Sons of Belial and sons of

whatever is riding the wave of re
ality crosswise carrying
other kinds of whats
so ever
in an umph-epiphanny-trypac,
while balanced on the very
edge
of eternity, sharper than any twoedged everthought,

twixt soul and spirit,
is never
more confusing than now.

whe-
never was, a long, long, doppletop,
oweroath, a cutcoven (blood'n'all)

mental, mental, nothing is real, it's
a project

some kinds of ideas are working in re
ality,
like sci-fi, back in Hubbard's day,

crazy is owned by Patsy, in my mind
and I was not sixteen,

not like you thought. K'oughtcha.
I was fifteen

Historical ideas come in sub
kinds. That's new. Wow works here as a word
denoting proper awe,

that's good, after wattwe done t' awesome 'n' awful.

======
Time kinds of ideas differ in classes and speeds.

======
Balancing and Valencing equivalency ideas,
at the core are gravitational
deter
meaning ful syn chro no ifity ness, aside.
did that make sense?
it might.

might not.

sensibility evaluation, aha. It's here in this set
of kinds of
ideas we all thought possible.
Boo Yah'll 'n'all that..

=====
That peace past standing up under knowing
good and evil and allaboth atthat,
that
peace past real under standing, that

True rest, trust me. Winning right is worth

the effort to play the game. But I learned too late.

======
loser ideas, innumb-mersable fixet functions, not
ideas at at all, states inwaiting attributable

to the whole one feels not part of, a wheel in
the blind
watchamacallit maker's shoppe o'kurios 'n' kachinas

wheels in wheels in belts and straps and beams and nails
and stones
and chisels...

this could be the grave, we can see
it's empty.
Where's my body gone? Aha. Y'know, y'know it's about

time is all. No lie lives forever. Yet
any word once yoost to lying
may be deemed phor
worthy of all we agree to let be in it.

--- flash--- we had eight in a 55 vw, to sneak into the drive
in, drunk on somebodies seventeenth birthedays---

We interupt this broadcasting process from time to time

to stock new seedy ideas, re
deemed worth repeating,
doubletap oath idea from old sicilian proverb untwisted.

Score. Sorry, I thought. You were reading. If you got this far,
you call the winner. But the score remains
a hist oracle idea of a very old kind.

The metagame was won in time.

Inducing pleasure
Beyond earthly measure
Time's tether—I searched for you
Unearthing treasure
Oh!—how such flavourful fantasies came true

You've pulled me from darkness
Enlightening all that surrounds us
Such soulful connection surmounts trust
Shining stardust—loving eyes sparkle

"What raw lust!"

Caressing touch—
Together, we tremble
Together, we are bright
Willfully I succumb—all-encompassing light

May our ties forever be tight
A life together—free from plight

Candy, Flowers, Jewelry, Cards , Trinkets of wood, glass, Plastic or others man made.

Soon to wither, be consumed with regret, be re-gifted or possible trade.

Another Valentines Day that mirrors last minute attempts of the past.

Little effort given on this day meaning , I desire, trust, appreciate and honor our love to last.

Now just days away you are given a chance to truly make this one the best.

With little planning or great expense try these simple ideas I suggest.

In the days to come and beyond - prepare the coffee maker yourself for the a.m. brew.

Pour her cup in the morning , maybe tea in the evening - simple these two.

When the dryer sounds - it does not call her name - you fold when through.

Dishes in the sink, you may notice, a table or counter in need of cleaning.

Towels put on their rack, toilet seat down, few examples - much meaning.

Feed, change, Bathe, dress and watch the same DVD countless times.

This little one is also yours to hold cherish and recite nursery rhymes.

Bring home takeout, light candles, draw and assist her bath, nothing rushed.

Compliments always, gazing into your loved ones eyes, she will be quite touched.

Other gifts you may give, simply glazing for your sake.

Without this time tested batter, left is is icing and not the cake you wish to make.

Start this recipe now, I am betting you will gladly cook all year.

Achieving the desired effect, in the future, you reflect, instruction made so clear.

PJC 02/09/2019

The doitnow voice

{one in a series of solos while considering multiple personality
mixed chorus tryouts for a spoken opera, ere this a Socratic voice spoke, then
a dialogue of anomalies took shape]
******* has the brackets.
This is a realised simulated happy ever, end prologicspiel
---
This is the way.
{remember Socrates said his voice said don't and sometimes only once.}
test the air you breathe out, that is not what defiles you.

speak light, draw attention, then
---
Do it now, as best you can
and keep doing best
every time
{ggood vibrain-tion tense in tegrity
best I think I can
buckyballs bouncing through the new age
mirrored 'alls of missed aitches}

(Ah, Casteneda, ya'coulda seen it> as the croW flew)

All things work together, every thing breaks,
alone,
everything is working
when any thing is re
al ized
different
Murfeesboro law, if nothin' can go wrong,
it cain't, whether it wonts or wants to, or not.

everything is working at reasonable good
when any thing is re
al ized
different
vibrant
unique, like you. Anomalous you, as yet

a daptible augmented alienated mind,
do you mind?
your integrity has been questioned,

do you now or did you ever
imagine you knew what
Castaneda said he saw and learned to see.

if you can fake sincerity,
it once was thought to mean

without wax
in the fractures,

standing still for as long as I may recall
at this point

the magi seem to miss the connection to true

some seem always to know,
this good out weighs,
unbalances,
any bad.

our best good to gather all our
power

dance around the fire
listen to the lyrics lick the liar

snakey-lick, microdose

two snakes, how shall we organize our structure,

is there a high command in
the organizms living
in my belly

memememememememe
for example
evidence

intolerable, wobble able skepticism
to imbalance the spin within
the wheels wheeling into forever

as far as mortals may care,
my dear.

re-verse engineer those lost religions

if you can't fit one in a word, you know you did not fold it up right.
or it never was the word. The one
Magi and Rabbi both said ineffable in an effable

utterance, singularity of
being
sense data, mundane and ordinary,
miraculous, as their inexplicable existences evince,

in my reality I find
quantum truth is peace ful to a peace maker,

in my experience,
a new voice seldom knows good from evil
if it calls

guilt and innocence
entangled.

Like Mars and Sophia,
who could ever imagine that
again?

The boy knows not the difference,

he was war trained,

too subtle to see from his ration-al

bogus science, theo dose us.

Good is good in every good boy who does fine like minded

A new voice, 30ish stuck near a next gate left swinging in the wind.
whoa, spiritual right used

breathe
who are we hearing?
(watch a comma mean everything)

, teaching 30 something and below
a true Richard Dawkins Disciple
to the novice-nots he preaches, true rest in knowing
I believe there is no god, we, you and me, he says, we know

there is no God,
but we can't stop thinking about him.
{he said that was one of the all things that are possible}
--- you can hear me now? cool, who's the preacher?

An atheist sounds 30, teaching 30 something and below
a true Richard Dawkins Discipline master spiel
to the novice-nots

come on encourage me
and I'll encourage you and
we'll be what ever we agree we are

as far as that can go. Que sera et cetera

idle words redeemed we mean what we mean
every *&^%$#@ and ,.';:"+_-=
as well.
We own Seri and Cortana. We got root!.

we stand to topple every imagination that imagines itself
beyond in every or any
vector from whence truth has been filtered by

{stop their minds are on auto. tongues and interpretation
situation evincing the confirmed's bias

to, exact now}

man's measure of time.

Spirit of truth. If that is, it is because you thought so.
once.
It never goes away.
It can drive you into a wilderness.
Stark-raving-mad thinking there is no reason

in your rational being.

That's nuts, if you really believe there is a reason,
what is it?

I make mere points where a story may
emerge to guide you past
some cultural events
you don't need
to know,

ripe cheese, you may  never know the unspeakable variety of truth there is
in the factual ripe ness of a lactis bacillis cousin community formed in the surplus
lactation left to rot by some human who once learned

some how, to milk a cow.
How'd yew figger that?

Would yew b'lieve a lit'le birdie tol' me?
That would be a lie, but a variety of the truth
by reason of thae tactile way a hand must learn

No clumsy boy learned that alone,
we dreams of certain carnal
joys unbeknownst, we
came with the knowing how, some how, good felt good,

who beguiled whom, the m is so im portentious in such
situations as we

find ourselves in, yin
yanging in eine klein bottle

oh, my, google klein bottle.

I may have poured the last thread to
normal

into a klein bottle with a quark in it.

One morning, down a lonely path,
Wandered two friends, Me, and Death.
One morning while the sun did rise,
Walked the path my friend and I.

An came we across a man,
Whose life was sad, whose life was cruel,
And came we to understand,
Man was but a poor, poor fool.

And came we across a horse,
Whose riding days have long since passed,
And came we on our morning course,
To shame the first and pity the last.

To all things this might be true.
You shame me, I pity you.

And came we across a crow,
While the sun behind did shine,
And blackened it the early glow,
Yet it's darkness was divine,

And came we across a sheep,
In its curly coat ov wool,
And as is likely to repeat,
Sheep was also but a fool.

To all things this I might say,
You block the path, I fly away.

And time to choose came all too soon,
Which ov them to take with us,
On our lonely path to noon,
Whose time here did really pass?

In the end we chose the man,
Or rather HE, he makes the rules,
He told me, as only death can:
I never learned to pity fools.

After him, He chose the sheep,
Grim reaper swung his fingers forth
And as blood ran, no man did weep,
Said He: cries are but for human sort.


His mercy did end to receive,
Neither white sheep nor the fool.
Neither stupid nor naive,
Are free from His grip cold and cruel.

To all things this must be true,
We're only sheep, both me and you.

One morning, down a lonely path,
Wandered two friends, Me, and Death,
As soon as the noon light shows,
Death will walk this path alone.