Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nat Lipstadt May 25
The River ("Every artist was first an amateur…")

rank, rank, rank ~ a word of multivariate meanings,
too many with hints of degrading nefariousness,
know
this
then:

the river we write upon, invites from all shores, enter!
where and when you will, let the current carry, or with
intent serious, furious paddle along side the rest of us
permanent beginners,

because each time we start to compose, all that we we
have composed before, is just loam, soil from to sprout anew,
no prior ordering survives, we begin as fumbling rank
beginners, amateurs, starting first and then over and over again
for each start
is not a statistically significant event, difference, indeed, it is clarity of challenge, search, and the joy to destroy, in order to be of finding,
it is same for one and for all,
we all are ranked, the same, first time amateurs…

so I bid you: run, get wet, welcome disasters, crumple too many
first drafts, BUT be ready when the ah ha period!
a gasp confirms: competed, satisfaction guaranteed…

it doesn’t query qualifications for quality is
yours to discern, yours to differentiate, yours to  own,
to give away freely in abundance, nor does quality be an enquirer,
doesn’t ask what are your bona fides
your good sides,  
just
to
bring and borrow,
impart and deport,
take us by surprise,
comfort and comport,
leaving behind outside a
crumb trail to make us follow
you to the coveted inside of that mystery
inner tube within that brain of yours that
roundly supports all of us ever lusting
for
just one…more




12:32 PM
Sabbath
May 25
2024

S.I.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
By the by, we sit
to watch a week end, on television,
or your time's equivalent seefar-aparat.
Ignoring moon phaze, we count sevens,
under the generic mandate of God's Truth.

Submitted, bowing low on Friday, next day
Chosen, allowed through some revealed loop hole,
Called, day three, permitted by grace alone, undeserved or earned,
to wrestle with the liar calling war your duty to truth.

Long weekends for all, let us contend, we are biding time,
occupying our spaces, our bubbles of being, our guiding
principles leading us with peaceable nudging, this way…

Each cluster of monotheists insists the truth,
is for their own protection, a tested faith believed,
certain to eliminate each individual fake follower,
while allowing holiest of priestly classes work not a whit.

Call us the common sort. We less holy plain folk.
Each one, each bubble of speaking flesh,
given one guide, with constant comforting, this way, in
contact face to face with the great weaver of wind and seas.

Alerted become, some sense seems to say, lend an ear,
hear the conception let loose,
precept upon precept,
here some, there some,
line upon line, thought on thought, each a prayer,
an asking, an appraisal of the price prepaid called worth it.

On second glance.

Having many miles back submitted, bowed low
to a teacher who taught that tears are grace,
a heart softening remainder
from infancy,
when we are hard selfish takers, helplessly
weeping when confusion topples all balance
and we fall into serious wailing,
as snotty salty tears wrap us in
a core cushioning patience
on which pity for innocense rests,
self-pity, poor me, weeping prostrate
waiting for patience to function before I die.

And should we weep for some fool today,
seeing his zeal manifest to earn God's grace,
by any name, in any mind let be aware
that
madness
defies wisdom.
Should we not weep for the liars
who taught the child that the wisdom
which made us, rewards us for killing
other thinkers of the same crazy idea,
differing by no means significant to infants?

Ever, after time, or before, I've not a clue,
yet, now, I do assume
we all may, and often do, think wrong,
falling so safe within the lie fed us, to make us
willing to support the imprisoning of hungry us,
by forced mind molds earning the interest
on world debt for constant war readiness.

Our beloved lease on life is not sublet.
Any infant who survives the womb is entitled.
Each breather rebreathes, giving back received life.

Now, as an interstellar life raft, earth laughs,
when the lies about who owns the planet
ignor the approaching reaction to imbalance.

Free lunches for Gaza, and grassy football fields.

Stop hate, abhor the law that calls hate truth's will.
Watch truth lift the crippled conscience we share.

Make lying anathema,
and fearful hateful exclusion laws
auto morph into correctible knowledge,
each real empath sympathy blossoming
soothing all pain in scars nullift, so as we can
never bring a helpless child to tears for wars' reasons.

When war comes to excuse its expense, I must
laugh with life, call war to bring cause, prove worth,
sit with first Is-ai-ah, come, let us reason, together.

War rises on pride's haunches and calls me the fool,
I call pride's worshippers to count the cost.

If  you made mankind, wombed and un,
for good reason, with a will to power,
a will to self control and rights,
by Nature,
and Nature's spir'tually discernible goodness and power,
would you use life of satisfaction, or desparate poverty
to teach the art of agape, charity and such?
- freedom of speech - say true, no lie.
- But why, can we not freely destroy,
- can we not freely force children to serve?

Better living by global ignorance reduction.
If the truth made minds like ours,
if the truth its anthropomorphized self,
made us pathetically spiritual enough to weep…

at the fruited fields cratered by artillery
to starve the enemy, back when the strategy,
left the scars on generation after generation
of poor, outside the class of chosen, by law,
which orders outsiders to submit, knowing
one's place, hewers of wood,
drawers of water, pickers of fruits,
plowers of fields, diggers of ditches,
washer of dishes and floors,
builders of shelters, dismantler of obsolete weapons.

Owners and renters, live in peace. Under holy order.
Oh, no? Call the message itself a lie,
say the truth does hate those who know otherwise.

Who holds the pledge for your share in this war debt?
When some side wins, whom shall we owe?
In some old hopes that started things like public schools and this internet,
reading and multilingual translation promised peace a prayed for chance.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
Hast thou found honey?
Eat so much as is good for thee,
thinking moderation then, success.

Ah, the analyst's probe, is it satisfying?

Child mind alerts, perks up its ear,
single minds have single ears, child mind
focus state, un monitored you, recall, child
minding your own business walking in the road.

Accepting having RSVP'd, we'ld wonder at first,
did we actually ask for this, or is this all made up?

Child mind cocked sure, I know.
We are all an alien probe learning the questions.

Each letter holds an American English phonic response…
and we… the elite sharers of knowns gleaned from scripture.
--selah, also means let it rest

The precedent for a post temple social order arose,
and the minds required for that task arose as well, but
as you know, knowledge was closely held, sacred codes,

cost of being called and chosen, male alone, bred to the bull.

Bred to the king of beasts, wed to the dragon whose bones
we have found in the gullet of beached Leviathans…

tribe of Bill Levy, sudden psy-psi dead guy makes a suggestion,
remember the yen to yank reality aright, and think it funny?

Jes' yankin' y'chaim, only be having like
a child's mind, ****-meter counting steps away, flee

the birthing trauma, do the dying well.
Earnest Becker, take a chair, I think I felt you linger there,
death divined most fine state, just wait, settling, you feel.
Here and now, gestaltic and all that... via Audible, I have Elon Musk bio'd by an Isaacson who also bio'd B. Franklin and S. Jobs... how long before the biography becomes the muse we use to channel the same ideas, to rethink...
as Goethe happened to say, everything has been thought, the purpose of us is to think it over. Paraphrazically speaking, he meant, I mean.
When they reached his house he entered in hurry
She stood in front she was not happy
As she remembered her husband ,she was married
He wanted her to enter and she wasn't ready
He said "why do not you come and you will be funny!"
"You would have here a lot and will gain happy"
This clothes will dismiss and we will without thing
We will spend all day with love and I'll return you in hurry
She remembered her husband ,she remembered her holy tie
When the man said "do you accept him as your husband?"
She said "yes" she strengthened  that bond
She said no to the slave of blind
She said yes faith of feeling of God

As he saw her attractive as he saw her a woman
As he was wolf and she was in a weaken
Why did he wait ? He attacked in moment
He cut off her cloths she screamed for save
She said with her pains "fear of your God"
He said my god is devil and I was ordered
By him to destroy you and make you appeared
As a  naughty  woman and get you a part
From your husband and he continued
He wanted to make her lie to made his bad
She demanded his kind she demanded his help
He forgot everything except her appearance
He could make her lie he would be mad

She screamed in high ,she screamed at loud
The winds refused that mad, the winds refused the bad  
They were carried the woman's screams to all sides
Of that deaf world ,of that blind universe
Her husband heard her ,her husband knew her voice
He was shocked ,he went to his house

He found no one he found the winds
He remembered the only one, he remembered his God
He kneeled to the earth ,help me God
The winds blew up ,they carry him wide
Till he reach there ,he saw the blind
the man who carried hate ,act as a blind
the bad was strong ,the devil gave his hand
the man didn't stand ,he attack without wait
the man stood and hurt him hard
the woman was afraid
that her man might be beat
the husband was completely tired
the husband was completely beat
the winds blew ,the sun shined
the trees moved in speed
the woman stood and she called

she called him strong ,she was not afraid
he thought as she was beat ,
she would do his want
he came with smile saying my darling
opening his arms with happy speaking
you will be my God and I am praying
To you all days and nights, with I did as you want

he stretched his lips to catch her kiss
he closed his ears, he closed his eyes
he came forward the winds said
with anger "oh wrong comes with bad"
"he must gain his worth"
the woman hurt him ,hurt
he fall to the earth
the winds blew up and carried in a distance
the husband looked at her eyes
she demanded his forgiveness

she said you are worth that as I worth
he looked astonished and said in weakness
why?
She said "you didn't fold me"
You didn't say you love me
You didn't say you follow me
You didn't ask "do you admire me?"
He said "I went to work"
To be reach to live in a rank
As rich people in act
She said "**** rich ,**** all act"

The heart like a plant
Must be watered ,every be pet
If it doesn't get he may be gone
the love is like the plant needed to be watered
Andrew Rueter Sep 2018
I'm beautiful
Exuding soul
Protruding bold
Diluting cold
Until I fold
Once beauty is sold

Biting remarks
Made by sharks
Create sparks
Where it was dark
Displaying pain that is stark
As part of my character ark

They mug me
Until I'm ugly
Then suddenly
They're done with me
It must be some disease
Of a numbing freeze
From stunning thieves
Taking what I believe

They're not impressed
When I'm undressed
So I'm the stressed
I must confess
From this test
Of who's best
And who's less
A blue guess
That brews pests

This hall of fame
Dismal game
Is to blame
For the shame
In our brain
And our name
Fanning flames
Of social stains

I'm a coyote battling
With lonely howling
Until phonies scowling
Are all that powers me
Through what had been
Through what grew
I see you
Through the views
That light my fuse
It's you I choose

Flatter my vanity
To guard my sanity
Conjuring the man in me
More so than I planned to be
But became apparently

Through ****** gratification
You give social validation
You send a pal elation
That causes salivation
Until the callous nation
Invades my phallus station

Text me
I'm ****
To protect me
From the injecting
Inspecting
Dissecting
Directory
Next to me
That begs to see
The beggars seethe

Don't destroy my body image
With your haughty grimace
Applauding penance
An ungodly menace
You've become
Like Tim Gunn
A judgemental one
That fabricates fun
By blocking the sun

Incoherent
Interference
In the clearance
Of my appearance
Not knowing nearness
Outside your austere fence

You flippantly
Didn't see
The death of me
Or the mess I bleed
When my chest can't breathe
While you're blessed to breed
With a superior steed

The eye of the beholder
Is behind their shoulder
That keeps getting colder
From insurgent soldiers
Throwing boulders
Becoming molders
Of the boaters
With no motors
Who float through life
And drown in misery
From societal strife
Of subjective mysteries

To act on the behest of me
Say that you've met me
Say that you've let me
Enter you gently
To a centrifuge ending
For relationships pending
With perceptions tending
To be needlessly upending
By comparisons impending
No matter what they're intending
There's no way they can mend me
When my social rank bends me
To be something pretending
Can be found in my self published poetry book “Icy”.
https://www.amazon.com/Icy-Andrew-Rueter-ebook/dp/B07VDLZT9Y/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Icy+Andrew+Rueter&qid=1572980151&sr=8-1
Spry distractions loaf on lithe intent,
men waking, wishing, trying,
b’lieving, doing, buying -inging time rather than be-,
results in salt-work, sprawling like the C
in coldness: callous spray
that dampens your New Canvas Day.

Pixels splat and reek of pure demise,
wine trauma met with whys
fires livid earth from foil-pressed crumbs
from which your towers rise. You miss
the point of -ing;
the shape you’re in’s an -e-d thing
writ past because of practice;
timed it slow, fixed solemn bets
all rife with catty pugil,
ribbons placed on “I-got-tīme-in” *******
that gleam too brightly
for the lover’s open eye. Youriyese
in grace, ingratiated by devices
(rueful caries)
shelter you from toil’s ten-thousand days.
You see them, they see you whilst print-ing,
comb-ing over, feel-ing joy anew: such sugar lines
the bottom
of a borrowed cup of time.

White hues direct-ing -ingots in a line
totally gold
and pin “pathetic” on your chest,
their best not forged in -ing or be-
(like they would want you to be) -lieve,
but rather hey! and halt!
The hollow points of discord,
blood of victims be- -in’ salt.
Steve Page Nov 2017
The Last Priest
smiled his blessings
indiscriminately
bridging
seeding
building
a new priesthood

beyond borders
across tribes
ignoring gender
discounting class
blind to race
snubbing rank
denying privilege

and preferring
a new holy nationality
for refugees
for stateless souls
like mine
- like ours
1 Peter 2:9-10
9 But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.
10 Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.

Galatians 3:26-29
26 So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith,
27 for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.
28 There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus.
29 If you belong to Christ, then you are Abraham’s seed, and heirs according to the promise.

— The End —