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july hearne Oct 2018
mighty mighty miners  
mining for a heart of cryptocurrency  
mighty mighty houses  
might end up empty  

for fake fortune  
for a drop of wine  
for a speck of grain  
for fake fortune  

nec·ro·man·cers quick with answers
will you be their broke financiers  
will you be their paraplegic dancers  

you've got nothing to lose  
just a shield of children  
wielding weapons  
no one knows how to use  

mighty mighty miners  
mine on empty  
too much vacancy  
in a heart of cryptocurrency  

all one person  
all one horsemen  
all fake fortune  
all one horsemen  

wish NPC weren't too dumb to understand
mighty mighty houses built upon sand
because every time jeff eats an iguana,  
he's got the whole free market in his hands.
*Roky Erickson - I Think of Demons

Micah 2:2
They covet fields and seize them, and houses, and take them. They defraud people of their homes, they rob them of their inheritance.



ISAIAH 5:8 (MSG Version)
"Doom to you who buy up all the houses and grab all the land for yourselves— Evicting the old owners, posting no trespassing signs, Taking over the country, leaving everyone homeless and landless. I overheard God-of-the-Angel-Armies say: “Those mighty houses will end up empty. Those extravagant estates will be deserted. A ten-acre vineyard will produce a pint of wine, a fifty-pound sack of seed, a quart of grain.
zhuo Mar 2012
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Player one, player two.
Who will you choose?
You've been switching the controllers,
And leaving us confused.
I load up the game
To find someone else's save.
Are you an NPC or boss monster?
You're so much more depraved

Player one, player two.
Who did you choose?
I don't see any winner.
In the end, both players lose.
My abuser dated two of us at the same time, and he seemed to be pitting us against each other intentionally. Purposefully making us jealous, telling one of us the other had said something horrible about them, banning one of us from being talked about and talking constantly about the other, sparking situations where we would fight.
It felt like we were supposed to compete to be the best partner or something, and one of us would always be getting left behind. In the end, we both left him.
Jeremy Betts Jul 2023
Maniacal laughter deployed to be louder than the roar of any monster

Most notably the inner

It gets harder and harder to adjust from loser to winner when just a beginner

Sold a bad bill of goods, nothing gets easier when older

I reside in my own temple but can't shake this feeling of being a squatter

Labeled by life as nothing more than NPC fodder

Never been...never seen a main character

In essence, I'm just practice for a dark passenger that always comes out of nowhere

Far scarier than the for mentioned inner monster but they conspire together

I am not now nor have I ever been a shot caller, never given a reason for no offer

Rather, I've been assigned a standard issue shock collar

Always trying to silence the hollar

Why bother?

Stay inline or find the hypocrisy of anarchy and counterculture

Tried bein' louder than ever before, pullin' from somewhere deep in my core

There's no one with a willing ear prepared to listen so no answer

Preforming to an empty chair reserved for anyone who might actually care

It's been empty for as far back as I've been allowed to remember

So I just stand there, wondering what's the matter, what is matter, do I matter?

A pitiful stature of a habitual quitter being quit on over and over

Want to know where I learned it? Just look over my shoulder in a family picture

This is a learned behavior taught by an unqualified teacher, both mother and father

Scream into the ether, I'm a dreamer but this nightmare ain't from a fever

There's no relief either

Not even first chair in the orchestra playing behind the dumpster fire of my own one man disaster picture

A head scratcher to any outsider, just another blunder to anyone who's ever been there

Next time'll turn out to be better

I swear

I'm a lier

We prefer the lie, at first it's far easier

A few too many attempts to hide the pressure, broke the regulator and boiled over

My present back lit by that there **** dumpster fire I explained earlier

My past rages unchecked through my future

A failure by every measure

No answer to why bother

...real quick...

This is off topic
But please don't let me become my father

...anyway...

Cover mistakes faster with lead paint over plaster

Pay no mind to the cancer that comes after

Dangle from a rafter like a fleshy chandelier

You don't have to guess what happened here

The dossier of the crime scene is crystal clear

You couldn't not get the picture

Even if the veil is never lifted, ignorance a problematic but gifted blinder

Gotta know I would never go and drag myself across the floor before arising once more just to lay on an altar

This has been nothing more than my dark passenger being front and center

How could I know letting it steer would lead to a full takeover of more than the arm and shoulder?

Will this ever be over?

Excuse me, is there someone there?

Has there ever been anyone other than me here for that matter?

Hello??

©2023
Elliott Jan 2015
My life is different now.
Like it's a game that's been updated.
And I am the main character.
And I'm always low on stamina and health.
Countless restarts, as though I've messed up the level.
But time still goes on and the level changes.
The game is a mess  with the only mission to beat being depression.
The NPC's  are all non talk-able pixels.
There are random jump scares and flashes of horror and gore.
Hard problems and puzzles to beat, with out the right answer.
No matter how many times I hit save, my progress is still missing.
My story line is incomplete.
No explanation or the controls.
No main objective, rather than surviving.
There are no cheat codes or a guide to help me.
It's hopeless.
There is no quitting.
There is title screen or pausing.
There is no end.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2022
The work words have to do, I do as well
leaving being as having been begun
ghabh-
also *ghebh-, Proto-Indo-European root meaning
"to give or receive."
The basic sense of the root probably is "to hold,"

Able comes from this, thus
ability  

8 billions, say
- the ob-servant says,
half are breathing in, as half
were breathing out,

certainly a few were out of sync,
so some of us sneezed, one would think
to effect the fectuality, unawares,

stutter steps, bridge march, aware
smell the honey suckle smell, no,
discern a subtle dif-fer tle,lit-tle
bit
literal not sames, similar sense, smell
seeming
how more aware have we all become,
we who lost taste and smell, while
experiencing a pandemic in our time.
Eventually endemic.
How rare are we in history? First wave.
Mindful, some how, now
my taste and smell
systems are back,
on.

Off, again, try to remember the smell,
of linden trees in Helena,
and wonder, set a mind on wish to know
will wonder, the worth of which we know

but fail to consider until… un til, tilling soil,
un
I think, et I'm y conjoined, to reconsider you.

At my bitterest root,
my jealousy and rage,
- alleluia, you know the drill
my will to act like some ancient god.
Cursing all I ever was.
-disconfabulating my own legend… uses
time, in points made.

May I guess we know each word,
writ and read, in this medium sprouted from
science with held from those
limited access faith confirmations, holy secret
ways out of paying for all the idle words,
never taken for the sense intended,
foremost
sense
posited, as a point in time,
we agree, I can, we did

--plea, please explain, make it seem
as real as any dream, we can't handle the truth.
-pointless-
- why carry the weight of knowing
think of nothing
in a word,
yet
not in time/
-- a spirit from the mortals fearing death
lives in this lie, cultural *******, fear of measure,
spit an image, imagine a nation, from dragon's teeth
spat, shat, splat, all the same, fat rain sound.
-- crack of the gavel, give us rapt attention---
order, order in the court, when, in fact,
judgement begins where Jesus says God is,
in his forever state, in me, of we, who
took him at his word, be true, live.
the way
courtesy commands, as judgment begins
in the spirit
of the man,

The right hand ignores the left hand clapping
-present the feeble fable

Discord sown among brothers-
hate the owning fact of life, only one breath,

- listen to the retold old word tale
- endemic demes enforced knowledge
- from **** to last told tale… we are this
- this is epic in each occurrence… we realize
smoked ribbon winds around in
form,
the long winter mind, all hearing ears, feel
from our gut, we obey. We join image-e- nations.

We dare ante-cipitate the motion in the dance.
All public opinion re
arrives at one point. We have no reasons for war,
we are not the users of others, we give, and
have been given unto, in some inexplicable way,

peace in time to rest in it, dabbling in old lies, left
binding cultural ties, as all reason for stiffness wilts

We listen to the Wendigo,
who wound the ******* greedy winding wake,
when the forest was aflame, and the wind had no cloud
that did not poison rain.
- meandering progress, not steam ship progress
sense posed reason aitia, to the t/
spirit and image in the idiom/
sublime

Now, the teller, looks to me, reminds me
of light perceived as punctual, flashing,
aha, waves in passing
understood.
Effectually.
- we stand as one.
- In the ready written mind.

All but he who takes a knee, ala George Washington,
under the leafless tree, in the olden vale.

The point of any thing, is made for, f-word for or fore
before, forsaking, one must make for some sake,
no relationship to four, for some reason, get
as a service, do what you do. Right.
Why would one enabled to do good,
do otherwise?

Ignor the answers you ask for.
Pretend poetry never makes
sense in terms of poetic good, exhaled, relieved,

passing coolness in the air.
- as gentle spirits some say do
Orderly arrangement, left mind, right or most versatile hand,
point at any thing,
bend that finger,
as on a trigger,
we can, we
know not how, we know, we have, we hold certain
positioning words as one mind may, I know,

I just got my smell back.
Like that, but after using your James Webb visualizing augments.
The wheel galaxy, just as imagined… we see

In effect, this is science, this is history,
this is art and language, holding sway,
we all know earth produces on a cycle, right,
greed breeds and brings forth famine,
famine finds us eating our corporations…
Jubilee, reset
-ship, shape, worth-shape, sense make,
peace where war was, one point
at a time.

Hold that thought, this is intended for

an audience, as the Terminal List,
was made to entertain military minds,
mental peace enforcer traits, keepers
of the secret, duty to the concept,..
live free, or die- for no reason,
save the Platonic essential lie.

Peacemakers were not intended,
we want valient warriors, at the core,
not the passive resistors increasing
capacity
to have the whole world sneeze.
And blink,
To sell words redeemed, mercurial recovery,

as from first people stories, branching away,

chaparral, between the salty sea,
and high reaching pine

fishing in a sea of social forgotten schemes/

Self govern, but in these days, not the future,
self govern now, participate in the present,

NPC over sight, non intervention-invention,
installed when you agreed, you watch,
do not rewrite the ending/

So, story being told.
Story being made up to conserve,

serve a certain truth we know, winter comes
some times for too long,

so we consider the ant, and remember Wendigo.

greedy gut, cheater, long time ago, we know,
we all can be the hungered beast.

Wait, and see, some day, we see the peace pass
for understanding, and we wonder into a we,
state of awe, as a we aware, we think

whole worlds and only words, at once.
Making peace from confused principle things.

We can, others have, agree; we are the best/

--------
Welfare, fare thee well, we said

we are as rich as ever was,
but we live a quiet life.

Pressure from some outside source,
begins be gins beginning to squeeze,

and pull and stretch, who needs the show
shown every where,
there, those other people, who own
no means to make a living form we are
reality personality types, all observants
become familiar with,
predicting winners, if it happens

I coulda been a contender, the audience
always know,
just how it feels, to be on your own,
a compleated unknown enfolding old Dylan licks,

Wendigo, there he go,
lickin' his chops, BG words are all I have
to take his breath away,

soft, and gentle/ sub-tility, wait, as sufficient

seed becomes something, never just a seed again,
and then just a seed a million times, in the wind.

-------------
3:55
I've driven myself to reflection
point,
observation con services ob
scene, objects mis directed, rect-
ify, io I mean, finger mover, on demander
I, free, willing, hunting wendigo from fantacy
conforming to hate manifested, abhor evil,
-never rests, never
rest in stranger's peace of mind,
find plain old apples in the tree, free, no fines,
no charge, non sense, an-tic

click onoma-tope -- under all of history, we know,

scribes, alone, found time to write, after reasoning
in the agora all day… ancient minds, WWSD?

--- listen, I am ashamed to beg, so, what does
your tab say, listen, I'm thinking

that's too much, here, take your ledger, wipe the debt.

Clean, no remnant from which revenant wrongs make claim,

first story told was told as lies, intended to deceive.

Knowledge is truth's gift, we live and learn
and pass it on. One point, inevitably crossing now.
And leaving a ripple, no marks

Yet, behind all that, this peace in mind, as a state, mindstate
timespace space time

taken, for granted bequilement does not disconnect,
knowing from known, and proof from pudding,
true rest,
reason for peace taken, in knowing, some body
had to believe, if it feels good, suddenly,
you know, every thing we eat
turns to ****, unless we learn…

that is good. Deal with it.
Homework, listen again to Braiding Sweetgrass.
kenye Feb 2023
Blessed be the civil war
brewing in the newsfeed
I just hope both teams
have fun

If it’s not our bodies tryna **** us,
It’s confirmation bias
with a gun

Cause we live in a society
stranger than satire
Doomscrollin’ infinity
For the next dumpster fire

If all the world’s a stage
Then my anxiety
is a crisis actor
When all the world’s enraged
I’m screamin’ CLASS WAR
in the theater

Blessed be these antidepressants
With side effects like
suicidal ideation

Heaven left all thoughts and prayers on read
Now thats what I call
getting holy ghosted

Full send to divine abandonment
In a digital sea
of arrogance

Your favorite God is smashing
The laugh reaction
While the body count rises
Achievement unlocked: death to empathy

Is this ******* play about us
Or are we all just NPC?
Cursed with Main Character Syndrome,
Glitching out behind the scenes-
playing the victim
Is the origin of your villain

Cause we live in a society
Stranger than satire
Doomscrollin’ infinity
For the next dumpster fire
Just to tell everyone you’ve been enlightened
Jeremy Betts Aug 24
The dust piles up
A warning sign of giving up
Dishes,
Not water,
Overflow the sink
A metaphor reaching its brink
No reason to really bother
No warning sign is enough for me to choose sober
I'm falling apart
The problems are located back at the start
I'm just an NPC
There's no reason to really see me
But I exist none the less
Ignored beyond my best

©2025
Natalie Spring Oct 2018
I don't have to listen to you
Does the protagonist ever mention his parents?
All you are
Is an NPC
Railroading me
Keeping me away from all that's uncoded
I want to go there
See the glitches
Be in the world unseen
So stop telling me what to do
I know my own path is worthless
Yes
No
Leave my decisions to the whim of the player
The player at least knows better than you
NPC
I am neither your hero nor your villain;
I am the NPC with a bow and arrows
hunting the invisible.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2023
The grand canyon runs between
the part of Mohave County blessed
with coverage
after the fallout
from the fifties,
and the lower part, south of the river,
east of the bend, there at Topock swamp.

Cancers above the line made by the river,
were rewarded, cash in some cases,
class actions and such, after the bloom
in GI Bill Law School Degrees…

leukemia in babies,
Downwinders in Mojave County,
just ended, dead, of northern afflictions.

Things like that and Julia Roberts,
got the voters to agree,
Lawyers should advertise,
- leading to what we have today
free speech, facing a true Kuhnian shift,
Directly presented, plain
for all
to see,
What freedom of the press was
to the owners of all means of exploitation,
freedom of speech, after internet, aight, is to any.
Any who, even you.
Who,
should any ask what Marshall McLuhan
continues to do, through 'is link to all you know,
text in context, denoting informed consent, you
think, as you read, and so
doing you do the deed, done so. We read,
thinking back
only one long mortal lifetime ago, we mostly did not.
On the whole,
have you never imagined
how many more of us know,
what was against the law for beings of the baser sort,
to learn, long
a tradition among the power elites, owners,
of all the national resources,
in a global syndicate,
entities, interests, trusts 'n'such, which
follow the pattern of the jewel merchants,
control the sources.
Restrict library cards immediately,
Carnegie is laughing from his grave… his will
- he did appreciate his Kipling
written in Indian Ink, under the Raj, If inspires yet,
as does Gunga Deen.
Film. Yes. Won't last. that medium,
too much trouble to watch it again, when
one can read a play, or a novel, or a poem per
haps forever, if the terminii are all out of sight.
As a lad, I was allowed to watch all the television,
I wished, and I wished I had a thousand channels,
in 1955, when Wyatt Earp got his life and legend
projected

into the worth cube at the core of mankind…
for all American boys, pun is there, naturally, all
of us American boys, no matter what our mommas were,
we, 1955, had been pledging five days a week, aliegiance,
we were sons of soldiers who had won the last war,
the one in all the inspirational Hays code cleared war movies.

Realist mind game art, in context, humbled,
by the giants tuned into, before the contest began, Truth
who dares, all comers. Common mental trope, all comers
come on, oppose my point and fall across my edge.

Little children, keep your selves from idols, such as
hold I role in all active avatars at any given point
in time, in tyranny over your bit in the mind of man,
taken to play mind games that are crafted for enjoying
the peace of selective reality powers we all can attain.

Write your self a tower to watch from, and watch,
Carnegie reading Kipling
by kerosene Rockefeller sold… meld into if

if you wish, imagine lampblack ink, or better,
squid ink, infused with carbon so pure, it seems
invisible, finest dust of diamond waste, used once
to shine a patterned steel san-mai blade.

Imagine the very smartest, not Einstein, person
alive when decisions were being discussed, crossing
swords with science use and useless social controls,
e.g. you know,
gra-acious example, interesting times, sifting selectors
goodness gracious, we have, in point of fact, too much
to filter with no reason,
why should one care to know why secrets are de rigueur,
poor soul asked what is going on, replys,
regular stuff, I suppose… ah, ag me on, suppose,

I invited Ben, Voltaire, and Nieztsche to cheese,
as I morphed into the Disneyified U.S. Certified myth.
The mouse in Ben and me, was the voice of the NPC.
- we had Verne's spinning disc libraries since
- drop a name from the hagiosphere of AI and IT
- Grace Murray Hopper… she's a memory.

Such books, we hold, as factual data, they hold words,
we, the current people, the fluid factor through which
CG NPCs pass in movies and games and entertainment,
- each pass think
who notices other people?
All the time, I mean, who cares, most of the time?

Crazy edgies, mad folk, filled with insights some time
passing left as artifacts, if you can believe this,
your world view shall encompass all one need know
about
why
we speak of the fall, and of original sin, we allow
priests and politicians and attention pimps, to lie.

Today, own self, and whole self,
declare adaptive lettering tech, publishing far and wide
art insisting, dare do,

think it through, couple thousand words,
what if you learn one cool new way
to think unthinkable things good
to know… post hoc.
We live as loudly as we must... life is simple, not too simple, more is sublime,
not empty of all hope that any thing you believed was a little bit true. Hard to think, but after all easy to get past... life, as a whole.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2023
One more silver dollar
buy another time a chance,
it was a time, not a dream, and

now has been, after that ever since
wisdom swept over me, my reality,

yours, in the same time, our reality
on starship earth, where the ancient
spells have been found to loose oath bound,

if you read this far, I wrote this far, and loved
the company in a same yeast state, define
state in states where war is made possible,
by treaty, representational power,
aimed at the child in the old man
being given worst, worsted wool's my first
right twist to be available in culturally npc
blend, walk by, that guy 120 fps

You could always see first he was not there.
Window's open he couldaflew the coop. Dime'sup.
Em MacKenzie Nov 2018
I read a disturbing truth someone questioned on the internet,
“the world didn’t end in 2012, but since then have you truly felt alive?”
I don’t wish to presume, but I would be more than willing to bet
that you feel the same, that you’ve fully lost your drive.
Marking calendars like clockwork, each box an imposing X,
but you’ve lost your absolute and essential favourite red pen.
We live as NPC’s but I’d like to believe we’re far more complex,
though we make the same mistake over and over again.

No sun burnt out, no moon fell,
but I swear the galaxy has changed,
we’re dazed and living under a spell,
our lifestyle’s completely deranged.
There was deviation from the reservation
that fate held out for us.
Abandoned salvation for sedation
the golden pastures have turned to dust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.

I know there’s growth in destruction
instead I loathe interruption.
Can silence be considered a confrontation?
I know there’s redemption in healing,
but I take each hit without showing feeling.
Can violence be considered mediation?
Decipher every word’s meaning
while performing spring cleaning
we’re all the same; we just want a good purge.
Ignoring every clear right sign
but complain about the fuzzy line
the one that’s crossed when you can’t resist the urge.

No sun burnt out, no stars died,
but the dimensions sure are blurring.
Auto pilot’s on and gravity’s been defied,
and no one sees this all occurring.
There was deviation from the reservation,
that fate held out for us.
I trade motivation for inebriation,
the golden pastures have turned to rust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.

Time isn’t so strong when you can break the clock
you know it’s possible to push back the hands.
For fate is chosen but destiny you can mock
from the deep seas to the hottest sands.
The past is already written
the ink is already dry.
The fire’s already been lit and
the flames are reaching towards the sky.
I’ve explored every emotional cave
and I’ve trekked through every lonely field.
When you’re scared it’s the only time you can be brave,
so grab your sword and don’t forget your shield.

No sun burnt out, no seas ran dry,
but the world suddenly stopped turning.
the world’s a game and life’s a lie,
but we must keep internal fires burning.
There was deviation from the reservation
that fate held out for us,
I replace meditation with self deprecation
the golden pastures I no longer trust.
But there’s got to be a link between worlds.
Richard Reid Jun 2018
NPC
I have the information you need.
But you walk by me.
Not noticing my face.
I am just another random.
A needless human being.
I can speak.
I can teach.
But I look as if I contain insignificant speech.
You reach beyond your vision.
See me in the your side mirror.
I am filling.
Not as empty as this game makes me out to be.
I wanna talk to you.
I want my point of view to come across to you.
You just rather keep going along but you’ve missed a valuable moment and now you’re stuck in the loop because you’ve ran passed me.
Ken Pepiton Dec 2024
At rest, satisfied I've done no harm.
I'll leave these waiting in line ideas
for your turn to happen on this information corridor.

It is the shopping season, I was told, so hold that thought.

Since we last shared our Sunday feelings, slow smiles,
easy breathings, laughing down deep,
sugar in chicory,
white shirt, sun bleached stiff, Sunday
feels like coffee
to a gut once punched breathless,

so we use our considerable peace
concentrating considering conditions
consuming the attention
of all willing war, stop
competitions
wills to win
instilled
we focus us, we
wishing, wishing, war, war, war,
whoa whoa whoa

sit up straight,
in your cave, alone look out
listen
right
for common sense say why

what for, asks the precocious child
in us all, this time
of year, the gear
of mortal thought
through gelled
gravity, pulling feeling pulled,
pushing feeling pushed
minds worths spent

wondering, if here is home,
where the core responsibility

is ours, not mine, we remain
in truth, life's automatic fundamental
mere words we understand, thought
basest mental function reconnoiter
hic-upping, holding

recognosis heresy as defined,
when such a label scarred me
- a compliment, such a scar  -
we breathe the same bubble, despite
any illusions, by time each is fine,
we fractalling tinier we points,
truer weforms reforming
facets holding worthier
bit roles valuse kept
at a true rest loss
in former face
to faces, diamonds cut diamonds
and scratch glass,
but so do Rhinestones, I tested
and cubic zirconium, yeah, too
youtubablefacheckable
edgewise twixt souls tied
in untested wills realizing how many times

we idly admitted realizing we had been beguiled,
but we were never condemned
for thinking so.

We realize

stretching
to contain the entertained pose,
suppose prepositionally magically
to make held breaths let go
be taken
in this form
as informed consent
wisdom from peace, once made
wise, used knowledge, waited
held while knowing, waiting
continues, until the end of time,
at which point,
such peace
pastless
breathing ease
be livable, a peace,
in a safe, satisfied mind,
of the kind the scriptures hold,
in formed words
of God, old surahs
and psalms and such,
inspirations enlivening
wisdom tested,
all acknowledge James,
San Diego, the peacemaker,
in this opera… the ragpicker, smile

soap opera reflections
persist, ever before
ever after, okeh

fine as any we can seem,
to me
by time told to smile

in clear text, all we recall,
we all may recall, for a while,

let the fretful fret, let the dead bury the dead.

Let your peace fill your place…

Let us say we use wisdom.
We used wisdom
to read so far.
Farther, still.

We may imagine
letting this mind already be
in us, as once, each we formed
with this idea Peace
on Earth as believed it is above,
in it init set once invariably declared
to obtuse angles
of approach, gentle, piercing point
of sublime peaceability
defined
as frictionless
fictionality,
easily entertained, for art's sake
some philosophic psy sayers see
arguing points is not warring
war makes proud falls
fester as the prouder enemy
perpetual villainy barely
perceivable
peaceable, but barely,
only in a thought bubble,
limited to your network access,

in plain text decoding
the noise, the humms, all those
basically bounce right here to make

these letters let these words answer
these qwerty witty invention info corridors,

replacing cuspidors
in the three door jokes. Preacher jokes.

{no, need, slow, do not forget the fall, three legs
  no yoke, need a cane, use a cane, but settle
where all the motion in the ocean is peace
Epimetheus anthropo peace, at last

from where this reporter sits,
on the calm
east edge
of December grey Pine Valley,

partaking
in yesterdays stored sunshine,

imagining writing effectual Christmas greetings,
empowered
to do what greetings once did,
as burning embers
in their heads
as we think
of our enemies, so are we, we
yes, we
are whom those must love,
or we all die lying
about whose math
makes useful sense, war or peace

pride or prejudice
blame or shame

debt or duty
to give back
at jubilee, joyfully.
Start with all new credit tomorrow.

Peace, nothing missing, nothing owing, sown.
By time.

Once done, the doing can be redone,
every fifty years, and knowledge
birth control and defensive
use of verbs like believe
and love and hate.
Live pre advised.

TIME AND AGAIN

like going
to the movies, but
before you knew you may disbelieve,
you did not have permission to leave, but
you could walk out and ask for your money back,
but, this time, you didn't
this Sunday, you let your peace
share imaginations common online,
mindshare through metadata sorting corridors
recognizance thorough preverb fixed beliefs on

breathing e okeh breathing, that's superfluous
unless e okeh
way
deep down settled silt
of the satisfied mind breathe-ing softly

endless scrolling bits
of nonsensed patterns
that seem funny
in the good medicine laugh, way

not the drunkensorrybacksliderdamnt'hell way, laugh

sorrysonofabitchwhowentsocrazy,
whoa, child,
laugh Tour et als
old time, it don't mean nothin' yoke
like now, it's funny,
we all collect
in corridors
of power
at points
of contention, we clog unstressed arteries,

yes, sitting sazen, said
to call
for some walking,
heel
to toe, perpendicularity regular as walking
on waves
in a puddle,
or my sister's version
of the mighty Mississippi…
she taught me
to spell, was a river,
like that, course slowing waters widen
each time the seasons change plains widen

by this point, bound
by mortal oathes
to time per se
we know knowledge never was outlawed, we do
we know, and we have always known, we did,
we used secrets, so we could have slaves, yes
- and share
- in all liar's shames, we used
- to sell our will
- to tell, we know most stories lie

and when we know why,
and when we know
we tell those stories,
as parables on choices,
by not trying the impulse
to explode
with awareness
of knowing available,
using old Kermit and Miss Piggy shows.
or vintage Dr. Seuss… indeed, the Who
we hear, to this very day, we do

so, did your parents or your grand parents
let you play with your own high speed
honest to god Optic to the wall,
speed to fact check, the least preverb will,

much the same class of possible answers
yes, neutrinos and neurons may answer
some stupid possible as well known,
odds are, if you got this far, your mind
is fine, you define the time browsing

this is my old curiosity shop, not one line
nor one precept used
to stock these corridors
of metadata corelating
at the speed
of thought came presupposed

since quite some time ago,
this is superfluity, as imagined,
by the ragpicker, as  he described the scribe…
the pen with intention to self correct,
the mind retention invention, us;
our we form in spirit as truth,
we all did,
we are the same down
to our lobster gene
joy reward we train
during spartan childhoods
towb ra' hard earned worth

of war, such social orders,

slaves pay only attention

to know how earlier,

of course they do it

for the same reason,

but. . . why do we think that same reason works
practiced in mind games made perceptual
realize the fact that pride causes contention,

we can pretend to fight friends, we cannot pretend
to pay the debts war owes war profiteers, ever.

Life is beautifully difficult, but never unreasonable…

after the original misconception
as to what dis-

connection entails, a ramification
of witless whatifs

well, that's
what has been called abstracted art using words
we all have cognates -
we all knowings using words up down right left
so close, so near, we think the very same ideas
first principal want need filled knowing
truth works, liars prosper, when truths
hidden
for power
to preposition protect liars
prosperity preserved
in ritual tradition
condition for peace, someday

another Pleasant Valley Sunday…

seconds seem so same
in ever before recollections
grand stacks
of all certain systems use
to enforce

defense
of war and hero preserved peace myths.

Blown
to hell,
by Orwell, and Shaw, et al

risen when the sorting sorted some
first mental assisting intelligence
how
to learn
with a known learning entity
with letters
to let us be neighbors
to befriend led
by a child
Tobor, but secret machine code
in a vocabulary we invent
second chances
a series of NAND gates
yes we have these now, indeed,
Feynman trinandretry why gates, we
teach our fingers qwerty keys we can see,
we could think,

newsprint, cheap,
to free, remainders
of ROP rolls, pulp paper

pulp fiction, smoke filled rooms,
daily takes
from the wire, copy boy

we get a Steno trained girl,
and a 1916 Dictaphone, sets the era.
dictation saved on a Dictaphone wire…

Then, which POV, actor or director,
on set
in scene NPC, or realized observer
influencing off stage
the free will
of every hope ******
in as you breathe infuriating butterflies.

And laugh and scratch
at what ain't cancer,
just an itch.



so, you absorbed social adjustment beta test data,
before you knew no children
before your cohort
experienced life tuning
to lightwaves we make
when we all think
in the shallow pointy ends
of the spectrum, hummm
drumm
breathe
think, sigh, clear the phlegm,

as a mind tied, internally,
to hearing ears
and seeing eyes,
in certain peaceable cogitations
presenting as slow onset disbelieving

breathe and breathe and breathe and think

we all breathed once since then,
at once
we think

for contention, as
to whose holy gnosis we say yes
we see we
breathe
in peace, because we do, right now
just breathe, and share
the enough we share
good will
to mankind
one kindness form
same we once
ex nihilo
as above, so below
only leave be true, you see,

and see if some say see, you do.

Because those who told the grown ups why,
also told them why not, why love

is not all you need, truth,
wisdom demands attention,
aware is not afraid, no need dread be taught,

unless the lie be used
to instill deep we psyche, eee we
in the very air we breathe, dispersion,
inevitable ruliad ewload suspension

we are, as  individual wills working
for love
of the life, living as satisfied
to swim
in warm waves
of gentle gravity

settling
in the silt
at the bottom
of our filter bubble,
in this flushing foam moment

since when was so important, then

I was just thinking
in qwerty mode,
and sensed I once imagined endless rolls
to read
from, as I wrote
in my mind, while

driving, millions
of miles, since 1964,

many first things occurred since 1964.

Today, first time it seem so peaceful,
not since ever,
has my peace so remained
due to my expert use
of freedom
from the press, along
with freedom to broadcast
from the drifting frequency joy
and regulatory testing demands, fear
not
this is only a test, if it were an attack…

we would be dead, by now.
If one only believed it was truth that made peace possible, we can reason together and gladly accept honest jubilee, new credit for all, new measures of what a post urban human can make joy producing given time in peace.
SwiftDreamer Dec 2015
Life is but a Game
A game in a console that booted on without your say,
one, where you can be stuck at the title screen for years before pressing play
one where your allotted lives vary per player
One, where you could be a npc, before you are a player
Where the level of difficulty is set on hard, but can be changed whenever you like
Where everyone has a story, with side quests
Where some of us play for fun, while others, to be the best
[To be Continued]
Ken Pepiton Oct 2020
The trick to self-analysis is self-alerting awareness.
Thus the cliché: know yo'own self.
Each you you ever be, see you be you.

Each self makes a bio, builds a being viable on earth.
Thus the click, on earth as…
always brings to mind in heaven, which is

--quotes are useless, it's like a choir of…
--- Hermes fans all fanning at once call for…

where,
did Jesus say? The kingdom of truth is within you.
No way,
Jah, wei

we know, we tasted. Wanna bet, your interesting times?
Inter-cept
ception receive the key from long before,
now is as we are
aware,
free to be anything imaginable
or if
we find whole lives memorizable, realizable
at the speed of thought, you live as long
as you wish,
to act as if you have the mind of any one mental
able-knowing
thing
- mortal thing, we can't imagine immortality
- by law limiting speed of thought to
- the inner edge of the bell curve on
- mindless oblivion or nirvana, some call it.

imagine you are fed and clothed, because you survived,
no other measure of your worth,
or mine,
we survived, we can do good knowing,
knowing we know hell is a test all the best pass thru.
Fix your mind's hero story, you're it.
You are your mind's hero story hero, not mine.

I sold mine, did I not make that clear, when this game began,
I took you at you word, truth has a mind, so I sold the
mindless ***** NPC and blew my own bubble
to be in truth with a word accepted as true,
it cannot lie, I took it to heart,
like magic… new ifity

and I'm me. Not a fan of any name, tho' I do call Jesus friend.
{pre-facebook kinda friend, big deal in du-Sie times o'yor|

then you wish to die, and you do.
Before you do,

that's the trick. The other one.
Taste test. Mass appeal. Phemous Blahsay {The Immortality Key spilled over and likely set this in motion, it's a good book.}
Ken Pepiton Apr 2024
Adapting re
voluntary reading
to the future, when we've
nothing to do so, sub-con
science frictions call all men liars.

I am by no means chief,
I came from the Calebland Productions,
early Eighties,
Macintosh and Appletalk, and Silicon Beach
grand brainstorms insisting if we heat it
the entire idea of dust as us and our mites…
just willing to revolve with the planets will
enough all those old winds that twisted
like we did last summer,
wind up like
those ones, wow, so real.

Northwest Passage is open, and yet,
none acknowledge life in full control,
something literarily evolving
where the crawdads eat the corpses,
Bayou Blue, Barrios and Pepitons,
cheri mio, we had some fun,
we all sung, on that by
you seem to agree, we won.
we won the evolutionary war,
mankind, wombed and un,
ever so long ago, none knew, we did

but time is a bit of a Ouranos cycle,
looks like a great ocean churning gyre,

of which the last swirling tide reminder
fit to an old spider web designer,
loser backslider
with a gambling wife,
who took a chance on me,
what do we see, but what we get,
generously, love is there
for the looking for,
and for remembering finding, and
really, when a man

from the molds
that made our we this kind of old man,
an individuated
NPC, in a cast of thousands,
acting stand in assistant to the
assisting intelligence time accounting,
massive messaging, is a thing
are you aware…?
your connection can self correct,
your bluetooth can whistle
in your ear,
eh,
we made it up.
The loss, we, laughed and made it all up.
Just being doing the right thing, and thinking we share some mindspace.
I took the time you were not using otherwise, and made this mindtimespace.
Ken Pepiton Jun 3
{those donuts are three days older, that's all}


I did not buy them, there was always a Winchells
a walk from any where, free no more than 27 hours old,
that's right, new donuts daily clean and reheat to fry,
takes about three hours, to fry the first batch, minutes

but during the warm up, Winchell's in LA metro, threw
all the donuts in the store at grease refresh, goes,
in the bag, for whoever gets there first, we do,
we always do, this is our Winchell's, Dennis Easy Rider,
he lived at 1312, we had 1412 N. Crescent Heights
Hopper, that's him,
what's a generational remembering, the sounds
Harley's Made then, Indians had a tone, different,
Honda's were scooter legal kid of 14, 55MPH
one passenger, no helmets, and skateboards
and whisky

Pseudovectorial spinning applied
to a two pivot pendulum pattern painting,

no sweat, in 2006, a Flashscript could doit done it

This has Mel Zalewsky
"La Papelera de Secretos" on stage, window, screen
gut to heart to brain, brain tastes the conversation,

sense minds of this demo model, has this retina
reverted to wemind and become a model reader
thunk through
to live another new day
in digital paradice as far as any mind,
any form information acting free agents, so true.

We all know we each see what we each see, so
true held… just so, for as long as we have period sets

NPC. Once deeper, fly on the wall,
not buzzing,
not bothering any body's piece
of mind, weform, many lenses on one flake
glint true choice worth value heavy mindwise

of what weform from, as lakes freeze at your touch

Mel Zalewsky
"La Papelera de Secretos"
Guardaste mis secretos:  
los poemas que arranqué del pecho  
y lancé hacia tu oscuridad.  

Esos versos torpes,  
hojas arrugadas por el llanto,  
pedazos de alma  
que terminaron en tu vientre de metal.  

Nadie supo que fuiste  
el horno donde quemé  
cartas de "siempre"
y sobres de "nunca más".  
Tus esquinas aún huelen  
a tinta derretida.  

Sepultaste las cenizas  
sin preguntar nombres.  
Ahora esos papeles  
—los que sobrevivieron al fuego—  
alumbran otras noches ajenas.  

¿Quién notaría que eres  
solo una papelera?  
Que en tu silencio  
hay más verdades  
que en todos los poemas
que aún no he publicado.  

Mel Zalewsky.

From <https://hellopoetry.com/>

"The Trash Can of Secrets"

You kept my secrets:
the poems I tore from my chest
and threw into your darkness.

Those clumsy verses,
sheets crumpled by tears,
pieces of soul
that ended up in your metal belly.

No one knew you were
the oven where I burned
letters of "always"
and envelopes of "never again."
Your corners still smell
of melted ink.

You buried the ashes
without asking names.
Now those papers
— those that survived the fire —
light up other, distant nights.

Who would notice that you are
just a trash can?
That in your silence
there are more truths
than in all the poems
I have yet to publish.
What if this is okey, we can expect translation or try, I now hope for it
--- Aug 2013
I have never been close to
Anyone.
I have never thought of others
As being as intricate as me.
I felt a distance
Though I never noticed it
Until now.
I feel different with you
Especially when I think about
Our fights.
It seems like my problem is that
At least in the beginning
I didn't see you as another
Consciousness.
I merely saw you as a
Person I was fond of.
And I now realize
That this is how I see people in general.
Does that make me partially a
Sociopath?
I'm not sure.
But that's how it is.
And I'm sure I would still see you the same
As everyone else
If I didn't want to know you
To love you
So **** well.
In fact, I may have left a door open
To this solitary confinement of
My psyche.
And you pushed it open
Giving me extreme feelings that I don't
Understand.
I never will understand.
But I'll try.
Because you are not an
NPC
You are complete
Like me.
Like every person I don't understand.
You too are battered
Bruised
Scarred by things that I will never have to take.
Experienced in life
In love
In hate
In pain
In loss
In joy
In everything.
But not the same as me
But somehow
not different...

— The End —