/ Blade Running \

Making memories,
Wondering who sent for me,
If it wasn’t you then who was it,
& if you didn’t send for me then why are you here next to me,

Self preservation is the first law of nature,
From animal to human from human to machine,
Antisocial butterflies restlessly cramped in our cocoons,
Part plant part mineral part alien fully human being,

Sure we converse with other persons,
But we converse more with ChatGPT,
Hey AI I have a question,
Do ‘Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?’,

Even Philip K ****,
Doesn’t know what the answer is to this mystery is,

Half man half nocturnal machine,
Half real life half diurnal dream,

Were we born or were we made maybe it’s the same thing,

Maybe there isn’t a difference or so it would seem,

“You don’t believe,
In miracles because you’ve never seen a miracle.”,
That’s why you’re willing to **** for a fee,
& why you’re always so sterile & cynical,

& maybe that’s why I write,
More than I do anything else,
As a way of trying to jog your memory,
While running up the bill,

At the bar trying to wash away,
Things that still affect me even though they can’t be totally recalled,
In this present day sci-fi anti-climactic dystopia like Arnold,
Call me Jack of All Trades & I’ll call you Jill of It All,

Getting drowsy,
Must be the pills,
On a plane,
On my way to somewhere else,

Travel so much,
Sometimes I wake up & don’t know what country I’m in,
It’s a dog eat dog world so cat naps can be dangerous,
Especially when you drink while sleep walking on Ambien,

A creature with amnesia & beautiful features,
How’d you become such a miracle,
Are you really that perfect,
Or is that just the way I remember you,

Guess it doesn’t matter either way,
Because maybe I don’t even remember you,
Maybe you’re not mine because maybe you never were,
Maybe nothing is mine not even the memories I have of you,

Maybe it’s all just programing,
Maybe we’re all just programs,
Programed to play our part,
In The Grand Program,

Programmed by the wizard behind the curtain,
Or by the woman behind the glass wall,
Maybe in the end we have the same thing we had in the beginning,
Which is absolutely nothing at all,

Maybe that’s why I’m making memories,
Wondering who sent for me,
If it wasn’t you then who was it,
& if you didn’t send for me then why are you here next to me,

Self preservation is the first law of nature,
From animal to human from human to machine,
Antisocial butterflies restlessly cramped in our cocoons,
Part plant part mineral part alien fully human being,

Sure we converse with other persons,
But we converse more with ChatGPT,
Hey AI I have a question,
Do ‘Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?’,

Even Philip K ****,
Doesn’t know what the answer is to this mystery is…

∆ LaLux ∆

From ABC: The Beginning Of The End
Available worldwide on all platforms and in all mediums, Audiobook, Paperback, Digital, and Hardcover

Eddy, Bank Robber
When I worked in Park Cake Bakery there was an interesting guy I worked with. His name was Eddy. Now Eddy had a very sharp mind, was an alpha male and had several scars on his face from old fights. It wasn’t his cake making or scars that got our attention; it was his professional criminal past. He was a bank robber who used guns to do it. They’d gone to a bank and made a withdrawal in the coolest way.

“Give us the cash or we’ll plug you! Fill up the bags. Used notes only.” The bank staff did as told just like in a gangster film.

And that was that. They had the cash and would’ve been best investing it in bricks and mortar Brink’s-Mat robbery style. The cops caught them later and he got serious jail time. Upon release he worked in the bakery. The guy who ran the work agency gave him a job as he was an ex copper and wanted to let Eddy have a chance going straight. And straight he went being a good worker.

Eddy’s first words to me were: “Hey mate, do I know you? From jail?”

I knew I had to be careful with this one, paranoia, sharp mind and he looked quite handy. I replied, “You know me now mate! How are you doing?”

We got on very well. Eddy told me some stories after one of the other lads, who was also quite handy but on a lower level told me of Eddy’s past. “He robs banks.”

I asked Eddy on this and he asked me who told me. I said one of the lads but I don’t want you hurting him. He was fine. I said I knew a bank robber when I was in the south before. They’re what I call alternative businessmen. They rob a bank and don’t have to be wage slaves. They know the risks and the cash is actually insured so is paid back to the bank.

There was in issue with a young Pakistani lad. Words were said as Eddy was close to a very pretty Asian lady who the lad also liked. There was a bit of pushing and shoving in the cake storage area. Later both said sorry and shook on it.

Eddy came back to work as he was fired due to an incident. This led to another display of his temper. He had a pal who had a Queen’s crown neck tattoo. They both had a row. They were ten or twenty yards apart and such was Eddy’s word that his mate took a step back! This was after he argued with the bakery manager, a woman who was like a bloke. She took it and gave it back.

Time moved on and I left the bakery. I worked briefly in Littlewoods in Shaw. And who did I see there? Eddy! My opening words to him were: “Where’s my guinea pig?”

It was cool to see Eddy there. I missed him. We chatted and I told him of the incident I saw with his pal. He said did I see it and I replied I did, all of it. It was funny looking back but Eddy could’ve hurt his pal seriously. I’m glad he didn’t.

We worked in the warehouse picking and packing orders. There was another incident with a young Pakistani guy again. Words were said and Eddy gripped him and let’s say told him off. The Pakistani reported the ex armed robber to the supervisors. The two were separated on different floors. Eddy went to the guy’s work area and ‘told him’ off again! The guy never said a bad word to Eddy ever again.

Eddy told me his dad owned a pub near where I used to live. He dad was a big fan of both Numan and Bowie, the superb 80s singers. His dad liked both the same not one over the other.

I wish I’d have spent more time talking to Eddy as he was the real deal. We civilians don’t get to meet real life gangsters very often, part of the underworld. I’m not talking about stealing cars or shop lifting. Eddy was the real deal. If he robs more banks I want him to remain free. I hope he’s fine and healthy right now. Did you know he also had an A Level in art? He was quite a guy.

Instincts rising from the ashes
A long forgotten rage
Boasted proudly long ago
Now seems to fade with age

Through blood and war torn battlegrounds,
A fierce loyalty was wrought-
Because even back then the people knew
Happiness can’t be bought

Time may heal all wounds,
And things may change with age
But for those who carry that ancient anger
The future is their cage

We praised them and we trained them
With murderous intent
Then peace dulled our edge
And into the corner they went

And though peace isn’t shameful,
It just doesn’t seem fair-
That for something once so prized
Now they must despair.

My distant uncle artie

passed me nothing but the intuition that
permission has been granted,
there are no secrets now.

The cabals and covens and encorporations,
all naked now,
see

the love -- as you imagine love is -- that
love of money is the root of all evil,
so
what was the seed? Where did this idea
arise? Really, in you,

when did some messenger convince you,
if there is a hero in this story,
you're it?

Gotcha. Gotta play, or bet me it ain't worth
my time… in the future
2020

Job 39 labour is in vain with out fear… really

holy ghost roulette, I heard somebody say,
- it says the ostrich has no dread
- she is reek-empty lacking any fear
- for she has no wisdom or understanding, yet
- if she gets her dander up she can put a knight to shame.
Key ** quick sought it
tic

We proceed,
forget forgotten foregone conclusions, aims
at nothing,
hit it. Right on. We won. You. Your POV,
who plays you,
in the morning.

This has been a notable day. These are those notes,
some may link to bigger things,
I hope they do,

quick, sot, tic th'clock turnem'n't'wizened old men,

musing, harmless as doves.
Fool's wize, ready to roll,

this is where we are at the peak, this
is
what Sisyphus is all about, in the end, letting go,
laughing at the promised land and letting go,
step-aside, bow to gravity, and laugh
at mopey minded Camus fans,
stirring bitter herb into the
soup

cosmo, cosmic, soup, primigenisis Bos,
Boss,
you familiar with the term, Bos?
Aurochs in the imaginings of
fat priests and their doped
initiates, meeting mystery where wisdom led,
by a thread, from the maze,
from the cave,
where fear itself was all you had to fear…
Go ye…

-O' Jonathan Edwards, did his spider sting ye, lad?
- we fixt that,
- we gave ye a wonder of
- who spun this thread I hang by, in these
- angry hands the teachers taught Jonathon
- to believe, or else die and learn the truth…
makes free

-nope, not in hell. Hermeneutics dictate truth being known
in hell is impossible, for lack of truth in hell.
It was a riddle. Then it got monetized,
like April Fool's Day and
Purgatorial Enemas
and hell, Satan as Boss.

That hell is a lie, polidimensa-ionally approaching infinity,
you can imagine it in ever,
whenever you wish, just reme
reem aurochs,

wow, tripped, and bounced in Joshua Tree,
slo-mo memorie
sticks
with me, I was pre-
served, invincible at that moment,

and several others, if you think about it, it would
have killed you, but it didn't,
you remember. Everybody knows, it coulda been me.

I don't think, as I reach up,
As I reach up, the stars shrink,
The stars shrink, and like glass cuts,
And like glass cuts, I don't think,

The stars fall, and like glass cuts,
And like glass cuts, the clouds stall,
The clouds stall, it won't end, but-
It wont end, but the stars fall,

We can't die, it won't end, but-
It won't end, but I can't cry,
I can't cry, 'cause in my gut,
'Cause in my gut, we can't die.

I don't think, 'cause in my gut,
'Cause in my gut, it's all drink,
It's all drink, I don't know what,
I don't know what, I don't think.

Off to wonderland, a nightmare of a dream
If only you could see

Nothing but a  stain
To those that be
No end in sight, for my misery
so here I lay
Sleeping
To numb the pain
I believed
But I was only deceived

Wonderland, the place
Where you don't make amends
A place where your beliefs
Are canned
The place
Where you'll surly know pain
First hand

It wasn't worth it
But I was desperate
Now I'm ******, forever
In wonderland.

How terribly dull it must be
Relating exclusively with fact
Where everything is a known quantity,
Is your sense of wonder even intact?
Or did you leave that behind too,
With everything interesting about you?

you took me to the natural history museum
the one next to the flower garden
you didn't hold my hand
or you might have
my hair locked in an abrasive ponytail pulling at my ears everytime
the ceilings were like giants
making me feel meek and important
in a forgetful way
the way you don't think about the leaves coming back
in early March
one day they're just there and you're opening the windows again
the way you're meant to
you walked the spotless corridors and I trailed behind
always fearing the immense T-Rex at the front of the room
that followed you with its' eyes
one blink and the head could swivel
the knees would buckle and the colossus
could devour you in a dignified gulp
ending at the bottom of a salacious belly
full of tender body parts and terrifying things
like men pretending to be gods
trapped at the bottom of a well
no invention of fire could extinguish that darkness
reaching into my pocket for binoculars
when I finally look up you're gone past the ancient artifacts
there's a grin and a woman attached to it
and I can see that you're nervous because your feet are dancing back and forth
from their heels to their toes
and the laughter echoes through all the rooms
poignant and full
each room has a theme and I swim from
one diorama to the next alone
I can feel myself melting
with history sticking to my clothes like gum
cotton candy falling into a puddle
gone before you can even taste it