without this magic pen, where would we be

we words to the wise

we sweet lull making words, soft as genuine joy,
the slow steady build
ing heart joy
sweet suasivity
snakey lick
nacre laquer spit
shining
layer on layer
glossier and glossier, pearly gates

then Aitia
bubble pop. No juice, no flow, lightening ever
y where

is the leash, the rod

touch here please. At this highest conductive point

formed from metals collected
in the aftermath of two unthinkably complex Nuetron stars

collided, or merged,
no body saw it, (it is a spell not an error, feature nae bug)

but some say they know they saw what would have hapt,
had that hapt, one hundred and thirty thousand years ago

this is not irony, this is goldy

Google Nuetron stars make gold, Spelchek's grandma
at Google corrects you.
I knew that would hap, had yu followed insruct
spells
construct word nets to snare any bird unawoke to the joke,
yoke equally,

pull your own weight, plus or minus

synergy is variable, like the speed of light and time.
You dear reader are helping the world get the joke and stop

hoping to die, before giving your own account of every idle word.
Start here,

ask, your self, the one you talk to,

what lies do I believe about you or anything else?

-- in my world, those are doctores orders.