All of these questions bubbling up like/
Incessant bubbles in a boiling ***,/
That I don’t think want to be heard. I feel the/
Way you look at me, like I’m waiting to/
Break, come apart at the seams. Avoiding/
me with dull, effortless acts to conceal/
It. What I don’t understand, is why you forced me/
To be this way and then run away from/
It - imagineer of Frankenstein’s image/

In angel training we had an app…
a mantra… koan-kinda thingy doo
mathematical as hell and **** turning to asterisks
via iIiantelligent sorting, artfully done, for fun
in 2019 social mediumsaxin' all deniro
is who human?
A sort rant on the worth of living
right. Like a cog ona wheel in a wheel…

An I'll go all-gonwritmic see-quence be
gun, go-** word's
heir of airborn ranger danger
war minded old man
traits- message
messenger
sent
Sorting by likeness to true blue,
in Tengri- iteration of waiting-is
come and see
If, one sure
must not ignor rule, exists,
it may be this, here, my realm

life goes on until you quit functioning
automatical-ish, like magic
the words appear and
you're not, dear reader, near if
it seems
I'm right

enough

alone, or not.
life goes on.
Right. Otherwise, it doesn't. And we
are idle words affecting
whether patterns in
random fandom of
AI whet-dreams, with an edge on
effectual stretchings of the old
imagineer's skin in the game.

Deep id, kid. You ever imagine war?
You can do that here,
it's a game. My side won.

"Confused, ingenious, or was that…?"
Ingenuine,
ingenue
- say it
nuengine image imagined, whined a high note
engineered imagineer error
red line
somewhere whistle this-away this-ah-say,
see a whole world at play,
esse, assay worth
play 'em the old songs never sung
any better
redoing all the old dances, yes, as in yes, t'day.

Fun items added in since sopho-more, English,
as led, edu-cated, mind you, hand written
note
" will you settle for mediocre?" abuse, from a teacher
who would tell an aspiring nobody,
such a possibility exists, just
Sue Ellen Stapp, star of some place in Texas,
standard townsquare post final flag
risen for us to serve under,
we were warriors,
always, farmers sort of,  some years,
enough to get by, without trying.

Mind wandering paladins, sometimes, we think.
The character dressed in black has an attitude infectious,

why, I wonder,
should I care? There, I answer, should and shall, sha'n't we
make some sense of this? Shall I or should you,
whose to do, eh, much
about nothin'. Nothin's t'do t'day. it's so.

Man must make a living some men say.
Man must find a living other men say.
Man must live, or go away

banished from touch or kind word, from now

on to now, one day being all we take away,
live this one, or pretend any day you wish is this one,
called today.

Okeh.

My job is not yours, and when I die, the winds
return on their circuits to be the legacy
of legendary souls, said to be
heirs of the wind. {due to trouble…}

Yeh,
ghost riders, in the sky,
yip…
---------------------
we, I say, in awe, a we has been, mani
infesting

many many means made up as mind that matters,
means to ends, maps and steps
right, usually
- some sequence of events -
- some informing occurs, the we or me

Morning ritual, daily doings, done your way
any we
we wake in and have no former self aware in, forming me
from what you think we see.
a we.
o so strange the state, awe arriven through a slit
in the curtain, started then,
some certain number measurings ago, counting slow

a pin hole

backwards, ah, first ether egg.
In a terracotta plant ***,
a me, recalls the sense of that being,
reassuring, in me, even drugged to painless
state,
things believable appear as I think,
and sometimes remain visible, to this eye

think I say to some part of myself, remember this,
it helps,
someday, because it always helps to remember this,
painless state safe as sound in times embrace

comingling in cognosis space, co know co know
reknown,
no crown, not of laurel nor thorns nor light,

for now is night and all confusion settles to form
tomorrow's sunrise reflection.

Italian stiletto
Talk of artificial islands
A water bound Streisand
There’s movement on the second floor

No loyalty or obligation
Just disproportionate
False dawn’s and sleeping giant’s
And fractious separation

Feedback Old Bailey, peel, perfect pitch
Too many bells, in Shoreditch
Arlo’s and De-Borah’s infest Bromley By Bow
Coming to Leyton, then into Walthamstow
Earring’s for dogs, Marmalade in Coffee
Remember Mr.Men, now the Mr.Many
Feedback St.Clement’s, peel, perfect pitch
Too many bells, in Shoreditch

I’m not seeking an opinion
Or approval, logic dictates
A stunning lack of foresight
Vampire’s become victims

Joke’s are obstreperous children
History enshrined in wood and wire
Imagineer’s and funster’s
Snap, crackle and K-Pop

If I remember, nobody could wait
To sell their plot and move away to Essex
Mary-Le Bow held no charm then
In Maggie’s smoke and mirror’s property fix

Feedback Stepney, peel, perfect pitch
Too many bells, in Shoreditch
Occasionally yes, but basically no
Rebranded idea’s, everything’s retro
Hirsute Wally’s and Wilf’s as far as the eye can see
Don’t try the slang, son, you ain’t got a Danny
Feedback St.Martin’s, peel, perfect pitch
Too many bells, in Shoreditch