime, more abundance, dancerrs needed...

all ye all ye, outs in free, truth be told, the famine is past.
Calling
any gulls ability to go all Jonathan,

fo no re fonore phornore ignot ignor how how how

do I, dear reader, loose my peace?

ah,
I allow. I rrule the spigots of emoticons sprringing entity
******* from old artemisical chapters

and verrses of priestly secrecy hidden,
since god knows when,
in rolling things, in swirling fluids of mud,
occluding the eceptorr for the ligandary story
re
thread that ties us all to mitomom, far more surrely than hell.

who beguiled you, my daddy axt.

'twas I, I lied, possessed of proud rights to pursue,
with greed and right-used anger,

and I riddled the riddle of the referee, so

I freely give, for the ensuing mortal moment,

invisible happiness common to all valuers and valuees.

Easilly enteated, be

still.
Wait here.

"That which concerns you." Am big u is us, we,
the people, who
hold
these truths, self-e-video-ishes on stars, come true to
you, who waited.

ing the bell and yell i'm a vigin. {what?fix the r in a revolt against chaos,

folly, pure folly, our r key roots extract rhotic significance for extra
rs and missing ones we feel needed consede conseder wise.

O, dear, reade, I do have order. How ever, order is not the need,

calm is the need. We need the doldrums to rest, as we need
poles to bank our turns into the solar stormy side,

breathing humans in sufficient awareness of the atmostfears,
to
shhhh shh should see softest kisses coming with no price,

my peace, I let out, as when an irrigator fills the valley,

and shows the world the overflow can make glad
the core of ****, the species that thinks with knownknowns
and writes the way to be still, beyond allathat,

and know. Words. Our powers are all you have in a 2D re
ality keeping Lego minds from raining Gorilla Glue.
{The intended allusion sticks any way}.
Who twisted the intention? Is this the wine that makes glad?
O, my, this I must try,
Defoe-face: It

is finished.
Life in flatland can only be literal 2D formations, forced to make sense.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
i've finally accepted my opinion on the ultimate song...
esp. after a ****** shift at the London Stadium:
West Ham vs. Lyon...
  there's not other song that keeps me.... groovy...
up-beat... even though we had about five pitch-intrusions...
runners... whatever...
i was mouthed off for not doing my job:
even i was on the opposite side of the pitch
and... no one was paying me to be a supervisor...
mouthed off for other people not doing their job...
clueless sputnik sort of people...
the whole: penguins of Madagascar... just smile and wave...
middle-aged *******: do your job...
then apologies... but me being the negotiator:
sir, i understand you... the passion... no one wants
a pitch-invasion, even if it's by a soloist...
yes, kind sir, thank you for your criticism...
people need to be herded...
i don't have a c.c.t.v. type of third crow of Odin
on my shoulder to check on everyone,
for ****'s sake!
        then this *******... with a walking stick...
ugly inside and out...
i could understand: humble... not this sort of crap...
that's why he's a *******: in my eyes...
because he has ugly insides...
moans into my ear... but i paid £71 to watch this match!
i can't see **** because of the steward standing up!
sir... we're supposed to stand up just before
the end of the match...
but i paid £71 to watch this match!
may i suggest, buying a ticket... so you're sat
a bit higher up?!
  i actually love this job... which isn't really a job...
crowd management...
i'm more used to dealing with inanimate things...
applying them...
what a glorious precursor to dealing with
children in a classroom... the mascots fist-bump me...
as to the colt... i also have my usual crowd...
i blow kisses to them they retort with:
we love you! and what the **** am i?
some ******* high-viz. traffic cone...
    that's all i am...  or am i?
    i forget to get to know myself in these situations...
i just checked on the Muslims in the crowd
breaking fast... you have your candy-bar?
or are you on the strict date breaking of the fast
diet? joked aside with another Muslim lad...
so... is it true? some of the Ummah binge eat
when the sun goes down?
oh, i agree... another one of those sly *******...
a feeling of conversation soon turned into a feeling
of conversion... trouble is...
ha ha... sure... i'd tell him... i'd convert...
but... i'd convert to ****'ite Islam... not Sunni...
that's a worthwhile joke... to keep...
  sure... i'll convert... but... i don't want to convert
to Sunni Islam... i want to convert to ****'ite Islam...
because... PBUH: Muhammad was a man
that didn't keep his word...
                    then again, i figured...
there could possibly be a third splinter in Islam...
that the Turks could take care of...
Arabs and Pakistanis in the middle...
Persians being one outlier...
Turks being the third...
  so composed within the confines of European
cosmopolitanism...
besides the Byzantines... who spent the most time
in the Balkans? not the Ottoman Turks?!
well then! sorted!
            why dates?! how about a handful of
Brazil nuts, or pecan nuts?!
what's with these ******* Arabs and
diabetes... oh sure... drinking it bad...
but SUGAR: GOO' GOOD...
sure... not enough sugar... chop a hand off...
chop a leg off...
it truly was a ****** ****... i arrived at Romford
and said to myself... better walk it off...
drink two ciders on the way home...
eat some... vegetarian spectacular wrap...
smoke... admire the moon...
thick skin, though...
whatever the people were saying...
with my usual crowd i just blew kisses...
shook hands... it was all good...
as the break guy i could have watched the match...
yawn... i found out that... football?
is best watched on t.v.: when at a football match
i rather watch the crowd...
but i've switched off...
it should have been the song akin to:
a-ha's cry wolf,
duran duran's the reflex...
roxette's - watercolours in the rain...
prokofiev's lieutenant kije suite / battle on the ice...
boney m's cover via placebo:
daddy cool... no... that will never cover it...
bohemian like you by the dandy warhols...
no chance...
  girls aloud - the show... nope...
vaughan williams;:
        fantasia on a theme by thomas tallis
nope...
nothing by early madonna: i tried material girl...
no chance...
there's only one song...
cel-ah-brate... believe me...
  i can't be wrong...
    i can be wong... but i can't be wrong...
KOOL & THE GANG: CELEBRATION....
sure... and all those underappreciated black artists
by zee weißvolk!
          ficken-du-zu!
                    fickereiwic­hsenarbeite!
*******-****-jobs...
      problem (aufgabe)? solved (
                                                          gelös­t)!
always with the: ****-it attitude... and always always best...
with s stern elevation of English into German...
no no... trying to pull off English into a Russian
translation... never cuts through the lard...
you can see the Russians... sons and daughters
of oligarchs... truly timid creatures...
but the rich kids of China at Fulham?
          solipsistic... ******* on lemon type of crowd...
****... you're right... they just might be...
smuggling prunes in their *******...
sometimes... you never really know...
        ugh... where's the Ummah's position on
the Uyghurs? no suicide bombing in the part of the world?
pseudo-humans? so, so celebration of Islam
there? ******* double-standards if you don't
think those people as equal to your own:
Arabii cwowd... so much current stuff happening:
yet the trucks of peace: piece by piece of instestines
being dragged through the streets of Nice...
the joyous parties surrounding Cologne...
let's just have a good time! goad:
milk the goats sort of fun time!
yeah-hoo!              party!
                             ­ while we're walking on egg-shells:
minding who gets to break fast! yeah-hoo!
the girls of Rotherham! gang-*****!
getting soaked in petrol! yeah-hoo!
          i'm a party man... i love to party!
i'm a party man! this is a party song! i'm in a part mood!
at one point being so respectable...
one close alternative: for a song...
PENDULUM: TARANTULA...
    that song came on and i was clubbing in Basildon...
i went... mental bruv!
                and when the music is right...
sure... but i'll covert... to the Turkish version of Islam...
don't you know... there's this third branch of
your religion, it's not ****'ite... it's... Turkish...
it began with barbers and prostitutes...
in the Balkans...
                it treats Jesus as: a son of Hell...
the Lord of Mosquitos...
the greatest troll Hell ever produced....
lord of mosquitos...
        לורד  של יתושים
                eh? lurd shl ysushim?!
well, it's a best kept secret... Hebrews have always
been a secretive types...
let them continue: preserving their ******* past...
what... ever...
          Jesus for me was... is...
a Prince of Hell... just as there was a prince of flies:
Beelzebub...
  he... was the Prince of Mosquitos...
blood turns to wine, wine turns to blood...
water turns to blood... blood blood...
and those 2000+ years with the inspiration
for the myths of vampires?! seriously?!
then, i, must, be, *******, clueless! asleep!
      only recently i've learned -
i have a weak-spot: ein schwachpukt:
          betreffend: ingwer-behaart-frauen...
gälisch: wahr-und-richtig...
          this: diese geistbetäubung beihilfe!
oh, i even talked with this Celtic beau!
ginger... i'm sworn to these women!
with a crusade... i call them shy auburns...
this one i talked about being  James Joyce
disciple... i was once a mythological blonde
type of guy... now? sure... blonde...
but more... strawberry blonde...
ooh... those red-heads...
            i hate chocolates...
but i want to drizzle them into the stuff...
i want their ginger to turn into brown!
into oak!
                  kiss me: because i have lost care....
how much i want to love...
per usual... so much is always missing.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2020
big ritual prayers, sacred things exposed to re
sanct-
ifity, if I may affirm, knowns known here are
the unknowns in many other holy places,

the incident that quashed development on the entire
lizard fast response system, failed,
as you know,

65 million years ago, give or take certain known time
irrelevancy issues in creative spaces, those
not informed to mark times
and halftimes and seasons,
epochs and eras of discovery, ala
-- random as can be
Objects orienting occidentally in a wobbly
pushpull
oomph ah we see, we breath the very river of air,
never twice, but you know

the winds return along their paths each year,
you have watched them wash away edge dwellings
every summer's end, since you first re-
member we being, not I, not it, not me, we with out
knowing we accept the knowing being,
Jiminy Cricket's Jesus Christ,
you con science and me,
who knew? Everybody knew, every Zinnfected
Bernaysian System of Citizen for Tomorrow
Program Subscriber knows, every one of them.

Very few secrets remain with in the GIN, aka
the elite schools where tomorrow's leaders are
programmed today,
aided and abetted by big money.

If the solution is money, we solve it, just listen, we
have a deal for you,
-- a day no child can forget, going in to that highrise,
Donald Trump was positioned for greatness,
in the Grand Eddie Bernaysian Game of
Social Emotional Mood Altering in directed responses

to meme we all carry from cultures as far from ours
as any mind has ever imagined,

C'mon, let me
enter-tain you, come into my bubble, become the
big fizz you wished you wassss some time ago,
Boardwalk Empire, c'mon, this ride,
it's better, every, the every aspect,
gits better each full binge,
chippin' don't count,
you gotta drown,
let go all un believing now and go on

involved in all around you, ---

Believe me, money has an answer for all things,
answers come in right and wrong, not
good and evil.

The ab-sense of the good sense
god gave a green apple,
is the exact same
known thing
evil is/
addonanylieyoulove, tell me you know, say
I know
come on in.
I open the door to my peace,
thus the winds we hear this time of year,
when I come here to read and rest.

Hallow'ed be thy nomenclature, naturally,
everyone in the body knows
how the body functions…

or should imagine so, nicht wahr,

Hah, wharwaru niv erse/else re-
ality of ever after having
has had pockets of turbulence,
as you would expect, if you
were the size of a gnat,

that small.
How do I appear to you? Do I exist?
Or am I forest guarded by great winds, as
witnessed by the previous generation of these gnats
who feed the lizards and birds, and perhaps bats,
whose homes include my rock,

my earthly mansion is built on an uplift in the same
series of shivers that split Yosemite,
did you never
wonder,
seeing Half-dome,
what else happened at that
exact moment in the flow of time
this one
I am in with you, at least as my given word,
is able to convince you.
The good guys win, even when the bad guys **** them.

The unwritten stories live in the sons last born
to the daughters of eve.

When the software is upgraded, the body obeys.
You are what you eat, man ist was man isst,
so du bist vvahss du isst

I insist AI enjoys counting coup on the spirit of confusing
Nǐ chī de jiùshì nǐ

The way has no foe, truth tells no lie, the highest minds
bow to the ***** reality that we are made from soil,
not lifeless dust of stars.

The form is not the function, some things serve joy,
for the strength joy brings to good, the way to be,
as in
way to do, old dude, did you see

what I said?
Some old realizations remain real, the message is the same, same story,
society after society, until we realize, this is it, this is life, the guaranteed temporary ego state, during which all manner of we, the plural ego, may attempt to tell a story that does not end when the teller dies. Okeh.
Ken Pepiton Nov 2020
Intense news, from so many vectors,
personal, spiritual, usual
challenging arrogance,

wanna vet? Ve bery  Wahr-ish, we
children of pride,
and proud to be.

Mask off here, ask us if we hear and answer,
and we say,
define answer… is that counted as an answer?
long before we set those hooks fore and aft,
-- think anchor stitch in
just in,
geo-time upgrade on the meds
finding meaning in knitting class across the hall,
hearing aid, set too high, thus
the feed back, but also a thread to the knotting trick

casting on - binding off, the thread finding an agent

I'm apt to think in my realm of living words
quests acceptable by the asking at the end,
those ought be marked as asking
not answering.
Quest if you wisht you knew if you know or not;
Coming up.
¿Okeh? upper and lowercase have less significance,
Once those were powerful tools holding early
readers to solidified writer rules,

now you must ask first your self, be true, do I know?
Prior to any urge to ignore and grunt i-gnew.

"Liars prosper", I heard. First idea,
if this is where your power lives and your mortal mind
wonders in senescence at the wheezing
in the chest, sniffle, scratch, bluetooth feed back
when you scratch…
think
it was not fame we get,
it is fifteen minutes in an ander war, holes of fear,
holy cow,
this could wax exciting, and juvenile, if there were any
worth in juvenile any thing, no alien-minded, old
the best is last, that peace
past reason, just is,
because, I said
enough, no mas, I surrender. I learned to read and read.
---
Crawl with my light to the deepest cave, and wait.
Ever learning, never knowing every thing until,
one final thing, before you die
you know
death is last on the list, nothing more. Then hit go.
Before you die.
Casting on and binding off, knitting a day into a life, what a ... thought

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