AI, Moon Walk X"lll"X 15=10 and 5*


https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PL1X51wyhBF7_aJvUdzE0qYPRaJMuBnn0l

Moments notice, temporal  sign posts,
shifted meanings and twigs of broken memories all standing stark,
as white lights of embers glow, slow to realize the masses continue to wonder.
Eyes blazing in the giggling realizations uncanny calling out,
of the in between, as many of us glean and glimpse.

Have you oh wondering soul heard? have you oh simple soul seen?
If so what is it you have grasped of this altered edge of oblivion? fair the a well spring of signs to set your heart and mind free?
Or only to cast your gullet into eternal slavery, under the cutting reality of a cemented view?
Flowing edge of the swells this temporal cascading do cause the light do play in the reflections truth of stability abound in focus and vibratory standards , counted and measured only in the minds eye and the hearts manifestations of excepted adherence to a collective?
Or have you , or I , us sad and amazingly fickle souls found the true sound of sound doctrine?
One of truth , love and understanding? For seems this dear hearted friend, is far from the end, though not the beginning unless the glimpse of it has been felt and rendered assured in your own heart, least we get ****** again from the very, very distant pasts start.
So, it is asked yet again, where do we stand in this torrent and gelatinous time of man? Or shall we start all over again and wonder how tech can strip and manipulate the core and essence of a man and his absolute grasp of what is changeable in our entire past?
Or is it merely and simply just that we are all on the very edge of our dreams in this construct of a thing?

How can four computers
fail in the same way
simultaneously?

The new version is better, than this year. It was not immediately available. But, it was not clear.

The fact that you have a great day, and night, in my head, is killing my vibe.

"Yes," it was, "the best of luck."

The only thing, would have to go back.

It would mean the world.

The face, of the best thing, about being. The only thing, that would make my own house. And the only one that is not an issue.

It was the first half of the best thing.

I'm not going. I'm at work.

I'm so excited, to be the first half , and the only thing, I don't think, I can see.

I was writing something amazing up until my phone died,
and there's something to be said about the techno-ego-logical sort of life.
But I won't say it now because greater men have said it before;
and surely they'd have no respect for just another social-media *****.
Like how blogging has become such a ***** word,
so let's just call it poetry.
Disguise our senseless needs to vent feelings through rhyme and metaphor.
I've become everything I've always hated.
I can date it back to the day I acquired a smart phone.
But I'll lose no sleep over confessing how it makes me feel less alone.

Electricity
Rushes through her bones as she
Lays her head to sleep.

Energy flowing,
Like straight whiskey down her throat,
Keeps her up at night.

Her pillow is soft
Soft like a summer sky’s clouds
Still, no comfort comes.

She plugs in her phone.
The light still shines in the dark.
She can’t block it out.

No energy flows
As she wakes up the next day
She is still unplugged.

The obsession
takes possession
of my thoughts.

Every waking hour
intent on feeding
Said addiction,

Wasting a wonderful
day’s worth of potential
on pleasures and rewards
that are digital abstractions,

Becoming subtractions
from the quality of my mind,
and my life.

When the phone's at home
I'm a dog
Without his bark-collar on;
Off the leash,
Off the property,
Snapping at gulls
On the beach.
I'm digging up old bones,
Lifting a leg,
Barking and chasing
What crosses my path.

Back at home
I loose my dog brain;
I'm tethered and yanked
By a cellular line.
The yelping,
And begging
Have me pining
For the freedom of
My inner canine.