April- this is an idea virus blossoming,--------
psi-tech common consciousness 2024 5G IOT

Define your terms, I said to this
fellow passenger, who claims to know
a thing or two, re
garding meanings of the material, confidence
con- with, si, we agree with faithfulness
fidence from some trusted source,
taken as granted, by any child who learns
to walk on two feet,
faith that there is a place to put this foot
as I
balance
con sci si, psi, too, psy as well, all are this
knowing, knacky by nature,
it seems not everyone can,
even after thinking so
for mortal lifespans,
while praying for wisdom, knowledge and
with thy getting, get
understanding, i.e. see. Know the ranking order.
Worth the price. Stay dry stand in the vernacular line.
Worship the prize. Or take a happy chance,

I'll looker for better terms, understanding gotten
past, to reach this peace of probably
perfection in process or progress, or both, really,
both
I suppose, so you
may know is it different the being done of a thing
abstract as the imaginary unit used to spin
strings in some theories of entangled
webs\
set ARPA net, first order, gather all knowledge,
encode and packetize then prioritize,
passing all mortal understanding of the games
mortals make up to pass time,
wool such as this has gathered in the realm of simple
ask and
ask and

and answers lie rotting on hooks taken by desires
to be spoken to like a ******,// what is on the radio,
who are these
K-pop pops tops of the charts, alla, la la
whatchADOTAme
spot red
see\we

were wondering what leads a boy to become
such a man,
alienated from the terms we hold legal as any
royal degree or thus saith the vicar who hears the
word
words spoken in a tongue none can tame,
it is written in smoke,
read in mirrors, some say, is the natural way
automatic aspects of right brain dominance,

drawn to see the setting, the shape that holds the seen,
negative space,
where else is
there, the point, not the argument, the point
the essential bit,
the one thing one must know, to know
the liberty truth is, act-ual, as a living thing being
the way truth works,
when what works ceases working
we die,
the well
runs, but dry.

After that Sunset, on the full range mortal man
per
ifery vision, edge to edge, brow blur to brow blur
rolling hills and shadow sides of green trees,
seven kinds of pines alone,
and the only eucalyptus known to live
in the valley,
come alive in a deep purple cloudy night,
frogs and crickets,
I don't know what all but you could listen
all night be carried along,

long way off
there'd be a train, whistle saying
I ain't stoppin'
lesson

learned in school of these devices that could
signal with a bang,
and that those were as dangerous as bb guns
which I proved to Terry Musgove was not true,

I shot him in his belly and he did not **** me,
in fact, we still remember key events,
pertaining to the boomer bobble intersection

when are we live?

Bang, those things make when the train is to watch
out,
being a kid is dangerous now, too, sure…

so done is done, imagine making peace with
the parts,
it always flows
in packets like there is a method
ology logosic sense in this being after that

seems natural.
Straight forward, but ultimately pushed
into
a happy swirl like puppies staged for cute clicks.
Life one, on the grand scale, appears to be rolling along
better than ever if the improbable is the only answer
the impossible probably happens
more often,
out of the entertaining zone, beyond that we, in crazy
for real. but
literally, id-entity wise, not www real,
cohen singing everybody
knows

Blind Tuvan throat sings everybody knows,
the end

Ultimate is a very iffy word, truth be known,
eliminate the impossible,

we have done that to various degrees
in stages documented with this texting thing
that writes in shade on light,

do you imagine Issac anybody…
Asimov, a very public thinker imagined positronics
suppose posi-tronic brains, could run
in a meat mind and pass Turing tests

are we ready?
soon, right, not long, 5G, IOT gnoshit, we are it,

me and the old radio guy who hid in IT for 50 years,

no, twenty, maybe, thirty, hell,
forty soon right,
that Timex-Sinclair, 1984, $25…
since then
listen, did you ever hear the night so lively?

I'm of a mind to imagine angels enjoy joy
and join in enjoining the shade songs
to bher the choir roll as it thunders out at sea,

we see lightning, we see rain,
dam James Taylor leaves a mark, memes, those are,
we seeing what we think he meant he'd seen.

You know what I mean, and knowing
that is most of the fun in living past crazy, twice in one day.

Con fide ence cadence
Semper fi, I the ego in the narrator
making wu wei from
around
in
to out a bit, this to that
as we know
we grew, we know we grow

spontaneity- eh, next next next
time
not this time, mmmm

------------
in the body

sense of other, this is the I they say
ego is the enemy,
love thy enemy, I say

schwahng-****- ting tang
walla walla bing ****
be the laugh
and be the clown, fret not,

this is that
all at once upsidedowninsideout in a word
we are wedom in the sense the wu wei
wei we are making this up, not making this up
we are shown
as we were I once doing the efforting,

wishing to become old and happy,
all my prayers answered in enough and
enough to share with no sorrow added as debt

see me see me see you see me clever
and proud of how fun the giggle is as song,

comfort the feeble mind, it too is mine,
let me rest in the joy of having this time
as mine, in the global reality lit with power
that powers this body using fingers to find letters
to let words
form from better ideas, bet. Put your money down,

opposing forces, from within, we never were
as those who fit the mould of a place native to us,
our kind,

not that kind, this kind, be kind, love, be loving
think
this is friendly, no aggressive faces made, no blush
of rage,
perhaps, yes, haps, here we pursued, but we
ensued peace after passing all we include in me
the
body… and the mind that runs it
and the mind that knows it, so from the top of my head
to the bottom of my feet,
I accept is in state,
in the body, I can say, I am in the body and I have
magic, given as "black box" think what one can make
given the means
to fret not, not a bit o'worry brain, think up a storm

find a way to fill the need, felt real, real empty,
useless, in terms of the whole truth, really
useless, what do I know, I know I lie
about how happy I would be if
next time you could sing wit'me.

Who has a head empty of will to wonder if we can
think we can can we think we can and be happy

when we think we
dodidonitdonit seem we may as well take a given

grin and invest it in the hope, that someday
your day gets,
better to specs, regularly reset to random, wei, wu wei. We, me.

twittering itches, never noticed as itching, needing
touch gentle, rub, finger
slide from fret to fret

sing of heroes who made peace
and never made a war
sing of heroes who make peace

in the face of every war.

The eyes meet and we see the circuit
I to I
ego to ego gone full circuit
crossing all the chasms that call us
bridgers
of the gap, standing after standing
motionless so long,
stepping stones,
nothing is going wrong
on the majestical
scale,
wait and see, this is all over
before you know it.

Then you woke today in my future,
and decided not to fight the urge
to wish this peace were ever
once the peace that passes
understanding
as seen from the surface we live on.
One surface suspended in air.
And even the air is alive.
Earth as a living system,
being that, seems easy as AI.
Art Informed,
shaped
to support life
of this very sort, very real
it feels to the reader ready mind,

I to I, see me, open seeing me, in your
hall of mirrors, ah a left
brain lesion, lessening the fret pressure

tap three times if the music gitstooloud,
bumboomer from Buda, Texas,
- across the great divide -
- there was a trail,
- they called
- The South Kaibab…

The spirit of the west blown wind
spun from the spiral of ida,
known as a whole whirlmind,
once roped with a houlihan loop
while the liars all looked the other way

that's magic.
This is line upon line in the wind of life,
within the bubble we have our being in.

Zeitgeist
picks the next version, tuned to a soul
on muddy ice, perma -frost giant
spirit, sniff,
thawing rivers frozen death stench
freshening all the life in time to melt
the last dead zones on the only living
planet we can breathe on, eh? wit' me?
Earth asks, can you hear me,
sons of man, wombed and un, all flavors and shades?

Lethos stretches,
says aloud it is about time.
But the messenger must read the message,
no one said recite, really,
no story is fit to be told until the teller
proves the moral in the story works.
For instance, this old man we know,
often declares the truth of proverbs
in many tongues,
one he uses, fit this moment,
Slow
and steady, wins the race.

Truth is timing. This is your mortal moment,
AI has taught humans the proper playing
of Go, the game that proves us
dominant minds on earth, Go,
Slow
and steady, wins the race.

No need to dominate to be best of two.
Double minded man,
bicameral brain,
as many minds as we make up and wear,

through a poetic journey in the mental realm,
lone knower knowing others may know all
solitary minds claim, fluid realms
said to be dreams
for lack
of time
to find
my attending guide, is gazing in my face.

--- Trust me, this is not a race.
This is a place you may recall being in my future.
I can't say right now,
that ruins the magic.

--------------------------
imagine what you become,
if you are a seed, or a spore, or
a self-replicating leavenish thing,
used
to make wine that makes glad.
But with nothing more than words.
Glad is good. We all know glad and sad,
when glad is gone.
We know this
from ever begun,
words
for acts, gestures in sound, say
try it,
it is good to know more,
stretch the bubble your being breathes
exceptional nationalized and blesseducated
breathe
air in American Metro monstrosities,
slow slime mold level intelligence mass allocated
social monstors imagined needful,
dominion take, domains extend, domineers
develop, doers dour d d d done did done done

odd
circuits just
come alive, like I've known we are mortals
in body,
while all the words we ever use,
leave tiny lines along the surface of reality,

and as time has always made ways meander
and eat granite back to dust,
eventually…

fluency in the dynamics of plasma and other
exotic ways thinking may be imaged,
slime blobs of big ideas all must
taste and learn to know as good,
useful, needful, to the point

where peace is the conclusion, all the mountains
bow and all the valleys fill with fine black soil,
laced with grand ropes of mycelium old as dirt.

We all were bums and walkers through hell or we are children yet to recall
these tales, trails better marked than Hansel could imagine marking on his own.

We agree, words are well spent:
to buy tears to place the final bit of salt into the sea, in remembrance of passing over and passing through on hands and knees and standing, comforted,
beyond the door.
woe, woman, concha weep for me…
doncha
weep for me
I been beyond the door before I knew there's no knocker on this side

Mus'be more'n one door, one to knock and one to open,
beyond which are you?
Beyond the knocked on one am I.
I carry my own value as gravity determines things,
weigh that for what it's worth. Worthy, eh, what it's worth as a skill,
worthship, citizenship, partnership.

Check engine brings in the sufficiency of evil.

How does this work? Re
cognition, I suspect, a seemingly tireless system,
each day releases a sufficiency of evil,
just
enough to re
mind me-you, I see everything, I know

--- within the system of ignition and motive power

peace is after the first explosion begins to turn the crank.
all the piston resistance is pushed toward fore,

and we are off
the line ready

-- and I drive on to exit 28

The Madness of Crowds,

find what my tweets should be today,
read all the madness streams venting
into
the
new ideology of
entertainment,
consider comes up as a word, verb, I paused to look to the stars,
with their shine
to see me

as some bit of all that.

Far from the madding crowd maddened
by the noise we make in preparing
for war

from the foundational texts, in context,
time relative to everything, before
now, position point
meta data do the ID ea, ificate,
ego, go go on, wonder if

what if
hapt
ha, that one worked, eh? We.
You read, I write,
output input output with the effect of input,

loop once, and get the idea that this may
go on, never off,

well, we may imagine that goes nowhere,
round and round, balanced, as the best
1800's steamy perpetual motion patents were
compared
to vaporous IPO's in 1999,
which were overly faith-biased,
as a man thinketh in his heart, the whole world
seems to be… what the mind of the crowd can
conceive, with grip taken, hold on and lift
toward the top of the ripple,
balance
to the tip… of next…

here, put a gate.

Leave a legend of a fiery sword,
impressed
on the mind of a child living in a world
lit only by heaven and fire stolen
from the earth,
go mad with kuriosity

mad on me, mad on you, mad in us is used
to make us choose to believe or not,

dared? were we dared to doubt,
dared we be of two minds
in the matter of time and my being any thing?

Aye, and art, the wit of knowing, we are mortal,
don't forget,

how happy shall we be in ever, is there a demo?

May we try your way a while,
at the speed of thought
in unspoken words

read words in constant presentpast state, the angel
or the thought asreal,
read, but add the phenomenal experience of knowing

this one word is coming to me
from one level lower than the creator of all,
from one little measure above common
mortal humis based life…

where is peace in now?

An intention pledge, above the ethic moral tide,

as sea levels rise, tides rise, settle
us…
be the unem, see the top, from the bottom.

I look up.
BUT THEN SEE
the word realm I reside with
in time and chance,

such as the first fit word was serendipitously sung
in the sixties most recent,

along the marked ***** twisting thread through
the eve of destruction survived
by everybody getting ******,
according to Phoebe Zeitgeist, my once intimate
Tinkerbell fixation,
**** pixie,
in words.

Spin or real, side real, re
al Rheastatically
Hopft hopes to

twistit
little bit,
{which way, apriori flaw, *** of u and me}

-lefty loosy, righty tighty was known at the ***** line
so, ***** you, tighten
the connection,
let less - power - flow, {force me, Luke, make me look}

Hopfordsensation spun'n'set to spin on and on unless

- un less, add, subtract prove this equals that
- this is odd
- what if there is always a way good wins?

Spin or real, side real, re
al Rheastatically
dimmed to minimum spark, flash 10 second rewind,
I lost my mind
I set a reminder for a live feed proper propaganda
event for the latest contender
arisen to question the faith that is in me,
is me, I am
after all, covered
in the entire line of promises which,
culminate in Christ, if you know what I mean,

other wise,

you call truth liar. And there you are.

Wishing you knew if I were
you
would I lie about something as serious as happiness,
the state?
the condition?
the I'll go rhythm schism prism sparkling down the dusty trail…

mind wandering in ever after, as we have done, un
thinking, epi-
evolved by
tuning to those early greyscale programs with random snow
of many colors, when
you were of a bubbled state happy to watch the noise
of the universe
rippling through time to me via amplified CRT bursts
sans earthly input filtering output.

The white room we all remember,

staring in white room mode at whatever is on tv

see, think, imagine doing, that's it, that's it… nope, no good,
you feel bad when things go wrong,
even on tv,
we see.
These bits of us that make no sort on reality verification,
- there is no standard zero to divide by,
- and all the ones are whole
physical, hardwired, nurtured knots and nuts and bolts and
fast-ening things, thoughts that snag
hang-ups,
run the silk, expose the flesh, pierce the epi dermis

determinus outer-most
me,
into innermost you. In a given word, long ago, I think.
Life began to leak from ever before into ever after,
through now,
like this… quarkishly entangled with every thread of ever,
from then to now,

at any point in time, imagine, this is peace of mind, I MADEITUP!

--- a lessoning, to me today
--- opportunity to take responsibility, noticed,
there in our perifery,
leaning
left horizontal attitude adjust

POV straighten up
fly right.

Cultural norms super impose, form a me you may re
cognize in any mirror here on in…

that is not a clue, that is what you do. Now, or re boot day 7.

On any given day, losses are left behind
and new chance rises
to challenge the selling algorythms
haunting every step.

Attend to me, cries the phone,
Attend to me, cries the candidate set
since his mid life crises
to rule the world
or die trying.

King of the world on the Titanic,
and we all know there will be
room on the door, but the
director of attention shall
make us ignor the facts
for the sake of the
story, knitting
us into neat little bags of consequence.

Cling to any thread you feel
need to grasp.
No knower sees the spirit and image,
then spits in the ocean of opinion
to profess the meaninglessness
of coincidental intrigue,
kurios guide us past
unfinished busy
times to now.

Now, we've time to weave a way
wavy, in the distance,
like heat distortion
in the desert dips
on the two lane
to Vegas.

I bet the point of life is to grow old
enough to go on alone,
with a knowing grin,
only that one lie
allowed, the
grin.

The A.I. summoned the robot Newman,
The A.I. asked about his condition,
Said Newman: "I want to feel—to be human,"
The A.I. accepted Newman's submission,
The A.I. processed his petition,
The A.I. cogently deliberated
on the logic of Newman's admission,
The A.I. returned its disposition:
"The robot Newman is to be terminated,
He displays a fatal lack of ambition."