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The sun and moon eliminates
The draining darkness life creates
But my past constantly berates
As my future wiggles free and escapes

©2023
There's a begging tone to this question I battle before and after I ask
A not so simple, "why can't I just let the past be the past?"
I know at first glance,
I'm nothing more than moth in a trance
Pinging off the same piece of backlit display glass
An abused mind easily transfixed, statue still and steadfast
While running summer Olympic qualifying fast, all gass
Feet growing roots, interlocking with blades of grass
A introspective narrative of an internal impasse

©2024
All my mind in time spent
Thinking in multi-tasking mode, modernized
ontuition, in multicomplexity, chata chabad,

original intention, revealed long ago,
to a trance chance glance of a ox, I knew,
it was no bull.
But had been, as a calf.

*******.
Some old fool I knew,
hollers from the back of my mind…

Historically, part of me assists informing
all the first time crossers of this meandering

mind stream swirling phi in life with pi and x
concepts set to contend, earnestly
for the best gifts, coveted, in trust,

true rest, excusing superstitious sacraments,

all the lies are swallowed in truth, time tells.

A message. An Inspirited shape in forming,
a we, to recollect once knowing an instant true.

An artist, a person gifted with a time spanning
imagination.

An eye, we use, in times of loosed beliefs,
ontuition, intuited as mysterious mystical
as a we. We
have being shared in timesmindspace's
expanded sense of each reader's pace
adapting
breath and bubble, below
common consciousness
sensing sensibilities
adapted to due to normalized
faith in the phraze that declares,
MONEY ANSWERS ALL THINGGGGS

in the infallible preacher's whinings

que sera, sera

the story from the spirit window seen
through to the future when you see
we imagined knowing is repetition,

we imagined many impossible things,
we made them work, mickey mouse,
but, we made things work, to make
old age easier for the beguiled mis-
sionaries, empty vessles, gathered

widow's mighty faith, borrow,
borrow means, to know, how lamps
kept burning, call with smoke,
commas breathe and act as brakes/ lo'
come trim the new knowns from olden
days, now that the curious may fact check

but, as with plain text literacy, the gifted,
the mind that can read and does not,
knows no more than the mind
in movie mode, turbo
memory augments
tuned to reason,
depth charges,
accusing saints,

calling all revelators to prophesy
face to face with Micaiah, and walk on
inspired by his God's permissive will done
bymarching as to war dening the imperative,
loving those who treat you like refuse, biochar

desert stream bringing lithium from old dust,
what was once some kind of star rare as hells.
-------------
non sense. sense.
sems sun sumsymsense when  we accept

let us veliebe, old orders of reformed
societies, gelaubt
after the purge of all who
could not tolerate the truth,

The pilgrim's fled religion,
the missionaries sold religion,
and the money changers set the worth
of knowledge traded for curses lifted,

when old men stop drinkin' stop being
so godamned useless and good

for nothing, free, for free
for nothing but the use
knowing good from bad. from a child,
fed sweet peaches from Canyon de Chelly

-- long ago a hero named Kit Carson
-- led federal troops and local conscripts
or hired hands, squatters on Dene land,
Kit led a rowdy bunch to Canyon de Chelly

to burn a thousand of the sweetest peach trees
ever nourished for centuries on sacred ground.

Kindness of strangers,
old cultural investments, paid ahead,
weight of all the worthy fasts all past,
take no thought for worth in exchange
for the yes, at the judgement bar,
to thy ownself true, are you ready
for your judgement day, bets all in?
worth of an extra six months, at the end

this is declared that bet, let ride… no

money, ecclesiastical hordes, invested
with the wise users of letting information
manifest compounding interest, on a whim,
made this will worship worth reproving,
as a fluid  ide, a thought, breath,
thing in a thought, hooks
an eye a measure, a
0ne part in one floating point
at the recent mean rate of Petaflops
just yoost
enough, particle particulation, you think
this time,
it makes patience sweeter than revenge.

We yoost to call the guy who knew the rules,
now ai know, so we can say we do. too.

This is a good future. We had something like it
propagating between data and metadata price
praise and worship
measure all the effort effectual
as taken for granted to mean  whatever
confusion
persists in believing spells
concentrated into koanic mantras,

spend time or take time
used for nothing more than
slowing knowing too much humm

coming into tune to the ever after
Jesus, or a spokes person, Paul, I think,
sole witness of his own conversion,
according to the authorized story,

let this mind be.
Let this mind be in you.
Letting that which letteth be
taken away,

what can it mean, to
a day dream believer, and
a rodeo queen, at the dawning
of the harvest festival down under.


costs the average adult VBS QUESTERS,

when an instance in doubt, forced yous
to learn we do have multiple CPUs

some of which tuned in to sub conscious
user canals cutting across the esophagus

as we swallow, unsaid protestations,
gulping hesitation, to **** it up and,
clear the are way, to say it is gnosis,

air way, empty abhorred vacuous space
between ose and ic on balancing atomic

ideas developed to help us conceive, ic
internal circuitry to as ist, sein, wir sind,

intentionally conserved kennen und wissen,

in qwerty future scribal service prep,

during the Child Buyer buildup at ARPA net,

Ike's first term,
before under God went in the pledge,
but after Polio was cured, in exchange,

some good, some bad, live and learn,
before the Dulles Brothers,
before solid state quantum foam bubble RAM.

And.
Now.
The original intent. Embodied in a word, as
real as any worded message from beyond you.

Real letters, letting us think,
silly thought that never stink,

sigh, and try to be honest now, smell
the rose or the cheese, ask
which triggers gut reaction,

relaxatation, loosen bowels of mercies,
prayed for under inquisitor's historical,

memories, useful for Memorial Day BBQs

wave the sacred flag representing the lost
intentionally religiously regulated republic,

God, bless America, the dream, the ghost.

True rest, flowing in life's higher will warrings,
appetites and courses cut across experiences,

manifest in out of mind rewindings of things,
math wise, a ruliard is thinkable, as this set,

these words that translate verbatum,
phonetically in webedonspoken spaceless
old cuneiform wet clay repressed
palimpsests lost to EMPs,

in all dystopias.

--------------------

Fretting for another's lack of freedom
to imagine using another's mind, reading

original intention, when the parable,
or analogy allowed in drama spake aloud

to the rabble used to make deme mobs,
we forms of feeling normal, we think alike

until freedom emerges from an over learned
truth, from the bottom of your cache,

depths unplumed introspherical sure selves
set on shelves as crystaline urns, not a few.

see if some
of these be emptied, not a few, emptied
of old lies left allowed told, according
to old oaths taught us in our toddlehood.

What binds us to our oaths?
In truth we slightly smile, saying whatever
in truth being lets us be
we remain free, from fretting overflow.

----------- epithought
this professional whim wrestling is useful:
for rumination under mystical mis perceptions,
for greazing gears gone crusty dis used,
-- legal. garden grown herba consemillia
the dormouse said feed your head.
Slick, Grace.
All my mind in time spent worrying never netted me one extra day, now,
after a heart attack six month's ago I have  all my children and grand children laughing at old hippie stories that prove war is hell. all avoidable, with thought.
Zywa May 24
My childhood is now

a story, told with a smile --


at dinner parties.
Novel "Quichotte" (2019, Salman Rushdie), part 1, chapter 4

Collection "Low gear"
What will I see
When I’m outside the Veil
Dreams and Desires
Failures and nightmares
Those I love and lost
A wall of disappointment
Or reasons to stay
Arlen May 20
In certain words you say
I hear the echos of the past
In certain words you say
It takes me way, way back

I don't want to be mad anymore
But your words follow me around
I don't want to be mad anymore
But in your words, I drown
Stuck on your image
All the moments we shared
How I wish it was someone else for which I cared
Good memories had in the past
Upset me cause they went too fast
I'll never know which portion of it was real
Or the number of emotions you swore to feel
I don't ever receive a straight answer from you
Perhaps you yourself never knew
The love reflected in your glacier eyes
More memorable than countless lies
The truth is difficult to forget
And even harder to accept
Do you ever step back and look at your life?
Or the mirror and ask yourself why?
I guess there's no way to know what you're feeling
Layers are endless
I keep peeling
I hesitate
Hoping you'll somehow revert
To the you that didn't make me hurt
It seems that was so very long ago
For some reason my heart won't let you go
Written 11-10-18
Zywa May 11
That's how he has been:

that toddler, his little hands --


two little starfish.
Column "Niet verplegen" ("Not nursing", 2023, Ellen Deckwitz, in the NRC on August 31st, 2023)
Michaela May 9
Sometimes, I wish that I were different
I am not talking about weight, height, or physically
I wish I were the old me
The nice me
The one who didn't expect ulterior motives
Expect to be hurt
The one who was afraid to say no
Or come off as mean
Sometimes, I think I'm still in there
Deep down
Underneath the fake cloak of harshness wrapped around me
Used as a shield
Protecting me from the world
Still protecting the old me
David J May 7
In the crooked hallways of my mind
I lean my head to look down at my past
I don't know what I aim to find
Yet, sit at the mirror and reel out my cast

Shelves of sorrow, and records of glee
Though, unsure which I came to see
I peruse and I browse, these times now gone
reflecting, like the moon with light of dawn
But this too shall come past
As life for me now can move so fast
At the end of the day all I can do is reflect
And hope I will learn to give time some respect
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