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#lieber
---------- We are spotted and blemished and ring straked herds of milkable critters, we are modifiable metaphors for fountains of milk and honey, from the other side, breathing in and out, thinking jello seen through, to the bubble of me, from the one of you, in the discernible pixels one adjusts to ignore as the knowledge milk of conscious multi-tasking, driving and paying attention to a bubble popping book, a Yucca… in jellotime thought form, takes centuries for some to bloom, children believe, because why would the giant yuccas be called century plants, if not because they only bloom once in three generations to be seen, as a spikey life form familiar, in the live and let live desert, where we eat the snakes we **** Which causes jellotime to glup up a contrasting hueristic to guage color critical shades of orininating emotions, also known as answers matching evidence accepted as its self, as so, we see, it is, these words connect at attention applied, a hook, a will to have a go and making sense, in timeless pastless points, as art, around the time disease, and misperceptions, such enforce, hold that breathe thought as truth as manifest cruelty of mighty blobs of solid right to stand still and firm, a we form, from ancient orders, used to form first informers, thus inventing us, after dancing to explain, some where, in your learning control, taking hold of yourself, see the shape we may perceive, as we, the payers of attention needed to twist these threads, fine spiderkites from the pines, common at lattitudes about a third of the way up the sphere's gravitational truth compressing core, living idea, life at planatary participant level, poet, po. Poe, ever, more avsinthesis m'dear, Frankly, whether Einstein or Ben, said it, compounding, interest in flim flam, shaking it down, and pressing it into stone, on which a you are forms of us as others, redcoats fighting freedom living legos, universal, and one use, life is like that, and we the new ones, we adapt to our techknowlogos, as such, informing our selves of news and sighns, signaling slow down you read to fast, this is doubt, the feature, consciously functioning as qwerty guy, key element of know how, indirectly hanging by a thread in 'cient science, finding ling- ering tastes, and effects from kissing, stretching tongues intuitively knowing this is what they mean, or meant, that is, back when, it was said that forty million frenchmen, could not be wrong, about how we gonna keep down on the farm, after they've tasted the happy place, and tickled a childish fascination with words and a will, to make light of the dread, said by many orders of left mind tyrants, spiritual exercises in will worship, worth of a warrior learning there is no easy day, popping into my bubble. Easy entry, plop\ into the jellotime you had in mind, when the whole idea shivered, like a little rolling green hill, seen from the clouds, of course, we have Google's first score, point one in the assisting intelligence user's credo, be doers first, of nothing evil, follow ons, all your choice, the weapons used to pull down strongholds, mighty fortress forces repelling efforts to fit one trick legos into monstrosities as effective as George's Dragon, or my puff tincture, in the world of wonderful make believe, tune in, drip. Drip. Slip into the ABC years, percolater rythm post recordible television, black and white, during Disney-ification drills, preceded by prelingual exposure to Fantasia, reigning next oldest memory for which valid links to now exist, occurred at the White Rock Courts during the years after 1948, and a half,  after Fantasia, was in local theaters, and GI Bills was not kicking enough, for rent in Phoenix and driving, back and forth up one side, down the other, old mind river she keep aggin' us on, she's no devil, no siree, that wombedman, she got papers on me. and wise wizardry between jewels as bright as earth seen from a distance, as we all oughta know, by now, as a hitchhiker's angel once said, yes, sidereal, crossing the Mohave at night, … pick the road from Vegas, two lanes, double yellow lines, easy for my cars lights to show, so I know, I am on the right side of this thing, this mound of telling stories found looted of all but the ghosts of its chances taken, on mob made rules.
0
Jun 6, 2024
Jun 6, 2024 at 9:15 PM UTC
kenpepiton
Machts dues union ized
---------- We are spotted and blemished and ring straked herds of milkable critters, we are modifiable metaphors for fountains of milk and honey, from the other side, breathing in and out, thinking jello seen through, to the bubble of me, from the one of you, in the discernible pixels one adjusts to ignore as the knowledge milk of conscious multi-tasking, driving and paying attention to a bubble popping book, a Yucca… in jellotime thought form, takes centuries for some to bloom, children believe, because why would the giant yuccas be called century plants, if not because they only bloom once in three generations to be seen, as a spikey life form familiar, in the live and let live desert, where we eat the snakes we **** Which causes jellotime to glup up a contrasting hueristic to guage color critical shades of orininating emotions, also known as answers matching evidence accepted as its self, as so, we see, it is, these words connect at attention applied, a hook, a will to have a go and making sense, in timeless pastless points, as art, around the time disease, and misperceptions, such enforce, hold that breathe thought as truth as manifest cruelty of mighty blobs of solid right to stand still and firm, a we form, from ancient orders, used to form first informers, thus inventing us, after dancing to explain, some where, in your learning control, taking hold of yourself, see the shape we may perceive, as we, the payers of attention needed to twist these threads, fine spiderkites from the pines, common at lattitudes about a third of the way up the sphere's gravitational truth compressing core, living idea, life at planatary participant level, poet, po. Poe, ever, more avsinthesis m'dear, Frankly, whether Einstein or Ben, said it, compounding, interest in flim flam, shaking it down, and pressing it into stone, on which a you are forms of us as others, redcoats fighting freedom living legos, universal, and one use, life is like that, and we the new ones, we adapt to our techknowlogos, as such, informing our selves of news and sighns, signaling slow down you read to fast, this is doubt, the feature, consciously functioning as qwerty guy, key element of know how, indirectly hanging by a thread in 'cient science, finding ling- ering tastes, and effects from kissing, stretching tongues intuitively knowing this is what they mean, or meant, that is, back when, it was said that forty million frenchmen, could not be wrong, about how we gonna keep down on the farm, after they've tasted the happy place, and tickled a childish fascination with words and a will, to make light of the dread, said by many orders of left mind tyrants, spiritual exercises in will worship, worth of a warrior learning there is no easy day, popping into my bubble. Easy entry, plop\ into the jellotime you had in mind, when the whole idea shivered, like a little rolling green hill, seen from the clouds, of course, we have Google's first score, point one in the assisting intelligence user's credo, be doers first, of nothing evil, follow ons, all your choice, the weapons used to pull down strongholds, mighty fortress forces repelling efforts to fit one trick legos into monstrosities as effective as George's Dragon, or my puff tincture, in the world of wonderful make believe, tune in, drip. Drip. Slip into the ABC years, percolater rythm post recordible television, black and white, during Disney-ification drills, preceded by prelingual exposure to Fantasia, reigning next oldest memory for which valid links to now exist, occurred at the White Rock Courts during the years after 1948, and a half,  after Fantasia, was in local theaters, and GI Bills was not kicking enough, for rent in Phoenix and driving, back and forth up one side, down the other, old mind river she keep aggin' us on, she's no devil, no siree, that wombedman, she got papers on me. and wise wizardry between jewels as bright as earth seen from a distance, as we all oughta know, by now, as a hitchhiker's angel once said, yes, sidereal, crossing the Mohave at night, … pick the road from Vegas, two lanes, double yellow lines, easy for my cars lights to show, so I know, I am on the right side of this thing, this mound of telling stories found looted of all but the ghosts of its chances taken, on mob made rules.
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