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 Jul 21 Ken Pepiton
Yuzuko
Please don't lie
or you will hold it until you die
so don't burden yourlself with this task
because that is a dangerous cursed mask
I loved a star that never knew my name,
a silent flame,
fixed in the wreck of night.
Her stillness fooled me
into believing she sang.

She blinked once
in some long-dead century,
and I’ve lived ever since
by ghost light.

They say she's gone,
burned out or broken,
but I keep whispering psalms
to her afterglow,
drinking to the shape she made
in my sky.

I don't need the truth,
just the dream
of her burning.

Like something that waited for me,
not knowing I was too late
the moment I began.
Streetlamps flicker,  
echoing their silence.  
The chill—  
not just in the air,  
but between glances  
that once burned.  
Footsteps dissolve  
into memory's fog,  
while love  
learns its first  
bruise.






.
 Jul 19 Ken Pepiton
Traveler
On this cold summer morning, I pull my extra cover over my hairless aging legs. The moon seems to be going through some strange end times faze.
I enjoy my coffee and dare to watch the dreadful world news, nothing seems to changes, we’re still being lied to.
Hidden bigotry in plain sight,
manufacturing a reason to strike.
When will the cold morning fade
into the restful sleep of yesterday’s
……….
Traveler Tim
 Jul 19 Ken Pepiton
Crow
Armada
 Jul 19 Ken Pepiton
Crow
fleeing beyond the horizon
a retreating sun sets ablaze
the rigging of aerial galleons
vapor masted and cloudy hulled

running before the wind
with full sail aloft
they press in hot pursuit
their unobtainable quarry

the pale mountainous island of the moon
secure in her fortress
regards the fleet with haughty disdain
as they hurry past

endless blue waters of the sky
deepen towards black
and breakers
on the great reef of the Milky Way
come into view

the fleet softens
losing interest in the hopeless chase
the ships dissolve and stretch out thin
on the last gasp of the failing wind

day sweeps over the edge
of the diurnal shelf
passing from shallows of dusk
to the starlit deeps of night
For so many reasons;
When the wow creativity
Of the young, new baby poets,

Bursts all over me,
Making me question
My egotistical perception,
Not a slap, but a belly laugh!
At the old fool, who once thought
Ever so secondary briefly, momentarily,
Unofficially, of his own esteemed self-worth,
Only to be reminded, deaf~dumb & blind~sided
By the fresh air, the aggravating sight of new insight
The delicious!delight  of reading the whole of all night
The explorations, the baby hallucinations, the trembling,
Insights of the explorers of the old, not re!newed, but, but.
Made anew, re~viewed with perspectives boldly unknown,
With crazy wisdom to expound, here, you! right here, right now,
I leave you and return to delight, taste, new extra languages, that
                                               I must
                                         learn not to speak
                                       but to peak, even to
                                     Cry, Laugh even Smile  
    
                              In all my new native tongues



Friday, July 18
5:39 AM,
2025
In the sunroom

Dictated in one fell swoop, not a moment to lose, dispatched while
Still laughing at myself...
 Jul 19 Ken Pepiton
lizie
for as long as i can remember,
i’ve been chasing perfect,
tight-laced, gold-star, quiet ache.
and for a while,
i think i caught it.

but i’m not perfect anymore.
i flinch too easy,
snap too fast,
leave texts unread,
pick at scabs that should’ve healed.

people still call me smart, kind, strong,
and i don’t correct them.
it’s easier to wear the mask
than explain the mess underneath.

i disappoint myself
in small, sharp ways,
forgetting, avoiding, breaking down.
i say “i’m fine”
because it’s faster
than confessing i’m not.

expectations stick like static,
even when no one says them out loud.
and i still feel guilty
for letting people love
someone i no longer recognize.
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