____
To wish dementia on anyone, one
must have some sense of the state,

mindless, or careless, must one choose
at entry, as the power on self test clicks ok
the idea
that we are in some
sorted form, some charicature of our kind,

we mortal thoughts, of the worthiest sorts,
science and religion and the arts, with
little time for developing technique,

the instant the amusement stops,
bemusement proceeds to untwist the plot,

for we are poets, are we not
bound,
by many vows we each must make, to here
the court of last resort, the literal last card,

in such games as have clear winning outcomes.

The if, the pose to be supposed, up
above the purpose, we stand under

knowing, mankind was never intended
to know how to do this very act,
reading writing ready to be read, leads
to sayings said some time back, leading

us to imagine we both think the same
thought, each word we read holds, as true

under any standalone circumstance, a meaning
true to the sense supposed such a word may
make a reader willing to agree, the idea
that makes a word a word, is we agree,
that idea,
this is that, us, as a we form of human beings,
thinking these very same words, for no reason,
-apriori aitia, art
poses art itself as beautiful hope substance
weighed in lightness of spirit,
fi, in essence leaving be, the gentle feeling
confident, you know, art's aches are maddening,
no, the reason, is not the cause, be cause ready
readers ratiocinative states allow imbalence,
total nonsensed reasonings used to hold us…
all the worthy ways truth makes life hold us…
the words, the skill
to shape each quant-unused, idle time,
of good sense, seen to show a child seeing
- my grandma telling me, time and again
if I had the good sense god gave a green apple,
I'd have a
gpp gulpt precept popt
t' resonate morphically at you
- classified useless tech, taught better,
- let our imaginations see what lips feel,

goodly persuasion perception, a sweet intelligence,
such a taste at a time coinciding with a kiss perceived,

as while watching, full screen close ups of only lips,
leaving all that could not be seen, to seem,
sorta, kindalike, could and did, in my core
- vicareous exposure to coming attractions,
- should one perceive the adulting too soon…

do. Yes, this idea, once more, reproving
doing and imagining doing, seriously, really doing
is the same for childing as for adulting, thinking
about doing it, when it was complete mystery,

the real deal, believed by all the cohort reared
in the system used to make us each useful, worth
a **** to the whole economic cycles begun back then.

Boomers for business, Jews for Jesus, loyal De Molay,
fidelity, integrity, snap
network radio
to your realm of imaginable,
five words per minute, decode rates, 300 baud signal.

Feel the suddenness urge,
impulse same sure sense, I know

we did agree,
whatsoever two or more agree,

Truths held true to the point where
if the Bible says it, to this point when

you know, each key, carries each letter,
but the reader carries the key to each word,

and the effectual patience of the reader,
waits and reads each line, as an answering,

swery villingly wired for recording nows,
at the instant one uses a choice to remember

Membership in the mad poets, to remember

burning at a public bon fire, really, the idea
used to make adultery so unavoidable, truth

is imaginable, and imaginably beautifully true,
as art is, so is art formed, in minds holding being,

at an instant
pause
to think, we breathe, we think,
we might speak across this medium,
we may talk through this walled time,

and…
we may think each word, in any known
set codes all laud the possibility we know, just

what any knower may, and nothing more, just
now, we each are thinking this is not conversation,

this is verse, prosaic perhaps, yet line upon line,
precept upon precept, except ye whet the edge,
you know,
you must put forth far more labor, wasted effort,
redeemed in times taken as granted, easy waiting.

--------------
There's this art,
and there's that other art,

efforting elucidation, seeming
seen in such a light as good shines
from, in reflection as we speed along,

thinking in decades, retying reasons
to wishes avoided, just at that instant,

when none of this was ever done, not
a thought, you think now, if then

had not been truly what does occur,
in the paradigm of life's book, not life,
but the book of,
on your pages, it must say you knew
enough to know, art has a cause,
a sake, a reasonable weight,
ratio of mass to velocity,

piercing everything this time, this
once, and ever so, called science,
by this time, even so, it must be
imagined, these words tying
known forms of we minds,

contracts, promises, come and see,
bet
you never bet,
yet, you won, today,

as long as you can keep thinking,
life, is an agent for knowing why

and how, energy and velocity,
x chiral functionality reality inside

outside opinions serving as wings
oppostion, push wisht'serve, as hope

substantial understood balance
ratio, you know, you thought, you did.

So, now, whose hell can hold you,
finding your core self capable of holding

this truth, certain, to the point
where madness is the other side,
flat, instant mark dime, two sides,

from where we stand, and where
we understand peace is found,
just past week one, year 77.

Along this course through human events.

Party line. Crazy conversation from a true believer,
left me feeling kinda prickly, so I got this high,
and looked back on all I was told to watch out...
Amen,
Indeed, at the mental sylabble, said meaningfully,
as mental activity, per se, aspiring to inspire, you,

dear reader,
the imaginary other,
on the other side of all I think we see,

when we look, this way, back through
this medium we mindtouch through,
thought through rough or furbished,

with a will to make a thing, a way
is often made known, as if we think a way

say, what if,
say wonder, the verb, we use, we know,
we make believe we can see it so,

just so, right,
as when we know
which hand to use, you know,

we swing our sensitivities, around
wondering how long one alone
would need to read all that has been

told known, put into the cloud as evidence,
any willing mind, taken to core as good manners,
and profitable methods to bore less as chores,
using knowledge originally intended unknowable,
by creator's perogative, declared, there'll be,

something, hellish, yes, where does that idea
reside, that sure knowledge, that we are all ******,

unless, yes, more or less, a few, feel the call to know,
eh,
why or how, eh

daily ordering of our domicile,
daily letting this mind be in thee, or me,
depending on the way the integral tale is told.
What ties ligament to bone?
In some situations,
there you are, thinking why you think at all,
and as you do, you think you did, so what.

Now, what, if we have wondered, now what
is what we got, for that effort, if you ever wondered

how the whole situation,
the cloud containing all the vastest data banks,
news draw interesting times from, for your attention,

click, and repeat, recall, the history of me, since
my first IBM readable responces on all 500 hats,
Red Ryder B.B. gun hangs on my wall, still yet,
child mind slips, slides us past the pressure,
feel the evolved will, to pass the scribal exams,
1954 baseline Achievment Test data, grade one,
first task, make thy own rural pen,
wait, now, make thy own smooth surface,
invent a reader for the marks to mean a thing…

- see, the kind of minds we have for use,
- literally all the learning proven conservable
- is at our fingertips, if you can read this now,
- some actual agency granted this technology

to flourish in families, for centuries, before we all
had access to this wave of wisdom, a dominion of ways,
perspectives on precepts used to shelter

ways to use sticky mud,
ways to use dry straw,
ways to use hot sun to dry fruits,

too far back to feel survival skills
sufficient to believe, life uses luck,
and words we both can use,
we believe we
have being in this atmosphere,
on the planet, third from that ordinary star,
only planet known beyond any doubt, where

what we are quantized particles at identifiable
points in the history of all that we, the information,
we, the persons involved at the evidence retrieval,

- the ceremony,
- ya'll come, we gather to retell our children,
- this is what we were when America was great,

We had the whole world in our pocket, Ike knew,
you know he knew, the monstors men can imagine,

when it comes to winning wars, primary purpose
along a chosen duty path to high value human status,

like a king, power,
under the highest commonly conceived,

authority. The writing on the wall.

Secret sacred excremental waste, ah,
***** plaistered walls in that awe-ful Irish gaol.

We all saw it, on telly, as true as Donald Trump…
we all see the *****, and we all hear those who eat it,
swearing it does smack of the promises to the righteous.

Made by a couple of Cromwellian Prime Servants.
The Blessed Few are duty bound to rule the disorder,

form a line, dollop of self con, fiduciary response, set
nil, no clue, nothing funny, Donald Trump is loveable,

easily as cuddly as Harvey Weinstein, party goers say.

If life had made up a mind,
in the neighborhood I formed from
communally, we might all notice, we'ld agree,
we might not be the first to say, we know.

But you know, life, or the active agents of it,
makes up our minds willingness to look, see if it

might be meaningful when seen another way.

The flipside of freedom to choose, what may
be taught
to children, and what must not,
under any circumstances, be allowed known,

before a child has reached the bloom of youth,
the useful strength age, draft age,
pulled into the slipstream
of easy will
to prove worth, true grit, traction,
hobnail boots, true secret weapon, stick
and stay, and make it pay, the exploitation
unwinding wars perfected reasonings,
to the victors go the spoils, boys,

discomplication has begun, the unraveling
of ever, once again, the stories tell, the tale,
told in tapestry since Carol King, at least,

during the era of top-forty aimed at boomers,
the largest cohort of like-minded consumers,
ever propagated using pride of new knowing,
to push the value proposition
in Alcoa over Kaiser.

What local tax-base funded schools,
were required to do, in Massachusetts,
as Brahmin first intention to mass convert,
depended on a deluder, and a deceiver,
to do the work,
first make believe God can hate you,
for knowing what Eve knew, some how.

Original disconnection from the wisdom,
sin leaves no mark, but in the faith abused,

to aim, and miss, leaves no stain, aim right…

use the logic words prove, knowing one
is not enough, each can mean so many-
possible provables, using patience, truths as
developed the rules for inclusion in the deme,
the select few among the many called, whom we
deem among the elect, to whom much is given,

from whom much is required, as noblesse oblige,
indeed, duty to God and Nation, County, if you will,

Natural words twist across old sores
from bully brothers, mollified by battle buddies,
those who bore the brunt,
those Bonus Expeditions,
those dust bowl pawns,
those road builders, and bridge builders,
that made the old days look real good
on television… Dizzy Dean,
and ***** Mays, and that one year,
there in the story that took us through
the Sixties, right up to 2024, the summer
any boomer alive in 1954 remembers,
Maris versus Mantle, and the tub scene in ******…
make up the mind that remembers Beatle Wigs,
And Whammo everything, every fad we had,
let that mind never really
recover after the exposure to war, from inside…
that few,
those boys, men, now,
this wedom, tuned to my signal, thinking, dams

break, eventually, all the dams doing damage,
to the original intention allowing letters to work,
break free and wild,
as magi slowly brought back wit,
the bit of branching used
to make us think once
more an old idea, we
think slow, like a all day sucker…
make an image, I, mage of my own eyes,
Lo', I see, and say, hey, you, can you see,

does that flag,
still hold the dowery,
those stars in field of blue
above the BEIC stripes of red,
on a background as white as this?

This vast empty white space,
white wall between us now, you
and we the instigating impulsive wills

to know, sublime, beyond simple,
serious knots to learn to tie,

turbans telling Sikhs, the ontology,
why we are we, the chosen ones, and

the others, those we, must imagine,
have another reason for being, as we

have crossbred, or so it seems, as we
continue using old war reasoning schema

constantly trying to find the art official.

Riches and ease of existing, does, in fact,
lead to slavery, the will is made subject
to the feeding power, always, the owner
owns the user's fees, this is only right, see

first come, first served,
woe be the Juans who come late,

get one shot,
blow it, and you blow it for as long as
the will you failed to do was yours as

in the holy scriptures, all versions, common
thread, the planet we became on,

common, clean enough to make use,
we use raw letter A formt secret intent
to think, we used to say, no word wasted,
to the t we cross and the I we dot. or don’t/
recall each inflection in the fashion shown
courtly, while
in judgment found being wanting,
will to make a way to reimagine, a we to
think the original intention taught to you, for your
attention paid, intently, learning, we who read,

know more than they who can, but don't.

Some learn late, some never learn.
Fools make children laugh, who pays the fools?

If I die before you read this, did the words feel flat?

I trow not, letting this mind found made up, be
just right, among unnaturally neighborly bears,
some thing lingers from first intentions,
it truly can be imagined, just so.

After all the amendments needed.
To undo the original malintentions,

tie your hopes to those whose riches came
from ancient forms of diversion during deciding

the fate of the functioning laboring classes.

This is now the zone f-
from Gol'ilocks, original intent.

fsure, strue, suptyou
step on a crack, breaks yo momma back.

Timing, instants are details, sfumata matter
softness sensed
you know

------------------
This treeform knowing, watching life's works
conform to species, fully capable of doing

just as has been done,
selectively by patient hopeful gard'ners
and talented statistic students,

and Bible reading reformed drunks,
who had a deal with the truth, a good one,
told as
truth, being considered comprehendible,
by any mind declared independent enough
to know, truth's held as knacks is held, tight,
-if self evidence is all you got, you gotta define.
right thinkin'
tight enough to feel the weight of the wand,
right, just enough to let the child feel the water,

feel it, there, that shush, little baby,
we didn't know, we didn't know life is so hard,
at the edge of the roads all paved and painted,

while I feel blind in one eye, from onions.

Esoteric, Edgar Cayce, yes,

a memory, a version, no known
reason weighing needful
to be told, proven, try
umphed past
to when now
becomes original intention,

to mention the crew involved
in building the stack of words
spelling all many ancient tales attest

as real significant events, once upon
this very point, where this many angels
once danced in tunes attempting to prove

the pastlessness of certain points
in time.

Yes, reading, using only text, unbreakably plain,
as benign as simple first seems, easy to keep thinking

we may be evolving as we think in ways none thought
possible to leave be so easing, lifting, lightening thinking

we need not toil,
at this instance,
the nature of the medium,
holding any sense we make,
massaging the messenger, to me
arranges time around second glances,
it may mean as many as seventy things,

but tome, said in Hebrew, is integrated innocense,
and it has a verbal form, completing certain trans
actions, in spacetime mindful practice fields,
as pre-spiring aspiring transpirits transpiring
into little willful art works, aspirational asps

sneaky snake, wise serpent, dragon prosperity,
dragon of lucifity, crawling like an army, on its belly,

Set, divine sylabbles from babbling brooks,
that loved the high mountains in that science
of Aristotle kind of love, rich kids learned as religion.

The initiation into the mysteries.

Those oaths, I swear, we hear them
to this day, as games are played, old spells
muttered, and the veterans of Satanic Panic,

at the edge
of the last millennium,
once more, gather socially,
to see shown, the Q- document
included the ritual,
to let this mind, be
in you, and you  be thinking,

-- wait one adjectively untainted minute,
is the-this art, is this thinkable, without
authority?

this peace I am taking, I did not make it, but
I can take it. I fought no dragon,
won no war.
I solved the house troubling egg
riddle, silk eggs store story lines
on the scale
of life, entire memories
of winds waters since the ice,
last reached farther last summer,
than this, these
memories
in gaseous we formed last gasps,
suddenly

it ended… and we survived,
we feel the need t
o let it be known, and lo'
we have a culture atuned
to the tongue I was programed
to use awarily as the message medium.

Imagined while Goldie Hawn was asking
Marshall McLuhan, what are you doin'?
Dig it. Digit. An instant in a we.
'68. There was video tape,
and searchible reel to reel, let's test it, in a mind

re-ify, ify if I knew when time mattered last,

what would now be worth, back then?
In attention?