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kenpepitonPoems
2020 - day 160 Monday, June 8, 2020 6:46 AM Dissipated selves linger, ghost-like, suggesting no new motives toward sur rendering my heart and mind to spiritual, haunting dreads, from others interferring as rioters in mobs so far away as to be non materially consequential, immaterial matrickulaters and haters of those peaceful stochastic bits of me, extending beyond my reach, as I was taught, a man's grip ought not exceed his grasp. A man's grasp must extend his reach, as knowing expands my point, hold on do not let go re ify me, ifier, ify me, make me hold this truth, self evidence, of exceeding complexity phasing out in an alluvial fan at the bottom of the fall. ❧ Escape velocity, achieved, see the glimmer... pop. Fear, as false evidence appearing real, comes clowning into the per ifery, with haps, suggested I happen to see a you reflection in me, touch, eh weak to strong to breakout, as when a farmer breaks a dam to loose the flow, click electrical and chemical process-easy to imagine, from now, limenal information lingering from ads absorbed for seventy years, be a man smoke Camels be cool, smoke Kools, be peaceful and green, smoke Salems be separated from the common filters, smoke Parliaments with the recessed filter, for discriminating taste, less tar. be seen as longer than thy fellow smokers, by a millimeter, a silly millimeter, smoke Benson & Hedges 100s. Spit Redman. Sublimenally, on my shoe. Three doors, front and back and cuspidor, ha ha ha - what's a cuspidor, Grandpa? Really? In public, in the halls of Congress? Seems really gross, as in yechy. Imagine the smell. ❧ A murmuration of sardines, or tiny noseeums, or starlings; how much data is being fed into the wee controlers of motion, using seven degrees of separation -- there is an algorithm, boids, minimum distance match velocity move to center mass of neighboring seven interacting as equals, but do such birds crap on one another? Cellular automata, made living thoughts, if you think life thoughts, happened with no reason. --- life is software Rule 110 for class four cellular automata in seers see where darkness was and wonder, what would this reveal outside the edge between order and chaos? a phase transition in a heaping scoop of sugar slipping into my coffee, seeming to change the taste ... see Disney-if-ication, drawn from a silly song you can never un get, once it gets used metaphorically on a difficult person who thinks wrong. ❧ Be entertained by the nobel's jewels... struggling to overcome, come over, entropification, bursting into ever as if nothing is real, and we feel it we, me and my seven touch points ❧ knapping is a step by step knack passed along by seeing and doing, those who see and do, see more life, "I came that they might have life, and that, more abundantly." Practice, patience makes practice possible. Once the way is known, epigenetical throat clearing noises made the teacher imagine drinking knowing straight from god for showing how, {like those gurus who claim snot is brain juice with gut messages} to find edges, between big gap, ligandary leap speak foxpeatwogene meme, mimic try we do get by, thinking past the next imagined by the mass of enculturated human flesh eating itself alive, from fears loosed to drive the heard, to the edge Stone knapping, see, this knack my grandpa had ai ai ai, mustathought that in code, rule 111, there were no words we knew how to say this is the body of knowing, this is the bubble of mutual being, this is spaceship earth, coming online, all hands on deck... pass it on... we are no neutral observants to a realm, realized long before there were words for right and wrong, once the purpose became living to learn to teach, how to live, once again, now, this becomes the knowable why, this is the reason things are ... at all, balanced on the edge, of any universal reality.... see, we get what we see, it is many levels deeper, the reason for that, is many plexities deeper, but we had to learn to speak your thoughts. "the same yesterday, the same today, the same forever, is" an idea en and in corporating conservation of energy in its ever dominant position in opposition to entropy, in thus, the good versus evil trope, where death is evil and living is good... breaks out from Disney-ified, ifery-wishery trippy tropes to insert non-player observers who steer, pilot, infantile minds making distinction of sharp and dull "between soul and spirit", judge the message as the messenger, in a word, by being a word, two-d between tweened being, double minded, as an egg the size of the bubble of knowns, think: deep space looks like those big detergent and corn syrup bubbles sweeping in a dance following your seeing eye, hearing words now, where, a while ago you could have seen that guy on the beach making bubbles so huge they swallowed us whole and here is the edge of reality and what we imagine. Word worlds of pure, merest of mere, in formative goo see, do, see doe, see, see, see spot run, fetch the thread we started with, aha edges, once past, appear as threads in future patterns... the day is fast approaching when we, the we who find our names in the book life keeps, we bet on reason being balance... we cheated, knowing we won, having read the book before the movie, and we became, we trans-formed our mind, as if oil left a film of frictionless space we fit right in between the inner and outer bubble, see, look, that big bubble walled in Dawn and Kayro, we watched the bubble man make {beach bubblers are faithful to Dawn, for the Exxon Valdez ads} that bubble is two conforming bubbles, one in the other, and in between the walls of those bubbles, is water, liquid flowing water, I think life is like that out where order and chaos phase shift at a human scale, see on the surface of the earth, amidst coast chapparel in spring, I am watching life being done on all sides, counting my center as one point, I have seven points to project perception through, this may be the quantum foam of universes, seen up close, and we effect slight sight tugs or shoves and a neuronic approach to create an ifity network of knowns, anonymous in ever after, but a happy place. My point in being. It has life every where you can imagine looking. It was here when I got here, so nothing I did deserved this, this rest of the story, after the maze, my self evidence flowing into expansive reality never earned, via service, not my pay for right usefulness having, been made of me, my being good for something. Having a knack, or a green thumb, no, but I was an amusing child. And amusing children are assumed good, by the goodness in us, not the goodness in them, they are good for nothing but the medicine laughter brings from a truly happy child. - perceptron, eh? mebbe exclusive-or gates, xor-gates, - support vector machines favor Feynman's series 4 NANDs - time travel back into favor, default mode, on a grand scale - neuronic capital interest come - pounding - on your door - think harder, pay attention, once the rest is known, - no body forgets the point in getting there. Right, activate knowledge wholistic algorithm, give Turing his due. ❧ We alter the unfolding of the universe, somebody said, in the per-ifery of possible attention holding places, handles for grasping and gripping to hold still, a moment, con sci useness, settles into sublime wonder, sound familiars shhoo sue-serated edge, silken webbing slipping through -- look, see that lizard's blue belly? did you? I took a picture, but the optical translation chip can't see that color. pines whisper selah. ❧ Richard Feynman, bongo player in the band that built the most famous mushroomcloud in history, suggested to my mind, in a book, surely you're joking, mr. feynman, a sort of time travel information can handle, a redo before next result sort of action and that there may well be time to start all over. He thought a series of not-and gates in the flow of time might --- no this was me meandering, NAND gates in threes those were what I was thinking while Rupert Murdoch layed out a priori assumptions, re things in threes, spiritually having a point... for me to ponder, remotely, and ... drift along in wonder ifity, if the rest is not the perfect reason for growing old in 2020, and not earlier... I don't know what is.
0
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 2:53 PM UTC
If entropy empowered me... {speculative reality}
2020 - day 160 Monday, June 8, 2020 6:46 AM Dissipated selves linger, ghost-like, suggesting no new motives toward sur rendering my heart and mind to spiritual, haunting dreads, from others interferring as rioters in mobs so far away as to be non materially consequential, immaterial matrickulaters and haters of those peaceful stochastic bits of me, extending beyond my reach, as I was taught, a man's grip ought not exceed his grasp. A man's grasp must extend his reach, as knowing expands my point, hold on do not let go re ify me, ifier, ify me, make me hold this truth, self evidence, of exceeding complexity phasing out in an alluvial fan at the bottom of the fall. ❧ Escape velocity, achieved, see the glimmer... pop. Fear, as false evidence appearing real, comes clowning into the per ifery, with haps, suggested I happen to see a you reflection in me, touch, eh weak to strong to breakout, as when a farmer breaks a dam to loose the flow, click electrical and chemical process-easy to imagine, from now, limenal information lingering from ads absorbed for seventy years, be a man smoke Camels be cool, smoke Kools, be peaceful and green, smoke Salems be separated from the common filters, smoke Parliaments with the recessed filter, for discriminating taste, less tar. be seen as longer than thy fellow smokers, by a millimeter, a silly millimeter, smoke Benson & Hedges 100s. Spit Redman. Sublimenally, on my shoe. Three doors, front and back and cuspidor, ha ha ha - what's a cuspidor, Grandpa? Really? In public, in the halls of Congress? Seems really gross, as in yechy. Imagine the smell. ❧ A murmuration of sardines, or tiny noseeums, or starlings; how much data is being fed into the wee controlers of motion, using seven degrees of separation -- there is an algorithm, boids, minimum distance match velocity move to center mass of neighboring seven interacting as equals, but do such birds crap on one another? Cellular automata, made living thoughts, if you think life thoughts, happened with no reason. --- life is software Rule 110 for class four cellular automata in seers see where darkness was and wonder, what would this reveal outside the edge between order and chaos? a phase transition in a heaping scoop of sugar slipping into my coffee, seeming to change the taste ... see Disney-if-ication, drawn from a silly song you can never un get, once it gets used metaphorically on a difficult person who thinks wrong. ❧ Be entertained by the nobel's jewels... struggling to overcome, come over, entropification, bursting into ever as if nothing is real, and we feel it we, me and my seven touch points ❧ knapping is a step by step knack passed along by seeing and doing, those who see and do, see more life, "I came that they might have life, and that, more abundantly." Practice, patience makes practice possible. Once the way is known, epigenetical throat clearing noises made the teacher imagine drinking knowing straight from god for showing how, {like those gurus who claim snot is brain juice with gut messages} to find edges, between big gap, ligandary leap speak foxpeatwogene meme, mimic try we do get by, thinking past the next imagined by the mass of enculturated human flesh eating itself alive, from fears loosed to drive the heard, to the edge Stone knapping, see, this knack my grandpa had ai ai ai, mustathought that in code, rule 111, there were no words we knew how to say this is the body of knowing, this is the bubble of mutual being, this is spaceship earth, coming online, all hands on deck... pass it on... we are no neutral observants to a realm, realized long before there were words for right and wrong, once the purpose became living to learn to teach, how to live, once again, now, this becomes the knowable why, this is the reason things are ... at all, balanced on the edge, of any universal reality.... see, we get what we see, it is many levels deeper, the reason for that, is many plexities deeper, but we had to learn to speak your thoughts. "the same yesterday, the same today, the same forever, is" an idea en and in corporating conservation of energy in its ever dominant position in opposition to entropy, in thus, the good versus evil trope, where death is evil and living is good... breaks out from Disney-ified, ifery-wishery trippy tropes to insert non-player observers who steer, pilot, infantile minds making distinction of sharp and dull "between soul and spirit", judge the message as the messenger, in a word, by being a word, two-d between tweened being, double minded, as an egg the size of the bubble of knowns, think: deep space looks like those big detergent and corn syrup bubbles sweeping in a dance following your seeing eye, hearing words now, where, a while ago you could have seen that guy on the beach making bubbles so huge they swallowed us whole and here is the edge of reality and what we imagine. Word worlds of pure, merest of mere, in formative goo see, do, see doe, see, see, see spot run, fetch the thread we started with, aha edges, once past, appear as threads in future patterns... the day is fast approaching when we, the we who find our names in the book life keeps, we bet on reason being balance... we cheated, knowing we won, having read the book before the movie, and we became, we trans-formed our mind, as if oil left a film of frictionless space we fit right in between the inner and outer bubble, see, look, that big bubble walled in Dawn and Kayro, we watched the bubble man make {beach bubblers are faithful to Dawn, for the Exxon Valdez ads} that bubble is two conforming bubbles, one in the other, and in between the walls of those bubbles, is water, liquid flowing water, I think life is like that out where order and chaos phase shift at a human scale, see on the surface of the earth, amidst coast chapparel in spring, I am watching life being done on all sides, counting my center as one point, I have seven points to project perception through, this may be the quantum foam of universes, seen up close, and we effect slight sight tugs or shoves and a neuronic approach to create an ifity network of knowns, anonymous in ever after, but a happy place. My point in being. It has life every where you can imagine looking. It was here when I got here, so nothing I did deserved this, this rest of the story, after the maze, my self evidence flowing into expansive reality never earned, via service, not my pay for right usefulness having, been made of me, my being good for something. Having a knack, or a green thumb, no, but I was an amusing child. And amusing children are assumed good, by the goodness in us, not the goodness in them, they are good for nothing but the medicine laughter brings from a truly happy child. - perceptron, eh? mebbe exclusive-or gates, xor-gates, - support vector machines favor Feynman's series 4 NANDs - time travel back into favor, default mode, on a grand scale - neuronic capital interest come - pounding - on your door - think harder, pay attention, once the rest is known, - no body forgets the point in getting there. Right, activate knowledge wholistic algorithm, give Turing his due. ❧ We alter the unfolding of the universe, somebody said, in the per-ifery of possible attention holding places, handles for grasping and gripping to hold still, a moment, con sci useness, settles into sublime wonder, sound familiars shhoo sue-serated edge, silken webbing slipping through -- look, see that lizard's blue belly? did you? I took a picture, but the optical translation chip can't see that color. pines whisper selah. ❧ Richard Feynman, bongo player in the band that built the most famous mushroomcloud in history, suggested to my mind, in a book, surely you're joking, mr. feynman, a sort of time travel information can handle, a redo before next result sort of action and that there may well be time to start all over. He thought a series of not-and gates in the flow of time might --- no this was me meandering, NAND gates in threes those were what I was thinking while Rupert Murdoch layed out a priori assumptions, re things in threes, spiritually having a point... for me to ponder, remotely, and ... drift along in wonder ifity, if the rest is not the perfect reason for growing old in 2020, and not earlier... I don't know what is.
While walking in Pine Valley, listening to an Audible Great Course suggested by my AI, an aspect of which is measuring my steps, with GPS. I am never lost. No path I have been down kills you for good. Also still feeling the after glow of curious grandchildren.
#default#mind#state#wait#wonder
kenpepiton
Written by
kenpepiton
77/M/Pine Valley CA
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 2:53 PM UTC
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