Wednesday, January 28, 2026
1:46 PM
Situational accuracy after 20 hours listening
Manchester's 1972 The Glory and the Dream,
set this historic whiling on a forced peace march.
Music is Nature Boy, any version, think of Zuma,
son of the first hippie… born soon after the song.
-------
Sowing the wind, a house divided
the reaping of the whirlwind, individuated
after ever hesitating to believe, believe me,
preposterity awaits the knowledge using we
formed from maternal truths too true
to abuse,
about face,
repent or perish, ah… men
wars justifiers are facing the heirs
of the wind, troublers
of their own habitable zones,
he who sows contention, is proud
of doings so, tuff guy, who never felt
the whump when a grenade hits home
Oh, America, when were you real, were you ever so?
Once, when we were young and heard a song ever so
- singing baby to sleep, back in those days
Was it not Nat King Cole, who loved me so
and asked my love sown in spirit wind
sure to bring back abundance too
true, I never saw a rich man,
with a satisfied mind, so ee
moving is the music made,
the inspired love, let be so
just in time, just in time,
to recollect the whying wars,
why do we have the right
to bear arms, whying wars,
if truth be told, the stories told
for money, make believe
come back next week,
for Orson Welles, as The Shadow.
The Shadow knows the ego and the id,
and is very kindly offering childhood advice,
wiser than fools allow, as they rush to defend Jesus,
from Santa Claus and then Santa Fe from accusation
too silly to sanction, of course it made sense,
life after a few agree, to look beneath,
buried deep chthonic sense sans light,
perceiving messages from herds gone silent,
receiving hope for freedom from permission,
disdeception misperception from grace taken,
free for what we just paid in mindless obediance.
Another redundance.
Peace, at last… just
a taste,
sweet it is.
Am big, U is us. Bet just one tear. We win
this once to think again, ag ain ai aiaiaiai we do,
and some of us still yodel, too.
Jan 28
Jan 28, 2026 at 6:30 PM UTC
Wednesday, January 28, 2026
1:46 PM
Situational accuracy after 20 hours listening
Manchester's 1972 The Glory and the Dream,
set this historic whiling on a forced peace march.
Music is Nature Boy, any version, think of Zuma,
son of the first hippie… born soon after the song.
-------
Sowing the wind, a house divided
the reaping of the whirlwind, individuated
after ever hesitating to believe, believe me,
preposterity awaits the knowledge using we
formed from maternal truths too true
to abuse,
about face,
repent or perish, ah… men
wars justifiers are facing the heirs
of the wind, troublers
of their own habitable zones,
he who sows contention, is proud
of doings so, tuff guy, who never felt
the whump when a grenade hits home
Oh, America, when were you real, were you ever so?
Once, when we were young and heard a song ever so
- singing baby to sleep, back in those days
Was it not Nat King Cole, who loved me so
and asked my love sown in spirit wind
sure to bring back abundance too
true, I never saw a rich man,
with a satisfied mind, so ee
moving is the music made,
the inspired love, let be so
just in time, just in time,
to recollect the whying wars,
why do we have the right
to bear arms, whying wars,
if truth be told, the stories told
for money, make believe
come back next week,
for Orson Welles, as The Shadow.
The Shadow knows the ego and the id,
and is very kindly offering childhood advice,
wiser than fools allow, as they rush to defend Jesus,
from Santa Claus and then Santa Fe from accusation
too silly to sanction, of course it made sense,
life after a few agree, to look beneath,
buried deep chthonic sense sans light,
perceiving messages from herds gone silent,
receiving hope for freedom from permission,
disdeception misperception from grace taken,
free for what we just paid in mindless obediance.
Another redundance.
Peace, at last… just
a taste,
sweet it is.
Am big, U is us. Bet just one tear. We win
this once to think again, ag ain ai aiaiaiai we do,
and some of us still yodel, too.
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