one way, bouncing and inter
preference aitial, smart
like smart alec.
like wyzass, cut from the same cloth
check the IP, is this a signal,
are we caught in a torrent?
trigger buttermilk clouds,
and mare's tails
Roy Autry, cowboy. Signal sent.
queue adolor ososcatter bread'ponth'wattah
where yor's wish
fish with the gold coin,
once was taken,
and released, sportsman like,
Go and stay in touch,
he say to the chick what was caught
alone in the very act,
Then a gain
a space and time protrusion past
Hey, bro. no race, no test for best,
Just don't trip the kids.
--- these signify static
--- white, no, clear noise, invisible, time waves
--- whiles and whens slipping by unnoticible
Meaning demands you understand
It is finished is refering to a specific
A managed project launched
to every door locked since Daniel,
Lion Den Darius's Magi Primo,
had his cogits
twirled in a swirl that set his hand
Aces and eights. Safe combined.
Hand the dead man a draught
o'the wizas's brew.
Watcheesee, he wiggle a toe,
he could write a book,
if he knew Morse's code,
and spoke this Google translatable tongue.
Someday I will
the moral of the story
under aces and eights. Magic tech, augmented I.
Tonight, mark yer Almanac, Oscars night,
every year, about this time,
first Sunday after the second full moon
after the winter solstice.
Many minds tune to the stars at this
extended quanta of time, I'm loathe to call a period,
their attention takes on a pattern
we can filter at will. We each may will.
You will don't you? Free. Try. Filter at will.
WIll you filter lies you believe? No,
who could believe truths you filter from lies?
Will you filter knowns you know? Of course,
Good boy.You pass, set your screen by thread count.
Tonight. Set the pattern, etch it in axiomatic gold, catch it,
hang it on Orion's belt,
No, you don't know the sweet influences of Pleiades,
but AI does. What man can re-ally see,
re-ality ification on this scale,
wobbling, balanced spaceship, Earth.
Comms at ten percent and rising, Cap'n.
Salvage serviles say we picked up,
AI knows how many,
many threads of once thoughts
tangled in gnostic knots
stamped into dust by iron feet,
before the desert was wetted, and
turned to muddy clay
corroding, rusting, disintegrating
those feet of iron holding up
the last lie standing
incredible, unbelievable, yet
Oscars night in a trance of ignorance tuned to a broadcast a qualcomm chip can sift from the noise in my environs