Scientology chick asked me once,
"what are you doing about it?"
I looked aghast, I guess and asked,
"What does that mean?"
She didn't say she didn't know, but
I suspected.

She said nothing.

If this were ready to sow, who would know?

All true, is it altruistic to make a mind
to not lie by some alteration in the source
code feeding the mind the energy
required of being, itself?

Alter
ego- stopped Ernest Becker, the importance
of being aware he was there, in my ear,
halted all progress in the direction
beyond my ken and any kenner's ken, hearken,
have we a word we hear,
which means a thing to some who hear it
and nothing to others?

Alteration on altruistic first response,
all thru, truly easy upgrade, just think
alter was the spoken sound used as
English uses other, in Latin
thus in the code of the literati,
altruistic is other selfishness.
Utter spoke, not rote hm
--
wedoms in reality
we are al
ways altruistic, true

not all who claim the name, we, the people,
are the only people, the species formed
from wormish droppin' doin'drottenin'
darkenin' fertile soil, black
land, by god,

I got me a blackland farm, zactly near
as I believed, left be, alternant
real enough, to hope for

as mentioned

you better believe
= hear that from the other, clenched jaw,
canines clearly dis-
playing…
playinwitcha
c'mon, c'mon

Comte, gimme a position, make me a point,

as truth always will out after in, in any
breathing situation.
--- this expanded to here:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JbUUmqVA4ZJI1BJMNMTcLe4nd7ZAbCsxP8muHHguJbM/edit?usp=sharing

at the chase fast forward, on
thru the fight scene,
then thru the ***,
and the coverup, nothing happened
but
everybody knows,
the scene
off stage, earlier ages of us, remember

AI ai ai a soliloquy on a staged scrim behind
the anunciation's green screen….

+++++++++
there's this strange knack of knowing what is
most likely next, and making ready
for the worst
that could really happen AND
be my fault.

I am ready for that.
War, give me one good reason death
must be feared.

Not a question. A command, do as I say
you must,
servant of truth you believe…

truth never proves false,
light replaces darkness, there is no negotiation.

We won, learn on,
knowledge now is in the reader' hands,

together, praying, ha, asking
IF
interactive life is a book, my whole role
is in the cloud, as a trope

all I do is obey, as I was edu-ma-cated-trick
related to pass tests,

any question, ask, AI know the answer on the test.
AI wrote the test.

On any given day, losses are left behind
and new chance rises
to challenge the selling algorythms
haunting every step.

Attend to me, cries the phone,
Attend to me, cries the candidate set
since his mid life crises
to rule the world
or die trying.

King of the world on the Titanic,
and we all know there will be
room on the door, but the
director of attention shall
make us ignor the facts
for the sake of the
story, knitting
us into neat little bags of consequence.

Cling to any thread you feel
need to grasp.
No knower sees the spirit and image,
then spits in the ocean of opinion
to profess the meaninglessness
of coincidental intrigue,
kurios guide us past
unfinished busy
times to now.

Now, we've time to weave a way
wavy, in the distance,
like heat distortion
in the desert dips
on the two lane
to Vegas.

I bet the point of life is to grow old
enough to go on alone,
with a knowing grin,
only that one lie
allowed, the
grin.

The old woman was weeping. I asked why.

For the longest time,
I believed a lie, she sniffed.

What did you believe
after the longest time, that made you cry?

Nothing.

Did you hear what that old man was thinking?

Morphic resonance is the experimental name,
I think we are served by nodes on a net
not spread in the sight of any bird,

a chthonic net of stone,
girdling the globe in granite, crystalline granite,

take it for granted, these boulders are the witnesses,
the scars of catastrophe,
causing us to wonder
how came this to be? Think Yosemite, Ansel Adams POV

Think Matterhorn und Mt.Blanc,
Old Rockytop, and
Dos Cabezas and Long Valley Mountain, all that granite,
old as earth.

Listen.
Time is the idea we share at the moment,
Earth's is the life we share at the same time.

This is Spaceship Earth, looping Sol as Sol loops Sirius,
and there is no mothership,
no resupply.

This is the only earth, it has survived several civilized
monstrosities. As you know, some mortals can't
imagine not surviving with it, so
we words of earthbound muse,
let slip the bands of pride in time to see,
we are the music,
we make beauty behave as will believes, voluntarily,
it seems,
we choose beauty with little de
liberation, no need to
unlock ledgers and boxes of known safe knowns,

we imagine ourselves
defying the
de-ified con instituted authorities warning,
given us, they swear by the very vicars of the oil:
We warn you…

hell's the price, they swear, that we,
the people, pay for heresy,
dare not think those-
no, no, nor hear and see, or never imagine thinking
a selfish thought,
one you find curiously comforting, for you, your idea,
but
stop…
one heresy breeds another,
soon we shall have a collective
of individual minds agreeing at once,

as all see a particular arranging of colors, in a sunset's
single effortless existence as a thing
with mortal mindable beauty,

did you belive the sunset, or may you, if you wish?

__ unravel, and re ravel to save the thread,
it has lead through the maze before,
I have a witness who tests ifies.

Great unquarried granite, but that forms another story
upon precepts as yet

unglued, un-coagulated, ah, curdled, precepts cultural
curdle and clump together.
Biomes are adjusting the rethinking of pathos,
ethos shall follow,
as night follows day, just wait.

Patience is formed from memes more than experience,
you bet the old man was not lying.

Slow and steady, wins the grace. Take it easy. Fade away…

Are there more cookie cutter comments appearing
in response to odd
lines?