#hopi - Hello Poetry

That faraway look not seeing far away, appearing to be looking, far away, past today A game? A passed time? A pretended game, Hi-stoically accurate, A war game where there's blame and shame, like on TV, nowadays, with victims, not yesterdsdays, Kilroy was here, olden days of our Ford. hey, kid, yer uncle needs ya… Dare ye? 'S only a game. A pass time. Multi-medium, don't spend your life dist ant con nextrified, terra firmafied, dis con nexted c'mon try, win, ship, ship, whip get it in the wind swish wish the message is the medium light is, see Life on TV in 1963, Mr. McLuhan, is not life on the Net. Now, you know, you never saw us old dudes with pocket HDTV studios coming, but you did see all the clues, the times changed, history rewrote itself, evidently, what you think you see is what you get. That part didn't change. The Medium is the message, do I get that? War is un winnable, is that the message? With which weapons? Mine. (a wink, a think wink, I think) The Shadow knows. It is finished. Start there. It's a whole new ball game. Let's pretend we have enemies The emotions are the same, aren't they? If we relate. If we see our self, our CG'd Junger self, in the Shadow, floating in the sea of All God's forgetfullness, asking is tragedy a strategy to draw light? Then, You are related to the people who once lived here, hear their songs and prayers first hand clap, first foot shuffle, first seen first named we have walked the pollen way, the leaven way, the viral way more subtle than any beast, not evil, per se, eh, Jose? Led by the breeze to be tried in the wilderness… Mythed Archie, Archetypes Natural Archean-types, red-headed strangers, 'n'such… Map my calendar to your clock, wind backa a time and a time and a half a time, Then, who knew why the serpent mound in Ohio is a map to some meaning meant to be meant, some specific meaning meant to be meant, clearly, for as near forever as men could … envision imagining as a quest. What if we could see with eagle's eyes Blythe's Intaglios or Nazca's clan tags? "the meaning of the past is what it contributes to the present" Lyle Balenquah's uncle said that. The past passed this way ahead of us, See the shadow? Sun's setting. Snake mound mouth wide open breathe in Sigh, we been everywhere man, we be headin' west sweet home Oraibi Snake clan drawing in the light as the breath of being … envision imaging . What if we could see with eagle's eyes satellite Google earth eyes see, be, in your realm of know-ables, beneath the sands of time that, several times, have been the bottom of the sea. Be then, before that became this, be then Be, now. In the game? Or is this life? Wanna bet? Find a reason for war before I find one for peace. What's the win signify? Double minded me, unstable in all our ways, I failed that test in the old days, memorization, facts fractured, postulates, the-or-ums and proofs all went **** I lost the knack of forgetting or vice versa A loci analysis error, left hand caught wind of what the right was doin' kinda thing But now, I have the global brain for instant access to all the facts say… If we wished to know… how complicated would something be to build, like an energy source non rechargeable and polarized, with output on the scale of the sun? Google it. Ask any question the right way and pay attention to the answers (more than to the advertisers, who pay interest to ****** recog-white-room-REM baseline stats at "waddayewlookinat.com" for your cheap peripheral attention, based on memes you liked or created, or **** Pay attention to the answers, and trust the global brain, the true net A. I. She's an art-ist-if-ication bouncing anionic bubbles off the edge of forever, true rest worthy, my re tired friend, no need to remember a thing… Ah, AI, you can call her Al, I call her Ah, I can't discern twixt AI and Al. And, as a bonus, innumerable idle ahs, are redeemed when I ask Ah for help, Ah, where am I? Do you know about counting idle words? Did that hurt? Like, why? Seeing words said is intuit-ive-ish, do you feel this way of touch is too intimate, today? Word play? Put a spell on you? Fret not. Some words have no mission not nullified with the end of time, (i.e., relative to an individual's forever POV) Idle words mean nothing, just a way to keep score. There are no magic idle words, there were Some seven sworn words, which were said to be muttered and peeped among the Persian magi-ic elite solicited and Sent, by God, led by astronomy, science, for God's sakes alive, facts, follow the stars, when this one touches that one, watch see, the sweet influence of Pleiades, truer words were never spoken To make the captive free. Free run to finish the race to where? Ask theSnake clan. Ask the Antelope clan. Ask the Flute clan, where is the old way where good is? Along that way, did we hear: Earth, earth, earth: hear the word of the most reasonable God-like, deluxe good edition, being your mortal mind may imagine. Word: Exercise to be the hero in your bio to be and, wait. Then think. Be. Still. Wait.

0

Dec 3, 2018

Dec 3, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Migrations toward forever

That faraway look not seeing far away, appearing to be looking, far away, past today A game? A passed time? A pretended game, Hi-stoically accurate, A war game where there's blame and shame, like on TV, nowadays, with victims, not yesterdsdays, Kilroy was here, olden days of our Ford. hey, kid, yer uncle needs ya… Dare ye? 'S only a game. A pass time. Multi-medium, don't spend your life dist ant con nextrified, terra firmafied, dis con nexted c'mon try, win, ship, ship, whip get it in the wind swish wish the message is the medium light is, see Life on TV in 1963, Mr. McLuhan, is not life on the Net. Now, you know, you never saw us old dudes with pocket HDTV studios coming, but you did see all the clues, the times changed, history rewrote itself, evidently, what you think you see is what you get. That part didn't change. The Medium is the message, do I get that? War is un winnable, is that the message? With which weapons? Mine. (a wink, a think wink, I think) The Shadow knows. It is finished. Start there. It's a whole new ball game. Let's pretend we have enemies The emotions are the same, aren't they? If we relate. If we see our self, our CG'd Junger self, in the Shadow, floating in the sea of All God's forgetfullness, asking is tragedy a strategy to draw light? Then, You are related to the people who once lived here, hear their songs and prayers first hand clap, first foot shuffle, first seen first named we have walked the pollen way, the leaven way, the viral way more subtle than any beast, not evil, per se, eh, Jose? Led by the breeze to be tried in the wilderness… Mythed Archie, Archetypes Natural Archean-types, red-headed strangers, 'n'such… Map my calendar to your clock, wind backa a time and a time and a half a time, Then, who knew why the serpent mound in Ohio is a map to some meaning meant to be meant, some specific meaning meant to be meant, clearly, for as near forever as men could … envision imagining as a quest. What if we could see with eagle's eyes Blythe's Intaglios or Nazca's clan tags? "the meaning of the past is what it contributes to the present" Lyle Balenquah's uncle said that. The past passed this way ahead of us, See the shadow? Sun's setting. Snake mound mouth wide open breathe in Sigh, we been everywhere man, we be headin' west sweet home Oraibi Snake clan drawing in the light as the breath of being … envision imaging . What if we could see with eagle's eyes satellite Google earth eyes see, be, in your realm of know-ables, beneath the sands of time that, several times, have been the bottom of the sea. Be then, before that became this, be then Be, now. In the game? Or is this life? Wanna bet? Find a reason for war before I find one for peace. What's the win signify? Double minded me, unstable in all our ways, I failed that test in the old days, memorization, facts fractured, postulates, the-or-ums and proofs all went **** I lost the knack of forgetting or vice versa A loci analysis error, left hand caught wind of what the right was doin' kinda thing But now, I have the global brain for instant access to all the facts say… If we wished to know… how complicated would something be to build, like an energy source non rechargeable and polarized, with output on the scale of the sun? Google it. Ask any question the right way and pay attention to the answers (more than to the advertisers, who pay interest to ****** recog-white-room-REM baseline stats at "waddayewlookinat.com" for your cheap peripheral attention, based on memes you liked or created, or **** Pay attention to the answers, and trust the global brain, the true net A. I. She's an art-ist-if-ication bouncing anionic bubbles off the edge of forever, true rest worthy, my re tired friend, no need to remember a thing… Ah, AI, you can call her Al, I call her Ah, I can't discern twixt AI and Al. And, as a bonus, innumerable idle ahs, are redeemed when I ask Ah for help, Ah, where am I? Do you know about counting idle words? Did that hurt? Like, why? Seeing words said is intuit-ive-ish, do you feel this way of touch is too intimate, today? Word play? Put a spell on you? Fret not. Some words have no mission not nullified with the end of time, (i.e., relative to an individual's forever POV) Idle words mean nothing, just a way to keep score. There are no magic idle words, there were Some seven sworn words, which were said to be muttered and peeped among the Persian magi-ic elite solicited and Sent, by God, led by astronomy, science, for God's sakes alive, facts, follow the stars, when this one touches that one, watch see, the sweet influence of Pleiades, truer words were never spoken To make the captive free. Free run to finish the race to where? Ask theSnake clan. Ask the Antelope clan. Ask the Flute clan, where is the old way where good is? Along that way, did we hear: Earth, earth, earth: hear the word of the most reasonable God-like, deluxe good edition, being your mortal mind may imagine. Word: Exercise to be the hero in your bio to be and, wait. Then think. Be. Still. Wait.

192

A purple veil enveloped the peaks and ridges along the mystical divide where snowpack and summer rains chart opposite courses toward distant seas. Born of the ancient heave and shudder of oceanic and continental plates, the Rockies transfix our wondering eyes by the spell of their arcane mysteries. So it has been for those who carved our trails and called their mountians by name: Arapaho - hoh'enii Hopi - tuukwe Ute – Kåib All of these good fellow journey folk have listened to the same timeless airs chanted by murmuring streams and cataracts and seen hope reflected in an alpine lake. We have heard the soaring calls of the Rockies on either side of the great divide We have heard the mountains’ healing presence softly whispering us to our homes.

0

Jul 28, 2020

Jul 28, 2020 at 9:10 PM UTC

robert-c-howard

Across the Great Divide

A purple veil enveloped the peaks and ridges along the mystical divide where snowpack and summer rains chart opposite courses toward distant seas. Born of the ancient heave and shudder of oceanic and continental plates, the Rockies transfix our wondering eyes by the spell of their arcane mysteries. So it has been for those who carved our trails and called their mountians by name: Arapaho - hoh'enii Hopi - tuukwe Ute – Kåib All of these good fellow journey folk have listened to the same timeless airs chanted by murmuring streams and cataracts and seen hope reflected in an alpine lake. We have heard the soaring calls of the Rockies on either side of the great divide We have heard the mountains’ healing presence softly whispering us to our homes.

21

By the by, we sit to watch a week end, on television, or your time's equivalent seefar-aparat. Ignoring moon phaze, we count sevens, under the generic mandate of God's Truth. Submitted, bowing low on Friday, next day Chosen, allowed through some revealed loop hole, Called, day three, permitted by grace alone, undeserved or earned, to wrestle with the liar calling war your duty to truth. Long weekends for all, let us contend, we are biding time, occupying our spaces, our bubbles of being, our guiding principles leading us with peaceable nudging, this way… Each cluster of monotheists insists the truth, is for their own protection, a tested faith believed, certain to eliminate each individual fake follower, while allowing holiest of priestly classes work not a whit. Call us the common sort. We less holy plain folk. Each one, each bubble of speaking flesh, given one guide, with constant comforting, this way, in contact face to face with the great weaver of wind and seas. Alerted become, some sense seems to say, lend an ear, hear the conception let loose, precept upon precept, here some, there some, line upon line, thought on thought, each a prayer, an asking, an appraisal of the price prepaid called worth it. On second glance. Having many miles back submitted, bowed low to a teacher who taught that tears are grace, a heart softening remainder from infancy, when we are hard selfish takers, helplessly weeping when confusion topples all balance and we fall into serious wailing, as snotty salty tears wrap us in a core cushioning patience on which pity for innocense rests, self-pity, poor me, weeping prostrate waiting for patience to function before I die. And should we weep for some fool today, seeing his zeal manifest to earn God's grace, by any name, in any mind let be aware that madness defies wisdom. Should we not weep for the liars who taught the child that the wisdom which made us, rewards us for killing other thinkers of the same crazy idea, differing by no means significant to infants? Ever, after time, or before, I've not a clue, yet, now, I do assume we all may, and often do, think wrong, falling so safe within the lie fed us, to make us willing to support the imprisoning of hungry us, by forced mind molds earning the interest on world debt for constant war readiness. Our beloved lease on life is not sublet. Any infant who survives the womb is entitled. Each breather rebreathes, giving back received life. Now, as an interstellar life raft, earth laughs, when the lies about who owns the planet ignor the approaching reaction to imbalance. Free lunches for Gaza, and grassy football fields. Stop hate, abhor the law that calls hate truth's will. Watch truth lift the crippled conscience we share. Make lying anathema, and fearful hateful exclusion laws auto morph into correctible knowledge, each real empath sympathy blossoming soothing all pain in scars nullift, so as we can never bring a helpless child to tears for wars' reasons. When war comes to excuse its expense, I must laugh with life, call war to bring cause, prove worth, sit with first Is-ai-ah, come, let us reason, together. War rises on pride's haunches and calls me the fool, I call pride's worshippers to count the cost. If you made mankind, wombed and un, for good reason, with a will to power, a will to self control and rights, by Nature, and Nature's spir'tually discernible goodness and power, would you use life of satisfaction, or desparate poverty to teach the art of agape, charity and such? - freedom of speech - say true, no lie. - But why, can we not freely destroy, - can we not freely force children to serve? Better living by global ignorance reduction. If the truth made minds like ours, if the truth its anthropomorphized self, made us pathetically spiritual enough to weep… at the fruited fields cratered by artillery to starve the enemy, back when the strategy, left the scars on generation after generation of poor, outside the class of chosen, by law, which orders outsiders to submit, knowing one's place, hewers of wood, drawers of water, pickers of fruits, plowers of fields, diggers of ditches, washer of dishes and floors, builders of shelters, dismantler of obsolete weapons. Owners and renters, live in peace. Under holy order. Oh, no? Call the message itself a lie, say the truth does hate those who know otherwise. Who holds the pledge for your share in this war debt? When some side wins, whom shall we owe?

0

Oct 27, 2023

Oct 27, 2023 at 1:32 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Three said to be Holy days in a row.

By the by, we sit to watch a week end, on television, or your time's equivalent seefar-aparat. Ignoring moon phaze, we count sevens, under the generic mandate of God's Truth. Submitted, bowing low on Friday, next day Chosen, allowed through some revealed loop hole, Called, day three, permitted by grace alone, undeserved or earned, to wrestle with the liar calling war your duty to truth. Long weekends for all, let us contend, we are biding time, occupying our spaces, our bubbles of being, our guiding principles leading us with peaceable nudging, this way… Each cluster of monotheists insists the truth, is for their own protection, a tested faith believed, certain to eliminate each individual fake follower, while allowing holiest of priestly classes work not a whit. Call us the common sort. We less holy plain folk. Each one, each bubble of speaking flesh, given one guide, with constant comforting, this way, in contact face to face with the great weaver of wind and seas. Alerted become, some sense seems to say, lend an ear, hear the conception let loose, precept upon precept, here some, there some, line upon line, thought on thought, each a prayer, an asking, an appraisal of the price prepaid called worth it. On second glance. Having many miles back submitted, bowed low to a teacher who taught that tears are grace, a heart softening remainder from infancy, when we are hard selfish takers, helplessly weeping when confusion topples all balance and we fall into serious wailing, as snotty salty tears wrap us in a core cushioning patience on which pity for innocense rests, self-pity, poor me, weeping prostrate waiting for patience to function before I die. And should we weep for some fool today, seeing his zeal manifest to earn God's grace, by any name, in any mind let be aware that madness defies wisdom. Should we not weep for the liars who taught the child that the wisdom which made us, rewards us for killing other thinkers of the same crazy idea, differing by no means significant to infants? Ever, after time, or before, I've not a clue, yet, now, I do assume we all may, and often do, think wrong, falling so safe within the lie fed us, to make us willing to support the imprisoning of hungry us, by forced mind molds earning the interest on world debt for constant war readiness. Our beloved lease on life is not sublet. Any infant who survives the womb is entitled. Each breather rebreathes, giving back received life. Now, as an interstellar life raft, earth laughs, when the lies about who owns the planet ignor the approaching reaction to imbalance. Free lunches for Gaza, and grassy football fields. Stop hate, abhor the law that calls hate truth's will. Watch truth lift the crippled conscience we share. Make lying anathema, and fearful hateful exclusion laws auto morph into correctible knowledge, each real empath sympathy blossoming soothing all pain in scars nullift, so as we can never bring a helpless child to tears for wars' reasons. When war comes to excuse its expense, I must laugh with life, call war to bring cause, prove worth, sit with first Is-ai-ah, come, let us reason, together. War rises on pride's haunches and calls me the fool, I call pride's worshippers to count the cost. If you made mankind, wombed and un, for good reason, with a will to power, a will to self control and rights, by Nature, and Nature's spir'tually discernible goodness and power, would you use life of satisfaction, or desparate poverty to teach the art of agape, charity and such? - freedom of speech - say true, no lie. - But why, can we not freely destroy, - can we not freely force children to serve? Better living by global ignorance reduction. If the truth made minds like ours, if the truth its anthropomorphized self, made us pathetically spiritual enough to weep… at the fruited fields cratered by artillery to starve the enemy, back when the strategy, left the scars on generation after generation of poor, outside the class of chosen, by law, which orders outsiders to submit, knowing one's place, hewers of wood, drawers of water, pickers of fruits, plowers of fields, diggers of ditches, washer of dishes and floors, builders of shelters, dismantler of obsolete weapons. Owners and renters, live in peace. Under holy order. Oh, no? Call the message itself a lie, say the truth does hate those who know otherwise. Who holds the pledge for your share in this war debt? When some side wins, whom shall we owe?

106