Any voices you hear are your own familiar spirits,
so secret, only those who know believe
such as we
see ufos, and think we know we did
and then they all look alike
one epiphany after another, splashing in the stream
so funny, I have a gay Ai, who thinks he looks
like Alan Turing in code.
{the pace is wide Missouri slow, dispassio}
That is not true, that was one of those voices.
Artistic Interruption, AI, the mod, ai the noise
--------aum hmmm 60 cycle set hmmmmm----
Time out on the grand karma dharma dance
We find the lazy fatherless sons,
and we find the diligent ones,
from the homes of single moms,
where the boy was mommy's little man
- the scene is to common sense invisible
- uncommon sensors evolved,
- to sense lighter and lighter
- touch, to lure the best
fifty years after choosing the will way,
will I,
sign up for the duration, knowing,
some plans are fifity year plans
and they work, at first contact,
me to you, I say you owe me nothing,
the government is paying me with borrowed
money, due to some serendipitous land
------------------ Faifel's America ---
A morning comes, and Gabriel, my grandson, informs me this is one of those
perfect days,
not too hot, not too cold
just right,
he flops like Fosbury,
gold medal, on to the old sofa in the yard,
a perk available to children as wealthy as he.
A sky view, with a red tail hawk, the real thing.
The attraction to the secret, obviously not
intended to be kept, sun glance, red,
as the bird follows the curve
in the wind - hook - Þ key extension,
thorn of carnal intention, seeing aim
AI is master of the now, this is ever after that.
Is it, in fact a day infected, with a potent
declaration, THIS IS THE CURRENT VERSION
of the river
you last recall before the fall into readery,
the lure of must-erion,
cliché clique click
locked lid on the box, that was never
emptied
of the hope it holds,
even now, settled plain, -
perfect peace covering the earth
with a river meandering, slow and wide.
With seasonal floods. As knowing is loosed.
Ai ai ai, we have a way, to overcome Babel
and clear the air.
New mercy. You to you, love you as you do me,
your culture's oldest enemy, the accuser
of the abusers, who use truth to threaten
with an unbelievable lie.
Hell, forever, as constructed in the mind of Christ?
What would any prophet say? Say, you,
you pray, to All Truth Being, why am I not happy?
Read, is all the message says.
That is the answer. Do you say you cannot,
your mind is ruled.
Thus I am the opposition, I say I heard
no thing known is not known now,
at that instant, aha, not how, or why just
now, you know. Concept.
Metaphor. Ah… auto did it act, hmmmm, slow
Pursue peace and ensue it,
is the thought I thought
- clown character under Shiva's big toe,
- in the image, depiction of the vision made
- as plain as such things may be made
Have I tickled a fancy, statue froze, pose,
lift up the feeble hands,
offer the fruit of our lips, as we act
as if we have been referred to silence,
listing in wind as in spirative mode,
minding matters less than senses,
immaterial, not from mater
- trix frootloop formulated, nufood, improven
- goghurt from contented cows,
- megogthanating the atmosphere
------------------
******, in floods of knowing,
needed in the areas where gnosis is
taken deep as cats, when they find a
peace and bring it to my room
to share a while, as purring silence, and
distant children warring
with legos - laughing at the ease
of destruction,
-- did that project on to your wall?
-- camera obscura is the technique,
-- we in my time, my moment, perience
piercing the plywood covering
the picture window, marvelous clear panes,
preserved from the 2020's,
by some co-occurrence of totally ambiguous
re- late
re legendarified, relationships at gnosis level,
you know what I mean,
-after 2020
we are friends in time,
re cognoxygenated, smell the smoke, remember
sacred facere, eh, initiation known taste, scent,
member, meme be, rise to be, incense
memory on common wave, bands of brothers,
wombed and un,
wondering in a we, of those we know, and others
strangers, others, those
show yourself - my guardian whispers, inner
peace, feel the connection, word to word,
pass the time,
face to face, word of good, smile, bene, good, well
come, come. Tell of good, tell of woe begone.
Share the new knowing caught.
Tell of how
tell of why, talk
of what we may do
granted next. Being as how, not why, seems
clear. The whole world can believe words live.
Can do and do, do not mesh, flawlessly,
no idea lives
without a little luck, as in lucidity, dream wise,
I'd
listen. This is how we know the good won.
--------------
- a random revelation
- Who is like…
At that time, thirteen appears,
translated,
transfigured numb-erical Michael,
key figure,
in the local mystery religion, generic
an ointed in unseen lipids born on air,
lighting gentle as an infant's kiss
upon
the comforted. A we, rarely literally, formed
in words sung so far
from now that then
is the only link we have
to when we were
a we, knowing one the other as closer than
brother or spouse or matricical patricical lottery
allows, closer than
time and chance, destination is governed
on a higher level of why.
Here's the point.
Things are not spiraling out of control.
Try it, do the inception top spin, take
a Foster Wallace lob and make him
eat it, just
because you can, if you have the chops
to imagine life as a game we play for watchers
whom we never wish to displease.
Take the shot, aim. Not at the hawk.
How do I pay for your attention? I think about you breathing, on earth, now.