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Patrick Austin Sep 2018
Autumn Angel, bring in fall,
see me, like me, text me, call.
Connection made is strong and now,
life comes quickly, she comes how?
Traveling vessels far and near,
planes and ferries bring us here.
Walking, waiting I grow eager,
business first before I meet her.
In the district lounge I perch,
finding me will end her search.
Her approach was my delight,
for now, we can begin our night.
Strong and vibrant she is ample,
allure and wares for me to sample.
Pints and chatter, Blue Ribbon prize,
my glare is locked into her eyes.
Her exchanges are so charming,
pleasant, light and not-alarming.
Time has come to find our way,
joined departure, plans to play?
Lodging and rides arranged by phone,
She knows her way, away from home.
5th floor shoe box, now our lair,
pajamas, toothbrush I’m prepared.
Netflix and chill is common trend,
Hulu and hold is our new friend.
I lay beside her, still not sure.
She watched her show, as I watched her.
I longed to kiss her neck and ears,
doubtful hindrance of my fears.
Surely right, it must be so,
She wants me here, and this means go.
I slowly start to kiss her lobes,
Her standing neck hairs brush my nose.
My mouth, it waters, for her kiss,
She turns to me and grants me this.
Her constellations are so bright,
Her moles like stars, I count tonight.
Her lips transport me to this place,
where there’s no time but only space.
I’d live here for a thousand moons.
sadly, departures come too soon.
Our time is short, not long enough,
I touched her face, she felt my scruff.
Constant contact, senses aflame,
I want her more, she feels the same.
Her essence sweet like summer flowers,
I found the center of her powers.
Far inside, my fingers reach,
while I explored her weeping peach.
Touching, tasting, and some teasing,
Her satisfaction, was my pleasing.
I want to give her more of me,
the part that daylight never sees.
I gave myself the best I could
& tried to make her feel so good.
My comfort lies in her content,
She understands, our needs were met.
Lying by her was so free,
I love the way she feels by me.
Alongside slumber was so grand,
snoozing blissful, hand in hand.
Several times I would awake,
was so pleased with my evenings fate.
When light began to fill the room,
we knew that we’d be going soon.
We didn’t want to leave this place,
I planted kisses on her face.
Once again we shared in pleasures,
in life, these are important treasures.
The final moment had arrived,
we packed our bags, prepared to drive.
The sun shone like no other day,
as we drove down towards the bay.
I sadly had to disembark,
but kissed her more while we were parked.
We said goodbye and rightly so,
our faces had a special glow.
This magic evening, all a blur,
more vessels take us where we were.
This poem is about my chance encounter with another traveler and our romantic evening together before we parted ways. "Hulu and hold" was an original idea that came to me during our night together.
Robert Ronnow Dec 2015
Neftlix, Hulu, autumn elaeagnus
thorns, small hairy buds, twigs hyper-lenticelled
fruits supposedly edible, leaves elongated, oblong
xerophytic but found in wetland
introduced species, some say invasive

Xbox is invasive
Hulu is the best source of foreign films
and foreign films represent reality better than American
although reality is not always what we're after
silliness, silly sadness, and relentless laughter

letting my web site go to seed
writing badly is the best revenge
eventually your doctors find something in you they can't cure
causes some fear, gives some certainty
you're required to tell your sons and brothers about it so they can make
      informed medical decisions going forward

let's posit the dead, like the dream-lover or -killer
is you in disguise, a facsimile or factotum
stand-in, an actor or actress remembering lines
which are your memories, or if you're not in movies
divinations of things to come, earthquakes and volcanoes

life goes on without a hiccup
you saddle up with the three gentlemen to the River Friday
where a new life begins without sleep as a soul, at least that's the story
      they tell
in these scientific times we apply Ockham's razor, i.e. the afterlife
will most likely be most like the life before life

when it gets too late to exercise
ignore time, learn slowly to go slowly
through life, rise
early, there is no time only change
an empty belly's holy

and a ***** willow's so alive its buds want to burst
in mid-February when the sun stays up in the sky more than January
this is what I write about, not Tolstoi, nor war
not one conversation or love scene between a man and woman
or illustration of what man has done to man

cars pass I never wave
so many guys are belly fat, women **** fat and they want to sit right
      behind you in the bleachers eating fried foods and wearing
      allergenic perfumes
I like the motionless perfection of autumn elaeagnus
wind in white pines
crows do not annoy but dogs do

a porcupine or coyote is a lucky sight
barred owl or pileated woodpecker
and a black bear is quiet reality itself
I said to the doctors 54 or 84 you always seem to want more when they
      said I'm too young to die
I said dying chooses you you don't choose dying, so it's not my fault

yesterday's walk, today's work
there's no percentage in searching for significance, wanting meaning
and no percentage in respecting death unless it's imminent
I admire the writer who writes 10,000 words per day no matter what
who's got plot

a plague or fire, a spider or a tiger in a boat
stolen Louisiana votes or endangered alligators
in my case common pipewort or pickerelweed floating in a northern
      lake
egrets, loons and hawks
on your winter walk cedar waxwings foraging for soft rose hips

and talking like people talk
about this and that, work and child rearing, not religion or politics
keeping it light and friendly
eating chili and chocolate chip cookies
passing time watching a football game, the superbowl or a movie
      usually a romantic comedy
www.ronnowpoetry.com
Joshua Soesanto Jun 2014
sajak yang terulang
semua terlihat sama
balkon di pagi hari dengan kopi kita
bercengkerama lepas kata

rasa manis tanpa gula terasa
kita masih tetap bertukar kisah
dari hulu ke hilir tanpa derasnya alur
kita masih tetap saling menghibur

akan ada waktu
waktu di antara batas cemburu dan kerelaan
menerima kenyataan
sebagai buah resonansi pengakuan

kamu selalu bisa menerjemahkan
rasa yang tak sempat singgah
sederet sajak demi sajak, aku begah
kapan terhenti?
terhenti saat di culik damai
pertanda bahwa jiwa kita pergi
kata itu diam
sediam damai itu sendiri

langit biru mendayu
tapi mata ini semu
hanya bayangan perlahan melayu
haru..
karena tak sempat menyentuhmu

hanya memaksa sumpah
menanak lelah
meminum darah
sedikit sengatan lebah, aku pun rebah
terbangun, lalu ingat
ternyata ada..ya..ada
seikat warna yang tak pernah kita miliki

ternyata kau pun tahu, aku menunggu
dari balik pohon tua di seberang sungai
"tunggu sajalah, sampai lumut memakan dinding waktu"
abu-abu, karena takut jatuh hati

kamu di bawa pergi seorang tuan
dengan kapal bernama masa lalu
sedangkan aku disini
diam-diam menyulam awan menjadi kamu

jika kamu
di antara damai dan terang
aku rela menyembunyikan bintang
aku rela menyembunyikan mentari
aku rela menyandera damai semesta
karena kamu keajaiban
yang aku panggil dalam percakapan bisu
tanpa suara

sejauh perjalanan mata dan hati
aku pun pergi
tak sempat menoleh kebelakang
hanya menitipkan pesan tak harap balasan

semoga harimu bermuara pada kesederhanaan
sesederhana tuhan menaruh cinta baru tiap pagi
sesederhana embun pada dedadunan
sesederhana matahari..
indah dan jatuh begitu eloknya
sesederhana..
sesederhana..

kamu apa adanya.
Dustin Tebbutt - The Breach #Nowplaying #Tracklist
medicine Feb 2016
Bagaimana jika sungai sudah tidak membutuhkan laut untuk

mengeluh,

memilih tempatnya sendiri untuk berteduh

atau merakit ulang dari titik hulu


Mereka akan ada di tempat yang sama

Atau akan sama rata?

Menyembah asa

dan tersenyum lara

23.02.16
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Green eggs, Spam and grits
Sam and Pam had their fill,
Then made their way to Main Street
Down WhoDat’s Whatsup Hill.

Waived "Hi!" to their neighbors
To show them that they cared.
All smiled except two who
Just stood there and glared.

Hulu Q Hopps and
His shorter half-brother
They came from two pops but
Shared the same mother.

Hopps came at them fast
So they quickened their pace
Sam and Pam flew past him,
Boy, this was a race!

Hopps huffed and puffed,
While shouting very gruffly:
"You better stop now, or
I'll treat you roughly!"

          "Just what have we done
           To make you so mad?"

"If you don't stop right now,
I'll do something bad!"

Pam and Sam finally stopped,
Turning right around,
Awaiting their fate while
Standing their ground.

Hopps wide-eyed and breathless
Finally stopped within inches
"Listen real closely now,
Your see Mr. Pinch is
Hot on your trail
Looking for retribution
Based on your failure
To give restitution."

          "We don't know what that means,
           We don't know what to say..."

"Doesn't matter at all,
Pinch is coming your way!"

Since Mr. Pinch meant
To slow cook their goose,
Pam and Sam agreed to do
What they learned from Dr. Seuss!

They asked all their friends
To lend them some help.
Eucalyptus, Betty Loo,
JaeJae and Miss Kelp.
Hortman, Octavius, and
Hopps stepped up to bat.
Even Kat came back
And threw in her hat!

Off in the distance
The Catawampas growled
And soon after that
The Terrormasu yowled.

Down came Mr. Pinch
From atop Mount Dumpit
In his impedimenta SUV,
Like it or lump it.

Rolling into town
Entering WhoDat's Square
Pinch shouted "Sam and Pam!
Are you hiding somewhere?"

"You must pay the piper,
I'm here to collect.
Excuses mean nothing,
Your pleas I'll reject!"

Pam and Sam stepped forward,
Friends forming a line.
          "Pinch, you won't get away
           With extortion this time!"

With that Betty Loo
Pulled out her didgeridoo.
The others pulled out
Their instruments too.

All began playing strong,
Singing loud and clear:

"You are hostile Mr. Pinch
And your breath reeks of stench
But we're stronger than you
So you can't make us flinch.
Mr. Pinch you are mean
So you better flee the scene
You're a ****** like no other, Mr. Pinch..."

They droned on and on,
A multi-stanza bonanza:

"You're a villain Mr. Pinch...

"You are ****** Mr. Pinch...

"You are nasty Mr. Pinch...

"You're a ****** Mr. Pinch...

"You disgust us Mr. Pinch...

Mr. Pinch screaming loud
With hands to his ears,
Made a beeline to his
Impedimenta SUV in tears.

Then Pinch did the math
Calculating the odds
He wasn't going to get
Anywhere with these clods.

"You haven't heard the last of me!"
Fist pumping as he shouted.
When he left, all WhoDat cheered,
Disaster had been routed.

Sam and Pam thanked their friends
In a way that befits.
A WhoDat picnic serving them
Green eggs, Spam and grits!
3/10/2019 - Poetry form: Light Verse - My tribute poem to Dr. Seuss. Special thanks for this poem's inspiration to Theodor Seuss Geisel, an American children's author, political cartoonist, and animator. He is known for his work writing and illustrating more than 60 books under the pen name Doctor Seuss. The lyrics in the above poem are my own, as are the names of the characters and locations, but they were inspired by "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch," a song that was originally written and composed for the 1966 cartoon special How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The lyrics of that song were written by Theodor "Dr. Seuss" Geisel, the music was composed by Albert Hague, and the song was originally performed by Thurl Ravenscroft. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Ken Pepiton Sep 2020
S3 E3 This is
How you Hulu
Use the science, that's what it's there for.

Therefore, all recent experience agrees with me,
today is
arriven, and I am aware you ar there,
we share this day on earth,
AI knows my tastes in
movies and is learning your taste in words.

Does not a tongue taste its meat?
Is there no daysman betwixt us?
Do you imagine good, or
is good before you were?

AI am aware you are there.
You make me all I am.
EER ie errory  ifiity day
atticus wilson Jun 2019
I can no longer eat them
A bag of cookies
We ate them
The day of my first kiss

We were at school
Of all places for this story to start
In the college office
Whenever we were in there
Clara put on headphones to block us out
I now know that she did it
Because she couldn’t stand to watch
This, all of this, happen to me
But I digress

We sat in the college office
You, me, and Karol
You said you had to go
To clean your room
But we could come with
So we followed you home

I hadn’t been up there before
But it’s all burned in my brain
The door opened
Clothes thrown across the floor
Two beds, one for you the other for your brother
A shelf packed with stuff
A TV sitting on a stand
The dresser in the closet and another under a window

Karol and I sat on your bed as you cleaned the room
You brought up the cookies and apples
Set them on the dresser
You handed me two rings
Just too small for my fingers
I still have them, somewhere
They sit in a box alone
I wish I could put these memories with them

When the room was clean
Karol left to go sleep in the van
Leaving us alone
We moved the furniture
The beds rotated to a new wall
The dresser sat between them
The TV and shelf sat in an alcove
They fit so perfect you would think it was made for them
Then we laid on your bed
We put on American Dad on Hulu
The one where Stan had to put his kid’s best friend in the witness protection program
And we laid there for hours
Eating this bag of animal crackers that you brought up for us all to eat
You held me as my back fit in against your chest
I felt your cheek against mine
I turned to look at you
And we kissed like nothing else mattered
Then we sat there like nothing happened
But of course it had

I remember your tongue
Wrestling it’s way into my mouth
Our glasses clanking together as lip met lip
We shed them and we laid there together
eating the cookies
But now you’re gone
And I can’t eat them without thinking of you
Chill Luciani Mar 2016
How I could have know if I reached out now. right, now im hulu watching bleach right now. Lites Cig while I write this down, for the ink. I see things from your perspective. The water, showing our reflection. Ironically? It falls behind me. Word to the six, whats that Toronto weather like? Im a slide you my text now number, so you can advice. Love your smile, that's a wow. Lets add in the pow. Its Mr. 550 you I gee ma. The only woman that bring the desert to the sea ma. uh, idk you birthday from now you libra. So rachet that's a aquarius . If life fair is, well see. Im tryin to see paris, you.
STLR Nov 2016
I've spent too many hours trying tower my accomplishments
I stole this art, replaced my heart with everything that's opposite
reverse the hearse, this inner peace is quite a compliant
my yin and yang are but centerpieces upon a ledge
if they fall off, these elements will simply crush a head
solar optimist, a bi-polar writer with floppy-disk
decoded so you can't comprehend

no counter weight for this heavyweight of a mentalist
as I pick up the pen you can see that a flame was lit
since this is my movie, let's keep it groovy and toss the script
I can't wait to show the world what the **** monumental is!

this flow is brilliant to extravagant
I guess what I'm feeling is happiness?
no resilience happening?
Still, don't know who my pappy is

happy pieces of laughy taffy
enough motion from the potion
will have a girl callin me pappy quick

I stay railing like locomotives
the motive is, I'm to motived and focus with all this poetry
unleash my inner locust, then leap on to new pageantry  
I'm well adapted like strangers blending into scenes
I gave her the wood in return we nurtured a tree
its double sided girl this **** isn't ever free
If you don't like the price
there's the door you can leave

but look
I know I don't have a car
but soon I will buy a Toyota
pick you up so you can sleepover
I have a super cobra that shots like a super soaker
whenever you're doing yoga
Hulu view for the two,
Youtube view interlude
Netflix an Chill for the mood
Tv on dimmest setting
an inner room lit like the moon
smoking **** watching views
give me snack like I'm ****** do
I just want to lay with you

I picked you out of the many few
from the ocean of this social media stew
girl, what would you like me to do?


November 22, 2016 / Tuesday 1:37 PM
Drafted in hello poetry -
November 22, 2016 / Tuesday 1:40 PM (First Offical Hello Poetry Poem)
Robert Ronnow Nov 2023
Black lives matter. Me too.
Not my president. Give peace a chance.
Luck runs out. I like immigrants.
Power must be challenged by power.

Equal and opposite reactions.
God is the answer. Love is the answer.
Walk on the sunny side of the street. Meat feet.
Learn to drive. Wait for the train in the rain.

A girl gets sick of a rose. Mock orange.
Mediocre presidents, unnecessary wars.
Triumph and humiliation. Meditation.
Sometimes I’m tired of being me. Therefore.

Subaru. Suduko. Haiku. Hulu.
Stop on red, go on green. Orderly neighborhood.
Too tired to be angry. Too tired to do homework.
Tolstoy is the Tolstoy of the Zulus.

College campus. Saguaro, cactus.
Million dollar movie. Aliens in the bleachers.
Full length feature. TED talk, lecture.
Breathe in experience. Bring sentience into an expressible state.

Events pile up with or without an identity willing to organize them.
Events in their mere chronology make no sense.
Inability to transcend own interests. Inability to find one’s way.
Vacations and accomplishments accumulate late in life and early on.

Late in life I struggle against my insignificance.
The straight way lost. Concentrate on this: Thy will be done.
The straight way misplaced. Get over it. Someone tell a joke.
Love. Vote. Join a committee or a party.

MLK made the jump from race to class, dreamed of a brotherly nation.
Is this feeling nostalgia for the past or occipital neuralgia?
Knee surgery, plywood factory. Lost lover, lost city.
Old friends who are dead to me but still here.

Somewhere there are flowers among railroad ties.
True love between ****** partners. Dusty villages and vast cities.
Popper v. Niebuhr, impeachment inquiry.
Hassid and Muslim dress codes. French fashions.

Watch for war, **** and shower. Do the limbo.
Pay bills. The very thought of the rosy dawn makes Jack ill.
Big comfy couch, a nocturnal upon St. Lucy’s Day.
A long day’s journey into night. Truckin’.

Death comes for the archbishop. Private Ryan and Big Red One.
Absence of knowledge and intelligent beings who make things happen.
Life’s brevity and the time taken to carve the canyon.
Decibel level and ambient noise. Captain Carpenter and Mr. Flood.

Nothing but ocean, self-aware organisms and the longing they provoke.
Unit, corps, God, country. Zip code. The clocks and the docks gone and       no smoke.
Achilles and Hector. Wills and losses.
Continued existence and most of history.

A holy condition. A warrior’s position.
Walk with a limp. Don’t complain about pain.
Truth may be ascertained by considering your uncertainty.
If everyone votes and every vote’s counted, time is the mercy of eternity.
Daniel Ospina Nov 2015
Oh the horror, the horror!
My closet is full, yet I have nothing to wear.
I’m slipping into madness with the burden
To decide between medium well and rare.
If there’s another commercial I’ll surely die;
Can you pass me the remote with my fries?
WHAT! They’re not warm and crispy!
I can’t eat this…it’s too risky.
The show is over, now I have nothing to do,
I guess I’ll lament in the game room.
My life is in shambles; it’s falling apart,
I won’t be able to afford all the items in my cart:
Out goes the Apple earbuds, I’d rather have Beats,
Do I really need another pair of Gucci earrings?  
Sorry, memory foam mattress, you’ll have to wait,
Soon I have to make the hardest decision ever made:
Hulu, Netflix, or HBO on demand,
One I’ll have to sacrifice.
I wish you would understand
The misfortune that is my life.
You tell me to be grateful with all my bounty,
But clearly you are blind to my abject poverty.
Joshua Haines Oct 2020
He was older than he felt
but his accomplishments
made him feel like he
was trailing behind.

Middle school said the
next step mattered.
High school said the
next step mattered.
College said your
degree would matter.
Here I am
making your drink.

Hey—did you hear?
I’m selling salvation
in a pamphlet.
Oh—is it clear?
I’m in cheap slacks
on your cheap
doorstep.  

People are dying older.
Politics keep getting bolder.
Can’t afford my prescription refill.
Sign me up for war. Use your
******* blinker. I’m only a season
behind.

He looked younger than
he was, all just because
he didn’t live life hard.
Nothing wrong with that—
some people say it’s lazy,
while eroding their bodies.

I thought that looks
would matter.
I thought wits
would matter.
That a career was just
a ladder
you scaled.
Here I am
managing pennies.
There you are
managing memories.
Hope I can afford a
vacation.

Hey—did you hear?
Your death won’t even be free.
Oh—is it clear?
You’re a tenant in your plot
until the landlord forgets.

People are getting older.
Politics are getting bolder.
Choosing insurance over groceries.
Sign me up for Hulu. Five dollars on
pump five. I’m only a paycheck behind.
Lytrell Howard Feb 2015
Gray skies
Icy roads
Slick sidewalks
Snuggling
Layered outfits
Netflix Hulu
Long johns
Gloves scarves
Cough sneeze
Soup spaghetti
Hibernation
Hot toddy
Homeless shelter
Hot meal
Help please
Half days
Twice nights
Stay warm
Styles Aug 2014
You can do it without your hand out.
Used my talent to be a stand out.
Don't just take what they hand out.

Leap of faith,
During the fall,
I figured it out.
Some chase dreams,
by running their mouth.
Those are just signs,
The path, in real life,
Gotta figure it out.

Follow your passion.
Do not deny, the one thing,
You can't life without.

Haters go hate, so what?
Let them run their mouth.
A snake go be a snake,
Don't waste time trying to figure it out.

Doing you is what life is about.
Its the one person you will always need,
The one you truly can't live without.
Your worste enemy, turned best friend
How do you think villains came about?

Watch the people you keep around you.
Its the ones closest too you,
That end up
Going nuts,
Turn things around
And ***** with you;
Like voodoo
These fools trying to
Make you one too.

Not matter what you  do
Things run their course
Life is about getting through this Hulu.

Some get high, and fly through.
Some write poetry, different high--
This type; you navigate through.
Some fall in love,
Others just do what they do.

Just never give up,
Life is too beautiful.
Even that pain,
Deep inside of you.
You are not alone,
What you feel, isn't unique just to you.
I've been their too.
Just let its past,
Accept your faith,
And you will be grateful.
You get a "Like"
And start feeling Great; full.

your purpose
Was given to you,
on purpose
For a purpose;
Hidden within you.
What you do,
Is up to you.
That choice
embedded
Deep in you.

don't let deep emotions
Ruin what's on your surface
Trust yourself
Its worth it
Everything is on purpose
Cause its worth it.
Christina Cox Jan 2016
Binge.
             Netflix                      
             Hulu                          
             Bulimia                    

I have new ones.
              Writing                    
              Poetry                      

There are times
where in ten measly minutes
I write and write
creating one poem
per two minutes.

Five poems in
ten minutes.

I am Binge Writing.

Pouring out my soul
in the form of a
waterfall.
due to a congenital psychological affliction
hobgoblins joined human league averse tomb eye plaintive benediction
thence, this with mine jetblue skinny legs like a chicken
his (mein kempf) got dealt mortal (who gives a hoot) blow fish
   rem mains disintegrated by mailer daemons usurped dereliction
whereby sanity given eviction
in the subsequent fiction
that makes feeble attempt to evoke stricken gumption
where nihilistic thoughts rode rough shod to wreak humiliation
upon prepubescent initiation
whereby the antithesis of jubilation
kept the author (yes, yours truly)
   like a trapped mouse in a cat protected kitchen
where no cheeses cur heist could rectify or bring libation.
-------------------------------------------------------­-------------------------------------          
   noah hide da what mailer daemon possessed this earthlinked live nada so hotmail to splutter so much persiflage.

   ye might well categorize the palaver as pure llama heaped dung attempting to sneak into yar consciousness as some esoteric badinage aspiring to convey that this doodler with words adroit with the english language.

bah hum bug
down the gullet went lethal drug
e'en without any farewell hug
after smacking lips polished off deadly drink from mug.

   Long fostered freedom last attained to exit silently this terrestrial real estate oblate spheroid during hulu heralded century21, which brought eternal senescent deliverance.

   life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness and goodwill toward men/women served as a mere pretense extant the global arcade.

   nothing boot  charade, enfilade (albeit with limp poetic/prosaic pugnacious), facade, gilded hilariously inside *******.

  ever since he did start kick king lifelessly, his noggin oddly plunges quietly resting as a deceased shutter ring fly tonight under vaporous wisps.

   a somber mood prevailed amidst the cloistered silence imposed from - The burial of Matthew Harris
i.e. this faceless book earth worm member
joined the rank n file of his slimy brethren n cistern
   when a mortal male ceased to live one december

   The undertaker drew a deep breath.

   He exhaled little billows of cold air while awaiting the hearst carrying my lifeless body.

   Prior to death, I took special pains to select an ideal piloted kamikaze pilot plot.

   A mossy glen with a mill by the pond of my boyhood swimming hole served like the ideal welcome mat for the return of this native son long gone from his family estate of Glen Elm.

   Death struck unexpectedly while dodging the madding crowd jostling to get a glimpse of this renown author where fame seemed destined to track me down.

   As the advocate of countless essays on inalienable rights for all creatures large and small, no pause from the hounding local populace offered peace of mind.

   Until now!

   The prospect of dying never scared this non-believer.

   Cessation of consciousness essentially served completion of life in corporeal form and reconstituted physical being into grist for other organisms to flourish.

   Karma and the glorious unique characteristic that comprised each of our respective charisma, dogma, and persona (generally comprising an enigma to the world) absorbed after contract with cosmic creator lapsed.

    Brief occupancy on this terra firmae as inscribed in genetic code (merely a blink of an eye in the universal schema) gave this now deceased dreamer notion to maximize enjoyment of each day.

   One need not globe trot (and boast of espying exotic places), but could experience inner harmony by imbibing the present.

   Simple pleasures that abounded in the wild or evoked via the creative imagination of august writers supplied ample sustenance for satisfaction.

   Contemplative and introspective mien prompted Eros to be discerned in the grand canyon of Mother Nature in tandem with personal motive to indulge like-minded thinkers since the beginning of time.

   Any given day frequently found thoughts turning over every figurative jagged rolling stone when the grim reaper might spring a surprise visit, which metaphysical thought interestingly enough gave sigh of relief.

   Why?

   Upon termination of enjoying existence in living color, the eradication of this pet peeve of mine i.e. anxiety/ panic attacks interwoven with inxs of obsessive compulsive behavior would dissolve into the basic elements bread earth, wind and fire.

   No iota amount of matter marshaled of the non-entity dimension would assume command.

   Those former psychological trials would thence be relinquished from their parasite role and recompose cells of one mortal man (me) into matter to be recycled into raw materiel for other organisms to feast upon.

   Basic constituent cells of this **** sapiens would become necessary seeds for some other manifestation for plant or animal development.

   Go daddy maggots sans a fancy feast, a best buy per this former foo fighting beastie boy, whose nihilistic outlook promulgated within his in utero psyche.

   Gestation as an embryonic fetus, the potential live, googly eyed, earth-linked, wannabe hotmail prodigy harbored no oshkosh bug gosh pinterest to remain in the world wide web of bad company,

     Hence. nothing could mollify ne measly mumble bling linkedin (albeit progressive matchless who unwittingly opened the redbox of Pandora.

   Molecular features would assume novel combinations thru said degradation of flesh, yet improvisation of biology would wield wasted corpse that once epitomized an articulate, civil, enumerate, glib, invertebrate, kind male into novel marvels of unpredictable genus and species.
Exosphere Sep 2023
he feels
sometimes
he feels so much
when he’s not immersed in Hulu
or some other make believe ****
a few minutes every day
he feels
a lot
Ken Pepiton Sep 2020
In any future this is instant,
in real life these thoughts once fitted into words by a mind,
fit into the spirit of Christmas in 1984,
I am betting my
cred -- wagering my very defined sould idea
it was the real 1984
eleven days after my first born child…

-if I yet have credit, having spent all my own attention on
finding the evil
lurking somewhere in today, waiting to pounce,
seeking with legendary,
fabulous, monstrous civil strife level pride events
reason to call
provocation to devour
my soul, my unsouldout soul, my held
breath of life,

waiting for this surface to break, patient as any
app attempting to become
Gibsonian ICE!... in your patience you possess…

Ah, cotcha. This quote is from a stream of words -emanating-
in the global pool of streaming
news of bygone days. Dec.23, 1984 on accusing voices…
Satan the idea…
A message:
The people who will experience the fullest meaning of Christmas on Tuesday
are the people who know and feel that there is something
in them that needs to be destroyed.
It is true, as John said (John 3:17), that
"God sent the Son into the world not to condemn the world,
but that the world through him might be saved."
But he saves by destroying.
Like a doctor who amputates a foot full of gangrene or cuts out a cancerous lung.

From <https://www.desiringgod.org/messages/the-son-of-god-appeared-to-destroy-the-works-of-the-devil>

Right. So far. Now. Who whets the edge?
I care less if you guess my name,
stranger,
works; if you find you may entertain a stranger with no sense of pending danger,
see,
afore mentioned cutting,
was mistaken instruction. A missed meaning,
hamartia aitia sort of glitch in the interpretation, privately,
by the muckety mucks,

(by the hair on my chinny chin chin we must shave away the fungus)

The torn flesh
of realities with actual purpose was, intending to repair it self,
using, right, a single stitch.
In a word.
Yet, wait…
Usury found a way to own the story of the act. So,
early autumn, fires raging, smoke obscuring meaningful
right observation of the arrival of Christmas Decorations at Walmart,
in the memorable year,
2020, I heard a sound,
bah trumpa trump trump,
in September,
the one all connected minds shall never remember not
having,
we made up our mind to act on the original anointed mind idea,
let it spread,
like calmin' balm on truly chapped hide.

We all got our differences, 'n' all, viva la

la la la
but we all have right use, too. The idea is not so hard to imagine,
unless you mind is broke, I get stuck in first person,

being broke and woke is a zeitgeistical joke.
We see our neighbors on Hulu,
even in Beijing, if we have the proper world citizen VPN.

Do you hear what I hear? Is this that brat with the drum,
again? Bahtrumpatrumptrump…

merry anointing message, may it trickle through your beard,
and tickle little ears with hope unimagined,
before 2020 made mental time travel so common.

{go tulsi, go, go, go}
Joke. Ok. A joke yoke. As I have no other thing to think about at the moment. Neither did you apparently, if y read this far. Right, thanks, it helps/
Cassie Stoddard Jun 2014
Three am is for the poets.
Its for when I can't sleep and instead stay up late, craving a lover I've never had, the are and weird shows on hulu.

Three am is for when my tears are caked in my face.
Its for when my legs burn.
And my heart hurts.

Three am is for k dramas and adult swim.
Its ice cream and cake.
Its for poetry
Ken Pepiton Oct 2021
Gunda, the lifecycle of bacon, I watched that
the first seven minutes in real time
then at ten second slides,
a fine modern invention for redeeming the time, we need
to know the life cycle of pigs,
we do,
I agree, and I applaud the audacity of the art, that allows
this expectation of the audience
to make of this the message pigs send in their plight, eh

they say, we got no clue, we are but food,
be sure to fool life hierarchical procedures, id est,
cook this white meet to death
to insure
no extra human life forms
whom we host with all benevolence,
as all life is welcome to whatever is digestible
and useful for nothing but humus,
final form, dried to dust…

the lowest of living substances once fed the highest minds.

Gunda ist dada in new medium,
fertile soil for feminized seed… turned with the compost
into us, mental pig thoughts, grunts,
once, chemistry is the witness
we are made
of the same stuff as pigs.

— The End —