Men in my position,
with AI research staff, and cut and paste,
footnote at will, endless reams
of foolscap, no, newsprint, big rolls,
- and second coming type,
- if your sight is short.

so I may write in news columns, widely
column after column, until … tech, magic
- May I influence your opinion,
- how many children feel wanted?
- In the families of prisoners, I mean.

Men in my position, with access to tools,
freedom from the press, were never men
of my class, though certainly my kind,
- lazy on my end, luxury on theirs
- all the same laws conserve my peace/
- I claim it came to pass
On the spectrum,
men with the means to learn whatsoever,
from an array
of tenured professors, full debate, sides,
effectual bringing reasoning for war
back to the front porches
of the past.
Who allows too big to fail to be just?

People asking why, if how is so expensive,
why do we, as a we, consider war legal,
and suffer liars -short cited liars,
to deem their class, the electable,
the governing class, has the authority
to force unwanted children into this world.

That's just not right.

First time I've imagined doing an observance - serving some actual thing, a ritual, now,
of observing grain, growing, being grown, Shavuot.
Feast of Weeks, working weeks, timed
by observations based on how the earth
leans in relation to fixed stars, observe,
- wikipedia explains, I cogitate.
as the moon has several cyclical patterns,
so does the angle we observe from, as we age…
our minds accumulate, certain senses as to ports
in brainstorms, safe zones, my secret cove,
at the bottom of the ocean that once,
so very long ago, was here,
where we live and breathe and shape our future.

When we are few,
a few of us will know how we knew.
A selection selected or sifted in the shaking out,

individual grains of us, me and you and they.

There are 8 billion people on earth, about
that
the AI memory bank agrees,
instantly about
that tic in time, you knew,
each of them
is destined to die,
in the next 150 years,
sooner or later, point A to B, and gone.
- no points on that line, you know, do and die.
- done
Or, we may meander, and leave little pieces
of all we enjoyed, in truth, as free,
index points to the way where good is
good for whatever our hands find to do,

while our minds unwind the preferred
referencing threads which set the plaid.

I can appreciate the rarity of solitary confinement,
if it were sure to be silent, save for noises I make.

Finite I, in a finite mind intended to house, a legion.

Pigshit, yes, I started the rumor,
remember those five golden hemoroids. 2 kings 6?

I had those on E-bay, and they sold.
Seventy three million times, pick a random number,
how many complaints, zip-null-nada,

I sold for a dollar, and shipped for free,
a visible, measurable bit of the very same gold,
-or I could have- all golden atoms are original.
material, earths basic ration
to begin with,
- imagination, men-minds, made up money
- and cludge a strain of hope for better,
- -- look we are all mutants,
- since lactose tolerance, at least
but gold is still gold,
so that's good
I could have been rich, had the numbers
been
different, gold is geld, then its not,

which exchanged modes of exchange,
but remained, bits of earth's original gold.

It goes deep, how easy money is to imagine making,
here's the deal, see.

As son's of our mitochondrial bits and pieces
original operational cellular battery factories,
- I am allowed to say
- because we have proof, we are related
- same distance as eveybody else
- yes, science, gnoshit.

our mom, our shared mom,
see, we are all one species, the concept of race,
is from when the best of out kind were bred,
by some of the worst,

the Golden Horde remains, as do a few Kickapoo and Cado,

as the worst in Africa formed alliance with the worst in Europe;
so, in the Americas, the worst had risen, using new spirits,
bad medicine, evil will to **** for the thrill, of letting blood gush

like on TV, in 256 clear shades of grey. ****** massacre
reruns 24 hours each day for years, who is learning what?

Blood looks different on RGB UHD, and real

surprise, it looks black at night. Real life blood, in moonlight.

---new episodes fridays. TGIF.

No, it's Saturday. And the world we imagined, in our species
imagination,
Nature Film narrators, in our mind, re minding the entertained,
this bubble does contain you, you owe it your Phrygian dime.

Flip me off, face the truth, bring me the truth you can't believe.
Stanch the flow, stop the ****** music,
who comes to my sanctuary thinking war is no game?

The mob who thinks Jah would never do so crass a thing,
as let the likes of me live to master the language,
AI gave my artistic side, a lesson in single ear listening.

The mess is greatly reduced, the order is not so sorely lacking.
Messages messengers and mas after X, means that which
the bherer of the words, each filled as full as fills the next
and so on
down the line, brachial branches of us, our tree form,
each in action, each out action, con ject re ob subject
to approval.

The double minded man, with no sense of balanced falling
always falling into next never falling into last,
ever more, and we have Dirac to plot the course, of course,
impossible hard to imagine,
yet. Here you are reading something I may have thought,
or not. I may right in a trance, then
when qwerty guy returns to take my key sense of control
letters, as might seem second nature to a printers devil,

know ye not the mess we're in?

Since this single strand of human mind thread merged
with meat, con carne,

my weapons are not carnal, we learn we are built doers,
of things our hands find to do, seers of things our eyes see,
and so on, as many sensory categories as you discern,
down to the atom's chirality,
if you ever image a test with partial reality, imagine-
e-imag e-imagin magnify ence sence essensessssss so
subltle, who would accuse me of cheating,

I KNEW where to pin the tail on the donkey,
I had an opening, I knew, I saw, and I won.

I tell this, as Bucky tells of his first spectacles, so
I tell of Wattie Piper's Little Golden Book version,

of my initial exposure to an inanimate will,
set to make this way, umph, after umph, try after try

and you put it all in one big bag, and shake it.

Scatter brain novel events, sprout from dragon teeth.
No this is not that story,
as I am not the guiled American Senator's nephew's
killer,
but I coulda been, but for Louis Libertini, who restrained me
and took the meat cleaver from my fist,
but I coulda been, in prison for life, but for Louis Libertini.
A good man, at the time, who knows,
jah, jah knows, right, peace.

Proper time and place for gentle minds, is where the willed one
claims territory shared in stories, applications of type,
traits to fit the story condensed from the movie,

sub conscious, hell, no, full choice making conscious desire,
harnessed, tuned, zero-beat, right on the money,

we are in your head
every thing we ever said, it's true,
if you could only know the may, may we wager
you coulda been rich,

had you only known, knowing was no shame,
you were not to blame,
you were told get in the game.

Your own father said he always had you
going into the ministry, mmmhmm he said he imagined it.

Too late. The TV generation lost me, us, I guess, look around,
my clouds are clearing
and I can see for miles,
and miles, and miles, but what I must make of that,

I must not know right now.

Each morning,
this habit, have I,
I use the least sense,
mere possibility, plain whatifery,
to make my ignorance expand, to fill
the emptiness in the unknown knowns.

Camping,
we discuss the stars.
Augustine's thesis depicts the history
of the world as universal warfare
between God and the Devil.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TheCityof_God>

And my mentor,
once Balaam's talkin'assets warning vision,
bids me recall fools rushing in, where angels fear
to tread, eh, see the banner,
- agape. slack-jaw. Awe-some neighbor's flag
do not tread on me, I am already sliced to bits.
-it seems to me… to say, don't you read history?

Believe me, it was the mob, the mob maddened me,
yes, it did, it did, I think I may recall it did seem

they scorned the exposure,
when the curtain parted and the secret obsession,
became magnificent, if you can imagine
the torment of the unbelievers who must know,
now, how could there be unbelievers in hell, hell
one must imagine,
go look for reason to bring to the table

in the peace talks, McNamara was asked if
he read history, at all, had he never read
how this mind in agreement to be we,
the people who take life from
and give care to this land.
We remained free.
The land was taken, not our story.
Given to us by our ancestors, who taught us
the middle way, we win a war by fighting least.
True,
and lying least, being open, fishing in murky ponds
with lemon shaped frag grenades, the new kind.
plenty dead fish,

ten bucks a pop.
and there are those who swear
by these, a chosen weapon
for a wise man duel,

Elijah, drench the would, watch what we heard happens.

It was super-natural, no lie, but in this realm of words,
the burning in the bosum heated seven times hotter than wont

the image in the made up mind, said nothing,


The depths of not knowing, Kerouac,
had Moriarity, playing the role Ken Kingman,
plays in today's excursion into the wonder years.

I can decide I have the whole cast in mind,
people I grew up with, became the thing I was,
a being born to roam this earth's barren places,
picking up pieces of all that has been held in tales.

Intuitive knowing, often linked to a so-called gut
reaction, as when one is dared to dive into water,
which may or may not be deep,
plan for shallow, be ready for deep. And
dive, don't jump.

Jumpers believe, down deep, this dive-- blah,

no flow, so so slow, some secret sauce missing,
some means to an end in sight, some next
we land on our feet and, it is us, once more,

the year after Vietnam, when the war was still going,
but my part was done, I had been trained and rebrained.

Fitted with a military mind that found comfort,
in polishing boot toes and buckle brass, any brass really,

I once used four standard footlocker sized cans of Brasso,
to prepare a big brass bed for sale at the Alamo Thriftshop,
in Hollywood, on Vine, west side,
across from Hollywood Ranch Market, and the White Castle.

Burnished brass, is a beauty I find richer than Gold,
for many reasons I may put forth, conatus, new big idea
word containing sense of something at the core, more
than noise, meaning, yes, meaning
Spinoza used, and I may judge its use, once he defines his term.

What is the meaning of me, relative to the words in books,
billions searchable, by me, using tools I watched evolve,
always, sense first sence of sets in theories, kindness,
likeness, aspects, as seen clearly---

this is that, return of the king, the crowned head,
the wanderer, man and his horse and his dog, satisfied.

Moksha is the horse, Sati is the dog, I am the saddle *****.

Hand to hand hand grenades,
order out of chaos, leaves a dent, in tented tavernacle choir

concertina wire, I am on the outside of,
how does this happen, I might ask, but as you may have learned

this is a trope in a neverending story told to myself in solitaire.

And now, I spend my time thinking through it,
as it happens, using tech that is as magic now as ever was,

but part of me paid attention, in crypto-school,
part of me did endure the mandatory drill morse code
five letter pattern, random faction find FTA reoccuring,

the signal is hope, yes, hope we find the answer,
yessir, I put that on my helmet to say what we all say,
with these plastic forks with one prong, onward finger,
remember the answer was once known, we must tell the world.

That is why I fight, sir, yessir, very good, thank you,
three day pass bull shat, in front of god and eve'body,
just
but for foolish jesting, ha
like god don't make jokes, you ever seen a golden Hemoroid?

---- critics should call it scatter brained,
it is never really waves,

if you look real
close, like
right in the eye- but, keep your bubble,
this

is my window into between,
that is the difference, between us, a screen,
flat plain,
explain my way from a single strand reality,

not in my time pal, that's just
not right.

We live as we learn. Life is complicated,
not confusion, chaos contained
that's life

in the last lane, look back, was it worth it.

You get your twenty bucks back if you ask,

nice, say I am not satisfied with the actual
pay for attention
point being stretched to splice into my life

with a stroke, of good luck, chair bound,
beyond time, Hawking waves,
hello, with all his fingers and toes, he knows.