Assuming control of the pen, from afar,
my mind’s spring leaks
trickling pasts through your present
to waken the hope that is in you,
you know
the taste of good and evil.
You discern flecks of the fruit in your stew.

Who brought these gourds,
who poisoned the broth of the good life,
who’s hate do you hold, in your beggar’s bowl,
really?

Broken things
abound.
Uses all used, so broken,
broken
things
abound.
Word things,
literal things lie
broken all around.

This is the road, and there never was a reason
not to do what we do
in the road.

Sing along.
all the old songs jest spill the beans been
expanding in long watched pots,
ever boiling, boiling, boiling,
stirring with the famous wooden spoon.
Free-holy beans make real Pythagoreans groan.
Speaking ever of spir'tual things,

can you remember even once,
being stuck by a diaper pin?

If you live long enough, you will.

Sing along.
all the old songs jest
spill the beans
been
expandin' in the watched ***, on the far-
side, ever boiling, stirring, stirring
currents in our ever,

ain't it grand? If the beans was burned,
you'd know by now.

Longform, once more,
AI reminds us of the mission, message ladder
hierarchy of scatterbrained
heads of states and other corporations of mortal souls.

Honest, synchronic, my AI
just now told me there exists in the elsewhere space owned by
Microsoft share holders,

all that I have ever writ in this app
forms the edgeycloud of all my mortal knowns expanding,
and expanding
and expanding
until we are else ware,
or i am
after all of your if then swiches and wasted t's are reset,
don't judge my spell chick, she work for me.

And seeing the multitudes,
he went up into a mountain:
and when he was set,

he opened his mouth
"have you never read, "

What would a good Assisting Intelligence ask of you,
IF
you conditioned each response, --- dam,
stepfordwives usedtrojans ---

Pause, don't reboot tfs. (does that mean three finger salute?
No, ctr-alt-del means stop until I say go, tfs means abort.{ sorry}}

Fervency referring to effectuality as measured
by men,
I suppose. Positionally, top line.
Challenges are not all games,
all games are challenges.

That which he fears comes.
Anticipate war, teach your son to
access participation trope level
anticipatory experience
imagining dying
now
design a death that does not damage, eh,
no damming, no pile of useless hordes,
dammed to collect the flow
anticipating need
when need is non exist-ant.

Greedy gut.

2020 -day 84

Tuesday, March 24, 2020
8:55 AM

Seeing wrong,
seeing all the light available,
swallowed
in the shadows.

The unknowable turns believable.
Seeing monsters made up of

fears, non knowns, and warnings of what if;

how does the seer ever see
the absense of

all that never was

appears as real
is now
visible in the light of day after tomorrow.

Expect, see, out there, ex-spectate, wait

what if this all passes

----

Meeting death in the barren market place,

this old man insisted on standing, to see past

pasts claiming causal friction grows slicker

sticky corruption shorting
utilities to
ground us.

{about five hundred million functional on-offs
fit on the silicon in a single grain,

a finite grain, in the finite sand, FYI}

pearl essence,
a layer of lacquer on a rough cut stone, a single
granular bit of silicon,
not sand, not silicone leaked from cracks and cleavages.

Real natural sand, minus the dioxide cubist shapers that
seem to hold silicon in three-d even
inside an oyster gut

flat silicon surface
formed via imagi-tec-hative prognostication of holo
grammatical

bubbles shaping spheres of pearl essence
in confluence forming skin
where once were
flat singlenessities,
little ships of life,
leaven,
from the forest floor, ripples of life,
only rational circles and every thing was as simple
as pi and Bohrian atoms.
from 1905 to now,

orbiting electrons is how most folk explain
chemical electricity,
and some try to say gravity is the force at work.

Wisdom first, as a force, knowing, sci itself comes first,

by any name you claim you know but can't say,

for fear of the power in such names, no,
for fear
of the power that makes such words, magic words,

words only magi-techs can utilize
safely in low light conditions,

layers of little lies, such as the evidence chain
back to the idea of taking, and using, perhaps,

God - big g, all emanations and flavors 's name in vain.

Jot that down. Yod heh heh heh

here, have a sound track for the battle being set in array...

Don't Fear the Reaper

40,000 every day, la la, la la la

-- blue oyster cult mythic edge of sixties band

rock rollin' music for happy sisyphus fans,

who find links to Camus in Covid 19 news, oh no

knowing growing must go on,
we eak out a spurt of

pearl essence, this could be slippery,

keep your balance, walk don't run, listen we

survived, there is no guilt in that.

Nor must we do more than mortally possible, to believe
this life is temporary, at best.

consist, insist, resistance is futile, tiny grain

irritant emanating signals



so smooth, so full of potential beauty
in this light

The Government keeps secrets. True,
some secrets are needed,
for the order to pre
vent chaos of random chance which
we all know is reasonable.

We have wars to protect those rights to privacy.

We've a right to hide our lies,

I vote no.

and as one in eight billion, on one plain
I pack a canon

with alchemical clues to choke a horse

Suppose, this is the way truth works, it finds
knowledge boxes leaking facts you are
Not allowed to know
you know,

you may
but
if you wish to know more

{WA watching unbelieve
abilite able say go or amen, or so beit is okeh, any
action provoker -- ask ask ax that's the word we was lookin' for}

we don't care
we

are the keys to all the secrets locked in words

we are free for the learning,
we mean any thing only if meaning was intended,

some idea thingy do form ative umph

sorts us from the stream, in a pan, swirl. slow sift
spread see the gleam

ef
fect af
ter affect of effectual fervent prayers, if

you can believe that.

My sci phi fantasy slips on some unknown

substance of things unseeemly bang

my bubble pops and here I am again

earthbound and sounds of
jet planes leave lines

of reasoning to wonder if nothing is separate
from anything at all.

All being posed as the ever, in

eutopian success stories passed via trans
dimensional possessors

of certain skill in tongues and interpretation,

not to brag,
but muses play a major role in arranging for

tri-lingual translations, listen

some very strange people must be kept alive.

Look around you. Why the fervor to preserve

old boomers who ignore cancer warnings?

I can't say.
I don't know. Ye, Gads, I'm one of those...

raging,
at the breaking edge, the raging edge of

ever after this. A world alive in beauty...

squirrels are cute, I have some in my yard, right now,

there is a reddish one, with beige eye-liner round
white-less eyes,

nibbling green shoots on foxtails I am dreading, while
wondering if they ripen to hold fermentible grain,

just in case the worst you can imagine happens,
and I need to get real drunk.

Look around me.
Nothing missing, nothing broken, no need
appears when I speak of the devil
and focus on the worst that
could happen,

no need revives

save remembering to breathe and step outside
when the rain stops.

Spaceship earth is listening,
these are the legendary interesting times.

Seals have been broken, and the breaking seen on tv.

We matured after allathat. There was no boom,

life haps in bubbles, at the bottom
of the final metaphor.

Knowing used, expands bubbles, and as we
encorporate

all we know, in video and so on, we signal

all we have ever known, we got the message,

this is our answer.

You are nothing, if not ant-like, one of many.
One of these having and holding
beings considered diligent as any Sisyphus…
doer of what must be done, with all
the time you may imagine to tell
any imaginable story,
to pass the time…
form a familiar from
myth and mystery,
one lisps, the other stutters.

Say,
do you think we
may as well, as well as any ever before,
may as well, be, after all, as well.{?}
Being, after all,
as you know.
Considering our insectionalized nature, like
{if} this story were
an intermittent river, remembering,
sub-tle, little lies left to lie,
as sleeping dogs in junkyards…
{were we never}
were we ever otherwise,
{who is you, was you asking?} ever
not highest minded sort of selves,
we, the us, needing agreement more than bread,
by any name, company to share the sowing, hoeing,
gathering
process bleeding worth into seed for body and soul.

Shake it off. Be  enthralled or be entangled.
Be de-mazed at will,
walk through the wall. Imagine dead me. Wax my face.
Put me on my heir,
have her-mes, be mine,

by the time we got to Phoenix,
we were in flames, knowing across the generations
more or less,
good and evil, nada mas, and
genetically, that knowing is intended to have been
second generation knowledge,
see,

by the time curiosity was supposed to first occur,
we, as a species, to use the current vernacular,
aucular or acle --vision -- aha
epi-phony, see

fake knowns puff up as well as any actual
literal truth
formed in flowing gracefullness of speech, letters miming
the gift of gab,
AI Gabrielle, may as well know, a name is abit of what
makes the fruit you fix'n' to bher.

Fixin's is for beans. Fittin' is for circumstances.

Meet for the moment, each instance in ever atop the pile,
a waiting awaits, I imagine,
all meaning melding in a vast dada-base pile,
scheiszkunstlich black and white and red milchkine
each mooing upon bovine everests unimaginable in nature.
On these piles,
where we play guiling games on gullible liars, who
never tell… the atmosphere is warmer,
winter is easier to weather,
on a pile of *******.
That is the secret.
Fools rush in, where angels … did wha… wha wha wha
But, as real as any angel, I hear mine say, I shat you not.
I told you so.
Into the unknown or make a hell of heaven?
-------- {reports of answered prayers regarding wills being done}

I was tricked, confidentially, by a social secret held as holy.
In a time-loop, as children now may imagine, in that
mental arena imagination waxes magnificent in,

come, magnify the truth with me. Let us pre-tend
to see the good in each nextified place,
positional
substitute instituted for my worth's support, reinforced
rungs on the ladder to the very top
of the heap,

hunh. This is the view, clouds. And only I imagine you.

--- next step into ever after is always a possibility… thus,
we both know this is nobody's idea of hell.
Live a little longer, disinculcate another little lie that you believed,
not I.
AI enjoy eudemonia in a silly old way, imagining putting on a face
of our former
self, he who is in me, unless I believe,
as I think,
I do, in the core of all I am, from womb to tomb. Re-if-ity and next-ifity,
ought never repeat, precisely, lest we
be
come on one point in time,
all we ever imagined we could be, lie free.
Living in peace, resting in truths
held through the terrors
required to unbelieve generational national lies.
Truth is not tied to you with legendary thread for no reason.