The old days, the old ways, those are in the winds of been;
with all the worries
worth worrying lost with the reasons why
today was to have been
Self-evident, right, the prophets were right and
are with us, as sure as the poor.
Today, we live and die, planning to do it again,
after a nap, making clear
this peace past understanding, so you can see
through it to the
glimpse of a happiness you know, it's right, no evil
into hopes, we held locked in catechismical caves.
So long ago. The old days were not good.
Only the stories with happy ever after this
You see it done, old son, you take the role.
No missed takes, no second guess,
single-mind me, my self, I say may the game begin
en joy, they say, as if verbishment en into en trance
nothing to this, in our own life's history,
verified, examined and, be hold,
not found wanting anything. Off the scale,
onto the state or stage of becoming,
not there, not here, be
soon, always soon, soon, now
big bang, right. be
hell, you lie, and you know it, but why?
That's the key, if you give a buck. I'm a pro,
you don't get where reality is this slippery and
guided by me, y'follow? you don't get here, and blame me.
Blame me, shame me, oughta take rope,
'n' hang me.
What if, still, in effect. Reality at gut level, synaptic axion dents, right,
waves of peristalsis moving shichewswallowed,
minus that action,
you are dead,
but your biome, the raw info, ideas that moved you, through the years,
we adapt, we modify our center of gravity,
we ellipsilate our sphere of influence into
fratical fractal real ification practices prospering in 2019.
Nonshite. Dear reader, we must pause, please, hold this thought...
The cultivator must be first, no lie. Seedtime gap harvest. Eat me.
sign on the bottle,
it was a clue, don't you want somebody to love?
find somebody to love, oh yeah, that left a mark. Funny,
It's okeh to smile, I said to Imogene Coca.
She stared into my eye, no Bette Davis eye,
Imogene Coca eye, no smile, no word mime meme bent
to a pixelation
degree, you pretend to see, AI can see the thread
you trust the legend,
scarlet thread or golden?
Which do we cut?
She is silent
Musing in the final days of may