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Sunday funnies AI

DIY AI

Do It Yourself

Act Inteleostical

 

aim at fame, take the blame

aim at shame, hide and watch

 

aim at games no mind can matter in,

hope to hell that you are right,

 

roll the bones…

 

let the story form the world we agree upon,

stand, bipedally biased to lieve be

the balance factor in terms

of fear being a reason

to respond,

in one way, or another, knowing now

 

time is all together different than imagined,

not long ago,

on a little think… we know the journey story,

did we

really live so far from the center?

It seems so,

from where I stand, unembodied in another

reconnected to the story,

a book's worth of time, stretched to thinnistical

translucence,

sparks we imagine having seen as signals slow

to

geo speed, Gaia mind, ****** - that

sensation of ever mattering

just now,

for a moment, then

 

now, again, similar but never the same,

riverish as any wish one tests

again, after ever has began

to play in the per-ifery.

Request permission to use this poem
Written by
kenpepiton
77 / M / Pine Valley CA
Published
Dec 20, 2020
Lines·Words
34·171
Notes

Ifery is the enjoyable realm of right now. Time seems senseless. Peace feels like this, like a massive stone that roads and rivers and winds go around, or over, never under.

Tags
#underground#cog#nice#incident
Permission

Request to use this poem

Tell kenpepiton how you would like to use it. We review requests before forwarding them.

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