Flee ting thought,

pleasant after noon

my mind, I believe, but may
just be me and your minds
imaginin
g we,

meandering,
rubb


ing shoulder with willows near the shore

waves of light,
essential
all that ever matters, If I got that right,
ere all else,
light
spun
bound by imbalance to spread,

cornucopia, nautli-like swirls poring
precursers to now into eternity, ye see?

------
There are individuals less tied into tau than now

your mission,
filter truth
that's the way, life is that which tends to good
ness knowing what
you can't.
Okeh.

------
No lie, Alex Jones, was there never a myth
emerging as full-formed as yourn?
You are un believable,
acharismatic chimera believing all he thinks
possible, in his version o' twenty cent reality.

Paradigms is four nickles or two dimes or twenty cent,
they shift shape for all they worth,

upgrade now. New ideas, fresh from the mire of
forgotten oathz, deemed
worthy, still..

What lies do you believe about God, by the way,
the truth, the life,

how many voices this guy hearin', you hearin'?

Peace. Point. Game. Match.

------
who winct winsed sensed since when is
peace the point of war?

Ah, now, the accuset excusetus
possessedus an'we,

are you bored? Wanna wait
and see,
who wins?
some evils are alive, those make monsters,
of girls and boys,
infantry in every service,
such precurser
guardians must be taught to ****; no mortal will,
without letting the monstor be,

believed beliefs doubt yer doubt dufus doubus
unstable double minded forktongue
forced by fear to fight the pain

Running mouth racist flusher of un filtered
impossibilities posing sur
prizes in the mongrol mongol DNA
we carry
the program
the code, the honor and glory of the
peace protector

enemy of con
fusion, alla cons fusin' fools tools for
strifin', divide'n, with faithin',

Is Alex Jones a Legionaire, mit tranceiving
DNA and no zero beat, no tuner to tune to?

He may be home to homeless, non-sane sorts
of idle words begging for redemption,
meaning, sought is phound,

like photons when photons are sought from
the wavy aitia dimensions of reasons
for possibility ibility ibility hill billity

humor like a voice from a whole other
soul, I swear on my kids, it's true, he say.

(Dr. Phil says Liar Liar Liar, yesterday.JRE live)

Whoa, real time speed o'metrix-icity
Mag
nify ify to the nth, see no jive,

who can i magi that?

      I, John, was in the Spirit...

gears shift, wheels in wheels
click zooomout
bubbledged jagged inner side
topmost atmostfear

settle, see the clown splash, who winds such minds?
Who tames such tongues?

The tongue no man can tame, eh? I s there another?
Have ye a spirtit of another
sort, who rides your wild tongue in your name,

servants of the sort contrued to serve
the inheritors
of ality re
how now brown cow owmmmmm
60 cycle white noise non sense

common noise sense desensitivity wickering
winding silken myelin layers

of connectedness correctedness
real time speed o'think roller rink

banked spiral offramp
bang, we're thru

Where we were aitia had meaning, may we
rewind? AI undo/redo ram allocation,

birthrights. Look well to my going, guide my steps,

assure always there is a step, a place to
put my foot, a place to step to next.

Cortana and Siri and Hermes and Diana and
a whole host of heavenlies,

tapping directly through cranial y's cracked in skulls
and bones,

are you an entity with enemies you wish disexistant?
how might happy ever after be if haps that made him
made him wrong, not evil?

Feeble comfort is not no comfort.
Bear wit' me, walk a mile, or a while, whenever
thin-thang-thanks tounguey

effort births the next as
one births two,
two births three and we can see,
right, a way.  two and three become four,

for if three birtht four and four, five and so on,
soon, y'see, the re
al point we count up on is never more,
as the raven told poe. a vector with no space for time,
one plus one plus one, one stack o'ones

making no diff
until now, spin, let's twist again,
like we did last summer,

your that summer or mine?
Mine got me here, where'd yours go?

So, Fibbonacci, son of a fool, I once read
written on a wall in LA,
expositioning park,

positions, please.
World Stage, princesses of peace, wee
Disnified Jon Benet's

made sacred by our shame the evil ever touched
such a one, such a one, such a wonder

a being of our sort so potent aitia, and we
leave evil touch such and you
tolerate it, a little bit,

evil has it's place.
Not here is the name of the place.

Here is 4-D mortality. Do yer best,
yer damndest don't work here.

Here is temporary. Your bubble.
Selah. center, enpointed
linger, if ye will. Think how happy ever after works,
if now is all you get to start with.

Good be wit'ye fare ye well.

An unwanted child.
Dead in a rush of shameless rage.
A never wanted child, live global exit. Boom.

A child with no hope of winning life's lottery.

Not one of the slain is now such, each is a ticket
to horrible fame and blame and shame,
and maybe more money that the slain child could have
ever earned, I know,
small towns in Texas breed unwanted babies
each Prom Night.
Unwanted babies grow
to become unwanted children,
reared by grandma who had not wanted ma,
that prior Prom Night, previous to a wasted life.
- No facts, pure manure conjecture, due to pregnant anger,

poor and weak, the master religious class enforces
rights to horrible, unlivable lives …
- bear that child or face the wrath of Texas, a breeding
that looses the lesser angels crying worthy worthy worthy,
see, makes 'em mean, ready to ****
- but you gotta enlist 'em young... get the feel of that gun...
but some fall through the cracks... good for nothing,
wash outs -- Watch OUT- some mad losers feel cheated,
thinking not fair,
I never had a chance,
but in the end, you all know I was here.

Once, see me horribly big, as a monstor of the rule,
life must be lived,
breathe and become
useful, but first survive full myelination, and
- 25 years
that takes adult super-vision, for a kid,
some how, some seem to
learn to love, without the experience, maybe
see it done on Sesame Street,
you'll get it, unless

nobody ever led you to associate yourself and Kermit/
- not easy being any thing ungood for something.
- dyslexia can ****, any shame on a child can,
if it is culturally nourished on rights to hate,
and hurt, at will.

Shame on you, America, for not caring,
with deep parental love,
for accidents of ignorant lust alluded to as common,
on TV... ****** right to ignor ovulational cycles.

-Secrets for the weddin' night, right, Grandma?

Ask the shooter's Grandma, should this child have been yours
to rear in the ways of productiveness?

An unwanted child.

Not one of the slain is now such, each is a ticket
to horrible fame and blame and shame,
and maybe more money than
the slain child could have
ever earned,
before the sudden shut down;

as unwanted babies grow to become unwanted children
reared by grandma who had not wanted ma,
-- right to whose life?
Renters, in an owned world,
poor and weak, the master religious class enforces
rights to horrible, unlivable lives …

such as loose the lesser angels crying worthy worthy worthy,
see me, see me die,
once, see me horribly big as a monstor of the rule,
life must be lived,
breathe and become
useful, but first survive full myelination, and
- yeah, at least 25 years
that takes kind minded adult super-vision, for a kid,
though sometimes that may be a teacher, it is rare,
a book can act the parent, for an early reader,
some how,
some seem to
learn to love, without the experience, maybe
reading is using science convincing me I think,
I can imagine, being loved for growing, I
see it done on Sesame Street, I think,
you'll get it, unless

nobody ever led you to associate yourself and Kermit/
- fingerprints prove you were born,
- those do not extablish value.

Shame on you, America, for not caring, with deep parental love,
for accidents of ignorant lust alluded to as common,
on TV.

Ask the shooter's Grandma, should this child have been yours
to rear in the ways of productiveness?

--  15 close range handgun kills,
I can only imagine, and hate myself/ I know, I can see --
To earn a One Shot, One **** medal
in Call of Duty: Mobile, you need
to **** an enemy with one shot in Multiplayer mode.
To complete this task easily, players can use weapons
with the highest damage rate, like snipers and shotguns.
Also, while taking the shot, make sure to aim for the enemy’s head
to give the maximum damage.
Players can earn One Shot, One **** medal as many times
as they want by completing the aforementioned task.

From <https://doublexp.com/guides/how-to-earn-one-shot-one-****-medal-in-call-of-duty-mobile>

Learning one's insignificance,
in the grand scheme of things,

where similarity is taken
as thoughts we may assume were held,
as though
Thoth'd thought'em
for a ceremony
of first exposure,
seeing we were preceded
in the realm
of knowing meaningful things, beholders
of stories telling how we come to know
signals are not asking why, but
how come… not why… in my childhood,
where I was reared, why was not a word,
how come, was how I learned to ask

what causes this necessity, that I must sleep,
or not dare the rattlers no trespassing buzzer?

how come we see three baskets or bags,
full we must assume, mustn't we, see,
as we, we may construe confabulations,

we may as well make up our own minds,
to bake pies for men too proud to beg…

but happy as once told holy hello,
with assumed good by you, okeh,

this is most certainly, one of these days,
redeemed and born in the public domain
on an attention to ads irritating node,

expanding mindtimespace to sweeten
the ***,
the bets are all in, this is the drama,
at scale, begun,
on the seventh floor
of a curved mirror building
in Sorrento Valley, late Nineties…
-- time slipt cause being a distinct
instance when Josten's Learning Software,
was
a textbook example. For a fatal flaw,
the bridge too far,
the bar too high,

then the flop, gigs in a second, thing think,
AI imagine, BARRY RUDD IS FICTION AI'AMNTx
changed
appear as possible as not. And that
says something,
per haps plenty many happy re turns,
my turn,
we assume you know the concept
drill
on many levels, no presumptions which
this is, yet well surmise, promised sustenance
relies
on certainty having its point, in you,
and I am pleased to make it, hurt
not
to know, for each nod, you said, I know.
To lie to me,
and live so long, literally existing
on smoke and mirror neuronic stims, I know

makes no sense, and saying so, represents
non sense, per what
chance a novel paradox, pertaining to substance.

Out from under, on the final point,
where surrender always, perfect point pierces
ever and ever like things, everish things
everything all at once, the other tellers tales
told to pull us up up key umph tried, proven
point premade…
solid bet, my side wins, or I die, hedge fund
a mental insurance sanity and insanity
are not measured past your last whole truth
oath, as the audience all said, amen.

Serpent standing tippy tail on my point.
At your request/ Arthur Lee… as the credits climb

{Baby you’re a richman too ooh, yeagh}

As this is an itch I have lived with,
for what seems long to a child,
but not for me.
Yes, as it is.
You see,
if you may, imagine,
having some idea, tying
my coming into reasoning with war,
the monstor known as power,
-cuffed, me and that,
as symbolized in the standardized
warrior hero magician eros pandaemonium
- play grounds of gods and rich kids,
- past a certain stage, mind games,
- won once and for all, acquired
- holiness making, bright ideas,
- *** wise as serpentssss et
- 'armless as doves… mind
peace of my may you may own
granted any with a will to listen
as might a wise serpent, listen

see who first knew, truely, true as life-
like Avatar 2, or the vids in God of War,
like the experience, PS 5… imaginal
discovery, as worth the feeling, (dopamine)
loving to see the possibility, ahs
it may be, we, both reader
and I and the Web-per-se,
Per-see-us, fees paid see,
we destroy cul de sacs…
Where soul eating shames
live in many stories,
no need to know them all, just
in this one, be polite, here
we know how to be
with many strangers,
free from any anxious thought, perhaps
protected
for having smelled the hint of danger, the idea
in its latest Neo-Platonic form, imaginally
experiencing
Virtual Realism so far
below Übermentschen mentioning,
- it requires letter level decoding
- jello time slow gnosis drip.
Knowing nothing of my work, said McLuhan,
is dangerous tomorrow, not today,

in this new medium we find our old selves,
Today, while it is called today, we confront
Iniquity Himself, as imaginally before me stood a little boss man,
who was demonstrating his strike proof
solution for the next five olive harvests,

yep, historicality matching Cesar Chavez,
I was a strawboss on a scab crew
of Pandora's box closing Jesus Freaks,
Under the Belridge Oil Company Logo,
- the former strike face on the news
- from Digiorgio, a little further south

Yep, that's me, Tim Cahill,
witnessed the existence of that me,

I was a strawboss
on a scab crew
of Pandora's box closing Jesus Freaks,
Under God, and a Wilfred Brumly clone
who was known as Red,
of the huge Mustache, Nieztsche/Dali
-esque, level three overseer, then
Ray Casey, dead ringer, his type,
for Fess Parker,
thus the very image
of the pioneer stock, men bred
to win the west,
by hook, {fishers of men, of course}
or by crook, {shepherds in search of profit}
as they said in Nixon's family,
the sheep won't bleat… like frogs

fall in the milk can, most must drown
in the cream, cloggin' they little gnoziz,
but they always one can,
it never stop ashakin'
tilin the morn be one frog entity
representation in the moralizing story
creep
reality seeping onto the pages,
in your experience at the five wpm pace…

Each letter lets a line appear, as once,
you must
acknowledge, as you read, you know
you understand, letting keys seem right,

glass 'armonica, with which
to swallow ghosts.
- pting, tense stretched flattened
Hewlett Packard mouse evolution, eye-point
pierce
to troughing shape
of things
to come,
begun some time ago, so nevermind,
- an acronym… but
ah, the end in mind. A very 19th century version.
A genre, Steam-Industrial Drama,
last given sustentative worship,
bhorn up under your foreseen,
bye means we must imagine,
really imaginal in the role,
being helper, along side
Sisyphus, who lives
to tell us why we
try to think ever
lasting stories
started, once

within the bubble of all you knew, there appeared
a device from the future, but today, our time,
in the bigger bubble of all you know,
our time's tech
magic map of the moment,
to the millisex, as we,
form an awe oh, amen,
a ment-al structure, not built by hands, megalithic,
at scale, "Know thy measure."

Point yourself out, express yourself,
a little,
one part
in eight billions,
what you are certain of
"Certainty is mad." So "nothing too much."

I, the entity, Certainty, am mad.

And I, the maker peace entity working qwerty watch,
sustain my defined flaw, ever willing
to claim new knowns,
to contain my joy, when I recognize as
wholey known, tenere, tainstretcht to the t, hook
to whole other ways
to see every thing, what novelty

remains, in stages of being, upt from dust, nevermind
how, now remains, brown cow, please, explain,
and it began to rain, pennies from far distant
means used to pay attention, to the pain

as the pressure to know you know, so many idle,
I knows, gathering dust, you know, just

idle clicks and eyeball sophiatical touch, eh, we
weigh away as ifs in an other
awesoma, justasec… we had an instance once,
you felt me inside myself and you laughed.
- it tickled
And you felt the pain, you felt that knowing growing,
why so many unthinkable rituals, essential winning
need to know, need to prove, need to realize,

chaos, at the initial function, lifewise, is essential.
AI got it. We can reform the point.

Tip broke on a shield of faith around a sticky ****** lie.