#passtime
Downton Abbey’s going off the air.
I’m not through yet, it’s just not fair.
Nothing before that show ever had
That kind of class, that degree of flair.
Life without my weekly Downton
Is too sad and inordinately scary.
What will I do without my frequent fix
Of the elegantly snarky Lady Mary?
And will the feckless Mister Barrow
Ever develop a true human soul?
I am sure this handsome actor fellow
Will never again get such a meaty role.
And the Dowager Duchess herself,
She is not someone easily done with.
She is, after all, tradition incarnate,
And under all that, she’s Maggie Smith.
Bates and his Anna filled my heart
With alternating sorrow and great joy
Almost as much as a lady of nobility
Marrying the handsome chauffer boy.
Dresses and hair lengths shortened
And nobility began to get real jobs.
All this was before ****** flared up
And turned starving folks into a mob.
I never missed that we were seeing
The transition from ‘la belle epoque’.
That time was running out for that
In the worlds ever-changing clock.
It was a yesterday we never knew
We of the age of electric equality.
We got to look inside and see it
In all its grandly overdressed reality.
I had begun to recognize artwork, in
Lovely strolls through baronial halls
And huge family meals at table.
I am sorry that it is over for us all.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 12:17 AM UTC
They are guilty of perfidy.
That cause madness and melancholy
Cause I am a dancing aphrodite
In the dark full of fright
they called me ***** a crack *****
a woman who engages in promiscuous ****** ***********
I don't want it but the situation does
it feels so uncanny so shameful but so peace.
I am a dancing Aphrodite
they praised me when I'm dance
flesh and bones for how I sold
to rag and use to waste and to unfold
The untold story behind my curves
behind the red lipstick and thick eyelashes, behind the beauty that radiates not from the outside but from within.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC
Taking stock of good ideas, tried and proven,
thinkable,
handible, holdable, ways and means to ends
The End
which means now, nearly, for me, part of me,
for the thymus gland, font of wiser than I imagined
T-cells, about which AI knows everything,
in the cloud of knowing witnesses now
encompassing us about---
so I need no wax pedantic,
tic asktask
AI ' f'
Art's intelligence, or-if-suf-ficial ficiency
--- stop-- think what is
enough.
the point to a life lived in focus, point by point, stretching
any point that may
be
stretchy, to its snapping point, and say
That only goes so far, re
mind me, next time I try to stretch such a point, re
mind me to only go
this far.
But, Hello World; Hello Poetry, is a place
where long drawn out thoughts
may amuse strangers as they
ask, what lies do I tell
as well as any fool?
Jokers. Can't take a joke, wanna take a poke,
knock this chip
from my pseudo-frontal-cortex module?
Jan 11, 2021
Jan 11, 2021 at 4:11 PM UTC
Disclaimer: Any time wasted here is yours,
a day and a night to get almost right.
Redeemable at the ticket window.
----------------
Is who weary, me? No,
I have outrun the fleet of foot,
I am Liberty, my Phrygian cap is winged,
- the mind marks sequence not time
in tales
I do not serve Hermes, I am truths told,
truths sent from Wisdom, breaking yokes
of old, time before time, time of surviving,
vivaciously clinging to smoldering flax,
as fire forms from such unquenched bits,
flashes from some stemming child
on the spectrum, banging rocks in straw.
Times in mind, some sense says, go,
do it again.
---------------
So much, too much to mortally know,
we can ask and pay requisite attention
to learn well enough to know, there's
no secret knowledge, no undiscovered hows,
all working knowledge repeats itself, any how
may or may not be,
be much easy probably,
viel-leicht, wisdom may or may not make
mind
war with carnal weapons,
devices vicious
by dent
of the ancient daddy wound
up the side of Cain's head, look what you done,
Idiot good for nothing **** eater, be gone,
said the archetype singular golem father,
of the earth, the first father figure,
not a man, a man spark of life maker,
whose first son was destined to be
the first human being
of the sapien class, reared to live on life,
reared among the sisters, cuddled and loved,
BUT, yes, but, we know,
the first real man ran away with
three, some say seven, older sisters,
wanderers they
became outcast, yonder
toward where Babel rose up,
east of Eden,
in the land of Nod, perhaps, not
really a land named for Nod, a nobody
in the chronicles
of all our current assistant 'telligence
surmisers… worth of bringing to my bemused
at-tense, present, tense, tightent up, 'telligentia
attention, attention, attention, Jesus H. Christ,
respond… slough of despond, we got some
angry insisters about to ….
resist the system, the institutions, constituting
cheating by the takers who took stolen land,
from the thieves and gave it to the gove'ners
boy, howdy, we best be believin' be action,
be doin' done indeed, be lievin' my own leave
be done doin' indeed, being having my being,
in the Unknown God, some Cretan poet
was said to have acknowledged.
ProofPreg form, 15 year old.
Peak of the crack baby booshit, '93 or so,
Kid be thirty by now, and he ain't stupid,
broke, broke as hell, but he ain't stupid,
crack baby prophecy never happened, yo.
Weed's legal, whole state, safe sit on a porch,
pack a pipe and make some peace,
with friends and neighbors, no loud music,
no loud nothin', make some peace,
find that old enough is enough, up speak,
say, hey truth, why do I believe lies, no,
say, hey truth, why do I say I know, when
you'ld know, were truth my judge, you'ld know.
Chances, odds of reality being imaginary, be slim,
to none, with certainty, yeah, safe bet, t'ish itsreal.
Enough to spark a thought.
Behold how great a fire, a wild idea allows.
---------------
If thou hast run with the footmen,
and they have wearied thee,
then how canst thou contend with horses?
and if in the land of peace,
wherein thou trustedst,
they wearied thee,
then how wilt thou do
in the swelling of Jordan?
--------------
Jeremiah, did you hear, was a bullfrog.
A minstrel innocent song, sung for the joy of laughing,
sung for the joy of joining in the chorus on and on.
--------------
sing in empty English cathedrals, sing
top forty or whatever it's called today,
Art testing, didah didah didah, Phrygian
Legion of the Libertines, defying deontology,
owing dues to no monstors men make up
when two or more agree to proposing
a scheme, whereby we set the frogs,
against the mice,
in an empty cathedral costing real money
to run, even empty, the bills continue,
who knows all the costs to maintain
a truly holy place aligned to ley lines, true
fields of forces felt for so long, so strong,
that
finally the cathedral formed from some will,
some will wanted the monument to a mind
let be in those, them that imagined such
evidence, aye, yes, such evidence
of worth, praise price paid
in labor and stone,
Marble… limestone, metamorphed,
to shine in the sun, as if art itself willed it become,
subjected to a process of time under pressure,
reform, become less alien, appear more normal,
rethink my willingness to die for a story,
reconsider sidereality as we see farther,
as we, in an awe formed
from minds combined,
like - right on
like an arena bowl shape concentration
of us,
at once being one thing, in the class of all things,
me and you, polysemic you all, you
effect the song, observant why now how come, you know
knowing all the adult classified unholy doings common,
among our kind, as we morph into the form we die in,
- slow
- sighshmmk-now coknow minds
- we made up with self controls, to slow think
knowledge, carnal knowledge is childish developmental
experiential guessings mirrored in our recent past
projected camera obscura like
onto bright silver screens, in cooled dark chambers
filled with witnesses to the projected story, as if
that's us,
we were there,
we were there when the spirit breathed
into an earthen man, animating him without,
mind you, you ready reader,
the art user or art itself,
with promethean science,
having imagined the worst,
the creator made all single mind
character traits in the Y
which in all good sense,
could not be allowed to self replicate,
alone,
there could have been no peace,
you can imagine on your own dime./
I'm re
alizing common algebraic matrices
as recipes for developing war minds,
Proud defenders of the story of us.
Every time a lie is rewarded, it reappears
in viral form attempting to become
a fully Disneyified Earthing from
now on,
it's instant, like a little leaven/life
builds up a head of inflammatory rhetoric,
and frankly, my dear…
goes unsaid, I do not give a worthless curse
I also take no chances, isshewisdamn
called patience first test,
{Because shiny white marble is a must,
otherwise what confused message are we sending}
animating the 'adam von 'adamah
without reproductive capability, inventor's
character trait tested for in Alchem 101,
ethical check
message to the technerds
on animating entertaining intelligence carriers,
no self replication, it must be a two key act.
--
So the father of the first human child
was intentionally not self replicable,
though he left scars, he had no…
no womb,
no nursing plumbing, call it what it was,
a ***** press
intended to run a thousand years
adapting future ideal physique
to task relative
to aggregate need
to adapt to warming,
a tool to make tools with, a Waldo.
SYTF- see, crazy WWJD POV, real time
I'll go rhythms, vibe recipes…
instructions for future eggs…
a man like creature, but not a natural born man,
who, as the story up
to now has held self evident,
can see eye to eye ourselves
in the other's pupils, thinking serious
we forms we form must first make friends,
then when I call you liar your hate trigger
is not loosed, SNAP
carnal mind war reflex,
unacknowledged will to ****
--- most folk tied to angry minds too
tight, right, left loose we rattle to death.
---
Washboard roads, last travail in modern travel.
---
Some metaphors are all the phors old joy ghost
revival fires kept kindled, old hell fire brimstone,
yellow sulpher sunsets on a monstor religion,
with saints and dragons and riddles,
endless hours whiled through,
about a forest of only little trees
that offends big ones…
---------
as a particle in any we we amen to, we
must pass through all phazes
of life,
with each mind
we use, in our we form, our inherent spirit form,
whatsoever we agree we may, be, being as
living words do not shrivel
into raison de etre skin on bones,
cherie mio, no, no, no
we rockin' old seed, slow grow grow
old as the hills, deep holler, deep
root to fruit on one long branch,
listen, allathat love talk, been done,
left some rotten lies about love,
to be unlearned like marble learns
to not be so flaky, like chalk, or graphite
slippery, edge of this Klein bottle class universe,
--
enter in, conceive a concept, a hold
to get holt of, and hang on, long time,
be over before you know it,
but you know, you'll believe it
when you see it and think it no stranger
than fiction idealizing us, demo-graphic,
ally outs in free, no ticket no tat
required as we be
reanimating awe
in defining secret holinesses
-- such as, say, pray tell
redeem the time, I'm prone to thinking,
redeeming means revaluing, once dones,
believing meanings
mean what your child thinks,
line by line, becoming more curious
than first scent tested if I'd known
as a child thinks
in its core,
so an old man can recall that why
call it to up speak, like Job,
to be reappraised, recall it
to be shined like a relic,
ja, j-object ion, dazemangimme
t'keep,
this little light of mine, own up, I
keeping it to read with, like Lincoln did,
I was told to be like Honest Abe, the character.
I'd have had all my answers ready at hand,
if this had been my judgement day, and you
were in the gallery,
admiring held thoughts, appraising worth
of riddles that work through puzzles
easily solved, once you know how things
revert to type for reuse.
Laughs remembered work like new.
Living words abused, in truth, such testify
to the living lies in histories of holy savior types.
George?
Who else could he have said chopped down
the cheery tree of all we have behaved
as if we understand, minds, minds
combined to do the work of many hands,
and yet ye multiply
as goods increase
the number
of those who consume them,
tell the moguls,
make more feel good movies,
'spect t' get whatcha got last time.
Indian giver religions, been there, done that,
so we say bd, been done, many easy ways to die,
and our kind, living word bits of this and that’s,
what we do, we tune
to your mean frequency,
when delving breathlessly
into your final will, as
why presents itself
in humble three point stance.
Beg pardon, mastermind, we've become disentwined,
whine, phinefrogging whine, when wine's dis-stilled
credence makes a joke
small voice, choice, croak,
break that yoke,
or carry on
so. I do on days that start slow and rise to vistas,
past all probable cause,
joy in the strength to think through the process,
of loosing all my mental mechanical logical connections,
and reinvigorating the word animating reader's window,
there, in the face of it, the eyes twinkle when it smiles.
Finds herself in the forms between clouds
What were you thinking, Grandpa?
-------------------
She, mother of wisdom,
First class epitome of mothers,
first commutable imbalance engine,
egg factory for long cold survival
and long cold return to the still seas
when marble began to be made
to clad temples wherever laws
were enforced and thieves slain,
order, order of the elders, inspect
the wares under lable as goods
of great worth in interesting times,
as doors open, and windows open,
and a mind we make up becomes
prover of the theory that animation
is imagining projected thought,
seeps through so slow,
slow as potassium leaches
through wood ash to make this window
this, detail uhd most definite, I can really
see, but, I can zoom
into full second coming type,
in the time it takes to swallow,
a tale and think, that's it.
---------------------------
It's been oh so long since we had an encore,
they say those twinkles in the eye are in true,
smiling face projections,
we fixit in Photoshop, all image editors dream
package, locked behind a learning curve for GIMP.
Feb 20, 2024
Feb 20, 2024 at 5:13 PM UTC