Ginsburg threw me a line…

"on the black waters of Lethe", as I floated by.
A ware, launched in antiquity as tonal code,
lazily waiting the call,
dum did dum dum dum, drum drum drum

Big bass,
tickled in tune to the whistler washing dishes,
in the back, we've all seen
in the back, on TV

but are you,
really, for all reality is worth,
are you experienced, have you gone this far
before?

Have you changed a diaper on a rich old lady?

Seems like, right, one word to another,
line upon line, precepts perceptively retained.
Precious little is as it was.

Pre is a time-wise measure, how can we think
past thoughts,
we never cross the same river twice.

No question demands an answer in truth,
demands are put on servants, while we
are known as friends,
to all those floating on the Lethe,

well below the leavee, see, there those
same ol' good ol' boys discerning whiskey from rye.

They see time's a river, and I agree,
says this story to me, but
I say, it is a river of light on a bubble's inner edge,
I been there, Age of Lethe, a game I invented,

-- a virus, plays by lethargic rules, no effort needed,
living to steal and **** and destroy,

a minimalist First Person Shooter, steal **** destroy,

then it was hacked, steal **** destroy, mutated into
take **** destroy give,

which was odd, because all truth comes in three
pointy things, if then else
oops opposites spoo ffffffff effect

****** drama writ large, it was us,
the muses, dis-mazing the mazed again
a loss of time,
too bad. Three points equal one try. Aim.

So sad. Grieve for the fallen all we never knew,
the heroes unsung.

Goto the ant, thou sluggard living in a floating Barco
Lounger, drifting aimless--- ah, what if not,

what if I know a place,
just around the next bend, and

we get off there? What then, it's my story?

If you can see the beauty, live; {long i}
be there, in that
time in space tucked in
after ever before and know,
I am not God,
but I'm good… annext to never more
as ever after all.

Toy poems with metre measured in secret
mathic rhythms to mask the chthonic excuses

hidden in couplets and twice twisted sevens
jots and tittles known only in song

Cantor sing of alleluia, jah jah siss boom bah
Yah, who lifted us from slavery and brought us back

on track to be conjoined in
twin snaking tales of things that work, well

function for the good
in the principle
idea of be, aimed at
am-ing, ping, ding, ****

the witch is dead,
which old witch?
the wicked witch, ding **** the wicked witch is dead.
And that past as a flash- back to the future,
home again, home again,
higgs-idy lickity split,

you remember. We are old… working out

Silver sneakers, so Hermes-ish, I wish
to find that character playing the guesser guessing
something like the common sense
some folks scorn for simple use,
in times of electricity, whispering revealing the insanity,
in order
to lieve be the madmen, wombed and un, effected
by the tribal lie, used to shape a nation
from a ritual story retold to fit the pleasure of the tyrant
of the time,
time sold for membership in the mess,
a seat at the table….

imagine the aftermath of hate, juxt
now,
oppose the forethought,
say no,
the worst is not to come,
not from my agreeing with those fools
who
accuse me of lying in wait to take your soul,
and keep it safe,

wished you knew the secret of secrets, did you?
what do you know?
Death can be imagined more often than possible,
truly, once is enough,
truly, fleshed out with characteristics common-
found as basic features in life's
entertaining devices used to hold the oxen in line,
daily grind, grease the squeeks, see the wish
wish wish

all the stories speak of ever after this,
then that we know

yes,
know,
some sudden how, now
we know…

nothing.
F'sure, like I said. God, make me like Socrates,
and Jesus, suddenly
I know
nothing. But I'm alive.

And life still works, asking no further effort from me.

In sparkling eyes love conflates
into each empty dinner plate

I could only wish to feel the heat
Of comfort at the kitchen's feet

Of happiness in an empty bowl
And the satisfaction of filled souls

But we sit hollowed from inside out
Head on to each beastly route

-Emperor of feeble epiphanies
Sell me each lightened efficacy

And maybe then we won't stare so low
From the tips of our utensils, we had honed

It feels good,
done right, it feels good.
It touches good
life,
the quality, the measurable
usable weight, the worth
of thinking, right,
like
I KNOW
this is good, this gift, this pain
reminding me,
death happens all the time,
putting me in mind as a chooser,
chance taker,
cheater, by God, if I know what
I thought
I knew…

craps, roll again, I'm rich.
I got all the time in the world.

When you win right, nobody loses.

DIY AI
Do It Yourself
Act Inteleostical

aim at fame, take the blame
aim at shame, hide and watch

aim at games no mind can matter in,
hope to hell that you are right,

roll the bones…

let the story form the world we agree upon,
stand, bipedally biased to lieve be
the balance factor in terms
of fear being a reason
to respond,
in one way, or another, knowing now

time is all together different than imagined,
not long ago,
on a little think… we know the journey story,
did we
really live so far from the center?
It seems so,
from where I stand, unembodied in another
reconnected to the story,
a book's worth of time, stretched to thinnistical
translucence,
sparks we imagine having seen as signals slow
to
geo speed, Gaia mind, ****** - that
sensation of ever mattering
just now,
for a moment, then

now, again, similar but never the same,
riverish as any wish one tests
again, after ever has began
to play in the per-ifery.

how does confidence work? {wizassume, control, I say}
effing around
ecting right - effectual
use
ual expectations seeing out
-proper angle aim

ritual window looking through
see through the eye,
be the face behind the mask,
speak as gods spake
in the dramas
- dharma play passion
dance in circumstanding
conserving eE qualia
humming
sixty cycle key of being

You are the older of the two
minds used to operate your casing
think how you survived on mars, water

ah, Hailie Selassie can I lie and say I never knew
one wild black chic at the welfare office,
who wore one of those brass MGM lion buckles,
and swore it depicted the lion of the tribe of  Judah
aspect of Hailie Selassie…
You know he drank…
I queried her faith in the knowing, she whispered,
*******.
---------------
who knew who was otherwise,
secrets from the kiva,
live in the chakras
ladder of life
messengers meaning go do act re act

and after ever before
now became our
moment.

then. Now. You know the feeling, right?

How many seeds can one **** sow?

Semper fi. Such as use the faith in semper fi,

Tcells ever utter semper fi,
You know, in you, your Tcells never forget
who you are,
though as they age they allow odd
possibilities to challenge our
edginess,

stay sharp. You asked for this.
Expertise, in a word,
perfectly right use-skill-knowing

inside out upside down and back
to wards of reason so gentle
any hint of war begging
reason for one  more
shot…

nay, nay, be tamed tongue of man,
be ware like, wait,
warlike did not work.
wait, calculate, go go go again
e be virus-virulent vigorous
closer, but…
Were you ai-mmmmming aiming I mean,
were you shooting me
a glance

across the way, wow, we do, yes
yes, alike
I think, Ja, like Einstein,
a little, but at thought speed,

due to mutablasphmisical re-ai-ties with time for children in it.
L-reala-aimouri, branded class of fictions,
legal as reminders, chemical stress tests, read

no. read. no. read. no… who cares

we settle or we splash, be hap may hap per pur pose
or none. Life is a joy in the living, I can imagine, as a word.
---
Those are suns, said Jesus to Bruno, see where that secret
takes you.