You can say that again, later, it is -time
lace up the daily bag and pass it
for all private interpretation
removal, from the rumen, to the next
- gaseous we, Huxley called us, 1957
No, this ain't show business, this
is living, made in a made up mind,
being finished doing, just
Making up reasons to dispute liars.
Maybe not a good living, but it's free.
Or paid for, any way.
Bought with a price
my grands won't be forced to pay.
- divided attention makes
- ads obliviate into the mercantile
- classification, in attention econ 101
It's free - this living
in the way well fed children do,
in America, outside the cities;
Joy pursued and grabbed in happy
fistfuls that fill laughing memory bubbles
to store for when these become
the olden days.
No, this ain't show business,
its sacred duty,
work of a thing,
made from a boy who looks
into flies eyes, gazing up
from the bottom of the cup,
a little glazed, perhaps,
owing the fly an easy escape, look away
"perplexities, hindrances, toys, tricks,"
The collections of thoughts,
the access to held thoughts, knotted
time alone, as a mortal human being,
humus built, auto-repairing thing being
One-like, only, or
on-like, only going on and on and on,
becoming less and less useful, but
becoming more and more curious
becoming full enough to become superfluous.
Lay preachers can create cushions
for lazy wishers wishing to be comforted,
but the weighing of the worth of comfort,
lay preachers seldom do, to my knowledge.
Terminus gnosis, all I know, my bubble of knowns;
this is it…
a thousand stacks of sensible lines, atop precepts,
strewn beside the trail.
heuristic heretical how-to do as I dones,
published by faith in the thousands, litter
the little hills the psalmist asked,
why they writhed and twisted,
as in a dance of anger wishing,
clear channel, me and the truth, today,
just/instance, this/ now.
Free am I, by the faith in me, but you
Don't you know, there is a musing mind,
we wear to bed, some nights,
we lay on memory foam, some nights.
Thinking sorted thoughts, untying lying links,
links to educated guesses fed you as new reasons
to be ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the faith,
the laughing faith of a child, leaping
into the sky
- my grandson, I just learned,
- asked for more math.
No class common man, that is what I am,
on the cusp of next, looking back,
at the mess I left, like a cyclone,
randomly distributing seeds of kindness, specs
by which an idle word can activate troves
of ancient autoresponders, each guessing
what if, what if not,
what if, what if not,
what if, what
not now, when. Pop.
Bubbles of been, leave go, go on, think it
through, and passed through, into
where we formed, letters, letting words wait,
sit still, ready
for the reader, ready
to steady the quivering fearful thing,
lost in thought,
stuck in stacks of holy orders, hearer only,
only ordainded doers do the trick,
intricate, folding to make not a paper swan,
too, easy. Make a protein. With no model,
just the idea in the word applied to science,
proper pose, super knowing, proto-life-ish thing,
that is digestible using an infantile nourishing node.
What tricks do you know?, the magi aske Moshe.
Snake from a staff.
From the crozier of goatherd, sure,
we can all do that. What else?
Allusions to ever knowing, knowing as old
as knowledge given girls at their flowering,
as old a mystery as any orphaned mother may tell
her great grand daughters,
nobody told me any thing,
but I took it as normal,
As the patient potency prefecting
prayer, dramatized, made big as all
bubbled artifice holding essences,
essential bits of the daily grind to gloss
the leading intellect's reason for being
Klimt golden, as that one kiss I recall,
yes, a facsimile, a memory evocation,
a kiss, golden in that moment, infected
with a feeling
dramatized to be offered to all who see,
khipu twists and loops and bundles and beads,
accounting for dues,
instructing kaballah, pass it on
Excuse me, are you in the right realm,
we feel pluralized,
but you don't fit,
we are uniform,
excathedra, listen up, all eight billion now living, are destined
for certain death,
it is a matter of time, dying once,
can happen anytime,
and if there is a second death, so far,
I never saw any body do it twice,
once truth makes what I am free,
we stay free,
reception accepted kaballah, et al,
take that greasy grace, feel it,
as the oil ran down Aaron's beard,
and there were no poor denied
until the comet hit and all
but a single mind
blew, into this
a complete fiction,
or another compleat guide to fishing
Imagine the magic of the sailor's accounting book,
envision the magic of levers, and pulleys and cogged
wheels feeling the weight
2023 Gravity driven or gravity powered, is it
or the other, when it come be to inspire
to frame wisdom pools,
at depths we learn
prove each participant,
worthy of keeping,
Salt of the earth, deep down dehr dat
shore line fracture,
follow the riverwise road,
any thing you think you must bear,
sometimes it pays, to bend.
Grasshopper Locust practice, for the mind
of an ant.
Wisdom harnessed the fear of God,
put it down,
in other words,
when there was nothing
but E, mass and time being assent
esse, sentient, in sentient and ex
insentience, sapient over lay,
- honeycomb tripe pattern, say
- why not ruminate enclosed
- in a beauteous inner digestive
- recluse-exclusive-sub-science con
ified, tied ligously, fi,
to witty means, and ways we prove
gravity is our friend, driven power for all life,
strong as earth itself, but, we are
in the burning phase,
let me bring you down,
cause being accused, does that
to a stranger
entertained, or entertaining, on an aitia
have you come for more, or do we have
of too many things
to make too much
of any particular reader/writer ifery algorithm,
else is this, current, slow, nodding, flux,
if each mind thinks right once,
today, we have enough,
let's save the world.
- that easy, eh?
global restoration, Christ, yes,
that is the plan.
As the planet was.
Prior to Peleg's days.
Intended to have a single
dry land mass,
for plates meeting
and using ice
at the top
of the world, as seen polaris up,
in a slow wobble
seasonal positional hot-cool-cold-warm
gyre drivers, saline liquid epicycles, sisters
of the four winds
as a flywheel effect
in the telling times… a little imbalence leaning helps
with the wobble,
in the event,
slim to none,
the odds, but,
Don't Look Up. It could
reoccur, and shall, if
has wheels. Graham Hancock, on clocks…cosmic
Mindspacetime, the elite flight,
secretshitistic, it is, most certain, it is
E not equal any thing, mere words
between me and thee,
no point, not one, between the we
in the final analysis, if you wish,
long, lazy river readers, re-mind
their lost selves, how innocense felt.
The worth of an unsold story, given
as a gift, as a poor artist might
of their daughter's children
- "that little thing"
Done. As best he could, he believed,
at the time,
as it is
everything being as is when we arrive,
or become the insane opposition,
be the counter weight on the pendulum,
keep things swingin'
feel time slide
into the real deal,
at the crossroads
in the wayback seat,
sayin' honey, you ain't here
after what I'm here after,
y'gonna be there, after I'm gone, as asong
once a joke ended you gonnabe here
after I'm gone, but
we were otherwise involved, affirming
sacred oathes, we swore as children learn
IT being life, whatever,
it don't mean
is not a joke, it's ahint, to readers, ready
writing is key to reading,
qwerty keying is learned,
natural, feels familiar
as cuneiform once was,
years of hearing the same words,
said and resaid, story after story stacked
time, measured by stargazers, called, by god,
eyes like eagles, these minds expand, and see
the order of the cosmos,
and the chaos of the collective sub-science
locked by a generational curse on oathes
under the God those kids had in mind,
September, 1954, first day of school,
all across the Wyatt Earp of Nations,
each child not religiously exempted,
hand on heart and repeated, as a national
student body, K through 12, a pledge,
local time 9 a.m. nationwide,
a true Tenant's pledge of fealty,
as recorded in
The Compleat English Copyholder:
Common and Statute LAW of
England, relating to Manors
and Lords of Manors Et c.
- buzz nod what instance… seven seconds
Sorry, Under God, was added to the pledge
that year, that affectionizes those exposed,
we meander under god, think it not strange.
It’s a legendary trait, we'll all be remembered a bit.
- default modemod is always beguiling temptation
- for temptation sake, win a game, get the rush.
of chasing hares
to where the conies hide,
feeble folk, but they live among big rocks,
use what you know is right,
hide from things that eat you,
with no elders, constant defence mode
peace makers seem
and fell away, impossible to renew,
whoah, zeke play me that riddle,
'bout scrublands being humbly blissed
so long- wayback, anchoring the authority
that's me, I
and blew the clearwater revival
to kingdom come, Muddy Waters, aight
and there was hippies, ever whar, swanee,
so I do, I swan no no no no mo
lie like the devil for the sake of church heritage,
holy warrior sworn, heart torn, tears shed, tongues
You know, when gravity is taken
in, your weight, sunk
into the reasoning
in progress, no aim, past the cloud,
for crying out loud, this is louder than ever,
noise, is natural
to persons genitivally, ok, cross
shadowed animus anima imitation,
in your cultural genes, cowgirl
seeing the world a yingyang thang,
with gravity and the E-magnetic shields
allowing systems to com-uni-cate locally,
of any thing one might think
as in what was that rule
of LAW once?
Compleat Fisherman's Guide U recall led
to , yes, The Compleat English Copyholder:
Common and Statute LAW of
England, relating to Manors
and Lords of Manors Et c.
is on Google books, masterfully typeset
Feel free to learn all you will, 'tis all in the Common.
as, by now is much that may have been, otherwise,
in needier times,
less riches, more sorrow,
less sorrows, more riches, peace.
Made that my after all battlefield task,
no mas win or lose.
My side, on the scalar models is gravity empowered,
heavyweight, ancient concept,
with long lazy loops
on the downhill side,
to kids make all the noise they wish,
two chalk walls away,
in the bubble we all breathe.
To this day, whatever it took, it worked.
Life gets as good as you can make up a mind
to accept, as
this is it,
this is my bit. My close up. To the exact point
where I breathed that bubblierised wedom-opinion
opinion opinion opinion okeh, settle years ago, okay
we all say okeh here, holy ground,
entire collection of recollection on that victory alone.
Okeh, is still the proto voice model, ok.
If you like it, I'd love if you shared it in whole or in part, it is a whole chapter in a novel form of literature, native to the internet age,
type set for vertical receivers