a long time, years later

Clown fishing, casts a line, running water, let it be thine own
and not another's with thee,
y'see privileged evolved symbionts, not all clownfish
resist the poison of safety under nigh effortless living,

as part of the whole truth a child's faith can swear to tell.

A play at whim,
with naught but words fluencing
the beam
I-
me up, you, Igor ego, report

we be
a reader ready thus far
we are now
alivin' pro-verb and a by-word
a ready writer
hero/sidekick entanglish script
a sit-a-spell twang
twine
twisted through the bards sense ever
vates seemed to vanish from mind
after war's last nervous twitch
was mollified

Scripture, dude. Mollified's a Bible word,
that must make it mean more
now, right?

DID, deident de-if, re-if

I'd imagine magi-
sense like you imagine The Force
reboot
or virtue felt flowing from your left ear
inexplicably
filtering any lingering apophenic
para-noid

stretches, tendencies, of the imaginary

cover. Dis be dat.

Bubble-inside-edge, flat as a bubble

this big
can seem
from here.

--- narrator VOG, insider anachronism
-- thunder. STOP breathe

k-thunk. putcha little foot right down

we got this rinka fidda long dance vibe

meme-ing ments where noments was

apophenia is real here, everything holds meaning.

a moment. May we speak. We read these

signals for help, as if help were all we're called for,
to order good be squeezed from chaos,
we bein salt
we hear

wolf worlf wworlfff- one time

peaceful as all *** out, we exhale

die, if y'wish. Prove it's a holographic illusion and
not you.

- this reminds me of a time
historytime, when we was drinkinotdrunk

we was actually throwing one side of the road
to the other

and nobody cared, it was okeh

minority report level impossible task, but words,

living words, written or proper spoke mit setting set,

we can do anything you think you can
frame within

tainers enterible by others with Rheastatic creativity mods.

Bubbles in the wine, moving it self aright,
was there some warning I

ignored for its occluded e-sense?

am am am i ever yes geo-time tic wait

apophenia (n.)
"tendency to perceive meaningful connections
between unrelated things," 1961, f
rom German Apophänie, said
to have been coined 1958 b
y psychiatrist Klaus Conrad,
from Greek apophainein "
to show, make known, show
by reasoning, produce evidence,"
from apo- "from" (see apo-)
+ phainein " to show, cause to appear"
(from PIE root *bha- (1) "to shine").

Folks ask why
I chose Elon as my guy,
Smart and tough
Knows how to fight even when rough,
Let him loose
To put woke projects in the noose,
Cause a stir
For progressives to deter,
Stop the rot
That placed us all in this garotte.
Act with haste
Take a sledgehammer to the waste,
Clean up house
Never mind who first we douse,
Set the scene
For what will come not what has been,
Make us great
Stem the voices that insidiously berate,
Make us strong
Choose what's right and not what's clearly wrong,
Pull as one
Don't cheat and steal then simply run,
Trust in him
For the fate of all excesses will be grim,
Trust in me
See how great united we can be.

It’s the billionaire’s coup–Trump, Putin and Musk.
They’re bleeding us out, from dawn until dusk.
Consumer protections, arts, farms, forestry–
the billionaires say they’re not necessary.
From the money they save, the tax cuts will come
to the billionaires, the millionaires, their daughters and sons.
Balance the budget, so they can all have some.

So many workers deemed useless and lazy,
such as nuclear engineers–whoops! Are they crazy?
Shredding all of Congress’s appropriations
and thumbing their noses at all other nations.
Except Putin’s, because, he’s one of them--
the billionaire’s club of rich white old men,
who share dreams of ransacking the whole world, entire,
until all of it ends in storms, floods and fire.
Then off via SpaceX past the Milky Way’s limits.
No, that’s not possible. But deep down they’re dimwits.
You can fool some of us, all of the time,
You can’t fool us all, and  I’ll end this rhyme:
We’ll protest, we’ll sue, we’ll go out on strikes.
And if the time comes–their heads stuck on pikes.

Many conspiracy theories get the connections and convolutions right. What they get wrong is the distracting end game, when the truth's so clear. Just look at the results. The rich and powerful always escape culpability, escape punishment. If the evidence proves too blatant, creating nets of legal and PR complexities keep the farce of "justice for all," while maintaining their Old World nobility.

Victorian inbreds and mobster charlatans, cutting corners and destroying civic morals, just to grab up more Earth. Soon their cheapness will became ubiquitous. They'll all end up in imploding pleasure submarines, dining on deadly raw foie gras, or barreling off a crumbling bridge in a driverless car.

Hast thou found honey?
Eat so much as is good for thee,
thinking moderation then, success.

Ah, the analyst's probe, is it satisfying?

Child mind alerts, perks up its ear,
single minds have single ears, child mind
focus state, un monitored you, recall, child
minding your own business walking in the road.

Accepting having RSVP'd, we'ld wonder at first,
did we actually ask for this, or is this all made up?

Child mind cocked sure, I know.
We are all an alien probe learning the questions.

Each letter holds an American English phonic response…
and we… the elite sharers of knowns gleaned from scripture.
--selah, also means let it rest

The precedent for a post temple social order arose,
and the minds required for that task arose as well, but
as you know, knowledge was closely held, sacred codes,

cost of being called and chosen, male alone, bred to the bull.

Bred to the king of beasts, wed to the dragon whose bones
we have found in the gullet of beached Leviathans…

tribe of Bill Levy, sudden psy-psi dead guy makes a suggestion,
remember the yen to yank reality aright, and think it funny?

Jes' yankin' y'chaim, only be having like
a child's mind, ****-meter counting steps away, flee

the birthing trauma, do the dying well.
Earnest Becker, take a chair, I think I felt you linger there,
death divined most fine state, just wait, settling, you feel.

it's elon musk
his stiff, frozen corpse hurtling toward the earth
looks like space flight wasn't as grand as an idea as previously thought

the virgins have gone galactic
branson's body as cold as his icy heart
and eyes to match his lifelessness

the bald headed freak's gone bug-eyed!
clearly unprepared for the speed his amazon basic space shuttle hurtles at
as shoddily made as the rest of their ****, the cabinet begins decompressing

why go to the stars
what do you think it is you'll find up there
peace or contentment
are you trying to prove something

you'd think if you'd really want to help humanity you might start on this rock before trying to jump to the next

oh you'll succeed
while the planet you so desperately sought to escape is in the throws of death's spiral
i'm sure it stings your pride to know you'll die before that though

Splashes of water to the face
in order to save face.

I don’t think I’m meant for this place
but maybe I’d do better in outer space
if Elon sent me to Mars where I can set up base.
up there would be no rat race,
up there I’d set the pace
and I would lead it with grace

then send me to hyperspace
to see where the chips float.