Seeing my self, the lost self, the bet maker,
he who bets his role is hero,
seeing a reality no one else imagines.

Poets do some gnosticshit and call it art.

To live professionally,
y'gotta know the lingo.

Some suggestions from the sponsors, still jingle.
DO NOT MENTION POLICE

Imagine you know a guy, big dude,
an ox in stature and temper
a bull in brute potential… like
Plato, who found no fault in Socratic ignorance.

yeah, he does look like George Floyd,
but also, a little, like
Derek Chauvin,
- kachunk, like a Zenith Space Command
- pluck click ultrasonic change of flow, levee-gate

Derek Chauvin, must be
disappointed… I mean
it would **** to really be him,
worse than really being you, if you could see his
inner view of what may be,
and what may never be,
and the rage is with him, laughing in him, at him

that has got to be similar to hell,
if you imagine,
it never changes back.

This is now,
and you, as he, are
a real person in 2021, now historical
redefiner of the term
chauvinism
as used by Billy Jean King, refined down to the muonic
bit
tied to the actual trigger
event in the
idea in a name that takes a meaning in time
from a meaning in another time,

male chauvinist, sexist ****, prepost-er-ous error
of the very best intentions, twisted in time
through pursuit of happiness, undefined,

as is my right, should I ever be given a clue,
hap
happen
happiness the state of being, let's say.

Where nothing is missing, there is no nowhere
there is nothing.
This is all there is.
That is how a living word exists, ready to be
read.
When the better angel tells you. Take it easy.

Read. {refuse the roll of cheerleader,
or prophet when offered}

Stupid you, you say, read what?
-ah, the angel brighten's up, everything, it says
in writing on the tables of your heart
on pages requiring
rolling or folding to be put away.

Entire world views, Weltanschauung, worlds shown
and world's seen, may be
folded in this method-knowing… first

measure.
length to width. there to there, here to here,
edge to edge to edge to edge to edge we see a gem

-a gated elysian matrix, -- odd allusion -- matrix

cross my legs and meditate,
should I say, or should I wait, say it, matrices being

The logical sense of
"array of possible combinations of truth-values" is attested by 1914.
This is part of the piece, not a footnote,
a piece {I gotta style now, I am a professed artist}

matrix (n.)
from māter (genitive mātris) "mother" (see mother (n.1)).
The many figurative and technical senses
are from the notion
of "that which encloses or gives origin to" something.
The general sense of
"place or medium where something is developed" is recorded by 1550s;
meaning "mould in which something is cast or shaped" is by 1620s;
sense of "embedding or enclosing mass" is by 1640s.
The mathematical sense of
"a rectangular array of quantities (usually square)"
is because it is considered as a set of components into which quantities can be set.
The logical sense
of "array of possible combinations of truth-values"
is attested by 1914. As a verb, in television broadcasting, from 1951.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=matrix>

Attestation, affirmation -- proof of sanity,  artist inclined auto-ism,

it goes both ways, as the reader,
you may be crazy… if you know what I mean, and I disagree.

These frameless pages are proofs of thinking,
as a mortal thinketh,
in process of bringing answers
to questions some asked the AIMM,
which we all serve…
as sense makers… words suggest senses felt,
you feel me, means, you gitit,
you know,
if you know you been guiled, beguiled,
AIMM let you know.

the augmented intrestation manifestation module…
AIMM
constant scan set, set
as a finishing nail is set. If you had a hammer,
here, your methodology
is not applicable, see,
reason
morphs through a sieve, a fine mesh of all men ever claimed to know,
in writing after the alpha bet,
squeeze, like a tater ricer,
whatchewsee

first bet, at first, ohgnoshit it is going to self-destruct---

wisdom, from some unseen source,
arises to form that very thought, the fear
of the creator,
you know the feeling,
wisdom, whispers, not that way,
this way
you are the feeling
being, I imagine, dear
reader, line upon line,
through the matrix of the folding pages forcing sense
of something
where sense of nothing going nowhere was,
wind in the pines,
yes.

Personal. Me, I gotta assume you are.
aware I live with grandchildren,
the old fashioned way oldness is taken care of
as it occurs to me.
It gives me an edge on others.
Reader, dear
if you know my work, your price was
dear indeed, as you know experience
keeps a dear school,

but such as I learned in no other.
It was free.

Now that I recall all the details with AI supplying
victual literal mods on my new wine memory
spigot
spigot, this was invented, faucets we
called 'm, then this old man,
white hair,
a hoary head, they call it, up north,
where there ain't no mo'
morning dew, but there is frost, beautiful crystals
sifting unseeable beauty forms in light,
during the night
empowered by the cold,
this frozen beauty cartoons cannot convey,

though if you sing it like a child,
dancing with yourself in the mirror,
on grandma's closet

old men may only imagine the dance, or see it,
that once
that child's unblemished wish to sing
and dance,
but not in snow. No, only here now.
She sees me see her in the mirror.

Purging taboo, think
I am like you, I eat whatever I can
whenever I can,
if I must
within my safe zone, currently,
earth as a whole, I am in the happy zone,
I eat when I wish to eat, I am rich that way.

Have I given any hint that I believe
we are our own fault? We are.
Not at first, but
If,
if we get old, then next,
the whole peace contains peace
you extend, in your thoughts and prayers,
as is commonly said to be
helpful.

Peace can be made that way, wordless,
signal less, no required sign,
veil or star or mark of some old culture
gone moldy in d'basement.

no special godhearsme costume,
no holy uniform, - who will see me not tithe,
who will deem me worthy to escape hell to pay
--why you? why me?

for being otherwise, of course.
Eater of unclean,
wearer of no shoes,
bent-back bambam man
low-caste by god and presbytery,
doer of the meanest, most common, most base
principal chore after eating,
-- how low did you go, limbo --

burner of ****, soldier, ' you ever burn ****?

If hell is war, some people spend their mortal moment
making it worse, while not knowing what they do.

It’s a flaw in the original curiosity module.
Be patient, perfection goes on for ever,
once it starts, there, ever, where you are, in my future.

We got peace makers manifesting in record numbers.
No lies, get past the grave…
unbelieve 'm now,
less of a shock, when there is no next breath,
even if you never fall asleep when you meditate,
because
you are that good.

Dreaming is not the same as wishing it's true

saying love is love is all a mind may do,
peace, however,
peace, any mind can chose to make,
this is true;
or as they say,
what the hell.

------------------

Now, for me, PKD is more long term distracting
than Lovecraft or King, but tiny tastes,
like Zappa, on the spectrum,

ever re verb reverb yoweee I see we
intend
to go a tad past last time we all sang

WE ARE THE OTHER PEOPLE
YOU'RE THE OTHER PEOPLE, TOO!

boop boopee do.

This is the effect of a life lived in this one body,
for as long as I can imagine,
and I am learning, it ain't this good for losers,
who never learn to change the **** game.

Score. God, I love the future.

Time has not been kept for long.
words we know
as well as
any message sent forward in time,
filled with a metaphor
filled with a meaning
in tended to change a state of not
known to known
in a measurable quant of time, this
time
totally im
material reality we live and breathe and
have our being in.

Recognizing the waltz
my muse joins the choir and bids me
join the dance,

take the lie of what we were and cast that
to the winds of spring,
bhering west the pollen ocotillo also cast up
into the magnificent warring
dragon storms of winter's final woe on the wicked
east, through the straight arrows in time
piercing your wish to know
more than you wish to learn, as life goes waltzing on
and on
and on
and on, as the fiddler tells of the mood we intended
to make
after war was unbelievable.

In the Mood for Love - Shigeru Umebayashi

From <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gw9fKuymA0I>

As a sculptor, I think with a hammer,
another says,
as a nail driving man, I think, with a hammer,
- and foolishly,
- let my mind wander into the future
- when I am framing peace of mind for earth
- as it is in heaven, when I pray, with everybody.
amen.

Sing it wit me now, IF I HAD A HAMMER,
sing it, children, like it's 1963
- jump cut -
- drama ****** trauma Glynnis Johns dark, dark
- kiva experience, in a Saturday matinee, for Goyim.

It is literature, and certain cinematic forms of thought,
first formed here, where angels lead latter day
losers out of the maze by the the sheerest merest thread
of extended gnostostical snot-tis-snot-tis
but but button starters
for
lack of a nail,

no, no, nada fails for lack of a nail, but
for lack of move made with intention to make

a fact, form a circumstance of nextifity,
actual knowing
conscious ware being, acting in the role of soft,
gentle ware of ancient patience
wisdom work
as one wise in the ways of simple truth, take sublime,
for an instant
stitch take
stand, as a ware waiting a command, apps to teach
extending reach, games we teach our selves,
after watching constant streams of data,
very matrixy cinema allusion to the illusion envisioned

as if
belief is not a factor in what you think I am. Word.
No ethnos misappropriation, child. Word is all I am.
I ain't no body.
I ain't ever'body. I am consci used sense since when
ever
begins for us, me and you, writer/reader amusing device,
conceived
in the mind of a truth as true as any everwas,

come on, tune to the news, good news don't go bad.

reconcile a while. breathe and wonder if…

then wonder if the author knew
or if he dared to learn. Asking allowed, Truth,

what lies do I believe about you?

First answered prayer this one character claims true.
Truth says, you believe too little.

I accept that. Is there ought I might do?
Yes,
I do recall, all I know is in my bubble of known, so

pops are inevitable, as thumbs stopping hammers, midswing.