I am, as a thinking, word using muser,
of less
or more weight
in word's worth
on balance,
a day lived, doing nothing, but respiring
and desiring a joy use, as joy making use,
of me.
What's that worth
in time?

Time taken,
as granted, mine
to make use of, true,
any use I wish, after all,
all I've done
tripping old tale snares.
Recoding NANDs just
in case we need a second
reassurance this is the way
to enter
in to the peace past understanding creation,
the mindform used
to tell whole truth, sworn
to tell, circumstantially, as happening
to be led
to leave oaths being,
once sworn, sworn forever, and not like
happens only in movies, everytime,
once, regarding a quantum
of original thought,
rethought,
from first stories
of language, lingual word sage
tongue use, local mimicing ****** speech,
shibbolethargic sibblicity
barring outsiders
from making sense, save when
we all use our bodies to talk, say,
what we feel about the truth, the worth
of a straight
against a full-house, in a game of liar pride.

The winner calls the bluff,
or never shows her hand.

And all those free from guile, go on dancing.

This and my next two posts are in reverse creation order,
this is the last panel in a tryptic of three novel scenes.
------------ this was Feb, 22, 2024

Used to be, as we were
used to become, repeatedly,

time sensitives using time
as using any used concept, used
by users
to bring use to usefullness, in time.

As we are used, our complexities
crease our faces with wrinkles
we use to make smiles.

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

Thousands, now millions,
then billions and trillions, too much,
unhoned use, dull use, dishonest use

-busy work to earn right to life
-breathe,
-hard parts's over, let it roll....

so we stop counting hours per dollar
and marvel at the cost of being
obligated to share the debt,
owed gravity,
giving minutes where seconds are plenty,
about a dollar each…
converted on the exchange
in  second thoughts.

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

Right use,
righteous, right.

The ideal right. Never wrong.

Like sunshine, or stars…

and gravity, and contravening winds,
laws of temperature
and pressure, pre judged within tolerance
too minute to contemplate, indeed,

as with the inner working of everything,
once done, duration makes no sense,

to mortal sensibilities, our assisting intell
sources leak inside information, gut level

response to provocation, my vocation
manifests, yes, blurts

stop.
This is insanity, and I smile to myself,
aware,
I aimed at totally insane, and hit it,

on the spot, nailed it where up and down
cross left and right, there it was,

or is, more precisely, insanity. Stopped.

My self imposed duty done. I stopped it.

I am the monkey wrench. For a second.
Must mean...
-------------------
...
my tools include
sentient wrenches,
sentient plumber tools,
used artistically as the
monkey wrench
in the works
with an Iberian,
artist at café, in tiny
John Lennon glasses,
callouses on his *******...
real deal, pre Adobe Illustrator
whose pen and inks I think I saw,

but in another course through time,

historicity, in fact, is a material invention,
a feminine fullfilled mind's inspiration,

we exist in no time at all, from historical
perspectives exalted to points of view,

from which opinions as to how worth is
weight of something, relative to another.
Balance life in time on instants
in prayer, faith, step taken
instants thanking nexting
step by step, expecting next time….

Worth of a minute spent thinking second
thoughts used as tools, slight smile, soft aha,

leverage our speculation,
ask who has nothing
to do for days on end, but the wealthy good

among the commoner sorts and types and classes.

Weal and woe, both, we believe lack

recipes to fix broken promises to child prayers.

Blessedness declared, nationally.
Given in the ritual,
alright alrise, alrecite, I pledge…
--we did
yes, to ****, at the will of my commander,
and I understand my link to the chain,
--we
brains hardwired from childhood
to handle a pen,
experience ambidexterity while qwerty keying,
left and right,
order and beauty click, feel
minds combined.

We am I, and I am alone,
then I think of you, and now, and this device,

this magic pen, silly me,
anachronisms are my weakness.

We are the monkey wrench.

Jubal Cain trained his children,
his brother, Tubal, trained his, as well.

When stories grow in prehistorical shade,
all letters symbol references locked away,

when the little people in blue Phrygian caps,
acknowledge the big strong wombed Liberties,
wearing with honor the red Phrygian caps.

Freedom from all forms of mental tyranny, snaps
medically induced connection across synaptic gaps.

Who, who? We heard it,
on the radio.
Life in my time has been totally unique,
in time as a whole,
scientifically, we, even we two, just me
and you, agreeing,
as touching,

any thing, a thought, a thing? being used
to make you think, once more

what if, we do, and never tell?  
what if this is telling?
what if we knew?

Who we think we are, if we fail to define our own terminii,
Meum et Tuum, as we are, if we take full consideration

of our pose, relative, to the point of you, on which your
homeostasis hangs by the thread of sense we share
in mindspace dominated by English, no longer,

I can read poetry in Hausa, like a native born earthling,
after Hiroshima and before the peak radiation winds,
in the season of Maris and Mantle, and
The Days of Wine and Roses, and
social influencers promoting actual
bowling leagues,

"Lake Charles Calculators
facing off against Texas City Lo-rollers,"
- in the novel, the summer of '61, unshipped.

when this version of America, as remembered on TV,

shall never before
be gotten but by the free and brave, trusting geology,
can prove we all know
if hell breaks loose,
we all die, but the earth is resilient,

As Kritias recited all he knew
of what the lawgiver said of the reproof
he humbly received as a Sais priestly
admonishment to learn to hold
thoughts secure for disasters
are considerably common

"– all such events are recorded since the old days
and are preserved here in our temples.
Yet your people and
the others are but newly equipped, every time,
with letters and all such arts as civilized cities require
and when,
after the usual interval
of years, like a plague, the flood
from heaven comes sweeping down again
upon your people, it leaves none of you but
the unlettered and uncultured.
So you become as young as ever,
with no knowledge
of all that happened
in old times
in this land or in your own." Plato, Timaeus
_
remember, we once believed in giants,
then we learned of dinosaurs,
then we saw whales cry.

They wept for the loss of the cod.

Then we got the internet of things,
and things developed was to solve

the original division using co-op gnosis,

we see our follies on YouTube, and realize
we have abilities, should we agree, we never

lie, but do know of instances, when unbelieving
worked wonders while lying about waiting
for this exposure
to your final frontal lobe
remyelinating, to offset dementia.

It's a prophylactic tactic peace of mind allows.

Base to Major Tom…

all around me now is sound, it seems
only yesterday, in dreams,

this keeps happening,
we keep thinking eventually finality

drops the curtain, and we become
our own selves… found in our hardened parts,

as when one knows the riddles all come
with one right answer, or the riddle is not fair.

Ezekial 17, comes to my mind,

because I happen to live in chapparel,
of the sort they have south of Lebanon…
mentioned in the riddle.

Who ignores the money side of things…
you know,
the business of being creative distributors,
agents allowing the artist
to premature.

It's your show, kid,
this is all you wished for, make it last.

Not allowed, read a book.

------------------
Yes, people do read books,
but many do not really read
as when a summer boredom

takes a kid to Grandpa's book shelf,
aha, look a book my grandfather read,

now, this kid is reading Magnificent Obsession,

and I sow the counter punch, with Jesse Duplantis
secret sowing prosperity message arisen from that.
Bilk, tilt, ah, Tilton and Alamo, too, obsessed
with the shine, serpent on a pole,
not the wise one tippy tail on this very point. You know?

Advertised wisdom for the attention paid,
watch the candle flicker, these are holy candles,
all the work of actual pollinators, raised on clover,

which we also feed our red heifers which we breed,
just in case, some day the businesses of mass
religion agree to stop selling fear of totally

insane influencers of thousands, in the days
of billions believing time ends, right after

News from yesterday,
while lythium ion carry ons

are brought to public attention, then an ad,

then there is healthier handsomer than in a while
Biden being physically older than NATO, really not
which he takes credit for, make note, just in case,
it turns out not to have been
so good a deal, we sell bombs, that we buy
to create jobs, we play cop, and currency
goes global, well, who's left to pay
for all these unused bombs?
-------------
Credit from Mali,
when
Shield our augmented eyes, to look into ever before,
gold held holds worth in ways we never imagined,
look out there, a million miles away a long now,

conception of LaGrange points and Roche limits

how come the earth to be, right here,
we ask but only liars venture a valid wager,

we may know now more than ever,
should we ever dare, one entire day,

in a time when a grandfather involved
in our information intended to reform,
the duty of Jubilee to the story,
after fifty years of never reconsidering
the need an almighty entity might have,

as an addiction, praise and honor and glory,
amen, it always spills onto the anointed message,

yes, His holy word,
as prophets hear spoken in lost angel tongues,
no lie can be told, bold as hell, is professed to be,
"Prove me now, if the authority… allows"

tell me, child,
do you really know what believing does?

Slight smile in the zone of thinking either real
or answered prayer, on earth as my perfected will

well may imagine

utilizing… using for the paid attention,
way long time ago, your granny prayed, god give
this boy the good sense you give green apples,

and I'd be ****** if I said he didn't.
Far as I can tell, mustard knows a little more.

"What is your aim in Philosophy?”

“To show the fly the way out of the fly-bottle”
(Philosophical Investigations) – Wittgenstein
--------------------
Tell them that I lived as long as I could,
then I died, thinking this was all new to me.

If they line up at the portal from then to now,
tell them to remember, any fly can find its way.

Go on, thinking that said it all.
Go on, knowing it said nothing new now.

The way into the bottle is the way out,
flies all know that naturally…
kitchen windows, though,
those can cause fly insanity.