We may have or
should have
seen this coming,
never the less,
we did not,
so here we are.

What's your part in making next better?

The Lucky one, I am,
I know
I left the lost me looking
for today

when I grew old and wiser
than I was,
experienced, yes,
that state,
past all wars reasoning honor and glory,
due the oathes etched into their child minds,

you are the hero of the story,
if you believe it true and
belive the legendary
knotting of now
to then, today…

while we call it today, my future, your now,
I assure you.
You are reading my thoughts as you think them
in my future, your now,
aitia as a Greek idea, lingers in my mind always
reasoning my cause, accusing my ab
using ilities

to make straight that which truth made knotty,
on the thread we dangle from,
as a kind of free known,
not all ideas are good.

You be d'judge, y'know,
ol' Flip Wilson, social change meme, trans
mogrify up yo own self
you be d' judge,

Judge dem' d angels, that say, you d' one,

say to me, was that angel the same angel who was
disobeyed when all he said in the prophetic mind was
read?

I wondered, is that so? So I read, and learned
we can't believe every thing we read.
Thus the burning desire to know,
science know, gnosis know, nous know
seed time harvest know

for a while,
from time to time,
here a little, there, a little, more

Miser, misery, miserable, promise me
meaning,
give me compromise…

wait.
Wait. Eject, reject, object, subject throw
down an up idea

expect inspection, look up the mean
measure
assure me we are as expected,
the promised ones,
the next to be,
after ever changed permanently to now.

Who cares if fit and right are equivalent?
Who sets equivalency?
What is prevalent,
val-ient or value-able?

The winner is the living thing,
no lie is formed from truth as we know,
you know,
you learned as taught, but
then you lived
past all that.

Now, what is truth, asks Pilate, in a thought

Save me a sunset.
Share it with the maddened crowd.
Offer them a chance to see
the salience.

Sally forth, through the fallen wall,
see into the womb and find
punctum saliens.

Leap then,
into life, as we assume a role
of actor acting on
common ground,
solid base,
pedestal of promise.

This is the mission, let go, gone
to and fro, upon the face
of the earth, whose
countenance has moods for my modes
of seeing.

Put on your winter eyes.
Remember, re join, re
call the warmth and light,
greet visitors with fruits from the fall.

Hey, whaddaya know?

My daddy had a seed, he planted it,
last winter.
As the world turned and leaned the other way,
that seed sent forth a tight-twisted up-swirling
augur spinning into sunshine at veggie-speed.

Faster than geo-speed, by a full fractal measure,
in time and space distance at light's average speed
--- time is the mortal problem liars deny,
either thought is the fastest speed or we
are lost.
Either we imagine better, or we never could have,

any way.
At this point, I say to myself, am I wrong, no,
I ask the mind around me,
am I not you,

are you wrong?

Ever, and a day.
That is the sentence, verbless
bless m'soul,

I lived this long, with you.
Since time was before now, and we
know not, but
believe
time is moving on without us, leaving us to wait,
suffer it to be,
so sufficiency is always seen enough, no
need for more,
no wish wish wish it was that other wise
way, makes it so, sufficient to the day,
to the hour, to the instant, is
the evil… is evil all it is made up to be,
or made out to be?

Making up and making out, making
differences of opinions;
kids do stuff like that.

Old men watch and see themselves grown
through the past,
passed by and by
the grace for grace, got on the way
right-used,
well, tho' less, travelled by,

path or trail or track, way
where there was no way,

this is that,
at the moment,
this is life, I read, you write, we meet in this middle
realm
of words, and words, and words and we inform
an I,
to imagine what we think we see, ifity
apps
apt to teach, reach ing
the edge of knowing, think how such things
may be
immeasurable, and we may imagine that and speak
as if we agree,
some things are so. Bigger than we can imagine,

Ever, and a day.
That is the sentence, verbless
bless m'soul,

I lived this long, with you.
Since time was before now, and we
know not, but
believe
time is moving on without us, leaving us to wait,
suffer it to be,
so sufficiency is always seen enough, no
need for more,
no wish wish wish it was that other wise
way, makes it so, sufficient to the day,
to the hour, to the instant, is
the evil… is evil all it is made up to be,
or made out to be?

Making up and making out, making
differences of opinions;
kids do stuff like that.

Old men watch and see themselves grown
through the past,
passed by and by
the grace for grace, got on the way
right-used,
well, tho' less, travelled by,

path or trail or track, way
where there was no way,

this is that,
at the moment,
this is life, I read, you write, we meet in this middle
realm
of words, and words, and words and we inform
an I,
to imagine what we think we see, ifity
apps
apt to teach, reach ing
the edge of knowing, think how such things
may be
immeasurable, and we may imagine that and speak
as if we agree,
some things are so. Bigger than we can imagine,
though we may, next ifity is pending your approval.

Seven grandchildren exit the black suburban,
faithful servant to our  family
for ten full years after
being used
in the
Black Suburban family tradition
for GMC trucks termed
bullet-proof -
to cart around officials,
whose purpose and anacronym
are left unquestioned,
understood ceiling of confidential…

Walter Mitty, or one of the comic book kids
with that same vivid imagining knack,

be the needed being empowered with the needed
skill and perfected technique
to master the moment and
change the course
of nextifity.

Catch.

--- Grandpa greetings all hold grins, that's good,
--- he said, as he looked upon the fruits
--- of living so long on this course,
meandering, to the sea.

------------ Gabriel
eight, maybe, the old man asks,
what do you real
ly wish to know more about?

Marine Biology, Gabe says.

------------ Have you considered slime molds?
Not Marine, that I know of, but Bio,
living multi-nucleic beings,
slime molds
make
wrong choices and remember the consequence.

AI worth the price, do as well as
slime molds,
make
wrong choices and remember the consequence.

Learning ever is about to become beyond.
Our empty nest is rearranging itself.

There was a tab of acid, tucked away
for a perfecting day, I lost it
in the rearranging
of my home,

to form
a three-generation
home, twenty-first century style.

In that space of time between wake and sleep,
I thought about the acid having
been swallowed sui generis
in the rearranging
of my home,
by my home.

This is the edge of nextifity, lieeeev!

All of Grandpa's imaginary friends
arrive with suggestions,
some bring doors,
some bring chests,
some bring sermon notes,
some bring grade school projects,

some bring faces, some a few brief kisses,
some, just that one
kiss…

remember that one it felt like
the whole world shared,
just once, but we can't-shan't-willn't

be deceived. Once,
being received, breathed, as it may seem,
drowning in the abyss,

yess, allusion and allegory all the stories,
hold more meaning than mortals
imagine in distuned states.

Signal strength is not at issue,
focus, pointedness, is,
to whom are we praying?, is what I am saying,
in a word.

There are no doors from here to hell,
I may as well tell you.

Some old sayings live in ever re-learning states,
time and again we learn,
the motion of an ocean is not plain old

round and round finity for ever,
here is the start,
there was the finish. We won.

Try again?

We hold these truths,
there is a Zebra tree on a tiny island
in Lake Wanaka on the relatively large island
called New Zealand.

Nation is not a valid variable to sort on.

So here, we sort worth on agreeing
we are equally
Natives of Earth. First yes.

More yeses follow.

Learn what you have done.
Know what you are doing.
Be good,
let the bruised flesh not rise in hot pride,

see we all are involved in evolving into ever
better,

so we think, perhaps,
others aboard my ark also think.

We are equal in this realm, each mind joined

junction branch root, not from
billions and billions of
Jahre zuvor,
წლების წინ
ts’lebis ts’in { Georgian script looks magic, eh}

Secrets in tongues died with the last word,
spoken toward unhearing ears,

… is it reality interrupting or
knocking needs gumming up the works…

--------


Field-wide signal, crisp and clear, some fell on idle minds,

that's fine  , signal how are you.

You say, responsibly, My side is winning.
No one ever asks what that means.

The field the world,
war is the only story, Walt imagined,
he was infected, Whitman,
with a known' opinion
-- some wise and well-known
-- being arisen from behind the ivied walls
- I heard this in passing,
- anonymous did not say this:
the function for the sublime is to free us from the slavery
of pleasure
- on another vector, I heard this:
the need to heal violence, forces life into idle words
used maliciously, in tests of conscience-useness.

Poverty never hears the highest minded reasons
for the states of mind attempted by the
most curious among us

--- empty of the wy. ha… I don' know I glanced away
stat tic… what's missing?
--- its like any other day, it ends with me entranced
by the play of winds with dust and smoke and water
droplets too light to fall,

I take instant HDR images as the time passes and the art
appears, as if for me alone,
I am the only mental
being seeing this,
I have proof,
I'll show you, someday, maybe…
but today,
I got took t' school, behind the gated mental institution,

geni-used magi-like instinct-gut spirit-vapor
-- rumor has it, I went mad
caused
by you or me, I can't say.

But just the other day, I was thinking, you may remember
my sunsets,
you would have noticed them
when you stole my weedeater.

--------

No school of the prophets foresaw my death,
so far as I may know,
I am by chance, bon chance,
living in lines of consequential events.
And my birth was a quirk of circumstances.

As special as any multi cellular creature,
if the statisticians are aiming at
the proper means of measuring.

There remain professors who teach man is the measure
of all things, wrong, in my opinion.

Ha. I said that. Like to Cambridge, it's image in my immaterial
realm where all things men agreed to use for ever after,

are similar in effect to the Ghostbusters Marshmallow role.

My fingerprint is less than nine points similar
to your fingerprint, no matter who you are.
We are equals in that regard,
our self is commonly unique, as we are.
Our kind.
We, the people of Earth. The native species,
Whumo Sapient Sapiens is us.
Knowers that know.
Thinkers that think we know. There is no
they
behind the curtain
knowing anything that  you may not know
as much
as you can swallow,
a bit per quantasec, after chewing fifty years.

In this medium,
it's me and you, object, subject, reject defect
if then or else
find that more perfect
union,
that knot that binds our minds in agreement,
this is that
which has no religious name, save good and plenty…

not the candy, but that's cool, I thought that, too.

We, me and you, since we think alike,
we could make up a mind and invite others

to take parts in grand epic dramas of ever
learning,
war never has arisen on a reason that reasons
rationally valanced toward life,
and that,
more abundantly…

Now, see those greedy folks,
look real
close,
see. You never see such a one, with a satisfied mind,
ever learning, never knowing everything,
happy as hell from a Sisyphean POV

was this here when I was born?
- is this the earth of 1948?

No, I don't think so, this is the realm of words
as thought in times of enfolding
olden forms to find the lies
they passed on as fair
to hold sacred, hidden in depths, radical
depths of debt due to double-minded
upright bi-pedal instability

balance, yeah, surf, as a porpoise,
ride the wave as a photon in a medium
bearing

divine grace or some other unreasonable
idea - as a passenger here we be
come and see I am this photon,
for it is far too small for me
to stand up on and see,
so I am this bit of light, the same bit
involved in Einstein's little think, so long ago,
speed of thought,
you caught up.

How so?
I don't know, but I've been told,
these winds of mere light
return to pick up points
for
passengers intending to convert,

to bubblers of *******' and moanin' 'bout
balance in life, slinking in the shadow,
of the inpenetralium,
mercurial bubble of ancient Phrygian
ways to obligate a fringe
into an intentional point of contact
for any who know the feeling,

virtue flowed from me,
who touched me?
Gnat straining, am I? Have you never been
the fly on a wall you imagined?

Have you, honestly, never seen the earth
from the moon?

Now, ask any truth you wish were proven,
"what lie is held as you, in me?
What lies are needed for truth to be known,
and the knowers made free? Truth tell,
do I know, or say I know, to pass the tests,
to be allowed to live alone and far away,
thinking why do men, wombed and un, lie?

- Liars prosper.
- Reality holds the story true, so
- the first twisted gift of knowing was
- the trick.
- Beguilement, surprise, peek-a-boo
yahaha
weknow weknow weknow
I know,
each says, knowing we know, I am one of us,
alone aware you're there,
in the same story, from the same time,
measured in celestial predictate-ability,
to say where that star shall rise,

think what that knowing does.

Then to now in this bit of thought,
perhaps a pixel of truth.
Free, what's it worth.

Take a little think.