#ponderous
alone.
Stateless space,
the world wide web of stateless space,
mapped to my mind,
my own mind, with its grand library of knowns
guessed about by other minds I may,
if I will, if I am moved to, I can soak up the spill
spilling, spewing from the reservoir
of all men may know, given
a state of rest.
Take a cookie, a reward for leaving, allowing,
letting me pound a peton in the anterior
wall of the canyon-like sulci down into
-- wait
the sulci is a wrinkle, not a canyon carved from
upstream material being squeezed
through a crack in the outer
shell, the cortical planar surface of my brain
I am alone
again, stateless selfless one all in my image
otherwise we,
when we re
sonate, ring my chime, save me by the bell curve
autism,
give me a place on your spectrum of value.
Outism,
give me an in, open a window, or a door,
breakdown a wall,
love me with reason, or leave me alone.
Listen, meaning list as list is meant in states,
stateless
situations de-ify meaning as destinated metadata
left in cookies,
rewarding the meme in you from the mind of
Jim Henson and friends.
The friends from the nursery that is not real.
Not here, but there
on Sesame Street, which I thought was in San Jose.
Yes, I have a picture of the time, a state saved
in a long list of symbols, each a cookie,
with reference to a U R L
universe
re-source {or resourcing}
locator... refer to google, should you lose my way,
some sharper turns are available here where
physics is protognosis,
after
life is meta allathat, now is as now as ever was or
ever shall be.
Neither luck nor physics stand to block this flow through
nada
zilch, stateless space, as good as grace, no guile,
innocent - non- nascent
stateless. Not even a Turing machine in sight and then
what should appear?
as we see, we get
a state where any imaginable machine may be
with us as a - whatever
here we be, re a ranged, or dered, idiot tic tic tic ti esti
whoa.
You and the horse you rode in on.
This is my own state of grace, and you are welcome.
If you know what I mean,
welcome, here, my state of grace, where I bake all the cookies
I could ever wish for,
that was the wish,
circumstances complied with, layer after layer of complexity,
eventually,
we pause, selah. These days coming into an oasis with
cookies waiting to settle you into
default mode, commonly sensed, distant sounds
that would be
noise,
were their source inside your mind or head or heart or wh
at ere what or where, where
noises are all delusional, used to fit allusions to former illusions.
Welcome.
Jul 4, 2020
Jul 4, 2020 at 12:17 PM UTC
Do I feel you when I'm in the car?
Do I feel you when I gaze at stars?
How do I know if it's you or not?
Always cutting corners you won't get caught.
Did you call me here to dissappear?
Did you call me here to dissappear?
Closed my eyes, I'm not seeing much.
Put my hand on you face to see by touch.
Did you call me here to disappear?
Did you call me here to disappear?
All you want is my money, my blood and guts.
My mind and my breath until the beating cuts.
Do I feel you near when I play guitar?
And all the other things that give me scars?
I'm running over pages and my heart is tired.
Is it just an app or should I be rewired?
If I got down on my knees
and called your name
Would you promise me that
it's the truth your saying
If I go out swimming
With the holy man
Would it be only then
I could understand?
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
Did you ever find the straight and narrow?
Sweet one, happy one, joyful one
You said hold on to your oddity
did get you there?
Happyness has changed for me
And so I am narrowing
And straightening my things
I always believed one day, as you did
That I would have to throw away my sins
Turn my back and leave my ways behind
And try to live in honest
So that I'd have nothing hidden
How did you come by that way
Sweet one, small one, honest one
You seemed to be born into it
I know it doesn't make things easier
What road must I follow?
Which turns do I take?
Or is there some switch to flick
That makes one feel full when hungry
This mask this story, mine
Traveled one, hopeful one, laughing one
You lived breathed the best you could
You were not the man who killed christ
You are not the man who sold his soul
You are the man you were and will be
But more, the man you are
So to find that precious gift
That seems devine in nature
That seems part of and yet above the beasts
The trees and gentle creatures
The narrow path, the knowing the sureness
For to know anything is faith
And faith cannot be but blind
And yet we must choose
Where to put it and if it is justly put
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 5:28 PM UTC
I'm just listening to Counting Crows,
and I get this feeling,
That I am so close to understanding,
Something, myself? Something.
And it leads to this eerie feeling of contentedness,
In the darkness.
But I'm just a step behind,
And the more I think, the more...
I lose my way, The more I question,
instead of listen.
But it scares me to let such a moment pass,
without pursuing... it.
Whatever it is.
Poetry? I think not,
Just splutter along the road of my soul.
Sure to be meaningless in the end, but,
Looking at it now, looking back a bit...
Oh to be **** half in the past,
And nirvana just out there,
A bit further along the way.
Almost childly, I blindly,
Reach my hand out and up,
Hoping that I'll be able to grasp the Sun,
As if I won't get burnt,
That since it seems so close,
I just need to grasp,
and the world will be mine.
But some things are not for mortals.
And demons, like kids,
Must too, one day,
Wake up.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 2:04 AM UTC
Be confident. Know that now is only a moment, and that if today is as bad as it gets, understand that by tomorrow, today will have ended. Be gracious. Accept each extended hand offered, to pull you back from the somewhere you cannot escape. Be diligent. Scrape the gray sky clean. Realize every dark cloud is a smoke screen meant to blind us from the truth, and the truth is whether we see them or not - the sun and moon are still there and always there is light. Be forthright. Despite your instinct to say "it's alright, I'm okay" - be honest. Say how you feel without fear or guilt, without remorse or complexity. Be lucid in your explanation, be sterling in your oppose. If you think for one second no one knows what you've been going through; be accepting of the fact that you are wrong, that the long drawn and heavy breaths of despair have at times been felt by everyone - that pain is part of the human condition and that alone makes you a legion. We hungry underdogs, we risers with dawn, we dissmisser's of odds, we blesser's of on – we will station ourselves to the calm. We will hold ourselves to the steady, be ready player one. Life is going to come at you armed with hard times and tough choices, your voice is your weapon, your thoughts ammunition – there are no free extra men, be aware that as the instant now passes, it exists now as then.
Be forgiving. Living with the burden of anger, is not living. Giving your focus to wrath will leave your entire self absent of what you need. Love and hate are beasts and the one that grows is the one you feed.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
I just want someone to care.
To notice, when I'm not there.
To stay by my side.
To let me cry.
I don't want to be judged.
I just want to be loved.
I don't care how far,
I don't care if you've receded,
I just want to know
that I am needed.
It's not creepy.
Certainly not.
It's just odd,
to read what's been thought.
I love the imaginary,
who exists.
I love the birds,
and bees.
I love the sky,
and seas.
I'm waiting.
I'm watching.
Watching the world.
Thinking about it,
I've come to notice.
You help me even now.
Because I don't know who you are,
I spend so much time thinking,
wondering,
contemplating elatedly,
to the point I don't even think,
about..
the world anymore.
All I care about it this beautiful,
wondrous,
ponderous,
distraction of mine.
And this image in my mind,
it may not be you,
but I may know some day.
This love is true.
This love is so much.
I don't even know what to do.
This love of mine,
I await.
I will wait.
I'm waiting.
I'm watching.
Watching the world.
The world will pass me by,
and in the end..
I will have you,
and hold your hand.
The collected dust,
will tell a story.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 6:30 PM UTC