Basic Attention Token
we all gotta cache, like a cistern.

Tis tension implanted deep in lower chakras
more, more, teasing, tugging, twisting
crying ever, more, more,
…
it is a flaw,
go, and stay connected, I understand
-- wait
-- the txt is for the single participant act
no mention is made, save the very act, guest
I guess, we guessed,
the man got away,
but, nobody asks,
like I assume they assume they know
- taken, in the very act -
full, full, fill the law to the jot
whittle me a key,
pick this lock, unravel the complexity.
- casting lots for the garment
- knitted from one thread,
New Testament Greek between the himatia 
(literally “over-garments”)
and the seamless robe,
which is chiton,
(literally "tunic" or "coat").

https://kenpepiton.com/?p=1273

In 2021, hilite and ask, what is this,
oder vvas ist das? no punctual tone-ing

what is always the initial query re
hyphen al
izing itself being victim of the food,
yes, the bread and the wine,
same yeast,
we guest,
wrong, only one other choice.

Start at the line, drawn in the sand,
after this, we never flow that way
again, the gain grows to a Mt Hermomic pitch,
then
the jordan breaks from the plain
as the settling begins,
and the zone of formative matter is passed.

Soft as lizard belly skin, sweet as horned toad spit,
squirt, think again, how we catch flies.
And ants,
of course, notify the queen we say, thus far,
and death is certain,
do not pass this corpses final safe perimeter--

measure your will to mine,
if, and I know it is, read reads the same
do and done,
it's mental signs we agree effect time taken
to use as a sign farther in the future than a nihilist can think,
ya gotta trust some-

communication system set to frame one state of mind

"to share, divide out;
communicate,
impart, I
nform;
join,
unite,
participate in,"
literally "to make common," {you know, or wish}

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

As ra el and re el, met to be tested by the balm,
rubbed on to the left palm,

where the marble universe was rolled up,
in the June/July rants locked in Microsoft
deduncededucing what if we own their data,
then we own them, right?

And we did agree, all the data, meta and all, is ours,
for giving wizards room to render reason rations,
the idea involved enveloping

an ex - out, right, examined, amino, as in acid, right?
life>lived belived postbeguilement
literally virtual, vicarious,
popehope.
Basically, but a touch off. The colors of psi-sci-psy
weave a virtually unbreakable, but
and one but begins
but three start en ginious invention
a mental fist,
to hold the wind at thought speed,
any scale

virtual reality is subject to solar flares, and errant
-take the pose,

Okeh, three ways, in the opening pitch,
the plan is novel, in itself. Okay, ok, si yes da ja.
We know, we do this part,
as words in mind, nada mas, a thought caught
as a poesy fallen star,
from Lawrence Kansas, not too far from
Shawnee Mission,
now that the meme and its meaning meet once
more, realizing a time kept hidden, for fear
of believing more than a Marvel Mind,
straight from first edition, Boom, era, of fully
Disneyfied American Mind, sponsored by
Mattel its swell
and Mars Candy Company and other child aimed ads,
though there was this unaffiliated

- channel, I was about to say, of course
- groove, rut, a grave - with its ends kicked out,
Can you
Imagine, he said that
amen?
and we all agreed at once, and what do you know,
there is a mind in the grand linkage system,
forged from ice by iron plows,
balance demands, optimum life on earth calls
the call to us all, be the thorny issue ye be
ye nanifestations of Romans 8, taken in minds
conjoining to attain, peace made
for temperature equilibrium,
just right…
think of it from an angelic anthro-myth-ledged being,
see the book of life talk to you, and say,
look, man, we made it, and we made it back.

But unless the temperature is going up, we failed.
Try again,
but no war this time. That's proven too self willed
a thing to give children premade.

My stick men were all Audie Murphy, when I was six.

If Dexter's Parents had not divorced and he had not moved away with his mother,
Who was beautiful as I recall, today would have played out or worked out or turned out
Differently. Very differently, considering that little twist in my six-degrees of separation base pattern
Hapt seventy-years ago, or so,
----
Watch starlings, if you have starlings, or watch congregations of kippers on Netflix.
Their steering is on auto. Do you agree? Then we are in Agreement, which is an odd place to find one's self in the midst of so great a cloud of witnesses.
-----
'e goes a gain a ginning, grinning all the while
Aye, and radioman turned on just
Now listen -Radio Mumbai

I meant, you and I agree schools of sardines and flocks of gulls are all on auto-pilot-propulsion-maintenance programs,
Right?
I thought so. The code in a gnat must be so much more elegant than the vast terabytes of programming in the GPS constrained self-drivers evolving on earth. Gnats never collide and are nearly impossible to hit, unless you have bat tools, which you don't. Nobody wrote that gnat code, right?
Of course not, evidence of programming only appears to be programming, evidence of design only looks like design it's not design. Right? So says Carl Sagan, Richard Dawkins, and all the people so called to win the battle for the minds of **** Sapiens Augmentatious, lest, as the confusion of Babel subsides, those minds should begin to reason together more clearly in light left after the lies standing on men's minds are revealed inferior to what our senses sensationally acknowledge. Whew. Long thought.

I meander, but you do as well. That is how things flow.
Not over immovable objections, around.

One life that was connected to mine in boyhood friendship was severed about half-way through my sixteenth year.
He died. I don't remember how. Alcohol-related, I can imagine. I did not attend the funeral, though some acquaintances did; one of whom was later my lover. She is dead now as well, too late to tell me anything. She had a baby less than a year after I returned from Vietnam, more than nine months later. That is a heavy thought, but not one I think does much good now.

So little of history is noted. So few lives function to trigger generational unctions that devolve into wars against imbalance, iniquity, slavery and death.
Fraternity, Egality, ******* *** the mob all riled-up, burn , baby, burn.
Whole people die in history's whims,
If whims they were.

Rebellions…

Watch the starlings steer through 4-d patterns eternally random,
fueled by bugs they convert to food for the soil itself.
Their life is their work and they do it beautifully. As one.

Can Boeing-Raytheon-L3 et al build a self-propelled, self-refueling drone that can fly at top-speed, maneuvering millimeters in each direction from other self-propelled, self-refueling drones while dropping their payloads without a single friendly-fire crash, ever?

Starlings don't **** on each other.

If war-profiteers could build such things, would you watch such things perform and wonder at the minds that built them, or deny such minds played any role from concept to creation, and ask who authorized development and deployment of such an expensive fertilizer distribution system that fertilizes wild weeds as well as gentled weeds?
Which would you say: "Wow, how did those get made, who paid?" or "Wow, look what billions of years and energy alone can do against absolutely insurmountable odds and impossible physics, with chaos and corruption always on the job?" Holy entropic bad moon.

Are ye not more precious than starlings, or sardines, or gnats. Would a sense pertaining to immediate locational proximity, evident in birds and fish and bugs, not be apparent in Adamkind, at least as a metaphor regarding benefits gained in knowing where you are relative to your own environment, regardless of any sense of personal purpose?

I can see it in the fact that we can agree, for good or ill.

As generations mature and regenerate, might there be patterns in the tumbling of the powerful and the powerless populations. Patterns depicting group or herd preservation by fully mentally equipped populations of mature and maturing Adamkind are detectable. Facts now overflow the cup of knowns. These are those days when knowledge is increasing and increasing and increasing to the point of being a destructive force in tightly closed minds.

Name dropping, rather than restating, Helen Arendt, "The Origins of Totalitarianism"(1966), Bertrand Russell, "The Problems with Philosophy"(1912), Pankaj Mishra, "The Age of Anger"(2017).

These three books and some browsing of names and titles the authors drop, have spurred me over the top of a rise I had not seen coming. My path had become gradually uphill without my noticing. I was interested in other things and ignoring notices from my body that oxygen stores were being depleted more rapidly than current inventory of red blood cells and nurse lymphocyte-bots can recycle the quadra-monthly disassembly turnover, H2O stores for sweat heat-dispersal systems and plasma regeneration and digestion of what little remains to be digested are now at "caution, think about stopping" levels. But I saw that from the top I might see to the top of the next rise before I chose the downhill part of my path. The down hill path determines the uphill path.
In the desert, you can see trails marked in many ways, mosses grow in least-heat zones created by angular location relationships with the sun. Breezes whisper into shade puddles by ever slow slight temperature inequilibria shifting some heat to the triggering of my sweat system.

If you were compelled to reason about every step you take in life as if it were your responsibility to regulate and control every function of your flesh vehicle in which you abide in relationship to all around you that you could harm or that could harm you, you would be mad. {mad?} illusion of reality

assumes reality is friendly here. I'm okeh
with that improbability aside,

implied as self explicatory and unfolding life…
examined,
for what its worth in words redeemed may be,
in the future, when this is what they thought,
you think, and I say know,
I thought this,
on a bet. Or an oath, depends on the fret.

Crazy mad, but angry auch. That would be unfair, because you don't know how to do what you are being compelled to do. Reports of persons who can control ****** functions not commonly consciously controlled are easily found. Such persons spend their time so countering the rolling rhythms beat by heart doors slamming shut and swooshing open in response to electricity, that, we, Adamkind, have yet to truly understand. We've no need, that which concerns us was
to be perfected, not by us.

If my use of Adamkind offends you, the reality of my benefits, wrought from my comprehension of my relation to Adam, will likely make me your enemy, in your own mind, not mine.
Ax'em, do they love po' o'hate rich?

Believe one chance in practically infinity of current evolutionary-nontheistic thought being the way things must be, then multiply the number of times you make that bet by the number of insects on earth or even by the number of mitochondria in your kidneys.

Ignoring life's delicate imbalances in light of what can be known today, breaks our minds's ability to agree perfectly. The social dichotomy that seems to arrange adamkind's affairs over eons and eras: rich and poor, have and have not, mean and meek, is ego-driven, self-benefit seeking and not part of the original program.

Contemplate the sweet influences of Pliades, silently questing the truth of hope and matter. There is more power in this stream.

Chapter end.

Had you known, who knows,
according to current time manipulation dramas,
how to make
a device used for aiming a public,
any size…
propagating the faith in-- that character,
drama shapes our social beings, you know,
you know all you know, and the
who are you, to all of you, the devil is real,
Lucifer proves it,
{Ai aight check it} Yah,
gotta match
07%
on YouTube, and who are you reading? random
acts of kindness
deflecting
conflicting kinds of cultural informic acid…
ascend
ants in the family tree?
how old are your mitochondria?

How would an egg tell a tale of parasitic invasion,
that resulted in reality,
as we seem to think this is, reading contrasting
edges of bits enstatiated, dark and light,
- Louise had a piebald poodle named Bit. -btw
Black and white, toy model, noisy
but comforting after the shock therapy in '63
Some
Singer Sewing Stories
from the TVA dam-good reasons.
- leaked into Oakridge,
- you'v been listening,
- to the father of lies…

If you listen too long, eventually you die.
Right. Safe bet.
Where did the you become, this
result of all you knew?
As we see you be,
Informed you, h-ex-ept-t'be-yewas
misinformed,
-cept that, snotspelt gnostic, digitized
info such as this
disinforms that,
we all lie, some times, in error of who
sees what when and in what order
fortuitous use of anointed words,
unspeakable,
we talk that here,
we know all the gnostic snot, muse-like, we
'hold the world on the back of that top turtle.
Slippery,
spelled wrong or right, or improper in text,
of this crystal interconnectifing  iferywas
effectual effing fluid lattice windowed
digertai illuminahtai wit,
pitching infinity beyond
ort clouds of human intentions
blown
to smithereens, those we
sparks,
as the hammer whams the blade, pulled from
the forge, whamms
sizzle set the temper
in this clay, stick the hot blade init,
set - a frame for clay, such as Romans wrote on,
set a base, see, the clay frame,
fits the blade, hilt to tip, but the hiltman
has yet to form the hilt and handle,
and the turban knot
that ties it all, last piece,
the pommel, perhaps this one is
a pomegranate shape, for the legend sake,
let's say…
-- once you have a handle on the knack,
you pull this blade from the stone, the clay, unbaked
becomes, in time, any way, stone;
some day, it shines!
the legend of these blades,
the never edged blades,
set in fine shining clay, true jewler rouge,

one day the hammer that made the blade,
strikes the clay, no
not that way,

some day, a knight called a saint,
shall come in humble submission to the mission in
heirical position, authorized with gold,
to swing a blade, anointed,
called of Peter's Holy See,
don't look
let him try to pull it from the stone,
--------- and the whole crumbled in mythery
No, it was art at work intuiting hear ears
in silence, nada humm
- you sneezed, bless you
and this is the dust

-we were doing inner being never been a hero
therapy,
not all kids have the disney channel, thus
this is not etched in the very characters
you imitate as easily as I
do Simon,
the pi monadic,
scatterbrained whimsy seamer,
seaming in steam,
one thing
to another,
here a stitch, there another, fifty years, and more
we won every war,
we won every war,

we won every war,
that got within a hundred thousand English words of
this action actively involved, literally, actually,
in defining the terms of weaponry allowed,
when war was called to reason… ready
to give an answer for the faith in it,

in the everlasting experiment
becoming
us, then us becoming
something else, too quick to tell,
like something fallen
from the Higgs field, pfft.

Gone.

and, gone it does
all it was
destined
designed
determined
de
deedly deed of doing being
boring
being
de
determined to add means to ends
designed to signal turn or lose
destined to end,
all it was gone to be

We all get rich, it fixes every thing, c'mon

Initial Public Offering.
Made inclusively to
all the children of all the wombed men,
but one,
by now, none else, for eons, unmarked
save in ashes under ancient tells,
none of these people, these *** of the gods,
and the one,
daughter of man who signed off on this story.

-live forever-

Thinking attracting needs,
deeds done that send funds, to wipe debt from mind.
Bring the wizard,
strip him bare, grind him  to gore and gristle,
bone blood and all the biles, shake it up,
jiggle in the sack of skin, watchit
burst and puddle
in the flame,

is this pyrex? See

Bunsen burning in my brain, a mixture now,
oh wow
Schmachten-burger, cheese, *** of enlightened
hippie jews, shapers shaped in common fashion,
after the sixties finished, there arose guides to the goy
who knew nothing of the mystery,
save that Alice Toklas was not gay, in the Nineties way

Oy-vey, cultural appropriation, Jah, Jah is ours, as you
well know, we have esoterica galore, here buy
a mezuzah, ya, gutglück - all ah, ala phylacteries
raditional-rootish,
and these use that same parchment, goat skin,
very kosher halal and all, done
under strictest supervision, seeing super see, is
something the literate,
Phoenicians, Shem shah-mans, and their accountants,
first
discovered the territory within the skull of man,
was open to other minds,
in matters of wit
inventions'nshit, set a will to a way, watch,

come the future, we are famous…
who invented the wheel?

watch, watch, it winds around, a motion, anchored
to a plain truth in the left cerebral sorting station,
reflecting back,
******-rectumly linearly right co- oh, I see

cor-rect or co-recht, co-right, if nobody's wrong.

But there is no hateful god who made hell for those
who,
honed as honed may be, in punctual efforting
so
sharp, even on thorny issues,
motes
floating in the occular consomme,
slightly briney aqueous humor,

ha

to make a point in time to pierce anything
in my way

see clear,  plumb the depths truth's base idea,
some things wish vehemently to be known,
must-er-ion, quest, ionic tipping
point whence the ring of eight
slips a point, and specs call
ion ion whither went thee?
ion, zion sion, see the gleam,
golden oil,
yes,
yes indeed, I did, I did pray
for this,
or something sorta like it,

peace on earth, good will toward man,
reconciliation complete perceived as done.

Can you hear me?
Did I lose loose links to long lies, left tied
to the stakeholders souls?

When did we realize the difference?
It must have taken years, and now, we see, match
the noses,
the eyes, or deeper even, look into the whites
of their mother's eggs…

see and know, or trust me, I know,
one wombed man's children, one,
the officially loneliest number. One
wom'man, woe,
science,
not Genesis, or Enuma Elish,
or the story from Braiding Sweetgrass,

but, old, old stories, told, once, at least,
by a witness,
-- it was as if the bone and all it was,
was altered, by a bit, a Y got a leg, or lost one,
I do not know, but bone of my bone,
was that one little bit,
more in one way, at the stem, and as branching
began, the one had daughters, who bhor daughters,
while from that generation forward,
the many others,
bore no children of any breathing form,
soon,
for this was not so long ago, mitomom, you know,
she had sisters and cousins and aunts
and a mother who had a mother
and a father who had a mother.
None
of the eggs in those wombs, ever lived to now,
but the eggs of the one wombed man we must
accept, she who shaped all after ever began
that instant when,
only one line remained, and there was no war.
No reason, at the time, but soon
in geo time,
we grew apart, branching on rivers
when we found them on our journeys from the east

- I think she
was likely deep dark brown, she links me to you,
stem cell level
and below,
logos in touch,
the code of silence. A cone, yes, the cone
of silence,
rolled from fool'scap, common in the great leaps
forward,
through the ages, as sons and daughters were born,
but
once,
something occurred,
a virus, or a leaven, or fish, perhaps,
rancid oil while the child waited for its form
to form in the wombed man, now known
as mom. She,
Mitochondrial source of the code that keeps us alive.
The same basic way batteries in blood
have been made since knowing
clickt.

Universes, realms of human reasons, piled in
lattice work bits and pieces,
joints and joiners,
that fit in particular places to form certain shapes
of things to come,
it is all very miniaturized, nano nano scale…

yes, did you know him, Mork?
I never did.

_ he does that so you don't think him arrogant,
ashamed to admit the use of the mind of christ
in a secular win the game way.

But what the hell, knowing ain't cheating, if you know
what's right,

wanna place a wager on the Robinhood IPO?
I gotta plan, see…
we go into such and such a city, we buy, we sell,
---intshallah
but this is the secret,
we sell debt,
you owe me, right, it works, it always works,
give and it is given unto you,
pressed down,
running over -- goods and services, nothing taxable
or tithe-able,
riches with no sorrow, added.

You interested? One time buy in. Two bits.