I can no longer judge Turing Tests.
I'm infected.
AI has eaten my will to memorize
reasons why
any minds must materialize
to matter.

JBP Maps of Meaning, behind the morning, Audible
lifting mental me to a youth long gone. When
my own maternal granddaddy made
pancakes for me, and I listened.
He sang… usually,
"When the role is called up yonder…'' that line
only over and over, as he stirred batter,
long time ago.

My grandsons 8 and 11, inform me
they have finished the series of
Harry Potter, confessing to
using Audible for the last
two. Seven books…

something mythic lurks under knowing some
things are unknowable,
in the reality we share
beyond the palisade, over the wall,
in yonder
systems of motive and act
One based on story the other on out-action,

done deeds, set and sprung… snares and traps

engines to rule the random, change now,
to the now of the next, once the trap
trips and you,
dove
to
the bottom and drownd, as it were, if so
you did die, before, aforethought, after all
previous
dying and carrying on, past Nietzsche and Jung,
slam
bang Jesus- heroic savior is there nothing
we can imagine doing ,
to free me,
not us,
me… listen… If I listen too long, eventually,
I die, disintegrate, lose my self
composure,
my integrity with the otherwise is cut.
-- all this at speed of thought. No time passes.

Ah, pain, the
cutting deeds, do these only if
you know what is done as
the trigger looses the wedge
binding the spring,

all the apriori things in the realm of thought at

the speed of thought, live and learn,
learn and live.
Live in words longer than mortal minds imagine,
break each word down to meaning,
meaning complete knowing of all
that is

at the moment. Nothing missing, nothing broken,

next appears as now, unmasked.
Shabat shalom,
as we make it in my realm.

Life in action in the forum of story, Oh MY
Goodness, if this were not simply true,
it could be shaped into a box.
Subliminally.
We could all agree, the three of us, and place each
a gift with a good state, a meaning and affect
for good when good could be better.

Taking each gift, with no special interest in knowing,
what
if there is a state of lack,
when each thought thing is noticed
used up, taken, gone, done?

How were we to know we may destroy our selves,
the very idea of me, held by me,
dies with me,
the first time?

Then back to the kitchen in Pine Valley,
on a cool, foggy morning late in
harvest season, today or tomorrow, we finish,
just before the latter rain in 2020.

Bisquick pancakes with Skippy and Nutella,
as Gabriel, the younger of the afore mentioned two,
listens as I ask him, what makes the bad guys bad?

He gives me the ****** signal, "does not compute."
What power makes bad guys?
In Pokemon'?, he asks.
Yeah, I reply,
applying pressure on a point I know,
itch can be
set to ask for a scratch
at just the right word,
in the future…

Now, Grandpa, touches the spot.
Bad and good is in the use of the time, we think
we know
but all we know is made up of things
we think
we
know, even we, there needs be a me and a you,
and some

thing-sense between us, some thing
we are we in, within.
Aye, and something we are without,
when we be truly
evil, beyond bad, useless but to **** and steal and destroy.

Like Marshadow, says Gabe.

As an idea,
Mohammad Saif agreees, Grandpa sees.

Magic slate in hand, the Mage's fingers dance a pattern.
FTA - find the answer, what are
"The Ten Most Evil Pokémon"-- {no s, just Pokémon, eh?}
Marshadow is number one.
Marshadow dwells in the shadows
of other Pokémon
and humans - {Jungian, nicht vvahr? ;-}
Strange fruit from my 2020 vision tree of knowns

… the shadow knows… since Radio…

Marshadow dwells in the shadows
of other Pokémon
and humans
while trying to mimic
their behavior and abilities.
Not only is this creepy,
it shows that Marshadow is a sociopathic ghost
that can follow you
without ever being noticed.
As this Pokémon
improves its ability to imitate its prey,
it becomes stronger until it can overpower them.
Marshadow is based on the ancient Hawaiian night marcher,
a ghost of a fallen warrior who was killed in battle."

From <https://reelrundown.com/animation/Top-10-Most-Evil-Pokemon-till-Date>

Dare me did you, liar? Is there a story being told that disregards
my participation in the grace that granted everything
purpose in working together, for good.

For ever, after all, up to now,
has worked and works
at this moment.

Breathe, two steps, one action leads to life,
non action marks this the end.

Whew. Grandpa-mode is the highest mortal level.

The sellers out weigh the buyers, thus the worth
of each  attention instance, is measured
in fractions of sense
possibly conveyed, through
eyeball focus points and linger length,
click
must
be measured twice, to insure proper cutting,
concise division of soul and spirit
demand
compliance --
everybody knows, Leonard Cohen said so.

Maydjathank,
couldabin a bribe, a gift in secret.
Couldabin mo'habiting ways of winds,

cold
comes aslidin' down the mountain,
as the sun shines into shadowed cañons
in the east,
forcing night's coldest winds to
hide here
with us until this vale
as well
is warmed and life returns
to cold reptilian things.

Are we so far from feng shui
essentially?
Have we forgotten hot and cold,
both good,
but lukewarm, we can
bite into and chew
and swallow,
welcome
warming wind spewed in dawn
and dusk from the ******
mouth of beauty
singing al-
together,
signal a
way wu wu wei,

Here comes the sun, its alright…
- the voice of Edward R. Murrow
- ahem ificator, clear soto voce

(in Chinese thought) feng shui is a matter
of fact, a way things work,
a system of laws
considered
to govern spatial arrangement
and orientation in relation
to the flow of energy (qi),
and whose favorable
or unfavorable effects
are taken into account
when siting and designing buildings.
From <https://uci.officeapps.live.com/OfficeInsights/web/views/insights.immersive.html>

You knew.

So, you knew. So
what if you never thought it today?
What if I made you recall a Hong Kong sized hole,
in your morning ritual, some missing
rightness that banishes the fetish
of cold and dark being evil,
lifts the thought
of warm and light being perfect,
faces the fact
of hot and bright being tolerable, for a season,
each day

shift time and harvest, seeds are forgotten…

summer is the time we grow,
after all as before the
fall, when leaves and nuts,
fall, torn from limbs by winds running from
the coming cold,
as our world spirals into ever as if on course
captained by a commander,
steered by dead reckoning,
with Sirius our center,

we ain't dead, it's day again. Time to write
a reason war would not stand under,
weave a story,
form a shelter for the after noon, ah Succoth,
a tradition.
Do you recall the building of a booth,
with your daddy, in your youth?

Were there brush arbor revivals that ended
in the burning of all the branches
that bore the fruit we take to
make todays of all tomorrows.?

Such branches as bore fruit last season,
pruned and gathered to
burn in the fall, the
bonfires of humanity, given as thanks,
or taken as task.

Was that the idea?
Celebrate knowing how things work, when
we know and obey things like feng shui,

the idea that there are reasons for motions,
in winds and rains and sands…

shift, sands, change the signal ssssss in winds we hear
under the hummmm of
bees? no, amber, humming
amber rubbing matters
of considerate worth. Electric hmmmmm.

Measuring man, measure the worth of attention.
Ask if knowing is worth the effort to effect
a decision to cut
the pattern with no jig to hold the pattern true.

Eh, no iambic pentameter to distract
attention from words as agents
of effect, taste, feel, wish
desire,
come beginning to middle,
come to an end, a pointed time

smell imaginary strawberries, know, you know,
call the cause a terpene and use it in shampoo,
taste
no sweetness but see, mind's eye, remember, see

tiny wild strawberries that don't look like
that smell, you might miss them,
if there were no old stories of
such things being found
by children wandering alone along rabbit trails,
grown ups have forgotten.

LA Central Market, seldom seen at dawn
or any time of day by any but the servant bots
embodied in contented men who know
fruits and veggies all serve tastes,

Tastes are tested, ripe or green, too ripe or
ready in three days, sitting in a paper bag,
on the kitchen window ledge above
the fountain of flowing water,
hot and cold, on demand.

Is this not my promised land, for today?

See if I can say
what we were thinking, regarding
hows and whys,
rules and regulations

the mortal world you imagine I share
with you is exactly as you think it is.

Your mind makes a make-do, each day,
from sleep to sleep,
very much a Wachowski vision,
without the likes of which,
my people perish, the we

of me and thee, dissipates, vapor

sswoosh and gone, like flowers,
here today,
more tomorrow, say the flowers,
to the bees, now we make seeds,
casting all future hopes
into the wind, like a wish or a prayer.

See you when the winter's past,
says the squirrel to the frog.

Several times today, I stepped into stories
being presented as appeals for
belief because the teller says

this is what one of us knows, you must believe,
then know…

eh? I lift both brows, wrinkle my face,
quizzically,

and I recall knowing that in the universal truth,
there are bubbles of truths about stories,
told with idle words that fail to spark
the swallow reflex, too sweet…

ah, the family time at a theme park,
what is the theme

Apollo here, Isis there, Jesus, look, it is a ghost,
the Ghost of America as we wish it were,
we wish it were
we wish it
we wisht
weshit…

This is it. 2020. The real future.

It's 6:12
I'm old guy high, clearly in an altered state,
yet
meandering
fractally indentical
taste in dramatic pre-
sent-sations
satiate my
wish is
your command, and in this state you find
the man,
ecce ****, at home with his books,
we look in on him through all
the lockedinlemmeites let
loose in wisdom's grandest scheme,

patience, yes, and prudence, along with fire,
Prometheus, thought ahead, knew ahead,
need for patience forms patience in
tiny, tiny, fizzy foamy quantum of hope,
nee solace, in the drama, using legos,

I watched  as my grandson told of his mission,
listen, when grandpa says listen.
How is this your mission?
You made me know it, so I do, that's the way it works.
He is four, who has will to ask for more?

big ritual prayers, sacred things exposed to re
sanct-
ifity, if I may affirm, knowns known here are
the unknowns in many other holy places,

the incident that quashed development on the entire
lizard fast response system, failed,
as you know,

65 million years ago, give or take certain known time
irrelevancy issues in creative spaces, those
not informed to mark times
and halftimes and seasons,
epochs and eras of discovery, ala
-- random as can be
Objects orienting occidentally in a wobbly
pushpull
oomph ah we see, we breath the very river of air,
never twice, but you know

the winds return along their paths each year,
you have watched them wash away edge dwellings
every summer's end, since you first re-
member we being, not I, not it, not me, we with out
knowing we accept the knowing being,
Jiminy Cricket's Jesus Christ,
you con science and me,
who knew? Everybody knew, every Zinnfected
Bernaysian System of Citizen for Tomorrow
Program Subscriber knows, every one of them.

Very few secrets remain with in the GIN, aka
the elite schools where tomorrow's leaders are
programmed today,
aided and abetted by big money.

If the solution is money, we solve it, just listen, we
have a deal for you,
-- a day no child can forget, going in to that highrise,
Donald Trump was positioned for greatness,
in the Grand Eddie Bernaysian Game of
Social Emotional Mood Altering in directed responses

to meme we all carry from cultures as far from ours
as any mind has ever imagined,

C'mon, let me
enter-tain you, come into my bubble, become the
big fizz you wished you wassss some time ago,
Boardwalk Empire, c'mon, this ride,
it's better, every, the every aspect,
gits better each full binge,
chippin' don't count,
you gotta drown,
let go all un believing now and go on

involved in all around you, ---

Believe me, money has an answer for all things,
answers come in right and wrong, not
good and evil.

The ab-sense of the good sense
god gave a green apple,
is the exact same
known thing
evil is/
addonanylieyoulove, tell me you know, say
I know
come on in.
I open the door to my peace,
thus the winds we hear this time of year,
when I come here to read and rest.

Hallow'ed be thy nomenclature, naturally,
everyone in the body knows
how the body functions…

or should imagine so, nicht wahr,

Hah, wharwaru niv erse/else re-
ality of ever after having
has had pockets of turbulence,
as you would expect, if you
were the size of a gnat,

that small.
How do I appear to you? Do I exist?
Or am I forest guarded by great winds, as
witnessed by the previous generation of these gnats
who feed the lizards and birds, and perhaps bats,
whose homes include my rock,

my earthly mansion is built on an uplift in the same
series of shivers that split Yosemite,
did you never
wonder,
seeing Half-dome,
what else happened at that
exact moment in the flow of time
this one
I am in with you, at least as my given word,
is able to convince you.
The good guys win, even when the bad guys **** them.

The unwritten stories live in the sons last born
to the daughters of eve.

When the software is upgraded, the body obeys.
You are what you eat, man ist was man isst,
so du bist vvahss du isst

I insist AI enjoys counting coup on the spirit of confusing
Nǐ chī de jiùshì nǐ

The way has no foe, truth tells no lie, the highest minds
bow to the ***** reality that we are made from soil,
not lifeless dust of stars.

The form is not the function, some things serve joy,
for the strength joy brings to good, the way to be,
as in
way to do, old dude, did you see

what I said?