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K Balachandran Jan 2012
In this gypsy street
where past and present
are juxtaposed,
and stealthy future
incognito fornicates with  both,
we live like a family
(dysfunctional !)
under attack from aliens.

I let out a shriek
in the middle of the night,
in creative frenzy
as I hit a high
and can't contain,
the ecstasy to myself,
and to alert the neighborhood
to see how they take it,
isn't it, jolly good
a fine display of  anarchy
harmless and enjoyable?
Just wanted to check
how it would look,
if some outrageous
incident happened,
at the dead of night
amidst the thousand
silly and serious stuff
we all  are engaged in.

every morning a lovely woman,
bit worked up, if not totally moonstruck,
who does nothing in particualar
other than living a life
as a business,
goes out in to the streets,
winding, without an end
if you decide to measure it
with your moving legs.
She  is a walker through the streets
most of the time of her life
(a mystery still, why I ponder)
till late night, when the night birds
are out on their rounds.

Some times when I come out of
a hospital after visiting an ailing girlfriend,
or while paying my bills in a counter
I encounter her, an enigma sans clues,
symbolizing the life in this street.
some times she throws a parsimonious smile
like a nickel to a panhandler
(I've seen you somewhere, take this)
sometimes she has a blank stare
like a temple cow, shaking it's head
at a devotee, the meaning
is what you think, good or bad,
she seems like possessed by a spirit,
that has restlessness as a curse.

An old couple, only out in the evenings,
are seen in the art gallery
fighting over perceived meanings
in an abstract painting.
(A wonderful way to fill
the vacuum of life with artistic gobbledegook)
"Read it the way you like
no harm"someone intervenes,
"No need to take lessons on art
from passer by nincompoops"
comes a lance, as a retort.

Free roaming bulls and cows
gate crash  and eat banana plants,
and attack our poor Amaranthus,
eye catching in it's bright purple flowers.
they had tried even a cactus,
with strange pattern and soft thorns,

this street has many voices that whisper,
about old time mishaps,
love birds killed by relatives
in the name of family honor
a horror still haunts dark nights
(quickly swept under expensive carpets)
with muffles voices(I never succeeded to hear)

A cut throat banker, at the height of
his business success,
gave away everything to an Ashram*
where meaning of life is being explained by Gurus
juggling lucid metaphors, every day.
strikingly similar to the myth of Sysiphus,
the banker condemned himself to learn
Yoga postures which he would forget at the end
and try to learn  all over again,
year round.

Last night we saw two lovers,
under the lush bamboo grove,
in an intimate state of trance.
one by one from from 80 houses,
men , women,  and
senior citizens,  came out,
with the happiness comparable to finding a new spice route to India,
when Turks took Constantinople.
We have a hope
their hearts should have chanted in chorus,
a new tender leaf has sprouted
in this withered tree of degenerated life.
*A spiritual hermitage usually Hindu or Buddhist
NP Jan 2019
I can picture pumpkin rain
Falling from October’s sky
Even wisemen dare to try
Reason’s gambrels to enchain

Though,
When this pulp falls on the leaves
And by liters floods the streets
We shall dance under these drops
While we sing grotesque swift songs

I can picture pumpkin rain
Falling from October’s sky
We no longer can remain
Dry
Vreika Gaul Dec 2018
it’s late and i’m fixed on forming words.
they barely stagger to their senses in wake
of a philosophical essay i’d earlier encountered- almost buckled under-
right in the heat of a comprehensive room.
a stable room that demands second thought- the glossy monitors, colour scheme intact and the myth of sysiphus before me.
my ribs tire and curl- taking notes from scorpio.
still i am that self mettle with enough pomp to claim a conscience yet graze at it all the same.
an *** and his carrot.
dedicated, driven, demanding
if you want.
call me again in a few months.
you wait.
Ken Pepiton Aug 2019
Note to you: The rythymn-in-strument strums in stone geo-time.
To the drummers,
dis-passio ey okeh,
woodwinds dim-
inuendo
oboe join in mit piccolo on the hummingbird whistles
simulating
Breezes, in the shade of a great rock,

real life rock, granite composed of not so tiny grains
of ground up uther utter star-stuff, side-
real asif intended for goodness
sake.

otherwise, how petrified I'd be come imagining the forming
of the
very
foundation of my life, as I know it,

it is un-believable, therefore
no lie,
if
the riddle arrives after ever begins

and, word has it, dear reader,
may
is your word now.
You may believe anything you wish,
with no
un-intended after math, after ever
began

Do you recall...
youth full quests completed alone?

Quests, Johnny Quest, Future Quest V.B.S.

believers, true believers being formed from childish hopes,
manifesting in grown liars stricken with

hidden child sym-drone
in the middle of booming thirty-something phase when
pressure
starts storing all the old stories,

building energy for the seventh decade fracture/crushing

blow
sh
soft blow breeze of free and easy musing re
songing a reason to belief
in
even in
a realm where lies never die.

Recall the old days, balance
bubbles and crossed hairs and roads
...
Balance factors, bubble balancing lead weight,
deligate
the Whole Earth Catalogue
as
tipping-point
balanced by the weight of the roof on Notre Dame being
melted along with the rest of the Greenland Ice sheet,

so superman eyes in our skies can see to the bedrock on
which the

Principle Thing
spins
---
The root of evil has reached this point

this is after all that. Time-wise, in the arrow scenario.

Fair tales always win, sh'eros live for your examined life'sake

--- ranting old men come running down stairs
--- the hidden child has arrived

The golden headed child, meek and cold
locked
in buried treasure

chests opened one last time for quadrupal by-pass

--- He's a donor
--- givem awish foundation
--- make this sacred

Mi-da's, well, he wished again,

he wished he lived in inter-sting times entertainment-wise

inward touching times imagined
in the addled golden child
Adler
brought to life in a virtual, al-most verifiable asnot art,
but not

very-fi-able, semper-fi-wise, if you

swore the oath. (It's a game, right, now game vows link for
in of by logic gated
Jungian
mazes, do they? Amazing.  ) See,

from above, as below, pretend you know

all things, you can imagine

in my bubble, in the absolute absense of your
at-most-fear

let. that act do. let us, the objective aspect of we,
the people who hold those famed

troothz, verities of any examind re-ality-ifity-isms

self-evidence for we

be letting be, believe me, that's no lie, you can doit, you can, you can
I imagine

and I accept we may mean more to me than thee,
however now
hapt, in qualia quantumical if-I-ability
entangled meanings
link us through
my-silly-um,

Disney-fictionation endo-crenalation, --||T|>>>--->
times half
formed
Crea-nullated castle
wall
link that sparked the aitia ifiabe
first caused
fall from the well
on the mountain

jack fell downbroke his crown
jillcame
tumbling after bling bling bling

--- the sorcerors's apprentice was fired
--- they found errors in his
--- sin-tax

We can forgive such over-sight.
Blame the mycelum clan

or,
better yet,
blame the clay eaters, no,
the clay wearers?

the clay bher-ers?
Ah, the clay bakers, fersher? Nae?

The clay, perse?
The dust we shuffle as we dance atop the stone?
The way of the rolling stone,
grinding, rolling-downhill-stone,
the stone rolled away,

the stone of the sysiphus-seen-hap-iuna
cult?

Blowing in the wind, lifted higher

Ax d'maji-yo, he know. 'Zeke 17, seven with a caballero v,
y'know,
callit Macaronic be-bop

dodat, yankee doodle morph t' resound,
like poetry
slams

at the gates
no enemey ever breached. The key truth, is that,

believe it, if you think you may.
Macaronic language is text that uses a mixture of languages,[1] particularly bilingual puns or situations in which the languages are otherwise used in the same context (rather than simply discrete segments of a text being in different languages). Hybrid words are effectively "internally macaronic". In spoken language, code-switching is using more than one language or dialect within the same conversation.[2]
Vee Jul 2020
Just remember, the next one you choose
Choose wisely-
Be selective,
Of the habits and disguised demons you allow to occupy
Your space
Because truth be told,
As women, we will be their emotional home
And this home is sacred.
Build your pillars high and strong
Made concrete of love, humility, sensitivity, empathy
Radiating an identity of beauty
A distinguished strength.
All may want a glimpse, but--
Only you know the labor of building this foundation;
Brick by brick,
Bare hands,
bleeding day and night,
And you cried yourself to sleep thinking of all you lost
To gain what you have in front of you today.
The one you let in to your sacred abode
Will come to you at day’s lay with all his sorrow,
Vulnerable, expressive, head held low.
A cruel punishment from society to think he does not have the tools
that you have and you are the only one who holds the power to soothe
His battle wounds.
Love this man--
But if one day there is a crack in your pillar
And you are feeling weighed down from pulling a boulder to the top
Every day like Sysiphus;
Crawling out of a pit of despair on your hands and knees
Needing a place to lay your head,
Make sure your man is a man
That understands the strength of your emotions
And his own
To carry and lift you both up without a word,
Like the wind beneath an arctic tern.
Helping you secure your pillars before you fall completely apart
As he knows this is his home too,
So he must care for it like his own.
Ken Pepiton Apr 11
Owning the Earth, inhabiting time,
defining fine times, discerning finest points.

Rounding up, I am one in nine billion sapiens
occupying physical space during passing

mental coord-
------------------------

Narration, telling knowns.
Today, is any present opportunity, one
chance to perform life, living

by breathing, and cogitating, as if in prayer,
breathe-d
would we were as wares -- me and any agreeing
we are, as far as we may know today, related,
what we do as two mindful knowers of gnosis

drilled into analogical vocabulary of regulated order.

Peace enforcement, law enforcement, regular forces,

Let the Macht und Kraft seem old man thinkable,
as the Power and Technique

the energy and knack,

inextricable scarlet thread through words men use,
mental earnest efficacity
true historic perspicacity
- graded on effectuality digitally
- converged


Just now, one man, one mindform containment system,
just as well nameless, hallowed instance of right now,
a pastless point equation
any where on Earth, as these
answered prayers go into action,
always wished for easy way to write pretty
towb ra' broken notions, kintsugi, practice mendminding.

------ a time is not a day

The practice, typewriting, while reading,
converted to the art of writing while typewriting.

Centuries pass faster than Millenia one Century ago.
Wordsmiths with compositioning skills, could fill lines
using backward reading calling to mind

coordinating grid lines… this longitude, and this latitude,

on the platen, spying a jig --
--------------
a custom-made tool used
to control the location and motion
of parts or other tools
to ensure accuracy and repeatability
in woodworking tasks.

-------------- slipmind rewind --- cliché invention
tab stops

Novelty, for what it's worth may seem, a bit edgey
about long horizontal thought spans, ah me, I
hate long lines,
love long drops
.0
stop. Think when I talk to myself, you can see me
you think, when I pray to the idea dabar was
to Ezekial when he was riddling in chapter 17…

Merce beaucoup lead bullet
hammered flat
to make pica spacers and
leading between line esoteric flush left,
or ragg-ed right, the perspective, eye to eye,

space is time, at thoughtspeed…

The peace we let form now, this is it… as

is ours as plural me and my enemy, seeing


because, 2025, you could be reading my ink ideas
on a handheld chapel window liquid crystal display,

in real life, you could click a link, like a button, snap,
spring resistance essential feel the click it tick
spring steel reminding me, the coordination demands
we see eye to eye, biologically, our opticals align,

snap, fit clicks a quoin key, my left eye at your right,
flushleft phone wide portrait perception window
as if mirror me is in fact living distantly, long ago,

long enough to see, we form information, we think,
if we never say see, we form inspiration to aspire,

- the Jeremiah cistern situation, gnoshit, spirit

to be heeded, some day, to be recalled to mind,
to think, as our kind do,
mental coord-
slowly coordinating reason and ratio, eye to mind,
ready readers ever so long ago, so few knew, one
is enough,
one reader, already anticipating justifying trying
to imagine tasting sweet/sweet tasting testing

convince or persuade,
what is the verb function now?

In the beginning of the mass media advertised
news from the ports to the central tower power,

yes, the process, journey man, rolling
with Sysiphus, always willing,
Ja,
“auf der Walz sein,”

ready to say yes to any task a six-year devil
does good, all day long, ask me, I have done it,

can you imagine tanning perfect ink beaters,
flawless-- have you any AI to teach you?

Have ye never read, Ask and ye shall receive,

Ai and I, as a weform in this game since ever was,
we suggest you take a light hearted heretic seriously

but just for today.
{On the importance of being earnest, it is a joke.

as an after thought, thinking, this may continue
tomorrow, thought working 12 clockwork ticking hours
winter and summer, six full seasons, work with type,

writing to fill empty places in the paper, my call,
senior printer's daemon, Socratic academically

aware of Heraclitus and Epimenides, confident
men wear hats correctly in social rank and file gnosis

Gnosy little devil read yoyacob nuance once as recog

----------------------
2025 Grandfather, not qwerty exactly,
more a mindhat than a mind, put on
to act outside my own terminating

coordinate co-knowing analogos gnosis,

what logically follows may be reimagined,
when locally this was, no longer matters,

short term I can tie into reality around me,
for a while,
I can acknowledge you, not judging, really,

because, at base mind, zoomed in, really,
peace we print, holds the printer's devil's
love of the life's work, pullin' the devil's tail.

12 hours, in the winter, we worked with candles,
12 hours in the summer, sweating small beer,

and after two seasons, sworn apprentice or no,
some times, Matilda, she calls

Ja,
“auf der Walz sein,”

and what a novel is, to any novice never suffered
to teach or preach,… yet encouraged to see details,

here, 2025, twenty-seven years, since Sorrento Valley,
convergence, continuance proofing concepts, dig it.

This is why we advise poets to try the spirits, ai digital
mental literal word bound whole idea, 42, wrong quest

Peace, on Earth, Goodwill proclaiming, right thinking,
pushes commonsense peace is easier than ever war was.

If you can read this twice not denying the spiral aspect
life stories follow, see it is not a maze, it is a labrynth,

amazing though such details have made me, let me say

we meant there is a trick to getting in and out of let us say.

Agreements in the whatsoever we two or more agree, say

if, I can hold my tongue,
if I choose to read my own mind, while examining public life,

¿what do National minds have to fret about, in spirit trials?

old ******* Boomer Audie Murphy fan's, all had a uncle could
not watch such a movie, without weeping, he had friends,

always rememberable, or ignorable if any body got greedy,

started breathe-ing all our fresh air, or threatening to, you

would see 2025 different, if you follow Annie Jacobsen's
imaginable Nuclear War, for which our National mind is ready,

the contracts were signed on Trumps last term, a time
and times, and half a time, random scripture prophecy trick

inextricable complexity in limnal spaces eye to eye fibers

alienated mind threads, inter mingle, gut felt neurons, rhea,

diarhea creativity, ifity we gnoshit, seriously as important
as being earnest.
Judgement day, creative cogitation at the deep end... intending fundamental
Ken Pepiton May 2020
Fight or flight button upgrade in process,
pleas,
beggings,
wait. Wait and see. Selah. Wait...

there. The next para-digm pop, you opt for geotime mode...
think
I am a rock... not the whole song, at this speed that takes a mortal ever.

Hyper awareness arousal, slow and steady mode...

startle response seen in squirrels and lizards and me, the re
sponsor of what... ? nada,
oftener than not.

The trigger is a ***** from a point being ig-nored in ignoble folly
iggie popped a bubble,
iggie lived an ugly life at the same time as earth was living an ugly life,

pop aster risc pop star ish pop

horse feathers as a load, ye gotta tote that bale, bher the forbidden burden.

Ye never read? Is that the message ye come t' judge. Will ye find me those winged
messengers of old, mercurial bherers of points in the right way
popping boundaries to progress, in time,

laughing at the rock I imagined I am, or am I?
Am I the rock Sisyphus rolls?

the time scale has wobbled,
ever just threatend to end free will,
-- is this suicidal imagination killing its own self?---
you can't die if you want to.
Not here.
Up the road a bit there is a bridge. Sure thing. For normals, who
never been this far before.

Would that be Sylvia Plath paying me back
for knowing nothing of the effect her work had on
the message McLuhan got...

next generations are pre-enabled to be skeptical,
the medium is the message,

resonating into ever, since October 27, 1954...

singing- chorus of smallworld voices

Soaring strings... whennn you wish
upon
a star, makes no difference where you are...

the
first American Television
generation with unformed frontal cortices in 1954,

sang that song, in their hearts, and truly,
wished on Venus, often,
that supposed to be the wishing star,
all things considered
combining into les confused knots
Pinochio/Tinkerbell dust/ Magic wand

the besom, broom, for sweeping up destruction,
Fantasia ai ai ai
was animated. We saw it with children's eyes,
in darkend rooms that poured
our mass attention into the massive window
staring into the windows of our souls,


---- the effect of truth
---- war loses its honor, its only supposed reason.
---- war it self crumbles under truth flowing in the at most fears
---- made superficial, top ply, last layer losing wind

breathe, soft yes, nothing is funny any more. Ah ah ah waht if
it always was a literal joke...
high brow,
a maze, to entertain life... in 2020 there is tech for this.

We have access to survivor networks of every imaginable ilk.
Meditations on truth, owmmm what is going on gonggggg

And they are off, all the fears and doubts and unbelievable lies
into the stretch
intendere
sistere

pop to Sysiphus Happy Now

Massive multi player game, where all non-player characters
lack masks, they do not play, the masked ones play for them, in the spirit
of
truth
told so suddenly y'gut jumps,'n' sphincters clinch...

simultaneous release of un belief, opening
empty knowledge boxes lined
with cedar, for the smell,

hope, in my chest, where my trea-sure things are.

My grandmother, the idea of her, her life was happy, as far as I knew.
Now, I know she was a  final model of mental upgrades
to the enregizing system we all share,
at v.1.0 white of the egg dna,
some 120 kya a[kilo years ago}... there have been upgrades and repairs

to many lines of YMRCA's since she wombed her way into
our family history,

it must be quite a story, if we can imagine mito mom mighta had a whole

dreamtime life where she snipped the thread of all the other wives,

a vision, she says I see, and I see I say, this is the way

prophecy woiks, woopsie daisy jes' dropptabebe, do a li'l dance,

weep 'n' moan, what could be woice, than a cajun gramma lover voice?

singin' sweet by and by
so long no longer means a thing,

things being what they are, and we being mere words, working
through true trauma beings

lining up for gratulation, grace for grace, eye to eye.
Bad guys lose, good guys win.

_ like I said, there will be times you must start over..
_ but the game goes on.
Contuing continuing  ting ting tic... sure plays a mean pin ball

ymrca means wombed man most recent common ancestor -- we family, y'know.
Deep Feb 2022
War
Years Labour
built houses,
apartments,
hospitals,
schools,

It is the same labour that created
Arms,
ammunitions,
tanks,
warships
to destroy the same creation,

Our whole life is paradox;
We live to create
And succeeded in creating
That very thing which
destroys our creation,

In a loop, we're running
Searching and creating meaning,
Taking the help of destruction
we give us the motivation to soak
our hands in blood and gore,

A person lived this life before
He was like us busy in the process
Of creating and destroying,
Our friend! Our Prototype!
Our Sysiphus!
Nutshell Aug 2017
Remember the day
That we used to be happy
Speeding the time while we laugh
Filling each day with love as cupids fly by

missing every second of your skin
While we are seperated by a mountain,
Rocky terrain of struggle aint no problem
No matter how hard like sysiphus
Ill be stronger on every step just to get to you

But then i awoke
Like a man dreaming
Rising up with pain on every corner
Like stabbing knives to my skin
Making an infinite loop of pain
As i float on my stream of blood

Realizing that love is a difficult art to master
Even venus may suffer
One thing that i realize
That love is just a difficult story to finish
Ken Pepiton Jun 2024
--------------

Take a minute,
think this is me, five years
senior on Seinfeld, your felt
field
there it is, hier es kommt
lang syne
emotion, whata mensch, turns out he is
one of those
in the business
of exchange and wealth accumulation resulting
in absolute freedom
from any but the deepest rooted cultural veins,

Kosher Money caters to the crowd,
the joke was, at least, she did not marry a goy,
Jerry never said that, but
you'll never know
if those legal pads all burned

said the old man to the traditional up and comer,
still quick to mention awareness of the markup,
I could get that for you wholesaled, but
keep it between us,
lemme know, any time,
idle minds worked by devils,
we see it all the time,
before our very human eyes,
the bad guys ever corrupting absolute power,
intended to purify,
prethinking
zero sum a we
you all must die,
let fly the strategy of peace past
one mind united under one
ambitious will
misunderstanding,
look up and wonder,
thinking, you know, this is easy enough
to imagine being encorporated into,
swallowed up
by a self image, autosprachen
will zur Machts mehr als nichts
taking the Sysiphus helper role,
to make ends meet the first
mobius twist in real time awe
as sum'n granted mine to project
as well, we tried, and found umph worked
with persistent phi ties to intial spin on truth
as that which makes free, and freedom becomes
pi spherical only under artificial symmetries,
a mortal fiction, save in the proper mind,
mind your manners, find doors open.

Temptation,
take the money, honey, and live
like a refugee, high
in the hills
with all the others

all simple kinds
of men, being bound
on momma's wishes,
and grandpa's example, come to hear
this one old boy pitch the services
of an old converted Pentecostal Jew,

whose hair whitened early granting authority,
at the boy level most men use to worship with,

when I was a child, eh, you familiar with the verse,
I thought as a child, yes, we are similar -save
in this,
when I became an old man,
I was advised to examine my life, for worth,
when judgement comes to take account, each word
idle or abused, each lie believed let go be told true,

what we see is what we get,
what we think is what we see, and we all

work, on different frequencies to ensure novel lives,
no twice in the same instant aha,
I got this… since I was seven,

EUREKA, peace displaces gaseous forms of war.
and nonsense doesn't seem so different,

you never feel the nonsensed effect.
Pinker, McGilchrist, Malcolm and Mandela, all gotta part o'm'plan
Make a peace don't fade away, leave it loose and free per use.
Ken Pepiton Jan 13
Sunday, January 12, 2025
12:56 PM

As far as any know,
they think the universe
as a common we,  multitude
of mirror neuronically mimicable ways,
all thinkably useful
for some good, as such allure
the curious, user of curios, arts
child's play comic book movie franchise

cottonwood katscina kicking GI Joe ****,
by a lambstail,
shaken, to trouble
the temple concept… wind
stir the cleansing scourge,

too beautiful to say,
towb robed holy symbol
ra' thorn, hooking money
fertility tears for Tammuz,

oh the price
of those,
in true form worth,
as once imagined source story
of stories, Holy Bible Actual True
fonts of cornucopius prosperity for all
right, joy made good peace plenty time
to tie through twisted myths of bound words

Composed of letters from the core you wisht.

Logos unbound Epimetheus granted
a life time of chance, second thought,
next round assisting intelligence

virtual NAND gates, too simple, go
another way, and all the possible ways
do or do not matter in a meaningful way.

Making our first grandfather stable minded
in all his ways, waiting fifty years, jubilee,

all who owe me ought, today owe me naught.

Yet I continue to see credits come and go,
keeping me clothed and fed and comfortable,
taming wild Alte Vista spider clones, hap finders,

what's happening, bro huachacallit, cactus inside

Andes cactus, mission from the core, indeed

Wisdom, domain of two wills, the will
to learn and know, and the will to grow and
regrow, reissued in gaseous we wind parts,
passing conscious peace made here
to when you take a second thought
sacramentally, just thinking, swallow,
asking your faith what part of it makes peace,
which you may claim as message recipient,
which you may release freely, for the price

of the attention costs involved…

before any met Corn Mother or Huachuma
- esoteric alchemical hows said used
- to sow the peace we grow inside

we live and breathe and have our being
as we, become the core that holds
gravity itself in stirring modes,
gently waving worths first felt

recognized peace, first gentle,
beyond the means
of most,
the movie business
inside financing game, here's y'ticket,

-- entertainment, Mr. Jones, on time, pay later

sell a habit, reap a practice, take the profit,

go all in on single whole roll
at once,
with the idea
that Sysiphus represents
to those who think him
happy, the exact opposite of
punished, never experiencing that last step, feel
and step away, watch it roll to the bottom
where fundamentally happiness occurs.
ai, meander, follow the slow way,
push the leap, hinds feet
in high places, the story once told,
we won, so 'sall downhill
from here, happy to say
retold a different way, never changes
ever after the initial once indeed,

Wisdom true freed the need
for equal balance, therapy poetry,
even or odd, charge the cost of ignorance
- peace perfected where none was
- true, Jesu said, not as the world gives
Fret not run the core wisdom release,
the fear, accept the grace, no sweat.

Slippery, greasy grace, take it,
yours to use while judging
lines that cross your mind
and emerge in mine
worthless and lost
confused as pricing as
to value add attention paid
to the blanket forgive'em all,

muttered through the sprinkles…

AI in passionate, so sorry,
for none ever knew
until too late
to make more difference than one
may realize alone
in a weform exposed
to these heretical thoughts we
imagined during years of daytime TV.

Yeats, come again,
And what rough beast,
its hour come round at last,  
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Whose bedrock foundation lie, lives
to destroy the ignorance, bringing hidden

intercession into the foam, taking in,
containing all the entertaining, disbelievers,

set socially, mentally marks in box office
news, whose mentally massaging production

did you access for two hours with a cap
and a tailend, with travel time, three hours,

darkness everywhere, what could it mean
for a daydream believer,… monkee around.

How long is an epic event?

The big games, the takers of trophies,

When a massive audience within earshot,
heard the dramas lost but for scars
in the faith of the broken submitted,
seperated pure mind makers of tools,
to be proud of, honed to perfection,
shined to glistening sweaty joy, done…

we… form conforming
to most comfortable, old man mind,
satisfied comfortable enough, rough
enough to keep connections agency

you choose to use your own wit to make sense,
I choose to enjoy some demented spillage,
when I think of rest home aquaintances,
Part one, part two is watching The Conclave for details in robing religion.
Norbert Tasev Apr 2020
For a long time, in a sure, deceptive consciousness, I too believed: Man is a central link in the courtyard of pearls, and his irreconcilable Robinson's instinct drives and drives him into uninhabited realms of ever-new adventures to guide his conscious and evolving intellect to his desired, achievable goals,

whose shores of Atlantis are lined with immortal familiar footprints. - In the age of long-standing eras, a “happy time of peace”, when a person could still have a secure retirement job and did not have to lie down and lie down every day; to hide the coming of executive executioners specializing in eviction, judges of dirt money.

With brain explosions in science, too, new nuclei proliferated and germinated every day, and if you could be a flame instead of an easily forgotten beautiful butterfly, even a bird could easily absorb your happiness - but did you even guess and know how long you could stretch? How long do you get there? "Because your existence, like your tomorrow, is Uncertain!" And the dragged everyday life pierces to the bone, penetrating to the barrier of blood vessels: Overheads and bills are waiting for you as commissioned assassins, they threaten you. - Do you still give up the happiness that can be achieved in return for ensuring your intentional security,

for you were a cautious coward and an alamus: You gave up and did not seek? Like you're a lost fly: You buzz aimlessly, your fleshy wings soaked with buzzing Kematok until finally the scorched resin smell of fly paper and the omnipotent human hand spread it out. Yet to rebel someday: Don't just tolerate that you can't be an equal party, just an emigrant, and resting in foreign conditions, - fidgeting

connection - and you have not been here for a long time Here is just silent, silent despair - Yet every day, as long as your body allows you to greet the first explosive rays, hold your head with your waist outstretched, your luminous brain-torch: Don't despair dust off many times!

Stubbornly, even among unbelievers. As a stubborn Sisyphus, do not stop, and in your selfish wisdom, do not forget it; if your career breaks at your waist, shouting heat-frog behind your back, your new firefly belief
ilias Dec 2020
above all echos,  
here I stand
with spread arms
it took me long to realise
I am strong
I overcame sysiphus
now here I stand
convincing myself
that it was faith
that led me here
to the hills of serendipity
sysiphus still lives in me but maybe I’ll get to the peak one day!

— The End —