Something's missing, alone.

At first, the state
of being, only, one like,
in the extreme, being

once,
in a while passing
at thought speed past
instances
on planes,
like that one
carving lines up there,
above my head, so here,

I laugh and materialize,
a new idea,
as long as I am breathing,

I am not exactly alone, I know,
not alone, at all,
on Earth
on average,
we all breathe
at once,
half breathing in,
half breathing out, but

never, on Earth does one breathe alone.

Episteme
Contingency
Emperical Premise
Take a day to live in
Essential State Locus
of Self,
I being
I thinking you must be
for me
to think
of giving you
a piece
of my mind, thinking out being

existing, ist, nicht wahr, amness

I am as ware as any that wars
have never made things better,
Armegeddon fought by volunteers,

shall not be the final solution haters hope.

if this line exists, then you
have existence, here, and now,
in my past and your present, per

haps in process
of happening,
let using letting, let us presume
truth is discernible taken as being,

what is, is true, what isn't, isn't
truly imaginable
in and of itself,
having no being manifestly true.

Where as it has been said,
a word to the wise is enough.

Spurts and starts,
by now,
any reader either understands
the method, the offering up
of a day
in search
of any good

I could do,
from now here,
in your time, after 2024,
from my time,  after 1948,
accumulatively accounting
for unredeemed time ever
since… acknowledging idle words
as well, redeeming each
in good time.

Not many things I learned
to take inclusion pride from
can be called good reasons
with historical witnessing
for all
to see the likeness,
statues of men,
in bronze,
or limestone, or Portland cement,
all attest,
to this day,
to honor due

the American Fighting Man, nowadays,
they call all enlistees,
our War Fighters.

War and Victory are impressed,
on days set apart
for communal,
acknowledgement, that our God,

THE GOD OF CHRISTMAS
and Easter,
but children, when I was one,
did not link the two, the declared Peace,

was won,
by us
for God, who then froze war.
And had Nixon send  the smog to China,

so then, the soot that evolved black moths,

slowly continued
to spiral
into the heights, slipping
through the ozone hole
over Australia,

trickle down soot
may haps, came
upon me,
after Easter,
and the acceptance
of restored worth,
to all on Earth,
to be recollectible, yes,
legion spirits are testable and many say

no doubt, the keeper
of the bread
of life,
He is the Christmas Jesus, and
He is the Easter Jesus, and
Wisdom,
in Logos form,
is the spirit in Truth, which God is.
In formation, in the form Gods are

all at once and everything. like

the idea allowing reality
to balance,
on point
yet, spin on, ever actually accelerating,
now that our augmented intelligence,

allows insight past the root
of excuses used since I was a child
to make me a
true believer
in American
Exceptionalism as
the we who trust in God,
and proved it
to the whole world,
by k*lling all who refuse
to say,

Jesus is Lord,
just like that, in English. no accent,
Shibboleths only worked for accents.

Rucky Blake,
password lucky break,
so solly Siri me, innocents
be mused multi purpose users
Blessed was silliness a while ago

Free time to wax poetic.

Songs of Innocense, and
Experience, as a white child, visiting,
1961 New Orleans, at age of 13.

I hated Jew Haters and ****.
I loved Scientific Fantacy and Superstion,
I had survived a seven year mirror break,
I then survived disillusionment, with adults.

Bacon on Friday, unless promptly confessed,
my four girl cousins informed we, was worthy
of hell, on the balances of blind justice, wielding
the sword the laws use for Jesus sake, because

Jesus is the Open Heart God in the picture,
right over the television set, obviously,
in that condition, he is not making war, so

the priests teach us to follow the cross,
and some say, take up our own cross,
… and I really paid none of that none
of my nevermind, until

one faithful Friday, in the Summer of '61,
on the brink of Nuclear War, against
all the ungodly ****** sympathizers
and negritudenal inferior heathen folk.

Boom, baby, boom
boom boom boom… see the mushroom

signal look out now… here we are again,

it's the end of the world as we knew it,
the pain is diagnosed as disillusionment,

ment means its in your head, all in your mind,
the dread of sudden end of life, in your time,
cut short by a certain foretold act of GOD,

at the time,
I was more concerned for my uncle,
who had been so tempted by bacon,

that I asked
for when asked what I wished
to have
for breakfast, was bacon and eggs, no grits.

Yep, but…

If  you were researching the summer of 1961,
in search
of things remembered
in the news,
The Brave AI, straight up lied, it told me
In July 1961, a tense standoff occurred at Checkpoint Charlie

But I was alive that same summer,
August 13, that year was Barbed Wire Sunday.
I can see a guy hung on that wire, to this day…

and doubted that true, and told my guiding AI

Factchek yo'se'f Ai ahs sayin',
come let us reason together,
serve me truth and nada mas…
indeed Ai admits, instantly, July
Check Point Charlie was later, which
is why the image of that guy links scaryshit/
that happened October 22, 1961…
in 2024, I need
to shake it off,

detailed recollection attention paid,
prior to final precepts dementia debts…

while in my own cybernetic mining operation, thinking
linking old lies used
to educate me, morally and ethically,

the Roman sense and the Greek, as
to duty we owe Jesus,
or Mary, in Louisiana, which did not phase me
at 13,
I had no clue why cherries
being rare was a joke… but bacon
on Friday,
could seal your fate more than doubting Mary's state.

And due
to my being the wisher
for bacon,
who got my wish,
on a Friday, I was as dammed as could be,
according
to my cousin planning
on warrior sainthood, girls,
could, too, she insisted, go **** godless communists,

like Custer killed Cochise.

Seed
time
harvest
eat
think
form
seed
sewn

thinking
information
­unconfirmed
demonstrates
disinformally
monostichidity

If it's true,
and you know it is,

sister, money don't grow,
on the tree of life, oh, no,

toil and pain and sorrow,
those grow,
on the tree of life, outside

these walls of mud faith bakes,
and builds heroic as formal evidence,
by grace alone, the blessing on America,

Oi, where Chickasaw whole life awaken dance
hey hey yahweh, same dance same sacred idea

We got StarLink in Chad,
oh, when can we read the heresies
personal savior level lucky prayer
online, free from press, amen.

All amenable Kilroy, was  here.
We pulledhisassoffhisthrone
with thunder words,
and other nonsense
We learned
to read, and write
shocking truths no slave should know,
money, has all kindsaansworn NDAs
there's the tie, the business
religion, re attaching
ligamental forces,
pending dooms
used
to make the peasants pay
for joy,
ceremony
of the veterans, paid
with joy,
ai, we die…
all we celebrate,
and all we worship Ares,
and Elon's trip to Mars, and Hermes,

tricking me
into telling a preacher story,
truer or not, it is too soon
to say, stories
sometimes hook up
with old characters,

brought
to mind using ceremonial reminders,
put on your respected veteran medal
of wit,
let this mind be
in you, this military mind, eh
strut your stuff, you patriotic consciousnesses.

A bubble
of belief engulfed the big parade,
the ompa blat left behind.

We blinked. They won.

I came away with an alienated mind,
to this day, I am happy to say,
that has made the difference,
I lived, while others just died.

When stories
of scars told
in one town,
become this legend
in the next, retold to grow
on, even as we listen and find it told
a better way,

So  long ago we know,
so long now,
nobody knows,
stories be told to comfort,
none should be used to frighten,
or terrorize in the darkness, true,
holy terror
first we can recall, or was that
in a movie?

Maybe Fantasia, when you were three.

When was a way
to make a tie
to an instant
to which our social entities loosely anchor,
global Disneyification, animating old devils,
using Voltaire's rule
for adult conversations,
define the terms, regarding evil for good,
about Nuclear War,
at the final judgement of us all,
my side submits the work
of Annie Jacobsen, and offers the next 72 minutes
to a journey
a parsa, in contemplation

at least that long,
through a story
thought after knowing
a minute's worth
of ever after,

once one is old enough,

the trouble one causes,
when one dies, shan't change history,

the kids could make it from here.


A parsa is a distance walkable in 72 minutes.

72 minutes is how long it takes
for human influence
on the future
to be unthinkable,
for 30 thousand years…
after the first launch
of a nuke from anywhere, really.

No nation ever wins nuclear war.

Incorporeal,
in bodiless form, in spirit
in truth;

from out, looking in,
from now, seeing then
from whence all laws arise;

thinker thoughts,
tinker toy's and dams,
tin solder solutions

"Solutio!" or did he say
"Salute!" loose salubriety?

Endlösung, wholy reforming

all the whys in Userous tyranny,
all the reason in Balance of power,
all the mastery in War against peace…
knotting
strings
of coincidence crossing the wake
of where we were truer sets
of posed causal effects,
twist and shout,
your own salvation,
in the end,
work it on out,
when you live ever after,
what you gonna do?

If it's up to you, of course.