As a sculptor, I think with a hammer,
as a nail driving man, I think, with a hammer,
- and foolishly,
- let my mind wander into the future
- when I am framing peace of mind for earth
- as it is in heaven, when I pray, with everybody.
Sing it wit me now, IF I HAD A HAMMER,
sing it, children, like it's 1963
- jump cut -
- drama ****** trauma Glynnis Johns dark, dark
- kiva experience, in a Saturday matinee, for Goyim.
It is literature, and certain cinematic forms of thought,
first formed here, where angels lead latter day
losers out of the maze by the the sheerest merest thread
of extended gnostostical snot-tis-snot-tis
but but button starters
lack of a nail,
no, no, nada fails for lack of a nail, but
for lack of move made with intention to make
a fact, form a circumstance of nextifity,
conscious ware being, acting in the role of soft,
gentle ware of ancient patience
as one wise in the ways of simple truth, take sublime,
for an instant
stand, as a ware waiting a command, apps to teach
extending reach, games we teach our selves,
after watching constant streams of data,
very matrixy cinema allusion to the illusion envisioned
belief is not a factor in what you think I am. Word.
No ethnos misappropriation, child. Word is all I am.
I ain't no body.
I ain't ever'body. I am consci used sense since when
begins for us, me and you, writer/reader amusing device,
in the mind of a truth as true as any everwas,
come on, tune to the news, good news don't go bad.
reconcile a while. breathe and wonder if…
then wonder if the author knew
or if he dared to learn. Asking allowed, Truth,
what lies do I believe about you?
First answered prayer this one character claims true.
Truth says, you believe too little.
I accept that. Is there ought I might do?
I do recall, all I know is in my bubble of known, so
pops are inevitable, as thumbs stopping hammers, midswing.
Amusing myself, and others who frequent this end of the pond.