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Ken Pepiton Jun 2019
If the writer is not the reader and the reader is not entered
(entertain-ed?) by the trial or trier
here in our phor of oroboronic

wheel spinning, our world of
entertaiment
contained,
be
coming to meet, um,
-phatics of sorts unheard,
ignored,
or unshown, un-

init-
iated unit-
ary, you,

become the
eleventh hour ***, none hired.
Apo

Unem, come work my field, *** my hard rows
no early helpers
weeded

Attention glitch... some signal intra fearal

No worry,
-- fear of god beginning wisdom boot code;

that connection
has been loose so long, missignaling
special and free,

a special sort of
crudescence has scabbed the short.
It's a brain fix.
You get a feel for it, the augments help,
Om as the
Axionic go, is tuned to absurdity. Listen.

Hear me, dragon-lizard-brain. We are a team. The team.
All the story stories tell of you and me. We unite.
We get our act together, and we
go mad, in the sight of all earthlings augmented to see
Youtube.

By my ab-surd-ifity, all our stories change. An unmatched wave.

-- forgive the footnote, but don't lie about what we both know is true:

absurd (adj.)"plainly illogical," 1550s,
from Middle French absurde (16c.),
from Latin absurdus "out of tune, discordant;"
figuratively "incongruous, foolish, silly, senseless,"
from ab- "off, away from,"
here perhaps an intensive prefix,
+ surdus "dull, deaf, mute," which is possibly
from an imitative PIE root meaning "to buzz, whisper"
(see susurration).
Thus the basic sense is perhaps "out of tune,"
but de Vaan writes,
"Since 'deaf' often has two semantic sides,
viz. 'who cannot hear' and 'who is not heard,' ab-surdus can be explained as 'which is unheard of' ..." The modern English
sense is the Latin figurative one,
perhaps "out of harmony with reason or propriety." Related: Absurdly; absurdness.
--
Screech, boomers know, finger nails on the chalkboard, the blackboard
jungle screech,
when teacher is takin' a smoke. Absurdity is entertainment.

It can make you think in whole new ways.
Or stop your believing of a lie

for long enough to see
a hope, no lie, a hope of something human
**** sapien sapiens augmental,
upright under Good and Evil,
sheltered from the storm.

A class, a level, a common value beyond Belief and Dignity and

dexterous sinister plots of points where clues were pinned,
yet you
overlooked the message, daze-led by the angels dancing.

Thales fell into this hole. He survived. It all ties in

The new -phatic word that started this stream ends it,
with our common
scream for meaning fullness apo-

apo-phatic mystery of sympathy,
bha, bha --

Paradox ortho
pedic augmentations, koan to mantra,
meditation on the word of words,
step to step to step logical
logos-centric reason, logo-istical rite to
evince a visible faith,
a virtue signal,
a mark, between the eyes,
an aim,
a point to spring a story from
upon an unsuspecting child averse to boos.

Trauma at a bubble pop. When all we know, dear
reader, is lost, and our bubble's edge sur
past our horizons,
we are mine-yoot, mispent attentions being

recycled, for goodness sake. Old lies twisting
into first fruits of the know
ing tree, ideas mani-fest
ing
ting, ding

Aha, my bubble of thought ala
funny papers in the old days where we met and laughed
together
in America, before we knew
earth from this distance
fifty years ago.

Wishbooks were real,
Whole Earth Catalog suppliers
sold me my nets, my hooks, and lines,

I learned the ways men have caught fish.
Wishing all the while for a way to live as earthlings live.
Guided by witty inventions, messengers
from the gods, eh.

Easter eggs, tucked away in retro games surfacing on Wall Street.

Who manages the messages released when the
first trump sounded?

That was me, as real, Asreal Kanbe, a walkon role.

I saw a third,
at least, of all the fish in the sea die,
in the duration of a single
short-span standard life. All seven trumps did sound, though,

they may be like lizards, we don't hear them well.

These seventy years of captivity
in the tales of my culture, my people and the ways they live in peace,

in the ways they resist war, sistere in peace with faith, the idea, the deed,

faith works in acting. True. Eh. Faith without action is dead.

Incandescentis onburnedupus, ****, dark. Switch on switch off
nada
dark dark faith sees nothing, ah so what, we muddle in puddles

and fail to portage for fear of surface I can't sticking to our
iron shod feet,
miry clay, heavy steps ******* the good news socks off
our beautiful feet,

see hear focus id - i dent ify the why, find the how-

thought change changes thinker, not thought.

Which of you can make one wire plus or minus by taking thought?
Taking anxious thought? Eh?
Fret not. Ohmmmmmmmm

my god, why the threats? Why must I fret for never making sense?

Dee ahna knowledge chan zen

consider the opposite, the shadow of turning, not doubt

preserve light and darkness little man
preserve sun and moon and stars

lose your wish to catch the Magic Fish.

But that is my wish, my wish for one more wish,
I wished to catch the fish

which taught the lessen to the fishher whose wife
could not be satisfied.

I wished for a source of all the answers ever found,

Ah. and I got this global brain that remembers ever,
though we know only now.
Never before,
has this been past that which men hoped for,
unseen.
Faith for the world to become as it now is,
is finished.
What a man sees, why does he hope for?

It worked. Self-evident, right. Same class as life and liberty.

Chickeneggical,
**** or ovoidal elliptical slices of life, those arrive for our

per-use-al, right or wrong. Like a Fabrege' egg:
You break it, you bought it. Life ain't fair. But it works.
Pick up the pieces.
They all still fit. None are missing. Some are broke,
but a soft touch can fix em.

You were always Humpty-Dumpty. This had to happen once.

Good side always shines, when
the rub has been dealt a shine-on signal for ever sake,
no reason,

just cause. A man can, even mad, be as happy
as he can imagine being,
at the time, all things considered, augmentasciously.

This was my oldest memory today, the future
shall come, and whatever
shall be, shall be, que sera sera.

How are you bored? This is earth. Even if you wish otherwise.

There are new things we may learn if we choose.

--apophatic (adj.)
"involving a mention of something one feigns to deny;
involving knowledge obtained by negation," 1850,
from Latinized form of Greek apophatikos,
from apophasis "denial, negation,"
from apophanai "to speak off,"
from apo "off, away from" (see apo-) + phanai "to speak,"
related to pheme "voice," from PIE root *bha- (2) "to speak, tell, say."

I would not call this meditation, sitting in the back garden.
Maybe I would call it eating light.
Mystical traditions recognize two kinds of practice:
apophatic mysticism, which is the dark surrender of Zen, the Via Negativa of John of the Cross, and
kataphatic mysticism, less well defined:
an openhearted surrender to the beauty of creation.

Maybe Francis of Assissi was, on the whole,
a kataphatic mystic,
as was Thérèse of Lisieux in her exuberant momemnts:
but the fact is, kataphatic mysticism has low status in religious circles.

Francis and Thérèse were made, really made,
any mother superior will let you know,
in the dark nights of their lives:
no more of this throwing off your clothes and singing songs and babbling about the shelter of God's arms

When I was twelve and had my first menstrual period,
my grandmother took me aside and said,
'Now your childhood is over.
You will never really be happy again.'
That is pretty much how some spiritual directors treat the transition from kataphatic to apophatic mysticism.

But, I'm sorry, I'm going to sit here every day the sun shines and eat this light. Hung in the bell of desire.” 
― Mary Rose O'Reilley, The Barn at the End of the World: The Apprenticeship of a Quaker, Buddhist Shepherd
Daring to let art be fun and philosophy be phuny, I laugh and romp in the remains of fallen walls between any curious mind and all the knowledge in the world, accessible as long as we both shall live.
It's a seldomly funny story
You went toe to toe
With me, perceiving me as a foe
But your efforts turned out like the desolate terrain below
Barren and forgotten
All this brovado
But you couldn't accumulate a following like Demi Lovato
I'm going in Stacatto
You're still out of tune
It gets deeper in June
In my eyes it's always Noon
I biffercate the time of day
But I act the same
I'm a beast people attempt to tame
But they just blame
I saw them before they came
You can be won over and think I'm lame
But I don't need to worry
I got my own story
I wish people would stop trying to plagiarize
It shouldn't take a lawsuit for them to realize
It's not right
These minds aren't as bright
As they tell themselves
They barely know themselves
I get it, it's easy to lose yourself
Just don't take it out on me
I'm simply existing
Finding my own way to the brick
Without being a huge *****
You think you know it all but you don't know a lick
I try to stay silent and slick
You come up with retorts and insults quick
But it doesn't make me upset or sick
I just laugh
I've seen this over and over again
Rinse and repeat
Not quite the the deja vu I wanted
The entertainment factor wears off fast
I knew it wouldn't last.
Ken Pepiton Oct 2023
Earliest read word, to the master's mind,
-I do remember
meum, et tuum?
- your tale occurs on this loop
Naked Jungle, a paperback book title.
- the editor says we've told this one tale
- too many times,  but I remind him,
- of the diamond farm we offered
- to make the shrine on next appearance
- likely un tzimtzum, both handed clap once.

if I seek, I shall find, I remembered it many times,
it is my personal testimony, I read in preschool times.
--- judgement, yes, judge your self, this is no test.
Timeslips, okeh fair in all contexts. This was then

Test, test…
Jack in Jeremiah, can you hear me now?

This is earth, we hear you. What now?

What ever can you mean, what now?

---- read on, perceive - reach and take
at once, a mind used to make these lines
link in time mind to mind, thinking each letter
changes the shape of thoughts attracted
to make sense infinitely defined
from childish, not foolish, jesting offered
as exercise in futility of existing for nothing.

Within ancient bounds, in spirit and truth,
let us become the object of our own observation,
no yokes, no weight, no mold, no shape
no size
you there become me here, on this line,
I then think you there, and here you are, on this
stage of co-notional being there awareness, this
context
containment comprized from entertaiment, this
example of an us, function, a we link think, that this

is artificial conversation, creating categorical functors,
on our common time senses, adjusted for scale,
what's the sacrificial worth of my junkman's
traditional talent for picking pieces from piles of parts?

Know 'y worth, first,
not too much, but certain, madness.

A creative thought, caught on a thorn so sacred,
it pierced the brow of a certain perfect man,
how does if feel, we heard
from the rust belt, in Norte America,
to be on your own, mortal in all ways, tempted
as are we to imagine ourselves destined to die.

Job, politely asked the original Bullish God concept,
how it could claim Wisdom as consort and not know,
the mortal experience, life, lacking a tangible concept
of living for the dau, itching to be guided, what this feels
like, as Job spake, may as well, bet my own whole truth.
There was neither bet nor war in heaven,
all that matters happens when this is common knowledge,
hoping good lucks acknowledged form religious ritual.
Breathing is not cadenced here.
Commas can mean breathe.
Okeh.
Re doing done dances feels foolish, yes.
Right, vain repeat
swing and a miss.
Yips, begone. Look the opposing color square in the idiom.

God,
crack of the bat,
you do not know the pain
of mortal existance, knowing
good and evil as you do, you know, yet you know good,
while you see impossible tasks as right use of learning,
is this fair?
-- spinning wheels with nothing on the spindle, eh
twist ourselves into a wick,
an' let's burn a spiritual tensificator, for the hot air
- deep in and sigh out
- say selah, say take the thought, hold it

lean on me, nothin' make sense until a purchase is made,
mine and thine combine to hold a thought, for use,

a slave to our aims, as we conjoin our minds, eye to eye.
- a wedom's strength
seen from above, with our MRI eyes, we recognize a shape.

A heart shape, pair of pearls, in a toe sack held tight by a string.
Amygdala, see re-act with a twirl

wonder if in the future ifery may being, there are more
tonsils allowed to mature, overcoming  many post Victorian
medical realities
to which my generation was exposed,
while being prepared, civilized and sorted
for roles within the stateform
we became reader ready in.

At puberty we were sorted
for use in the industrial future, Malthusian fear of scarcity,
classified as nothing children need
to learn, Freudian theory
on sacred taboo knowledge fallen
into disconnectivity, chata and hamartia, sin qua non
being on the knot that does wrench cogitations into storms, essential initial chirality,
wickering twistswisht
if anything ever was to function, gumption
was involved, if you wanna tell the story, live and learn
we need to know all the confidential stuff,
or we go mad,
the turmoil of spirit and truth,
isomorphing yen and yank,
**** your chain,
rattle your brain, just imagine,
thinking I, as a national I, might,
think who do you think you are?
- nation to nation, we say
- no way, tradition demands what?
Who speaks in the national overtones?
Who listens on auto? Thinking is done.
I told Nietzsche, in the ever after, see.
I made you think twice in the same stream.
A thing I thought and did it seems

— The End —