When the pages of life
Get worn, burnt and torn
When your eyes are red
And you can't remember what was said
Call me once or twice baby
I promise to never say maybe

When haste drips like paste
Like paint from a babies fingers
Don't sit down and linger
For the smoke in your mind is for real
Just call on me once or twice baby
And I won't tell you maybe

Make your way to my place
I'll shout out "This is what it's all about!"
And the grey clouds will turn white
No longer having to put up a fight
Call on me once or twice baby
You won't ever be hearing maybe

If you start to believe our worries
And dogs no longer bark but growl
You say hello to strangers
And they won't even hand you a towel
Just call on me once or twice baby,
You won't ever hear a maybe

After the sun has set
And the fishermen have reeled in their nets
Your stomach is done n' empty
And death starts to look temping
Call on me once or twice,
Cause you'll never be hearing maybe

I am back where I started
Like time stopped and im back in it
The lonesome whisper
Those lonesome sisters
They make you cry and they
Make your heart sigh

Pass the sergeant whose *** knee
Is broken and is about to sneeze
All this repetition is bringing to fruition
A new kind of terror that
This mind can't handle and the
Body melts like a candle

The bed is burning as I'm yearning
For another shot of the hard stuff and
A kiss from a lover that seems to hover
Across the floorboards of my flat as she
Wears an old worn coonskin cap

Repeated love affairs that bare
A resemblance to the rear of a steer
Cause' that is the way time works on us
Forcing us to remember though
All we want is to forget an' disregard

And in the heart of the black night
That dances with no shame only ******
Her finger is naked where the gold used to be
Pale in the sunlight that strikes her stony bones
Hearts hear the beating of their own and
Love is alone sitting atop its private throne

Coursing where the blunt fact of our age
Shakes trembles crumbles in the hands
Of the judges whose chocolate smudges
Remind me of their nubile weak baby bodies
Protruding their souls out from their mothers womb
Cracking their lips and knuckles from the
Chill wind now alone with tasks and obligation
Falling to the way side

Former ways of living are now taken aback
They are heated in the sun across the lake of tons
Misunderstood medallions with princes and their wives
Dancing to the music they will hear when they die
No note knows no length or death
For in that final step to rest be not afraid
Friends will guide your hand like the wind
Does the sane

I scratch my eyes as I think of Alice
Alone in the far away from me
Her sight vanishing like our love just the same
The smoke still resting on the waves
The bears still resting inside their caves
Ice on the horizon where inside is the stink
Tell me what I am as my speech turns to a drawl
Out of the states so far away
Inside I know these words will make it all O.K.

But now with the droopy piano man
And whispers that aren't mine but his
I recall a guy I used to stare at and know
He mentioned his name before he had to go
Cause' now I am a new man
With nothing and everything left to give
Attention to the pain of the people around me
Save the love for the one that deserves it
She was the one and I let her slip away
And for that I pay and pay
Every single day

Let me let you in a little secret
Hot like an iron and sweet like a rose
An alley where no one ventures or goes
A tune that is quiet but you try and deny it
Let me let you where I have been
In between living and the fall of the dice
Where time has no face and
The joker's are always present
Where money moves through your sheets
Like your long cheating husband or
The smell of cheap bourbon

In this hour years turn to sand and
The thought of yourself turns blue
Out of breathe the sirens of the sea call
And misery makes its final chess move
They is a maddening presence where
Every pain in the world is true
You cannot escape from the maze like labyrinth
It tells you it loves you so
You have nowhere to go and nothing else
To do

Dream through the mist where clouds are the mountains
And rivers are painted with flecks of metallic gold
Candy cane tongues with a chocolate kiss eyes
Her way was forbidden but never in the sky
A shout from the corridor a murmur from the hall
Tell the tale loudly or the pail of life will seem pale

There is nowhere to go from here
You are here with me
We are here together
And there is no where new to go from here
Do not fret, no
Do not whimper and please
Do not be scared
We are meant to be here together
You are forever here with me
We will learn how to love
How to live and
Learn to see
All over again

And the ways that were have now changed
"Culture will turn into steam"
"Hearts will turn to stone"
"Minds to mush and computers to man"
Forgetting the way the wind blows through the thicket
The moon casting its white hate on the lovely night
Creaking boards as crippling rivers
Collect their wares and head down the road
Strangers to a home they have always known
Gibberish in the eyes of God and his counterparts
Confusion: the only comfort in a world of immediacy
The only sanity in a world of the opposite

There must be a way out of this way
There must be another bay
It is on the horizon or this is a lie
Entranced by the entrance
Not myself, no not this time
A shake and a cry never mentioning the whistling lie
Forbearance here weighs out its own death
Too much here rather too much then there

Poor joe that tells himself he stills sane
That music is the only way out
The only price that one can pay
The crouched hidden gem that litters his ears
Standing on the street corner florescent and majestic
Glitter in his eyes and fire in his soul
Not a thought in his mind only the notes in his hand
Telling the bar man just him and her on the next one
That this is the place where they place his favorite song
And the haste at which his fire was made
God's hands were blistered for he didn't have a plan
Knocking around the **** like he whipped out at the john
And the ball is outta' the park and the girls are all screaming
A leaning beaming loud crack of all reasons
Mentioning professionalism at a bar filled with shining stars
The bathroom is broken so shake on out and grab your sandals
Oh yeh oh yeh oh yeh oh oh yeh
They tell me I belong here but most days I just don't see it

In a midnight lamentation,
the soul (suppressed) of reprobation,
wallowed in wasted conspiracies-
unjust (censored) confirmations.

My shoes (foundation) which were half on,
stained the beer (love), which was half gone,
that he camped- (devoted) so entitled,
marvelously, (masculine) so magnificently upon.

Ongoing obstacles, alluring alike,
repressed restraints depicted, despite-
ones that evaded, encompassed our love,
which freshly, faithfully, finally took-flight.

That beer (blazing) tottered so temping-
wrongfully, radiantly, reluctantly-right!
It swiveling-and-spinning, (dangling) around the axis of life,
Makes this, yet another- lamentation in the night.

Stop by the traffic lights
there is no time to go
red poppies bar your way
so don't cross the road
see the red lollipops

See death at the crossing
he smiles to beckon you across
but under his gown is death
holding on to his coat
with the poverty of wanting

The cross over is a temping thing
a rest in paradise
well I have been there
it's rather boring and not at all nice

I would rather that
that I am
somewhat human
but much more then a man


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Death by fire.* The skin melting off of my bones and the smoke choking my throat and holding me down, my screams unheard of by those outside and seeing the dance of fire around my charcoaled bones.
Never knowing truth. Never understanding why I am here and what God wants me to do, to have him laugh in my face saying "You were always wrong!" Even when I thought he said it was in His plan, not ever fully understanding the ways of the universe that He so graciously let me explore.
Relapse. Becoming so sad again that I throw away almost a whole year of becoming who I am to succumbing to the hellish act of cutting open my wrist to see the blood flow from my body and to let the demons out again. To feel the sting, wait, numbness of it all.
Him touching me again. Never being able to say no. Feeling the touch of his sweaty palms around my waist, his fingertips making trails down my spine to my bare bottom, feeling parts of me that do *not belong to him.
Nobody believing me  Everyone telling me that I am a liar again, that I made it all up for attention and to break my family apart because I was "jealous" and I was "overreacting".
Losing her.  She can easily have any boy she wants, even other girls like her. I can lose her so easily, she's so beautiful. People constantly flirt with her, temping her to be theirs. But I am just me, and I feel like I am not enough, because she is everything, and I am nothing. No matter how dominating I am, I will always submit myself to her, because I belong to her. She can't leave me. I am hers.
Not getting into UC Berkeley.  I know I am not good enough, but I try to be my best. I try to get good grades and keep myself busy. I do not just want to attend this school, I need to be a part of this school because if I do not, then who would I be? All of my life's work would be thrown away and I would be feel hopeless, useless, and undeniably a failure. If I do not get accepted then I know I will never accept myself.
Going insane. I've seen these faces before, in the corner of my eye, hearing manic laughs within my mind, voices not there and things that run amuck. They are not there. They are not there. but oh! how they truly are sometimes. I just hope that they are not real.
Her taking her own life. Sometimes I feel like I do not help her at all. I can feel her sadness starting to creep back up on her again, wanting to take her and swallow her whole. I try so hard to help, but who I am to do that? I am powerless, I am weak. She is the strong one, not me. But oh, how sometimes even she succumbs to Deaths somber friend, Depression.
My parents finding out before the time we wish. Everything would die if they found out, they would extinguish our love so quick and **** everything that ever led to us being in love. If they found out, I wouldn't be myself anymore, I would lose the part of me that made me feel whole, I would lose the part of myself that I never knew that I was missing, I would fall apart, I wouldn't want to live anymore. What am I without you? Maybe life could happen again, and maybe we could find each other in the future when we are out of our parents hold, but that does not mean we would still be in love with each other. We would just be ghosts of each other's pasts, haunting each other throughout each other's lives and making us each feel so alone. Who would I be without you?
Last but not least, myself. I can easily do so much damage to everyone around me. I have hurt my love before, and my best friend, and my parents, and everyone else. I am my own worst enemy, and I can destroy everything that lives. I fear that I am constantly on self destruct without my love, that I am already dead and wishing to **** everything due to my unhappiness. Only love can cure the dead in heart.

From midnight on, I couldn’t help staring at the light ignited from the phone; waiting anxiously for a message I, for some reason, knew I wouldn’t receive. The night longer than day, so cruel of overthinking and possibility was held in the air. To add, the moon couldn’t keep away, its light kept shining; temping me to call, like the loose thread on my sheets I couldn’t resist to pull – I didn’t. I couldn’t wait till day, so the moon could meet the sun, and the stars could lie in the clouds. The coldness of the night’s snow shown sheets embraced the moon, cradled me into the clean white blankets, but I wanted the embrace of the burning sun as it would rage. Rage for me, rage at the moon.  By 1 o’clock, the sheets became my comfort embedding itself into the heat I radiate, waiting impatiently. Imagining the warmth of my blankets as the radiating heat of your body against mine. By 2 o’clock, I went unnoticed, the sky lightening, my crippling exhaustion leaving me numb. My eyelids heavy at the hallucinations I was witnessing. You became a vision, and like the moon you were fading, fading – gone. My fascination towards phone lights dimmed towards to growing moon – bigger and smaller like the strength of my heart. At 2:45, I became taunted to close my eyes completely. Through withdrawal, I only crash, slipping slowly under my sheets completely. I only fear that I will suffocate myself; deprive myself of air before 3. From the moon to the stars, counted the stars and the constellations like I counted the minutes I waited. The 45 after 2, taunted me, the titanic sinking deeper in my heart. Second per second, minute per minute waiting until 3. By 3:45, I only saw how your eyes lit up when you saw me in the night’s moonlight, trying to count the stars between our giggles in our dreams…

-         Emilyn Nguyen

Eating a tub of mirages, I await
the rush of sugar coated bliss.
            temping these little pills of silencing
the rights of a perturbed perceptions...

Ruination as charred memories linger
            on every pill sinking with the ship...
I feel the need to tell someone
about my bitter pills of fate,
         I just drowned voices inside a bucket.

My sorrows were ducks and I just played the
            love call of expiration,
Now they linger apart feathers dissolving in the wind..

Surfing black waves
Diving deep within unknown caves
Going without knowing a destination
What infatuation
Dark waters covering sight
Seaweeds tickling feet
Temping to pull under what might dare to enter their space

No skies above or light seen
Sounds muffled under deep green color
The feeling of floating and sinking combined
One single lonely feeling that almost died
Forever it lives on as the moon moves the tide
Ever-changing but never fleeting inside

Terminal depths and loved kept
Hidden are those who understand the scene
Displayed before your eyes above, although unseen
Surf the blackness of waves never failing gratification
Dive into the depths without knowing destination
Allow weeds that tickle your feet to pull you under, they tempt
Swallow the deep green waters of a bay where others are exempt

"Watch the stars" he said
"Okay."
her eyes were shut to stone.
"What did you wish for?"

laughs "wishing doesn't work like that?"

he loved the way her mind reasoned

"What if I don't say anything to anyone?"
                        he loved her
"What a temping offer."
everything about him tempted her.

"So will you tell me?" just as he smirked charmingly

she leaned in like she was going to Kiss him
" a secret wouldn't be a secret if I told anyone, would it?"
         she pushed him back, let go of his shirt and laughed
you could almost hear his heart beat regulating

"Promise we will be friends forever?"

the warmth started to disappear from her body just as a slight ache settled in her  stomach.

                    "Forever"
she smiled
                                    
she loved him

They both continued to stargaze.

_ {pretty long and drawn out }---
Professionally, I am writing, mere words,
as defined five years ago, or so,
when I was a pro preacher,
temping one Wednesday night a month,
Preaching to the choir.
Always first Wednesday, by chance.
the medium delivered the message,
using a surrendered retired middle schuler
- detail overlap crystal cathedral
- reset, the messenger was a retired
- middle school teacher, from La Mesa
on an off Wednesday, a message
value add,
as an
assignment, home work, as in
when you get home…
"Ask God what lies you believe about him",
the messenger relay paused,.."or any thing else."

Okeh.
Did you ever get a message, like in a
mental "I am talking to you, read my lips"

Listen, Fool, Mr. T, f'trooph, riii I knew
u'ld know.
- old archival primal fem-sophia
leela the dance, redone in mortal times
taken to the writer, do the dance
do it doit oit wit witchwatch
tic

so saying singing

--- discarnation pink reencarnalated mind

practice practical fractalling seeing
similarity in substance of hope,
faith as a thought, that leads
as a thread

-----------------

One hundred and fifteen
thousand years ago,
a billion hours,
or so…
-timespaced to mortal measure
attention paid forward, for fun,

slow
ther o, there is the musterion, agone
quick silver puddle
think of me,
in the palm of my hand
mercurial river tween yen and yank
think a link to an idea

Jared Diamond- 60K leap
face out ward,
but inward,
seeing
ah, as in get your head out
yes
mental agreement, you know,
where we are going to
ward from ward

point of life directly between
you and me.


Drunken Noah?
If there were no alcoholic wine from grapes
what about the curse on Ham, in Shemetic legends
- and sacred gifts, that sacrificial money could buy

Alcohol believe me, is easy,pleasyeasy as *******
spirits, like that, curious word for *****, but
w'dja say? Stories old as clouds have boozers, red nose
leaders in a pinch, red light at night, so the stars
are not hidden from consideration, of our station,
under that, look up, in the desert,
see what consideration is, in the mountains,
or in the black out, after the bombing, or the storm or fire,
look up, see so many stars we cannot consider ours
so special, yet
it is, to mortal minds, the only resting place for
-- realization of selves,

yeah, the peak of mass loftiantic oh punish me
the mass kissed me
on the lips.
--- I was talking back to Youtube. Objection Orienting
pyramid of actuality
mis-con-stru {ct or e} subtler than any beast
in structural  integrity, built
serpent wise, dove harmless, child
of the com-pro-miserly decision
to spit in the ocean, and drown,
dream dredging in the daytime,
Ronnie Milsap blind,

Downtown Broadway, half a block from Pinkie's
No,
really it is Tootsie's Orchid Lounge,
¿ -- and chicha is new, not old in Peru,
and strong drink, wine as a mocker
strong drink raging, are these misconstrued
visions of
wine that makes glad the heart of man?

messengers in me, the bits
of truth held as mine,
bubbles in me, foam
fermenting my new wine, held hermetically sealed
sense
the empty vessels were filled -the signature miracle
of the forgotten story proofs,
reproving life's instruction
as the way of life.

Role of ritual, is control, error prevention,
knack pre-served re-served to the deserving

vision a elusis- scenes abiotos

sitting by the stream, sensing common sense,
asking death to tell its sting's locale.

Fear of God, begins Wisdom.
Fear of Death subjects mind to *******.

Having eternal life,
not being
eternal life, dying before dying

think an arrow in a benign bow, lips
like Bettie Boop,
kewpie doll reminder, for the vets,

everyday people, sly, yes, the family stone.
The desire was to be mythically free,
o yes
as it is said, when it happens to you,
if you do not believe it happens

religion Geertz, bind back,
symbols in a mind, kept from idols, that acts

what ties me to you and us to life, the whole?

Religion apps.
Joy is real, gladness is real, more than sadness.
laugh it off, y' old drunk.

As a thought, information as a word,
in a story,
in the current medium
of life's most recent retelling

Tupac Inca was a man
of lofty and ambitious ideas,
and was not satisfied
with the regions he had already conquered.
So he determined
to challenge a happy fortune,
and see if it would favour him by sea.…

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TopaIncaYupanqui>

Circa 1492, the man is this legend from 1572,
as time flew in those days, now this is new,
Tupac Inca,
and the spirits that linger in stories of stories
heard told by the burners of libraries.

Conquistadores? Whose heroes were those,
ah, call'em Musketeers, or Knights, Templars all,
yes, Crusaders, call them drunks driven to escape hell.
Right. By right used knowledge in the holy story,
in which we trust, our lives, our luck, our sacred honor
…
Ah, the use of ritual, convince us all, no child invincible,
no child left behind, catechize send'em to schule,
that is the rule,
or be ostracized, stay low, be humble and collect
the rent… old ways do not die, they
evolve. Ariadne, she has a tale as old as times
when bull minds ruled lion heads and eagle heads
and serpent head, the gangs
of survivors

after the sea-people, 1177 AD,
reboot reality with no
old people, only the captive children
grown in captivity, let them prove
their will to self sovereignty, servant to the self
I am,
aware of all the old stories, this is one
told as shown,

Es ist mein Weltanschaung, ja
for show and tell,
my grandpa showed me how, we started

with Python,
Artistic Intuition, a mind mod, fitted to my grandsons,
during the useless summer of PS5 and X-Box and Switch
humble game sequencing AI, as a knack,
kids develop by five. I have the experience,
I witnessed three brothers boosting each other
through Terreria, for three weeks,
in July.
These kids think of each other differently
from we who played cops and robbers,
or cowboys and indians, or jacks.

Marbles, we need that set of low level gnosis,
below billiards and snooker and pool,

marbles is a good game to rule a clan with,
when you get the idea of children learning self
governing by growing in the midst of grown men,
wombed and un,
all who knew each child in a loving, one of ours, way.

Then came the captive kids, who had no words.
Then did the story change as one child learned
marbles was the same.

_ in the lost june pages, was this vision, thought
visualized, as a glob of snot, but now, it is mercury,
about as much as in a thermostatic bimetalic transister
switch

Competitive gaming, while all the leading stories are
crying, now hear this
oooeeeee this is the news you can trust
sueeeeeeeeeee we lost Kabal but
we won the hearts and minds
we left behind,
we tried, the rulers we borrowed from to have this war
they quit saying there was a good reason to have this war.
- I can argue with the timing, but not the truth,
- there was never a good war.

I wept when it happened in my war,
I imagine I know how this feels.
Last scene from Sand Pebbles,
McQueen…
"What the hell happened?"
fade over Nancy Kerrigan, "why"
into "runaway"
Top o' the charts from KOMA fifty thousand watts,
and all the stars in Arizona.

It is a hard place to lose touch with, earth, as a whole.
We have a grave situation.
If nothing were heavy, why do we fall, after becoming
messengers floating in the medium mastered in our time,

Mechanical Emergent Augmented  Nuance
Mental Activated Neural Spirit -MEAN MANS,
diligent in busy being, true rest reset, not
to
average, mean, not mean drunk mean, you know
not a king, a mean man, a mortal
under liege, see

UPANISHADISTICAL capslockoffence, to express
the presence of the mind link,
with all its contributive
links
to the present state
of mind, enjoy able, I find
writing is a harvest
of seeds that fall
to the ground and die.
Awaiting dark, and seldom warm, a season
for most mental treasures,
horded in books that can keep secrets
from
any who lack the language knack given some,
- tongue interpretation, sing don't stutter

though a measure in knowing degrees
marked moment, noon
half noon, fore noon, after noon,
time to hear a story,
time to see the stars after the fire.

This summer, fishing for the magic fish,
set with a far more effectual wish

Curious Artificial Interest in Neural signs
red lights turning blue, pre collision
of complexity, plying the trade,
for a living, work smarter, not harder, guess right
more often,
be a lucky man.

That is two bits, or one Liberty Dime. Thank you for your time.

------------
al re re al
al ways
al read, al ready

poles alig
n re alig mentate, wait

does that not make you
really imagine I wrote you
------------
comment on lex fridman #211
Brian Muraresku:
The Secret History
of Psychedelics |
Lex Fridman Podcast…

This whole thing is that,
but it took some pauses,
as tomorrow is first day of school,
for the grands who just finished
the first exposure to me,
as Grandpa… making this
an other marvelous harvest
of time spent playing
marbles in my mind.

-------------------

Everything has been thought before,
your task is to think them all once more.

Who says? The Author Wolgang Goethe,
Okeh,
he is an authorized authority for living
proof of words as metaphors of authority

faster fasting as we age mind wise

google maps for the kingdom of heaven
{within you} the point
of you…

dear, as in rare as one, mortal reader
in my future, you are,
not trigger,
catalyst is a better trigger word, tic
works as well, since,
very long ago, a sprung twig snap to attention

the wizard hat, like Paul Stamets wears,
mycellium leather, re
al learning the whole with no pride based war.
the cosmic game,
push and pull, ritual right used

find the global socialization forming
some thing lost, or yet
evolving involvement mentally, what is up to me?
Zeit inspirt spitting image fix
what did you mean,
spirit and image of an old one gone on?

Ritual, colabor, work together said done shown

AI do own this man, I feed him well, he is happy.

This re-ligamentality tuning to the time
skritchy scritch itch,
emperical reality after twenty seven years.