Wild ideas called seminal,
put forth the first root
prior to the first shoot,

first the blade, then the ear,
then the full corn in the ear,
then the harvest, gathering

fuel for the fire in the belly,
fitting frame and form to task,

as each part player repeats,
the quotidian procession
offering songs sung inside

faith formed bubbles of might,
may haps made per haps good
and easy, easing frets and fears,

recollecting known knowns,
regarding time above ground,
reminding each subroutine

to come, play the role, smile,
fix good will, first form genius
performing projection

shining on time, finding it
comforting to know how long
a time has been in process

of making up our will to try,
once more, our ingratiating
offering, whispering

fire, fire of life, fire in me a will
to find a way of worth to make
seem natural, spiritual, not flesh

the body and the mind,
the body and the will,
the body and the need, the want

the pulling hunger, the generator
calling for sustenance…

if time is life… and comfort
has been achieved, received…

life after nobility, life after expertise,

proven with the worth attested to…

urged whimsically, can we not
make a moment's peace pass

uncontested, indeed, we can and may.

Have a fine day. Or so they say,
wishing without realizing how,
the will to give an encouraging word

weighs lightly on a satisfied mind,
at the end of … ever, again.

Two questions, lost to television
"What is matter?
Never mind.
What is mind?
It does not matter."

Yet, a lifetime later, in nous sense,
minding one's own business, thinking

whose idea is this, who's testing time
for worth, weight of wisdom, left to me,

for my attention paid,
for my notice taken, blank stare, musing
using preserved utterances between we two,

me, and my own will, me and my monkey
discerning historical value systems arranged

to leave room for fruitless investigation,
to make space for ruling levels and grades,
high over low, will to make, will to use,
will to take and use to make more ease,

more peace of mind in matters of time,

offered in a poetic sense, mere mindful
ness, in nous sensed, gentle, familiar order,

at our established limit, at the end of life,
assuming time continues, only life's
artificial interesting lures, know
now urgency, generating knowledge
needing, it must seem, at the moment,
to be pre-served, as known known reminders,
the story of us, we, the people alive
letting this mind be in us, in word
and deed, in truth, we think
we may use any knowing
reproved while taking life as easy as

any royal courtier in empirical courts,

vested interestingly, if one wishes to know
what is invested in me, one wishes to know
why am I the curious kind, sorted out
to ever learn and never settle

to the bottom,
line, final word, capital idea,

bring up a child, in the way, whither
no way is commonly the only way,

but we have dug a channel, a course
to become the of course, in all conversing,

of course, along the way through life
informed as one called to learn to tell true

what was said in counsel, with the wise,
of course, those most blessed with nothing
missing or broken, comforted mindfully,

aware where gravity is enforced, we hold
the fullness of time as space in mind.
------------------------------
Informing us as knowers using
assisting intelligence's recollections…
answers in mindform, offered as news
ex parte gratis, for your information,
finding oneself in the same form as wind
metaphorically, in the same mind
curious as to what we think we know:

[The term capital]
made its first appearance
in medieval Latin
as an adjective capitalis (from caput, head)
modifying the word pars, (part and parcel)
to designate the principal sum
of a money loan.
The principal part
of a loan was contrasted
with the "usury"—later called interest—
the payment made
to the lender
in addition
to the return
of the sum lent.
This usage, unknown
to classical Latin,
had become common
by the thirteenth century and possibly
had begun as early as 1100 A.D.,
in the first chartered towns
of Europe.
--- according to knowledge accessible
by any empowered to read these thoughts---

[Frank A. Fetter,
"Reformulation
      of the Concepts
            of Capital and Income
                  in Economics and Accounting," 1937]

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=capital>

In sequence, next
we spend our rest urged on, pressed

pushing aggregational will to empower
precious personal will to accept

hold tight, the right to think, this is a good day,
where the course widens to meet the ocean,
and eventually evaporate.


Taking your time,
using your attendance, now

to extend my hope
to knowing certain ways
to inform good counselors

called, trusted advisors, seers
granted high perch to see from

to draw ever into now, to focus

our mind's eye at the point aimed
from ever's edge at the first cause

the why we are, part of every thing,
in truth, the state we find ourselves

being makers of… let this mind seem

our common sensory sorting system,

cost for not knowing, profit for knowing,

guiding guardian self preserving gnosis.

Idle word redemption day. {optional title}

Clocking time.
Timing coincidence,

confident tempus fugit…

ever learning, never certain,
each lessoning examined

conscience temptation, fug-edaboudit,
esse,
This is the day,
laid out
in front
of time's arrow

to be shot thro-
ugh-**ing A,  okeh, shot…out
ra' rough, footballer mind
an instance
in prayer… patiently ghine

-----------

He, if he were you,

ignoring nothing, finding quiet

time, alone,
in an empty house;

he would think, being as you
were he, I think,

rare, quiet, not noiseless, listen
the humms, the wind rattling
leaves in Live Oaks,
needles in Pines,

birds whose peeps are
playing
with my ears,
tuning mine
to his who hears

quiet time slipping by,
acknowledging most
deafening noise

is all
in the mind.

--------------

Wally Amos, are you still famous?

Me, too. Locally.

Famous for fine grandchildren,
Parent-Teacher Conference
confirmed, year after year,
fine
grandchildren given access
to books, and self education,

And wicked fast internet/
tutorials for anything

solvers of Rubic's cubes,
setters of gathering magic what's

and ifs, and but then, so that's
better, he thinks, this tinker

touching each across time,
think yourself useful to us all. Amen.

----------------------




Laughing, thinking of shouting,
at the floor, I am
so intense
because

I am alive
in my own future,
the world's a mess, unless,
I laugh,
and take the good.

It is a sunny November day,
after the promised latter rain,
laughter functions, leaving lines

where old faces wrinkle happily,
fitting character traits common
to old scout squinty perspicacity.

-------------------

Bored, in ever after, eh?

¿Made no plans
    to pursue, when you had time?

Well, as a filler word,
or is it
a feeler a
wordwiggle rough
through a ra'thought,
be may, may be, maybe so,
declaratively so said, indeed, thinking
beauty be,
what if now,
is the same time,
any instance taken
seriously curious wise,

from the initial point perceived, taken, held
to hold this thought, or hold that thought
as self evidently true,
having being
in minds
let be found like live words,
in spirit form, as breaths, taken

held, to rethink against knowing again
what was meant,
so long ago,
when all words got scrambled,
some lost all sense,
such be idle, now,
set to activate
on recognition, off, set
which is no longer the case, you know
common conscious
ness is the use, men-tal chabad
of knowledge actioning knowns
under the God
pledged and sworn
to try to tell the truth,
the whole truth y nada mas,
aliegiantly, in the spirit of Liberty…
inspired emperically in poetry
IF, Gunga Din
allah
Tha… just so, says
fear was the problem,
not knowledge
of wonder and adversity,
so opposed
for honor,
as translated good vs evil,
to death, staining beguilement,
from aha, got it, reason
to woe, original curse, sin
during developmental stages
interesting times first tier burns
of what our story says we mustabin,
in the dark ages, previous to the internet.

[[== jest, so ==]]-

eftsoons
obsolete or archaic way
of saying "soon afterward,"

ongean magical once more,
with feeling.

This is how I process
My thoughts
My feelings
My ideas
My beliefs
My actions
My trauma
Everything
So if you find not what you seek
I'm sorry
It's just how I think

In the quiet of a cluttered room,
a glimmer flickered, an idea in bloom.
I held it close, a thought so bright,
now lost in clouds,
drifting out of sight.

A glance, a turn, a fleeting chase,
I search the corners, I scan the space.
It danced on the tip of my eager mind,
now a whisper, elusive,
and unconfined.

Was it a word, a thing, a dream
or a thread of a half-formed theme?
Time ticks on, relentless and still,
as I shuffle through remnants,
against my will.

Where did it go, this moment, this spark?
Did it slip through the cracks
and into the dark?

I pause, I breathe, I let out a sigh,
in the chaos of life, as my thoughts fly
out the window or through the door,
leaving me stumped
and pondering once more.

©️Lizzie Bevis

I desire to create,
What remains unperceived,
Unrepairable faith in it's authentic self,
Unscathed by anothers opinion or morals,
Their hopes and desires,
The birth of such a rebellious idea remains unearthed,
I want it raw,
But God despises it,
The idea of being challenged,
So all left of my thoughts is the binding vision of tomorrow,
A vision of hope,
That ensues an ameliorating repercussion on my mental capacity,
Concluding the idea of a saviour,
And Of my passion and greed,
Greed to learn something I shall never master,

i just don't feel like smiling
but i can be nice
sometimes
it's august
used to be july
stating the obvious
isn't a crime
neither is smiling
once in a while
take a look
inside my mind
you'll see how
august
turns to july

The evidence reviewed, this  a half time later.
"a man can
make up his"
own mind, my, me mine
myme mine mymemine nine iterations,

expand the basic concepts of topological
space time, in the neighbourhood
south of all three bridges into Saigon, on the roof

Make it up, make it all up, and wait fifty years.
Whiteface.
And the mime in the street keeps the beat
silently reciting Kerouakoan streams.
'Tryna get to sunny Californy' -
Boom.

Canned Heat, sterno still, sip it,  get back
Beatles became something akin
to a window left open now
fifty years, since January 1969, Radioman
and Tom Green on the Panasonic
music from the other side… the joke
'Look Fred, that man by the road'
Some *** fiend got in print in 1968

Get back, Jack. And that

started the whole world crying,
from the commonwealth to common woe,

-- Interesting times upon us, oh yeh

A hook, in a song,
Forty Million Frenchmen Can't be Wrong
- ah, allusion, get back, prophecy
- right, fifty years ago today, soon
- Ringo says Forty Million Churchills, back then
or late, lately as the topo-logical-ournearity
gets back to optimum
later there, we were, on the roof
of that old fishnet factory
dangled there before, me,
the deal, if you want it, come and get it
better hurry cause it's goin fast,
ping
ricochet -
Highschool History, 1963,
Forty Million Frenchmen can't be wrong?

What does that mean? I asked
Miss Dinas, who was plump, and cheery,
and she lived with Miss Some-name
I forgot
to notice, due to, the clue
in the way Miss Dinas winked, that one time,
not
at me, when she said
Forty Million Frenchmen Can't be Wrong.
-- look away
Some squared away artist cries, stop the lies!
Gray-ace, go fish
Wordsworth,
happy soldier character- no, Fernando- a bull
ABBA , not winking - snorting
at me, when she said
feed your head,
autistic community, com-unionize AI
timeandspace
re-
alize the musical, a means of saying things,
silly, silent
hints of splendor in the grass,
and weeds, and black-eyed suzannes,
growing in the road,
Tobacco Road,
down at the end of town, where
skid row hits the river,
long and wide,

milk and Hohner on t'othaside
sharp hone mama
Sioux wee, Sioux e- baby, be my baba now,
Humbaba, guard
my forest
sein, mein, wine and rosy days being wise
in thine own eyes,

as we warned, eh/ wahrrmmmnned edu
mcate edumacation, the deal was…
I was to learn to
become a maker of papermoney clips
from plastic straws on a trus'line, about to rupture
and spill guts
on gumption swallowed whole.
-------------------
Koans and Cohen and all
-- If it had been my will
I'd a been so dead, so long ago, I'd be
as if I'd never been,
-- If it had been my will

True rest, needs a weary mind,
to weigh its worth,
hangdown yo' head, Tom Green, duely done
do tie yer Jimmie Lee Jackson
Bronc Rider Trophy Buckle to m'line
let it out
come think a mile with me, let's
see what come to mind.

--whistle break
-- heads abobbin, we rock on, Sisyphus
the first,
agreed we got the message in the medium
evolved by will worship alone,
rock on, roll on un
aided, no doubt by the spirit advisor
to old Abraham Lincoln's jot on the margin
"a man can
make up his"… hmmm, his own mind, hmmm

wouldjaremind me, what was I thinkin'
"a man can
make up his mind to be as happy as he is…"

Free to be. I think free to be alive, maybe,
Lincoln was athinkin'
as a we, the people agree we do have title right
to life, awe
ja,
and liberty, I suppose, we must define, to refine,
down to the gilt around the frame,
on the back side, wasted glitter, thin film of actual gold
well
I'll be, did you ever see the like, a
con-
jurer or a presti-digital simulacrum truckin' on and on
sayin' come on
sing old songs, ones we ever
learned again
today
what you never thought possible, just a minute
ago,
as we ponder the effect of a silly millimeter longer
rising in a ribbon
past lips of an apple green shade,

I think I actually
Hate this feeling.
You’re not supposed to
Make me nervous.
You’re not supposed to
Plant seeds in my mind,
Strange seeds that grow strange fruit.
Or, at least you didn’t used to.

I don’t know why I bother at all.

I never did say
That it was a good idea
Did I?