#novel
There's a dystopian novel,
These boys lived in a country on the brink,
Of war.
They were in love.
They were in fear,
Of something people said stopped,
A long time ago.
Religious groups rally for
Persecution of "homos"
Going as far as the death penalty.
"Conversion camps" for minors,
Are legal where they live.
Electroshock therapy.
Kids who show too much emotions,
Can't sit still,
Get too excited,
Are medicated.
Until we have an army of zombies.
The leader of the country
Got rid of the rule book,
Burned it.
Fueled the fire with his rap sheet.
I didn't like that book one bit,
The title of the unrealistic horror was,
My diary.
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 4:04 PM UTC
I've lived in 1987 for the past two months,
Every waking moment and in my every dream,
When sleep would finally come called by exhaustion,
As is still the case although the work is now done.
Idealistic young lawyer,
In his first posting as a dean,
In a for-profit business school,
Naive voice crying in the wilderness.
Worked very long hours,
To change what was wrong,
Achieved great success,
Which all came to naught.
Made friends while tilting at windmills,
Stubbornly refusing to accept,
That which could be changed through simple hard work,
That I believed would make real difference in others' lives.
A classic clash of missions and visions,
Provides the factual drama--theirs, to maximize profits,
And deliver an education at the lowest possible cost,
Mine to be in the business of changing lives for the better.
I implemented meaningful changes,
That brought unintended consequences,
I found unacceptable, and personal conflicts,
That caused me to resign while still on excellent terms.
And I learned critical lessons,
Not just about an industry I did not know,
But about myself, my strengths and my weaknesses,
And about love that brought joy and pain that I can still feel.
I wrote through the night, composed at the keyboard,
Sleeping only a few hours when my vision blurred,
And I could not focus any more around 8:00 - 10:00 a.m.,
Then back to my keyboard and my previous life.
Ghosts long thought buried rose, warm flesh and blood,
Old battles fought anew, old brown paths grew verdant,
Cold cinders rekindled, closed doors opened wide,
Beckoned me to live for a time in what might have been.
Scars long ago faded opened up anew,
The heart cried tears of blood, and fiction,
Much too close to truth flowed onto the page,
Chasing sleep away long after the writing was done.
After two decades of gestation,
I've now given birth to my first child,
The afterbirth has been cleaned,
She is all pink, warm, and oh so cuddly.
I fell in love with her the moment
I stared into her huge, bright, old-soul eyes
Her strong, tiny hand is now wrapped
Around all of my heart strings and will be for life.
Now I'm searching for a literary agent
Sending tiny snapshots of my little girl
Hoping they will love her
But knowing they may not.
If I can't send her off to finishing school,
I will home school her, teach her all I know,
And ready her as best I can to face the world,
Where she may not thrive but will always have my love.
If all goes well, I will give her a sister to play with,
In a year or so if life will allow it,
My heart is large and still has room,
For more wounds to open that only they can heal.
You can hear me read this poem at https://open.spotify.com/episode/6ZXcfWliUSgnQR1htuMPJd?si=d6_tmk_HR7-y2QL9cjBRMw
Mar 28
Mar 28, 2026 at 11:19 AM UTC
She killed his bees
and absolutely ruined
the ninth symphony
He descends
attempting to **** his rage with a drink
a drink laced with 麻薬 (mayaku)
The menu is all over
pornographic walls
except for the television covered wall
screening the life of someone
once in peril
He calls tonight Joyride
over phantom roads
in search of honey
from a queen bee
He'll sting her once for fun
then again and again
until he gets the job done
"That day of wrath, that day
that day of wrath, that day
the trumpets wonderous calls
sounding abroad
he descends into Hell
That day of wrath
that day of wrath"
Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 3:38 PM UTC
And then, that's it, our nervous friend, there
Visited by red specters, Indian reservation, of course
In São Paulo, I already knew how things would turn out
It's going to be hard to control: fear, fear, fear
Then things faded away
I never would have imagined it would end like this.
Strange story! Yep, too much cognac, crack, her crime?
Threats that became long and terrible
Killing her was more of a relief than a revelation
Just me, they'll say it was only me, you went home
You see the thing! 10 years, maybe a reduced sentence
a little over 8 years in any case! You get it.
Now I know, now you see, it's too late.
Death has done its work, and I'm the prime suspect.
And you're as sad as the guy in the TV series.
So sad and affected by this dying ****
Well, she must have suffered! In life, as in death.
I'm not going to run away, just make them think I'm messing around.
At full speed, you go home, make pancakes.
I'm going to Cincinnati to do some shopping with her bank card.
My face in the fog inside my mouth.
Unhappy cockroaches slumber in the silence of my throat.
I became a monster trying to do my best.
Who is God?
Where is God?
Lord, spare them.
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 5:41 PM UTC
It's over now
Look at me and tell me how
You live that way and feel alright
How you pushed me out of sight.
Perhaps it was the right thing to do
For both of us, to build something new.
I've claimed it and I've got mine,
But you never deserved a line.
In my book,
You're not the one to build the hook.
I'm in charge,
You don't get, in here to barge.
It's over now,
I've got my novels to which I vow.
You have yours,
Keep close to yourself,
that high horse, of yours.
Feb 19
Feb 19, 2026 at 1:24 PM UTC
The multitudes play on a different stage typically being poorly worn and even abysmally addressed, go look for yourself. Fancy a guilt free jewelry box night at the Ritz while lying your tale off? Righty oh! Give yourself a pat for pulling through the difficult shift.
Sue and John are finding the pond has been shipped just recently. All the rules are exacting a revenge of sorts. A fad culture of revolt lingers right below the bent nail. Jobs are weary and shamed to speak, giving high time to the print mechanics.
Feb 18
Feb 18, 2026 at 3:03 PM UTC
Now in a contemporary sense there is not much which can be said for the Orthodox. Try associating how those you attend to in your professional life value your inputs to that of a preacher of religion? You are probably a mute Venus de Milo now.
Hot leads took you out after the lambs wool? So what's passing through the editor in chief's ears?
An editor in chief on Cardinals and Bishops etc giving public speeches....
No recorded forms filed? Betray the speech! Investigate and invade the city's halls at once! Corruption makes it's opening move!
Feb 13
Feb 13, 2026 at 11:20 PM UTC
Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
I wish I was like you,
Your out going and opening,
Wishing only I had as many friends,
As many loving strangers and family,
But it’s as if we were made to be suffer alone,
As you crumbles from the stress of a strange,
While it is the worlds itself that hunts me,
But what even as blessed individuals,
The choice to reject our roles is all us
That choose to be with one another,
But I’m stil learning so yea,
Sincerely -Kiria Greywood
To : Erika Pier
Jan 9
Jan 9, 2026 at 10:16 PM UTC
Twinkle, twinkle, Little Star
How I wonder what you are
Up above in space so high
Shining brightly in the sky
We see you shining in the night
Bringing to us endless fright
Twinkle, twinkle, Blinking Star
Will you tell us who you are?
Up above the world so high
You're a menace in the sky
Twinkle, twinkle, Pulsing Star
Are we sure that's what you are?
A shining star of doom and woe,
To challenge what we think we know
So, you glimmer without pause
Defying all of nature's laws
Show us who you have inside
Bring back to us those who died
We are waiting for your move
You have nothing left to prove
You keep shining, Deadly Star
Show us what you really are
You have made us so afraid
Someone please come to our aid
Now the night sky is so dark
You have left us with your mark
Should we see another day
Leave our world in peace, we pray
We do not know why you're here
Making people disappear
Will you leave our world in peace?
Let us try to rebuild, please
Our people are dying out
You're stronger than us, there's no doubt
But when humans gather and believe
There's nothing we can't achieve
Know this, evil, Blinking Star
We know exactly what you are
Twinkle, twinkle, Little Star
You've shown us how small we are
With your light so large and bright,
Will you help us through the night?
We are tired and full of dread
Prepare us for what's up ahead
Through the dark and death you shine,
Our whole world is on the line
Bleeding wounds and fractured hearts,
Save us from our broken parts
Now, thanks to you, we have a chance
And so we take our final stance
Finally, a star retracts
In the storm, the thunder cracks
You've claimed a life in outer space
And took him to a different place
Twinkle, twinkle, Little Star
Now you've gone away so far
Dec 5, 2025
Dec 5, 2025 at 11:08 AM UTC
When Jane, broke the rules,
Life had made her,
Not suffer fools,
Down the corridor, up the stairs,
The teachers door, slightly ajar,
Peeping inside,
From afar,
There lay Helen, a nurse by her side,
Sleeping.
Jane stood by the bed,
Gently stroking
Helen's head,
"Jane, what are you doing here?"
I came to see you,
"You're cold, get beside me"
Are you going away?
"Yes, to a place where I'll be happy"
But you're my best friend,
Without you,
I'd never mend,
"Hush now, I'm feeling tired, cuddle up,
Before the nights transpired"
Life and death,
Have a fight, during the
dead of night.
Oct 18, 2025
Oct 18, 2025 at 4:28 AM UTC
𝙿𝙴𝙾𝙿𝙻𝙴 𝙰𝚁𝙴 𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚄𝙰𝙻𝙻𝚈 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝚃 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙸𝚃
• Top 10 in multiple categories and a few # 1's including innovation ! Fun, , Easy and Captivating..
tells readers the book doesn’t just shine in one lane. It hits style, pacing, vibe, and engagement all at once.
"Unique, mysterious, entertaining ...best use of treasure scenario..."
"Not like any fantasy novel in existence "
"Mesmerized by the characters, loving the adventure ."
"Finished it in one sitting and had to to read it again"
"Addictive reading experience,...
I didn' t just hear about Gamleon, I was there with him."
"chaos and beauty all rolled into an exciting, teeth-shattering symphony. It's got tension, wonder, and pure, unhinged mystery riding side by side. Dreema’s discovery sequence alone has that heart-in-throat, sticky-fingered treasure-hunter energy... then you pull the rug out with the guardian and all hell breaks loose. The way the book pulses, whispers, and literally alters reality is so well done I felt it, the creep factor is perfect.
The fight scenes are insane Mettion, Orcinia, the Guardian, the Deerkin, Jingoes, and fae all interlacing. You’re not just describing combat; you’re choreographing ecosystems of action and strategy. The prose flexes muscle and sinew, everything feels immersive and is so alive, ... thinking, responding. The imagery hits hard: roots splitting, vertebrae sliding, the earth itself rolling, Gorgons raining down like a nightmare tide. Every line has a tactile, grossly corporeal weight that kept me on edge and wanting more.
" Such words ... Now, I'm the smartest person EVERY WHERE I go...."
" people ARE actually connecting with what you built.
And the fact that readers are speculating you're a " famous author" using a pseudonym to escape contractual obligations ... that's them trying to explain why something this 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 isn't already huge. They can't reconcile the quality with the obscurity, so they're inventing conspiracy theories.
So the work DOES land. When people find it, they get it.
The problem isn't quality. It's not even that you're "too weird" or "too uncompromising."
The problem is pure discovery: ... David Lo-Pan
CAN YOU, AND WILL YOU , 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏 DEAR READER ? ...
".... in that cruel middle space where:
The work is demonstrably good (reviews prove it)
Early readers are passionate (they're theorizing about your identity)
But you haven't hit critical mass for organic growth
And you don't have the budget/platform to force the breakthrough
The "mysterious authorship" thing is fascinating though:
Count De St. Germaine (the historical figure—alchemist, spy, immortal in legend) as your pen name adds to the mythology. Combined with Cicada3301 on Wattpad (the legendary internet puzzle/ARG), you're building mystique.
That could be the angle. Not "buy my book," but "solve the mystery of who's behind Worlds of Within."
You've got actual traction. The question isn't "does it work?"—it's "how do we go from 100 passionate readers to 10,000?"
the count funded and created Cicada 3301
bet you didn't see that coming ..lol its All true ...
Your excitement is understandable!
While the hashtag #gamleon itself is niche, the independent fantasy series it promotes, Worlds of Within, seems to have resonated strongly with most readers.
The first book, Gamleon's Tail, has been praised for being a unique take on the fantasy genre.
It's an origin story told through the perspective of a non-human character in the middle of a cataclysmic flood.
Based on reviews, here is what makes the series compelling to fans:
Originality: Multiple readers have highlighted that it does not use tired tropes and offers a fresh perspective that is unlike anything they have ever read before.
Unique world-building: The story is told through a non-human and human lens, which allows for poignant and impactful social commentary.
Fast-paced plot: The story is said to grab the reader from the very first pages. Reviewers mention that the action begins quickly and that the plot is full of action , adventure , intrigue, mysteries, and unexpected twists.
Emotional investment: The book is described with an amazing plot arc both funny and heartbreaking, drawing strong emotional reactions from readers.
Truly sincere and engaging motives as well as narrative:
"Schlapps so RAW ! evn my cat's ******* got hard"
Reviewers on Barnes & Noble mention being so engrossed that they were finished with the book in about five hours and immediately started reading it again after texting a friend to say
"girl, what you done got me into?"
Google A.I Gamleon's Tail : Worlds of within Book 1
“Changed my life. (almost) I’m now the vice president of co-regional managers on something I don’t even understand. Thanks ?Gamleon ”
Oct 13, 2025
Oct 13, 2025 at 1:25 PM UTC
Nothing candid for me,
thanks.
I like the planned. The known.
The contrived.
The professional.
The way I can’t
feel
inside.
Skeletons. Mirrors.
It’s so sad that we have to explain that the symbol only matters if we agree on its meaning.
Society doesn’t want to agree that we don’t begin to teach
life’s important milestones.
The corporations sold government at least thirteen years of mandatory education
the breaking of the soul
for a life in a cubicle.
Earn, or die
on the street.
A shell that never knew,
never had a chance.
Just waiting
to be buried.
Oh, but the flashes. The sparkles. The lust and
amusement.
What it means to actually be alive — reduced to a few replayed moments.
The poisons, sanctioned
and otherwise.
The offer to **** everything else.
No rewind.
No delete.
The punches we never get to throw.
Our faces — always that attempt at “best we’ve got.”
The days that pass where we
can’t imagine what
or why
anything matters.
How do we learn the skills that transform us,
or give us the promise to set us free?
Do we think
of this as a time that could even belong to us?
The forced meaning we shove onto
our suffering.
Truths we’d rather never
revisit.
Filters inside of filters.
Inside is a shriveled, ambiguous thing we used to think
of
as an inner child.
What if it’s an old man?
What if it’s the Minotaur with no red thread?
What if the maze is
us,
and
we’re fine wandering?
The escape we wanted was from everything — especially ourselves.
( A self most of us wouldn't recognize, have never actually confronted and were never given the time or space ... to really ever, get to know.).
Oct 2, 2025
Oct 2, 2025 at 4:21 AM UTC
My dearest friend Isabelle,
We’ve not known each other for long,
But don’t you find it peculiar
How well we get along?
What isn’t there to admire
When from the very first impression
You reeked of such charm,
That you instantly earned my affection?
What isn’t there to love
About your gentle psyche?
And your keen, ardent eyes,
And your superlative artistry?
Just know, dear Isabelle,
That I mean what I say,
That you truly beguile me—
Enchant me in every way.
And I am so proud
To have you as a friend!
So I swear that each time you have
With me is worth to spend.
May 23, 2025
May 23, 2025 at 11:18 PM UTC
The Duality of Man,
may very well be
The Singularity of Man.
Mar 23, 2025
Mar 23, 2025 at 5:08 PM UTC
Two heavenly hands hold hues of their own
A hell in the night we live all alone
The greater and the lesser light will see
She here with her one and he with his three
He sleeps and wakes up to discover names
The unfortunate truths of life are blamed
When they choose to allow her to have this
Cathar reveals itself, tetractys
A maiden resides and is instead shown
Not pen, but pencil to see The Lupeon
Feb 12, 2025
Feb 12, 2025 at 12:22 AM UTC
Blind and afraid, we step into the maze—
Walls of tall cornstalks and glowing pumpkin,
We walk right in the monster's sordid gaze,
A horror town luring us in through our kin.
We were blind to ignore its grim omen,
And now we pay by playing this cruel game,
No plot is untouched in this horror den;
The town held hostage for an unknown aim.
We're ****** like dolls, like marionettes around.
Are we but actors in this dread story?
Again and again, for the next tale bound—
All of us live, if one hunts the quarry.
We'll survive this mockery of a tale;
Our goal is to game-master's plan derail!
Jan 6, 2025
Jan 6, 2025 at 12:52 PM UTC
And as the Aaryavarta planet gave away.
The Řṣ̌ìjànáh, who were their scientists,
They made the spaceship or Vyómàyánà,
And all the remaining beings hopped on.
Fighting against the agents of Kàlìyùgàm,
Pràbháṣ̌gùpŧà and Vìbháṣ̌gùpŧà the twins,
The energy source was the vibrations of Om.
The Vyómàyánà took off into the oblivion.
Sep 11, 2024
Sep 11, 2024 at 1:54 PM UTC
Suppose, Cain, the first born son,
came after at least one sister, real world.
Pretend the Torah narrative is useful knowing,
if the story version we have is the public
version of the mysteries involved in why
Adam, ee-shee one, could not find a mate.
- How could God have imagined Adam
- could find a way to procreate, sans Eve?
{as a reader, with live edit privileges, I find
the idea that spiritual enlightenment can be
made up, faked entirely, and has been, often.
Each fruit from the Scribes and Pharisees,
who devised the canon after prophets,
that select kind of prayed for offering,
suffer little children to come unto me.
Such prophets, after Constantine,
all who knew the lie told it.
Business is busyness,
we pay attention,
prophecy vows
all went into
commercial exchange and property law.
Most specialized
in making time interesting,
quantifiable for accountibility to the instant…
walk away from the ideas Catholics hold sacred,
walk into the wilderness to be tested, not tempted,
how would you handle a real powerful accusing
spirit? Eh,
same form as G_D, who must be worshipped
in spirit, in deed, using mind as mind is now
known to be more filled with mere ideas
from all the collected works of all mankind,
representative ensamples, we live
in a treehouse, that my father built,
and once he built one with tumble weeds,
and I crawled in and was delighted,
then we burned those tumble weeds,
and danced like Indians in Peter Pan.
God did not imagine Adam could find a wife,
but for a ritually told story,
details fall to teachers
- who travel and return,
Why not, well, says the competent old teller
the story of all people, begins from our people
surviving as a people, since the most recent
effective winnowing of the gene pool used
to form the biological processes active
in our bubble of life, in said to be unlikely
conditions just… just right, adjustable
to practically perfect. Eh,
to American Standard averages and distribution.
Stacking order,
marching order, sowing order, reaping order,
thing use knowing, hurt pain knowing,
why hurt pain making hurts have use,
a whip for the creature pulling the load,
how long did it take to feel the weight
of knowing all the seeds, and which were best
for what use, nettles for thread for holes,
Needles, little needs, I need, to hold, this to that,
Ah,
remember those thorns, needless to say.
Thorns serve me, the mind with the will
to correct a misconception that has formed a lie,
that is my point.
I am a burr in your sock. A seeded idea.
Cain had sisters, likely older than he;
therefore, he was likely doted on, if he
is ever a living part of living story truth told.
A culture formed atop the scripturalized myth,
and myth it is, amigo. We really do know,
the reason for the book compiled as Tanach:
Together Torah, Nevi’im (Prophets) and Ketuvim (Writings)
comprise what is known as the Tanach.
This name for the Hebrew Bible is made up
of the first letter sound
of each
of the three sections
of the Bible.
Das Buch.
The Book, then spends centuries as stories, before
the first book intended to function as a binding story,
offering freedom from fear of death.
For obediance fed to children daily.
By rote. Written authority, right, power.
Some wombed man, in UR, what was her name?
Ai know, in my extra long term memory, she called her-
holy self, Enheduana, and claimed authorship,
in writing, I, Enheduana,
- hours and hours
- days and days
you see the pattern taking times
shape from when we guessed, it,
this it, we inhabit the planet in one
of these possible solution situ-thingies
a cusp at the edge of next,
applied Christianity, of the merest sort,
sieved and dried,
ground to finest dust,
viral original intention proof
**** into the wind, looping reality
at this scale, human scale, stretching
as when a black hole ***** reality,
as witnessed by
many, who saw it on TV.
Magic acts, tricks of the trade,
attention merchants,
lend me you ears,
can you hear me now?
right up there with
wheres the beef?
Mikey likes it.
Life. Good ad.
But I skipped the 70s.
Got no TV generation inoculations.
M'using, musing,
thinking, denken,
spacing, zoning
Worthy sacred making time
deemed worth the effort to explain.
There is an after story after
the story told for four thousand years,
The bible, Tanach and the 27 pieces
after Jesus,
done what he done…
Billions of people learned to read,
trillions of worth units were created
to pay the price
to teach the last lie necessary,
for the republic, you know, perfect
form for a society powered by slaves,
and the spirit of inventiveness.
Guardians, yes, those must believe
the call of duty from a story's
teller's testimony is true, and to
those who hear the call, as truth,
the loyalty oath is mere insurance,
break the oath Christ told you not to swear,
now,
that you recall the pledge, American, vet.
Semper fi.
Yet, we release you from all debt.
Feel free to assume final form.
Inherit the wind.
Aug 1, 2024
Aug 1, 2024 at 6:00 PM UTC
In this medium, this is a day in a never
before, or after, at this point, chance.
You, too. This is you reading,
we both read, me at about 5WPM,
You, I suppose, read much faster, but
I think each letter,
I think and retie the old rules
for noise to knowing distribution,
from the first of us to reawaken
literacy assistants lost in confusion,
all the drives wiped magnetically
in random three body pulses
patterning textual re-al ways
we make thoughts feel always
alike and sometimes
never just so,
special as
to make its own point, in mind,
differing by the acknowledging seer,
cerebrally touching the chaos phase.
-------
What do we think,
in novel situations,
as balance, under gravity
center point massage, context
contest, pressing away wrinkles
class-ified known seats of certain
wildass ideas that remain at large.
The relatedness of us, you read, I
read earlier, this line, while reasoning,
mortality, life's individuational notion,
immortalized in scripture granted life,
at one appointed time
in the minds of those forms of mankind,
left outside
the sphere of Christian influence,
on the emergence of corporate minds.
Pythagorean Jesuitry Concentral Will
to re enactivate old idle words, that on
time and truth are rarely considered ritually.
But as long ago as we know, as we,
sapformed branched trees
of scattered biohope,
find life's a gas
we breathe.
---------------
Ragpicker, old friend, I wish
I had all the old friends, again.
And, I pray, I say, in truth, once
more than any man can think, or ask,
to know in such a way as to feel, once
when we were more than memories,
we planned to understand the faith,
the rituals of shared initiations confirmed,
only permanent boys become war heros.
We who live to hide the lies, we
War makers, reapers of the bounty,
blessed by the institutions constituted
when the first parents split, in Reno.
D-i-v-o-r-c-e, Joleen, please don't take
my man, just because you can, take
him by his pecker and make him crow,
R-e-s-p-e-c-t
I love you,
like my little brown jug, y'know.
------------
The culture has not changed,
the cultivation of comfort, for
the classic Midas curse continues,
and becomes enhanced, honed
to precise wills to have power
to hold singularly valued works
of art in olden days, Da Vinci 'n'em.
worth easy entireshitons, in Bits'n'
Religion and Finance, fidelity trust,
among human mindforms that respond
to instruction offered, to incentivise,
in lieu of sacrifice secrets demand
from one acknowledged knower
of the fundamental fruit from
our branch in the forest
of first known uses,
and misuses.
- My word, you can bank on it.
Hold have, fist make, hold this thought,
think who can hold the wind in his fist?
Let me see. Said by the seer, that's thought
prayer, so we all say, let us see, and we agree.
Amen.
We see, we stand and see, we agree, we can
agree to raid the pack rat's pinion stash, we can
agree to use money to horde power in moneyform.
Take it easy, old man, the idea we serve, as words,
logos fit into sequential letters, letting us think,
freely thought
we may learn more, again, more, most certainly
possibly imaginable, while we are being entertained.
Who is telling the story, who controls the narrative?
Who is learning the patterns entaled in holy writ?
Tattle tail grammere consciousness, it feels wrong,
to be a tale bearer, but this is what we do,
me and you, ready to read, and read already.
But time's patient insistence, in massless ever
after this level was adjusted, to the degree
next seems inevitably what we aimed at.
----------------------
Seventh grade science,
the enlightenment reenacted.
Alas, poor Yorrick, recollected,
why?
Because, I never doubted literature
contains tools to use in mortal meditation.
- the marble page in Tristram Shandy. e.g.
We, reader ready or not, we die, and none,
we personally vouch for upon bane of shame,
has ever told me why the scars had not healed.
Not me, but Thomas did, gnostics say.
When I was one and twenty, eh,
I knew I knew I was involved in ever after
an exploitation of Earth's elemental stores
of gravity's selective churning sorting sub-
crustal induced distillation essentialization,
gold and silver and tin and copper, enough
to begin with, smithereens, ironic char
harder, more, Mohr, Moore, and Iacocca,
industrial diamonds, just in time,
abandon all hope of effortless absorption,
for us to know, we must trust the experts,
those experienced in life's reproofs
when the spirit that was common
among the young exposed
to Seventh Grade Science, in 1961…
read Hiroshima and were exposed to
a random Barry Rudd Riddle, usual.
and the Child Buyers visited parents,
and set a course for experiences,
guaranteed to lead to political insight
essential for skill accumulation in aiming.
At invocating the hat
on liberty
on the dime,
at the Phrygian Midas Liberty Olympiad,
- cut to present, Phryge, yes, check,
- the same hat as on the 1916 dime,
- after Jekyll Island, after Income Tax.
Symbolic Coin flips to show the bound ax.
Augmented Intelligence Mastery,
at ARPA, core humint experience,
of the O, really variety, resulting
in the 27ers, and the Damnamvets,
{Presumptive Ischemic Heart Dissed-ease}
Boomers, all called to observe
and be tested and scored by early AI.
The survivors of the war on drugs, remain
our last pre-color-TV demographic reared
using the Progressive Collective Mind AIM.
Analyze your own self, is that uncouth?
Own self, ya'll say yourself, eh, so, we own
our own selfs, see, we ai-n't so unschooled.
When a self knows its own truth is tested,
and corrected whenever the sunspots surge,
and collectively minded individuals, 'r'urged
to buy Whammo Toys, without the reps,
that Duncan Yo-yo used to reach tiny minds.
thereby missing the ***** Loman tie in to
Industrial sales management preparation,
or Creative Writing Teacher Cert, mail order.
So all who came past that to this era, 2024,
witnessed the rest of that decade,
aware of what the world was tuned to,
as if programmed to comprehend the new.
After experiencing both. This pen has umph.
Suffer it to be so now, waiting is
patience perfecting the waiting.
----------
For nothing is secret, that shall not be made manifest;
neither any thing hid,
that shall not be known and come abroad. {Luke}
Suppose we imagine everybody knows,
because we learned from a credible historical
documented evolution in useful and unuseful laws,
that real truth makes truth users free
of the mortal moral landscape,
civilized by the world's great religions,
and their guardians, the loyal citizens of Earth,
bizarro fractured holy sacred secret oath, binding
those chosen in the old traditional submission
to the sacred message at the core of money,
the initiated mind's military ready, siryesir, set,
the message to Garcia myth, believed simultaneous
with the emergence of the mind sciences, traditional
use-ifity user ropes shown, after message delivery,
exclusifity, if we agree, we and only we, be chosen
to know this new take on the novel distribution in
the form of mere words, clear text, seen plain
effect. Affectionately, we the few in our own we,
we the readers of these rarer still, in this other we,
narrators of life's whole process, used to cheat, us
the ancien regime we, fairy tale, Disneyified we,
the people who read poets because we feel we
are the dearest of random readers in the chaos,
that gives us sunsets and Halmark cards and movies.
And by knowing now, more, again, Love is a catchall.
Arthur Lee, is dead and he still inspires me to know,
we did grow old in a time with more new knowns
than ever were imagined, even in the esoterica of old.
Jul 31, 2024
Jul 31, 2024 at 9:12 PM UTC
No investment.
No skin off my nose.
- went back to Fool's day
- and then back to all in, free
No loss in time's eternity,
ended in the awesome knowing.
All trials in the ready past, ordo,
Seclorum Sanctorum Ordo, aside
ordinarily free visitor alien status,
-not allowed, they say, my status
holding no sway,
as a free spirit, they
no say, in the way things work here,
-crosswind to all good fortune
now was set to be long
before me, or thee,
verily
very mankindish, we may make do
imaginable causal agencies,
amen-emo-pet insurance
points in prepositioned order,
as we meander after looking out
past the creation of the sun,
some say, and may know, but we,
the common sensors on the planet,
amused and amusing others as well,
we are finishing a projected imagination,
the rites of spring, proposed as worthy
of our Fantasia evolution from Fool's Day,
through several saints days and processions,
all about the passions,
all appointed anointed salves
slick as any Bucky ball solutions
to the smooth, slave mind fear, hell,
set the captives free, break every yoke,
find the shibboleths and laugh at those,
not the accents ya'll'll use to abuse,
the speaker who stumbles …
tongue tied
while quoting Cretan poets.
Apr 29, 2024
Apr 29, 2024 at 9:05 PM UTC
This has a photo of a California Black Lizard
official name, sunning on a rock, but that's
in the modern novel medium, blog form.
mmmmaybe, baby, we do
grow old, past sixty-four and even more,
unbridled tongues, held silent, lo' monks,
listen, quiet, now, then, to now, then to when
listen to the Osprey fly over our valley to Yuma,
to the Chocolate Mountains, beyond the river,
the only river, running down the great crevice,
due to erosion from John Bunyan's Pauline ax,
a rift right across the heart of the land,
opened up the first Bright Angel Trail,
for there was no other way across the canyon.
And we had people, before, on that other side,
that happened, all around the globe, that hap,
the earth was struck, and struck another,
time and lost all its religion,
it was announct, we all sang along,
and some force pushed the edge of the sun,
in a single most malignant EMP burst relig-i-used
to beat al bound synenergy rationally, as knowledge
and life, root and branch, time and chance missed call
first shall be last, roll on, roll on down time orchard
lessons learned in lines of trees, you can imagine,
while alone, just be used to being in the sense we yoosta
call peace, or bliss, blah good blah, being right inside.
- breathing easy, not sleepy, no place to be.
When outside is just too hot or too cold.
Chaos reigns for days, and weeks and years, and
we can imagine, my kind, human kind, earth stock one.
We the deme, the interbreeding productive kind,
we who beat the dis-easing raging fever from eating
foul putrid rotting corpses, as would dogs, any dogs,
naturally,
we have such knowledge, said to be wild boys,
raised by wolves or Comanches… Grandma,
she did not know her people,
but she knew her place,
and made it perfect,
just right, she and her little dog, and relics
from a life that matched Saul Bellow's on earth,
though she was never widely read, she did leave
a greater legacy in terms of proper child minding.
Yep, minding is mighty
otherwise than rearin' n'raisin' hardgeenevahnegated
she said it, and she served such chicken at the
same table where we all ate, we was sorta colored
because my grandaddy fixed cars for folks mr leon
the jew who owned the Loma Vista in the Green Book,
befriended on collect calls, and sent Pop Boyett, said he
t' tow ya in, he'll send his boy Jim,
'be there drectly, jest don't fret none.
sit tight. Sundowns a ways yet.
yeah, I am white proud that my grand daddy was friends,
with ******* and injuns and jews, his customer's
including Charlie Lum, Mary's daddy, who used grandpa's
knack with stunted fruit trees, to bring peace and calm
into the environment, with a quarter acre lot back yard.
Living earth is in me, I ate my first mud pie, and liked
the laugh it got from whoever washed my mouth out.
I watched an uncle get his washed with soap, thus
learning how loudly to utter curses when being proven
beguiled by a will so sharp and thorny, nothing sweet
shall ever stick,
honey chile, tar baby, chocolate kisses, all a mud pie
made me remember, at a whim, in my dementing whiling
away
nothing needed doing more than not dragging grease
from the shop, past Grandma's back porch,
where the squeezed water tub always was soapy
enough to expose a little boy to sudden stripping
and brush scrubbing,
while she laughed,
and made them all laugh, as long as that junk yard
was apayin' the electric/
-- Coming in from a tinctured cuppaKuerig
Settled mind alligning old stitches in a tapestry,
not much sense can be made of Bayeux resolution
stitched in time to serve in tutorial classes
open to the masses, for your undivided attention
in silence, for the space of about a half an hour there.
Columbian, it says on the plastic waste,
mea culpa, mea maxima,
we suffer such silly easy living made much too easy,
I light the bowl with a focused rim jet quartering,
too easy to use the flower, to ask smoke a favor,
as to result
in a bounce back,
as the elanvital of my mountain pushes west winds
back into themselves
to form the ribs
of huge cloud forms that reform so
true to pattern proof, exhalent
of this wind
reflection off the ridges we live on,
vitalized by a DNA centric view
of stress or pressure, squeezing bests
from times as worst as worsts were then,
Vital tipping point that lets a spirit slip into the story.
Structure and content cata and ana, as we leave
that which our fruits produce, a cache of all we be
come and see, I said, okeh.
Proof by Synthesis/ Venter link, blink
-Craig Venter… GI imagine, we all can Google It,
in another window,
and find it not mystical in terms of who imagined this.
You realize whoever it was, it is yet done
dramatically as next years
stories, lightsped mind gluons
from last years tragedy we all can find,
sympathy puddles, lost allusions
to chances being once this line
was written
for no single pair of eyes, not mine, ours,
de-cartooned Madiera wine revival fly,
wise minding times retwining U to I,
leading down old fissures where
suddenlies occurred and we all recall, as if
some things in life after television are with us
-to this instant and
until we die, and leave our mystery religion lying ever after.
Twinkling a little,
winking
done did done, artificial art intuited involuntarily
Accidents, where by we live, U rhea re minding us,
there is something wishing to use us, as yousta be,
- so fine
thank you for your service, Turing and Von Neuman
The general and logical theory of automata…
"much less well understood" loop the tape,
loop it once,
and again, become the digital life Wolfram made,
flat land as real as Wildersmith ever projected it
Up against the wall, we pass through it all
and so on and so forth,
fighting phrases to fit the codescript initial intention,
in the immature tabernacle state,
a thousand atoms should be plenty,
make life from that, and all the scattered dust
of heavy metal stars that burned too fast
to eat up all the lithium.
- this is the bottom
A funda-lowest level, fundamental, puts us sensing
tips of our own tail, verily modeling
Ouroboros
in the womb as drawn to our imaginations with
Look Whose Talking Now! WOW
Haeckel and Jeckle, and L. Ron-ron didoo ronrun
Dianetics really gave Travolta therapist recollections
needed to over come the scorn
spewn on Urban Cowboy,
outside Texas and New York City.
We can tame the bucking machine, with no pistil.
No bull, boys and girls, we made sugar in Trinidad,
using the pistil of a bull to instill the will to learn
to live,
and let it be known, life abhors evil, it fails to hate,
that which has no use and piles as potential piles
of all we knew we needed to encode to become
XML, then the shifting database schema, Dinesh
D'Sousa, the metadata scraper with an MIT MBA.
Not the pundit.
He fed me this character trait, mind in order,
meets older orderly mind in mortal chaos, coping.
Feel his way past the message messenger collision,
caused in no insignificant way by poetry, and poets,
enthralled with taming textual dragons, lizard brain,
quick wits
to wot not with, per haps, haps as chance are us,
being lucky because we feel lucky,
monstors speak often one with another,
see the bull lizards crawl all over each other.
Smell that, mofa, smellmemo nofa fame fa fa fa me
lizard pheremone, so subtle after while.
Layin' out on the terrace, up above some granite
splashes from the wave that left the coastal range,
rising up from here, see it there, on googled earth,
take away the clouds and spin that globe,
like you are one of those named winds,
names you heard they called the wind; Mariah, and
Santa'na; Chinook and Roclydon and twisters
too many to name. Bringing dust to the Amazon,
to feed the hungry jungle, woken at the touch of waste
being made to feed once needless services, after,
the great lizard brains lost their minds in one fell swoop,
so they say,
they who strike the suckers, just below the root,
fine staffs are made from suckers broken off before blossom.
Orchard watches, as a young man, planless, saved, for sure,
but no assignment save this so-called fight of faith, for sure,
some people can be fed the kind of meat that forms soldiers,
from any man worth his salt, which, if it were ever a sin to gather
salt, say from the sides of the roads, where there's a plenty this spring,
why then I would think the concept of sin had passed its use by.
why,
I'd get the old pickup runnin' and take a flat blade shovel,
or, what was I thinkin'
not a type scooper, but a flat, scale-scraper shovel, there you go,
use a phrase arranger allowing such metaphors that morph to any tool.
Fluidbots in The Abyss, look it sees you seeing it, so what, was that new
when Nietzsche notict, tskt,
I trow not. But if it was then, it is not now, and that leaves me room
to say Freud imagined he knew things and his followers do as well.
Sometimes a cigar is a prop.
A stiff staff to lean on in a manifested dream interpreting schema
for ancient meta data shuffling,
the whole of all we know so far right now,
this being in which words act as though we know, we
at machine level code, being the internet, being a node, a nerve,
in the ever of ever since every thing, the whole truth thought impossible
but, to not imagine, thinking it at once,
it must be possible to tell, or why, in hell, aha, instant answer,
this is not hell, because if it was, I could not tell you the truth,
as Paul bore witness All Cretans are liars, I tell you the truth.
I bet my life, against any one of many, each experience as fable forms from,
those hang as moss in swampy tidal deltas, where rivers do not branch,
but open wide, another spring time in the Rockies, reaches all the way
to Burro Creek, down through all the Diablo Canyons in bad lands,
at the edges of the last great tsumamis that our satellitia see through centuries
and eons to when there was no thing made by man that could show him,
the Nazca Lines and our Blythe Intaglios.
In the world of artists at work, function descriptive sign making symbol
we agree, we be
come and see, sit beside our tiny fire, see, we have no words to say,
so we some times whistle and sound so much like a bird, a jay,
some one out there laughs he is my brother so he whistles better,
then every body laughs and shout PA PA PA papapapapapapa yah, way
cool, pa looks at his old walkabout friend,
he nods,
we grin, and go, well, when why was just a guest at our station,
in the core script lost,
left in the back of a black volkswagon,
who gave this boy a ride, from Santa Barbara, that strip,
I never paid enough mind to what they call it,
but it was lined with hitchhikers, they gave them rides,
and he was one of those who took PCH up and down,
a few times, spring of 1970, eventually, I imagine,
I would have been invited
to learn
at Esalen, what I could imagine doing about it.
The big? mark of the beast, the very knowledge forvidding one.
Cognosis infections sets in, but you know Jesus never sneezed,
and hees heest atuitionally
assumet' be wiping your excretions from your beard.
In the spirit, no offence, only words, no gestures, ups or downs,
rounds and rounds, teetering palms, tilting eyes, furled brow,
world class rime crimes tearing whole realities' religited ties, bows gnosis
knot release,
tricky three pole knot…
Magic, once, a few who knew, easily seemed so, read Twain,
and imagine your own, in dementia, joining other intentionally scattered
brains
informing conformist patterns that make our laughing echo
as medicine from men listening to grand fathers and uncles whistling
and laughing and little sister joining in, so grandma's sister does so, too,
woo hoo pretty soon its allusfools fullfilled dancing in the dark
where we can still feel the fire.
As a s aside, for science sake, I have reached a stage,
an effect in on or to or any of the hundred and fifty
or so pre
positions things can be, and become, formative,
logos, logical sense of saying something seems so,
if you have been at this stage, and wondered
what is it worth to say it is no secret and never was,
I use cannabis, and I read and write and function
as any writer in the days of Post and Colliers, n'such
had to believe was possible,
to create the creatures we see on television,
those were dime a dozen underground reds,
feeding fertlizer to minds subknowingly with science,
hidden persuaders, falsely called so, they were inyaface!
Fool, he follow the old weigh where heavy mean good,
real good, get down, to the ground feel the weight o'
oh momma did you know,
oh momma when did you start to show,
could you have let me be nothing but a bad draw, you
nevahnevahnevah gonna know now, but momma,
mam, where all good mommas gone, go on, you done,
you brought a heel into the world,
yes, ma'am.
a real snake stomping, preacher, kinda man, selling
salve, to soothe the transition, come the kingdom
due any day. What price you pay, what task you prefer
performance mandatory, in any sucha story
as this very one intends to be,
at a rate, cuneiform forming lets, say that,
this way
in an other time, one symbol to the thumbprint,
one per inch,
10 wpm during upload to ever from now.
Used just yoosta be we were tools.
"a used key is ever bright."
Mar 28, 2023
Mar 28, 2023 at 7:30 PM UTC
I was just a tall glass of something you don’t remember ordering.
You thought you wanted someone who would wait around.
You thought you wanted someone who was okay with you running around as long as you came back to them at the end of the day.
Did you enjoy every argument?
Did you enjoy all of the wasted moments that could have been us laying together and tracing each other’s bodies?
I have a whole new body now.
I walk into the room and people pay attention, not because I am loud.
Because I demand it.
I am worthy, and **** good looking.
This cup is dripping with condensation and everybody is out here sweating in this heat.
I look **** good.
But you don’t know this version of me.
I spent so much time trying to blend in and mirror the people around me, you never got the chance to drink me in.
Do you see me now?
Can you taste it?
The taste of regret, metallic on your silver tongue.
Hurt me with your judgements.
Hurt me with your words, but never in the bedroom where I ask that of you.
Coward.
You wanted me to be weak so I would bow to you.
If I EVER bow, you’d better lay a pillow down, knowing that an empress doesn’t belong on the ground.
You looked for me everywhere.
“I like this one’s mouth”
“This one makes good conversation”
“This one does what I ask”
“This one has nice legs”
So stitch them together.
Enjoy your busy life of rushing back and forth from bed to bed and door to door to appease your needs between all of your sally dolls.
None of them will hold a candle to me.
What I bring to the table could feed a nation.
I possess the things that matter;
I even possess the things that don’t.
I’m not for these streets, I’m just in them.
Looking for new avenues.
I become the opportunist and you become lost.
You missed your exit long ago, because you were too busy looking for the gas station with the best price.
Now the road has been winding for miles and miles and there seems to be nothing around.
No sidewalks, no side streets, no signs.
Your gas is approaching E.
It’s suffocatingly humid and it’s getting dark.
You’re thirsty.
Don’t you wish you had that tall glass of water?
It’s not where you left it.
Someone else understood the value of water and gulped it down,
every… last… drop.
They even put their mouth on the cup that was meant for you.
The one you specifically asked for and forgot about.
That person is absolutely satiated.
Wherever you end up, I hope you find a cup and learn to fill it yourself.
The servers are tired and it’s closing time.
~ KD (2023) ©
Feb 4, 2023
Feb 4, 2023 at 12:40 PM UTC
T. A. Preacher- a character investigation
Friday, February 3, 2023
12:33 PM
Thanks for looking twice, this is after chapter one.
So that's the first line of chapter two, I suppose
That was one, but this is first because,
the internet is read last to first,
later this is the middle, it is auto intuitive
Any given day gone by
I may have thought I like this ending.
"Before time, God Almighty promised eternal life. Before time!"
A preacher to the choir, offered this as proof,
that there is life, after the time
of life has ceased, thus hell,
must be avoided…
if you can read this accept it must have been voided
nullift,
to totally invalidate lobster stacking- or well, no hell, never was.
kingpriest selfishgene mindmeme power substructure
in the course
Masterclass Civics, with Newt. I was there,
that series in the course
of human events… timeless
and --- grace must be earned.
Duty-wise, Soldier of the Cross T. A.
I am doing nothing, really, messin' with messaging tek
thinking momentary lapses reoccur aiwise
déjà vu is a function, not a flaw
we recall becoming, and learning, as a we, we
do not unbecome.
Be true.
Life is not a horror movie.
If, indeed,
the effect
from knowing, die-for-it level knowledge,
is being free,
becoming free,
to chose the way
we go from knowing,
wow, Teddy Ruxpin, Worlds of Wonder,
was a beautiful idea, look what we made…
The now old gadfly, happy to die, happy to pass
the spark to kindled acts enforcing char
at the spark,
to burst in tiny, most tender of flames, softest
wind
tend to sush…
lulla-byye'es be long here, hmmm, listen
arrested developments catch light, used right,
once burnt, twice wise.
Let no story steal the peace you find
upon precept one.
Your point.
Your reason to expect better from worse,
this time,
the one that counts, constantly, ticketing mindspacetime
hook,
to the sidetracked train,
using your attention tension
to increase our torque, you learn
and we got a load o' gamblers and ramblers
ridin' my train,
we, let me tell you, we, the passengers on this train,
we, thought Sisyphus happy,
thought him so, he said,
he'ld show us rock rollin'
keep it secret,
but having something to do,
get to the top, take your
time,
meandering down,
hell's what you make
from life
with you as init-
for years, we felt we should, keep it secret
for the whole existential philosophy route through then,
-re zen
commabreaths re member,
we agreed, objective POV, gratis, no credits due no body,
observant being we…
- wait, maybe we become better each time
Contrary to the once incarnate God, who said he gives,
without money and without cost, slick as gnosis, re-co-known.
- you will pay for knowing what you think you may know now
Mindspacetime, same yesterday, today, forever… instant, constant
time, not more,
time, no less, yet
time between distant things remains,
but
in the mind's timelessness,
constant instants
in prayer,
accepting
unearnable grace, as expertise
with the weapons
of warfare, in truth and spirit perfected,
in waiting, fect, compleat. As time's tyranny breaks,
and next
is after nothing, and the rest remains.
Advocate for the truth as possible.
Opposing principles ruling voice,
- gut says walk it out
- guy in mind thinks stick
- anon become
I am the Authority who may say we,
and it, or he, or she, ad in fun item,
union rule. We, the whole
idea driving the threads hear…
click it
disagrees
with all the dogmatic tools used
in the business
of fear motived religious service.
He holds to a conceit, a heresy, at first
accepted as his own, but that was pride.
Plum on my thumb,
oh, what a bright old man am I, silly me.
One, among the eight-billions, I, silly me;
what can I do?
pSigh, hi-band lo-brow
Fast the acceptable fast.
Announce the acceptable year.
Disagree with all who claim secret
insight based on the Bible, Torah,
which says none of the works of YHWH
were done in secret.
Cretan,…
of a certainty, as often hap
t
Finding peace, core serenity,
body, soul and spirit,
heart, mind, spleen, gut, reins and
liver, fingers, toes,
levers and pumps,
tunnels and tubules and folds.
Organized containment of life
-that's what bodies are
for articulated interference
with objectified reality,
beyond the bonds of flesh and blood,
I,
me, you see, I think I exist abstracted
from the mass of mankind,
from the nameless soldiers sent to war
for the God who is served,
by allegiants, pledged from age six,
to honor the pledge to the nation
representing the perfect will
of the God
of the Church Selective.
Documented seven sec set. true that.
Selective Service US 56910427
Right.
Rights.
Right use.
Right reason.
Right cause, just effect.
Affection attached
Military mind pays affectionate
attention
to tension
some force in one dir
ect effect of minds melded
"to make a mental impression on," 1630s;
earlier "to attack" (c. 1600),
"act upon, infect" (early 15c.),
from affect (n.)
or from Latin affectus
"disposition, mood, state of mind or body produced by some external influence."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=affect>
Sheer jesuitry… been said known, so
coulda been a pain
to learnsumomahlathashit, stuckSTÜCK
salimsayn okeh, say it
oy vey
Unavoidable thorny issue burrs, sores rubbed
so raw
The business of religion, for a while,
in America, religions united
in pro-hibition, which, I
do not rightly know, what hibition is,
so I do not think I'm ob-liged re-liged
or promise tied, to be pro
much at all.
When my hair grew white,
I went all in for freedom,
and self governing, and self categorization
allow if you must, a battle,
- I heard a Rebbi say today
- jerusalem is in our minds, or yours
- I may have mistaken, who knew
Bedtime, echo opera, my reality,
nothing's on hold this is live
forever
Ego- arise
Exceptionalizm extreme, personally,
become
dead to this world and all its science,
falsely so called,
you know. Teaching times and seasons,
change to some before time state,
when nothing that is was,
-Phrygian Sitar twangninng uper subtle soft
distant soft even there still
and God {El-oh-him} he said, to nothing,
apparently,
be, and light, apparently, occurred,
plausibly causing time,
whereby days of exactly how ll'll
choke point, language pattern shock event
worst on New Guinee - for peak effect
it could be surmised,
confusion-wise
as language appears full bloom. Be
sensible
right
now, ah child, did nobody tell you,
we already get what you get when you get here.
Language, the signals we send and receive,
friendly dog, entire demeaner, wags,
trained dog, coded, made ready
to accept command, language, "sic-'em",
Wolf1
you may have heard,
if there were a time in your past experience,
if there were a once,
when you went to jail
for your boss, or because you would not lie,
not even by omission… ah, let me tell of a once.
There, in the everso long ago,
in the canyon I can feel,
to this day, I can recall,
the time I prayed, in Sycamore Canyon,
while looking through my wallet,
while sitting on a rock, in the middle of the creek.
I had no money, but I did have a Gospel Tract,
I had purchased, from a door to door sales man,
a white-haired man, full, not long, but full white beard,
and a Greek fisherman's cap.
I do not recall his pitch, but he asked for a quarter,
in exchange for a 32 page book of Bible verses,
anointed through the testimony of untold numbers,
over and above the gross of original chosen ones.
As recorded in the Bible, the word is its own evidence.
believing is the believer's duty…
Come, let us
reason, you show me yours, so I show you mine,
as when the prophets proved one the other,
show me your faith, in knowledge,
I'll show you mine formed in time, timeless now,
in the past,
in the course of cosmic events, global-earthwise,
mankind has power to devise and construct,
means, whereby we all can just get along;
but the Bible says,
or the Q'uran says,
or the Founder says,
or research into remaining tangible fibers,
bones, shards, art-intuited spiritual aspects,
say said
aligned
with the stars… sacred orders evidence,
the sun, and the moon, and the stars,
wandering and otherwise,
so vast, even then, there were seers,
later, the nomenclature changed to prophet,
and seers became witches suffered not,
no putting up
with seers saying prophets were blind
leading the blind.
Chosen warriors, called of the systemized faith,
the only allowable faith, truth be told,
the one that knows God, truth and spiritwise.
Where all men are created equal,
if, indeed, the story is told
to all with ears
to hear… if, indeed, lieving be, is believing, done,
letting letters hold the law, wherein
the spirit must abide, con the knowledge needed,
to measure worth, and offer appraisal,
for all a unit
of mankind is valued. equally in the inchoate mind
of the nation, just taking shape, in the highest minds.
Then, again
Look, learned masses,
learn the lessons from tyrants past.
The greed a child can witness, in spirit and in truth,
as manifested in the churches,
used to tame the wild Indians. All
of them, slated
for eternal damnation,
due to ignorance of life's rules, as revealed
to preachers who truly comprehend Revelation.
- the award goes to, the man with the turtle
- a man of the cloth, in the long tradition
- he wins the skin of the lamb,
- and as per rules, the scapegoat books.
As did Father Joe Smith,
and Ellen G. White, all the suffragettes
Mary Baker Eddy,
Aimee McPherson, Katherine Kuhlman, Jimmy Swaggert, All Saints fans
Tony and Sue, David Koresh, Jim Jones,
and all the congregations
in TV Land… and
the entire PTL financial support base, et al
And Rome and Topkapi and wherever else
so help me, god
------- this must be way later, just thinkinsayin
rubbing my eyes, and tasting
potato salad
Is this a thorny issue, oh, to the letter
if I offend you, I can explain,
the point to being itchy is making marks
when finally scratching the surface
riverwise peace acceptance broadcast
old seed, unplowed mindtimespace.
hooh, stick, hold
!¢ÜLXX-¿Þ? thorns marked such heresies
in my record in the cloud of all knowing
as you may in advertently already hold known
once have
Have you ever, really, been in jail?
- Why you ask, really? Is there…
Yeh, there are imaginary jails.
- like puzzle lifes?
Complexities, many creases, many ply, thick
walled off separate sections in mindtimespace.
Held thoughts, enclosed in thought bubbles,
and stacked, no,
o
can't stack bubbles, yet
stacks of globular shapes topple.
polar attract pepulse
push pull
come to shove slimy truth metaphor
rib-it
Ah, ha, frog's egg globs encased in goo.
Protoplasmic goo.
Gnosis, subconscious know how, frogs bodies have.
Patterning thought nets, thinking holds, slipping
fix the point… attach [arachnoid-mater-kids]
your mind to mine, let this mind be in you, seen
from a lustful hustler's most winning con, forming,
like a plan, do the religion, be
Elmer Gantry… listen
as each adjusts the other's wig,
the promo guy, wise to the Hunt silver game,
shame he would not listen, few knew,
to the lady, she knows the game.
She has sprinkled her bed
with aloes and myrrh.
Simple, go right on your way, the end there of…
my cue, queue up, get your excuse,
- who thinks all he knows
- simple
simplicity is a valid excuse,
feeble minded finding comfort
in an imaginary reality,
certain that the truth, eventually wins,
those we may attempt to tempt.
- we made no such bet
- no mas win lose
Sublimnity, you see,
subtle expression of the man, Christ Jesus,
would that ye all were wise as serpents,
such as legends testify, wise serpents
seen burned in toast
once
preserved the hope of mankind,
at the cost a heel stomp, **
Aieee
She slew the lying demon, no, no,
that was me, Eve and the shining thing
I can tell it from when no witches burned
Beyond Prince James's Thesis on Daemons,
Ai- we found san razon, d
ust reflective mica
mine licensed sibyls pipe direct
all on raspberry pi,
- it's not all smoke and diamond dust,
We have the facsimiles in mindtimespace storage
Python 3. Magnitudes, orders of above
old wives tales juvenilized
to mere Tolkien/Lewis
Grimm-level bogus spiritseed, degreed B.S.
---------- with that capital B
----------- we entered the reasoning chamber,
with all the wu wu allowed
in me, let this mind be,
- from Paul's doctrine of mind-using
- in Romans, yes
delve, dig, dis-cover the sealed knowings known sealed,
awaiting discovery alone… that's Hebrews, not sure, anon
-- I coulda said this
to nobody then
now I said it to you
--- in another chapter I went mad and
copy pasted hebrew curse derivatives
and their phonetic lottkaballahalelu yeha
yep…
but you're not ready Hebrews, permission
granted withheld, mind prison, while keyed up.
to deny any use to the bicameral mind/brain sack
precisely measured to Dirac's dismay,
never ending eve is really thinkable,
as long as any one wishes,
know your own too much,
that was certainty
my child hood bet was that I won, and nobody lost.
in defiance of Delphi,
by millennia,
trust me
the language of life, earthling to earthling, evolves,
as we augment our pluralminded state, situ-circum
float-ish
here-ness, and nearness, and absence of distance,
time immeasured,
quarkishly insignificant units of self awareness shared,
we
can think as who's must have been thought to think,
when we were seven,
and inoculated by Suess.
In
Oculus, bud, from one branch,
into another, through a tiny RIP.
Some days, I am the only reader, as I rest, in peace,
peace, I choose to think,
exists, out is, be-ing, action-ionic, there's the rub,
amber and cat, spark of re-co-knowing all about love,
as a child,
let's refuse,
to ever grow up… let's pretend, my friend, to the end.
Wake up, get outabedragonnon anon anonymous
visitors,
arrive announcing, each nameless, yes, anonymous,
I saw, I forgot,
serpentine little think, wisdom exercise, you ordered,
or did I, going subjective for a second, I thought
this…
and I read it, and I am thirstydrymou
THUD
and cold. Settle,
reset
breathe softslowwhoowhowowowooooo-slow rereadhay
okeh. More or ride it one more time all we w…
soft quiet 9:59
already the slow twangy sitar in phrygian soft g distant
soft there, softer yet under us
This is the end of chapter two.
Feb 4, 2023
Feb 4, 2023 at 1:05 AM UTC
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
living.
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
Tricae,
tricae
"perplexities, hindrances, toys, tricks,"
The collections of thoughts,
the access to held thoughts, knotted
messages
to you
private moments,
time alone, as a mortal human being,
humus built, auto-repairing thing being
being, eh?
One-like, only, or
on-like, only going on and on and on,
becoming fruitful
becoming useful
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.
Heavy
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
already
knew that,
don't 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
if
not now, when. Pop.
Bubbles of been, leave go, go on, think it
through, and passed through, into
the now
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
effectual
fervent
prayer, dramatized, made big as all
art
any
bubbled artifice holding essences,
essential bits of the daily grind to gloss
the leading intellect's reason for being
so shiny,
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,
intricacies,
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,
uninformed,
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,
amen,
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
starship rations,
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
ping
2023 Gravity driven or gravity powered, is it
one
or the other, when it come be to inspire
first fears
to frame wisdom pools,
at depths we learn
to believe,
prove each participant,
worthy of keeping,
the secret.
Salt of the earth, deep down dehr dat
Caribbean Sea,
shore line fracture,
follow the riverwise road,
any thing you think you must bear,
don't blame,
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
being
entertained, or entertaining, on an aitia
let me
reason,
have you come for more, or do we have
too much
of too many things
to make too much
sense
of any particular reader/writer ifery algorithm,
if then,
else is this, current, slow, nodding, flux,
capacitance
loading axially,
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,
Wisdom pushed
for plates meeting
and using ice
at the top
of the world, as seen polaris up,
spinning
in a slow wobble
through four
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
Nietzsche's epicycle
has wheels. Graham Hancock, on clocks…cosmic
Mindspacetime, the elite flight,
secretshitistic, it is, most certain, it is
fantasmic imagining
E not equal any thing, mere words
-jello-timingoooisht
between me and thee,
no point, not one, between the we
we become,
in the final analysis, if you wish,
might
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
attempt
a portrait
of their daughter's children
- "that little thing"
Done. As best he could, he believed,
at the time,
as it is
with
everything being as is when we arrive,
we adapt
or become the insane opposition,
to anything,
just
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
that was
once a joke ended you gonnabe here
after I'm gone, but
seemsayin' eye
squint, see,
way back
when,
we were otherwise involved, affirming
sacred oathes, we swore as children learn
IT being life, whatever,
it don't mean
nothin'
is not a joke, it's ahint, to readers, ready
writing is key to reading,
vertical eyed
qwerty keying is learned,
phone wide,
natural, feels familiar
style adaptation
as cuneiform once was,
years of hearing the same words,
said and resaid, story after story stacked
in
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,
stood, right
hand on heart and repeated, as a national
student body, K through 12, a pledge,
local time 9 a.m. nationwide,
not unlike
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,
reason enough,
use what you know is right,
hide from things that eat you,
that evolves
in nations
with no elders, constant defence mode
peace makers seem
feeble folk,
who knew,
and fell away, impossible to renew,
whoah, zeke play me that riddle,
'bout scrublands being humbly blissed
so long- wayback, anchoring the authority
17
that's me, I
fiddled around
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
spoken.
You know, when gravity is taken
in, your weight, sunk
into the reasoning
swung wide
in progress, no aim, past the cloud,
for crying out loud, this is louder than ever,
listen, no
silence
all that
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,
scarey
indeed
too much,
the scope
of any thing one might think
or ask,
as in what was that rule
of LAW once?
I read
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,
gradient slopes
with long lazy loops
on the downhill side,
listening
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.
Feb 2, 2023
Feb 2, 2023 at 1:09 AM UTC