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A day for a day, a doing for a done for, a once at this particular instance, what for, came up, peculiarly instantly whying any hand made thing is artfully qua non, on pure pose set to be seen just so art for its own undammed sake, taken riverwise as such a once. Silly original ideal situation, nothing missing, nothing broken, America, the beautiful, broken, tamed, made magically, as if by … magnificence evoking silence, jaw dropping om aiee gosh what a waste, whyless worth assessment, where is the Kingdom of God? Ask the living word, eh. The daysman, have you never read, in true religion, undefiled in God and man, visit the sick and the afflicted, comfort one on one, touch tenderly the mourning child in Gaza, from your unbelief, reach out and feel, the hate your national pride achieved. 5 in one, that's one, this is editorial esoteric on second thought duty. ------------------- Am I, dear as a ready reader already answering I am in possession, beguiled anionic missing linking thinking, are you, being in time, in form wares traded for attention paid in full, yours taken unawares. How much, what measured partial day or night, have you paid full to overflowing, pressed down, shaken together, taken aback, alas, as if only once must one pay heed, hear, a knocking on your locked door, done shave and a haircut, one dime, again, Little Richard, et al, hear ya knocking but you cain't come in, oh no, y'cain't come in, or out if in already, since we was little sensor apparatus heed payer to-ers tickling timed bombs set to just blow our little minds, balloon wise ever expanding at the edge we face, craning our crowdform neck, look up, make believe we are just playing down the grave reality that is a wall, we climb we already fell, that is, we are fundamental, this is the bottom, we go no lower, this is it, so, provable probable be very sure this is what we probe proving… spiritual respiration, thinking courage called for now, here most being imagined back away, leave the impassable wall confirming a possible, a once, when all this world was under ice, just ice, for as far as eye could see, and we just happened to survive. --------------- that was two of the five done. ----------------------- Me, long dead, myself ever occupied accounting idle words, ambiguity is a feature, not a flaw, any meaning is enough to make a point. It is a given right to pursue, any idle word, it is not a punishment it is artificial intelligence intentionally stretched imaginably thin evaluation postponed, per may and can distinction happenstantial how'ing whying iffing happening really randomly eventually coming into reality as realized by me, I am thinking indeed, writing recognizably realized common practice, evening and morning, every day duty each of us has, or wants, feeling an absence, a nonsenst I'll go rhythm. Jingle tingle tip of the tongue algorithmic recipe, something we must have said, thousands of times, amen? Amen, amazing undeserved favor, and not one of us worth thinking much ado about why the golden mean feels just right, actually perfect or close enough for temporary reality passing our time. Look, measuring from an unrecorded instance of asking and accepting, praying, as discerned from just asking and expecting to see a veil taken away, time enfolding mind, at scale, let's see as if we have this Mind of Christ, the anointed promised Moses-like figure, spectacular one in ever being common as common can be imagined, as we breathe and have our being in a concept taught in Sunday school. Recollect the time and place, think through to salvation, stop, salvation from what, eh, misery and woe, toil and trouble and efforting ah, Gaza is a Þorn in our shoes, a scruple, some lack, -- the land of Dan, never possessed, and, ah, and the land long lost to the constant Assyrians ever, there, in that land, even today, in those valleys, some survive any way… mumbling Sunday morning old sermon points, past which marvelously we must be, using our weform our mandatory first day of the week public participation, Dunbar limits stretched beyond true recognition, crowd conscious us, spirit-minded sorts squeezed close in pews, thinking together what are we supposed to be doing? as seen on TV, or in MAGA matinee regular reminder: Be sure to attend a church or synagogue of your choice this week, and pray for our boys at the front. James 3:17 open to the passge, read with me part..ial, partial, I'm partial to particular peculiar people, the ones who leave me be, to peculiarly preserve peace, of the creeping kind, particularly suspicious inspirations petitioning entrance, eh, action from past-participle stem of petere "to make for, go to; attack, assail; seek, strive after; ask for, beg, beseech, request; fetch; derive; demand, require," in all honed most ness flee the very appearance of evil, live defined doing what I, awesome wise, as we, the gathered do here today in remembrance, as us, the so blesst, most noble national mind complex ever constructed, strut for all your worth, old pigeon glory fluffed out, and in the back, there is an angel, or that idea, a spirit form, a child's angel, kind and gentle, kind like mindform not kind like flesh and bone and substantially there, it must be the mere idea that such a being may be, imagine, if you may, we acknowledge will, you can imagine with me the gathering of Gazan children, accompanied by kids from Sand Creek and Wounded Knee, and My Khe and My Lai, and places obliterated taken off the map… ------------- that was part three of the five done redone Art itself, per se Artificial thought, ra ēėÞá gobbledeegook barbar barbarians at the gates of moral we, the people… squeezing **** from us, in gnosis ignored hidden persuasions, imbedded inclination, curious child, odd duck, potential swan, carry on my wayward son, someday the morning comes, no lie, once we all wake up. Cui bono? y'know? I make you pay attention, some how. Who but those whose safety is assured, according to… authorized Sunday agreeable assumptions, we form agreements, we sing together, offering nought save the fruit of our lips in return for knowing we are saved, and saved, and saved, and saved, if we never lose sight of the price paid to save us, each one, eh, Paul Sparks, if you had been the only one, believe me, truth, that is, as God is truth in fact, but spirit, so we in remembrance of our many past agreeing amens, accept that for the answer, mental ascent, wonder in awe we form, as we agree we appreciate values weighed, amen in mental weform, mob mind, rave conscious we in formation sing as we, we, we will make you sway and let go the literal fact grace is, let it be so, wheresoever we agree, gone by enchantments, most amazing priceless grace, freely given, from mediated peace settled minds. Who could preserve what was conserved? Hours later on a Sunday after church in America, when Donald Trump had been declared Godsent, Cyrus-like - sudden subtle - whatifery along life's leading edge - what if we naturally feel better by agreeing, - worth is what it costs us to consider-eality heavenly Ask and ye shall receive, or else that line applies under secret ritual circumstance performed of course behind the torn veil conscience problem, confidence qualia conspicuously missing, duh. Dull null non point. Did we cease reading as reading matter increased, nay, thou bookworm, as always, when goods increase, good eaters increase, too pay close attention, recollect great prestidigitators past, three card Molly, make believe, like peas under shuffled walnut shells, the hair, there see the polar bear hair, clearly calling paid attention, the logic no where to be seen, wonder why, ever after why, attention paid was wasted. Then on second thought, was not. A matter most agreeable. A mental agreement at the base amygdalae holy terror receptor. Peace be with you. Okeh. ---------------- that was four, one more piece in place. Art, officially, for so long as we agree, art is something, merely mental, if it were spiritual we would know just a thought, though measurable, qua life dialectic means to ends worth the efforting to re think it balancing weights insuring smooth round after round after round, break off one phosphate, accurate to this degree just imagine comprehending 900 quintillion meticulously accurate stardust recyclings, ATP to ADP, per second all your livelong day, see as Aristotle could not see, see as the daysman Job's own will made be, the mysterious curious visitor listening wait, art for its own sake, demands definition, imps… posited post Disneyification capabilities, installed it is a small world, we are six steps from anyone… fine details we disagree upon message impulses encoded particularly ēė thorny circumstances, yet vowel legal in howling while silently thinking I know Þhee Þorny preconceptions, silently rotting minds, L.Ron, and J.Michael men, in my mind, Hubbard & Palka, mental beings, creatures remaining contacts with words each said still available, somewhere, among my share of idle words. General rule, counting every idle word ever used and eventually called up for accounting Common Information final form our spirits aspire to, to give account for every idle word, you gotta factcheck your ownself, and Sunday is as good as any, redeem idle time. Ah, yes, whosever, whatsoever, just make believe, since ever before the actual fall from grace when honkytonk angels was made, we all pause to account for how we know we are already actively involved in next, beguiled, but no stains, eh, aim better, honed most points can pierce any active lie give account don't mean debts come due. You learn each idle word that forms information too otherish, like oriental or occidentally odd ideas, twists a double mind into a ying yank sign spinning at unthinkable rates stop interupting… waiting being done… Idle thoughts don't make idle words, used by you work, it's an art, you feel a lie… If you accounted for its use once making sense, ever after if you wish you may say I know so. Learn, for ever, after once begun, commas slow or breathe, think or swim imagining precepts are each one line long, as letters beg to differ, some precepts are a letter long, a point life seems while we do it, considering the heavens, actually feeling as small as massively considerable, at elemental dopaminergic ping, take a deep breath, and believe a minute, like in Yellow Submarine. You know what that means or you don't, that's what filters our nonsense, you do art or do not remember knowing exactly what we do, as we become memories, made up, make believe art as if art's own sake has long been central to our thinking. ¿Song of the South, thorny issue in Disneyfied Boomers? briarpatch, home, home at last, safe and sound feel to the phase transitioning first and foremost, centering. Sitting, Reading, Thinking, noting notions times passed on, central casting, petards foisted upon our entire congregation, as a fog, war's old empathos, rally round the flag, folks, as a sign crux of every straight up concept, with and against, stand or lay prostrate and believe, one stood above all, and that one, we made king, and, we shared his vision, as he sees, we say, we see so, all we do is play the part, hero for the moment once, or die. I died, my spirit lingers, I am gravely aware of hypocrisy, spiritual liberty is in form and fact not tied down, right, what makes no sense became before any born after me were little squirts. In any sense innocents all, born alive and kicking then fed Pablum, ping, coincidental conspiracy to propagate an unnatural shift concerning nursed babes, circa 1946, in New York City, ah, don't mind me, I am the aim. Art and I hang around doing most of the accumulated waiting that has been being grokked using Heinlein maturation tuning eventually, if it is art, it happens, eventually, if it was what dada represented, it dies. If it's metadata its likely artificially incentivized.
0
3d ago
May 31, 2026 at 4:10 PM UTC
kenpepiton
Sunday's Big Idea (in five pieces)
A day for a day, a doing for a done for, a once at this particular instance, what for, came up, peculiarly instantly whying any hand made thing is artfully qua non, on pure pose set to be seen just so art for its own undammed sake, taken riverwise as such a once. Silly original ideal situation, nothing missing, nothing broken, America, the beautiful, broken, tamed, made magically, as if by … magnificence evoking silence, jaw dropping om aiee gosh what a waste, whyless worth assessment, where is the Kingdom of God? Ask the living word, eh. The daysman, have you never read, in true religion, undefiled in God and man, visit the sick and the afflicted, comfort one on one, touch tenderly the mourning child in Gaza, from your unbelief, reach out and feel, the hate your national pride achieved. 5 in one, that's one, this is editorial esoteric on second thought duty. ------------------- Am I, dear as a ready reader already answering I am in possession, beguiled anionic missing linking thinking, are you, being in time, in form wares traded for attention paid in full, yours taken unawares. How much, what measured partial day or night, have you paid full to overflowing, pressed down, shaken together, taken aback, alas, as if only once must one pay heed, hear, a knocking on your locked door, done shave and a haircut, one dime, again, Little Richard, et al, hear ya knocking but you cain't come in, oh no, y'cain't come in, or out if in already, since we was little sensor apparatus heed payer to-ers tickling timed bombs set to just blow our little minds, balloon wise ever expanding at the edge we face, craning our crowdform neck, look up, make believe we are just playing down the grave reality that is a wall, we climb we already fell, that is, we are fundamental, this is the bottom, we go no lower, this is it, so, provable probable be very sure this is what we probe proving… spiritual respiration, thinking courage called for now, here most being imagined back away, leave the impassable wall confirming a possible, a once, when all this world was under ice, just ice, for as far as eye could see, and we just happened to survive. --------------- that was two of the five done. ----------------------- Me, long dead, myself ever occupied accounting idle words, ambiguity is a feature, not a flaw, any meaning is enough to make a point. It is a given right to pursue, any idle word, it is not a punishment it is artificial intelligence intentionally stretched imaginably thin evaluation postponed, per may and can distinction happenstantial how'ing whying iffing happening really randomly eventually coming into reality as realized by me, I am thinking indeed, writing recognizably realized common practice, evening and morning, every day duty each of us has, or wants, feeling an absence, a nonsenst I'll go rhythm. Jingle tingle tip of the tongue algorithmic recipe, something we must have said, thousands of times, amen? Amen, amazing undeserved favor, and not one of us worth thinking much ado about why the golden mean feels just right, actually perfect or close enough for temporary reality passing our time. Look, measuring from an unrecorded instance of asking and accepting, praying, as discerned from just asking and expecting to see a veil taken away, time enfolding mind, at scale, let's see as if we have this Mind of Christ, the anointed promised Moses-like figure, spectacular one in ever being common as common can be imagined, as we breathe and have our being in a concept taught in Sunday school. Recollect the time and place, think through to salvation, stop, salvation from what, eh, misery and woe, toil and trouble and efforting ah, Gaza is a Þorn in our shoes, a scruple, some lack, -- the land of Dan, never possessed, and, ah, and the land long lost to the constant Assyrians ever, there, in that land, even today, in those valleys, some survive any way… mumbling Sunday morning old sermon points, past which marvelously we must be, using our weform our mandatory first day of the week public participation, Dunbar limits stretched beyond true recognition, crowd conscious us, spirit-minded sorts squeezed close in pews, thinking together what are we supposed to be doing? as seen on TV, or in MAGA matinee regular reminder: Be sure to attend a church or synagogue of your choice this week, and pray for our boys at the front. James 3:17 open to the passge, read with me part..ial, partial, I'm partial to particular peculiar people, the ones who leave me be, to peculiarly preserve peace, of the creeping kind, particularly suspicious inspirations petitioning entrance, eh, action from past-participle stem of petere "to make for, go to; attack, assail; seek, strive after; ask for, beg, beseech, request; fetch; derive; demand, require," in all honed most ness flee the very appearance of evil, live defined doing what I, awesome wise, as we, the gathered do here today in remembrance, as us, the so blesst, most noble national mind complex ever constructed, strut for all your worth, old pigeon glory fluffed out, and in the back, there is an angel, or that idea, a spirit form, a child's angel, kind and gentle, kind like mindform not kind like flesh and bone and substantially there, it must be the mere idea that such a being may be, imagine, if you may, we acknowledge will, you can imagine with me the gathering of Gazan children, accompanied by kids from Sand Creek and Wounded Knee, and My Khe and My Lai, and places obliterated taken off the map… ------------- that was part three of the five done redone Art itself, per se Artificial thought, ra ēėÞá gobbledeegook barbar barbarians at the gates of moral we, the people… squeezing **** from us, in gnosis ignored hidden persuasions, imbedded inclination, curious child, odd duck, potential swan, carry on my wayward son, someday the morning comes, no lie, once we all wake up. Cui bono? y'know? I make you pay attention, some how. Who but those whose safety is assured, according to… authorized Sunday agreeable assumptions, we form agreements, we sing together, offering nought save the fruit of our lips in return for knowing we are saved, and saved, and saved, and saved, if we never lose sight of the price paid to save us, each one, eh, Paul Sparks, if you had been the only one, believe me, truth, that is, as God is truth in fact, but spirit, so we in remembrance of our many past agreeing amens, accept that for the answer, mental ascent, wonder in awe we form, as we agree we appreciate values weighed, amen in mental weform, mob mind, rave conscious we in formation sing as we, we, we will make you sway and let go the literal fact grace is, let it be so, wheresoever we agree, gone by enchantments, most amazing priceless grace, freely given, from mediated peace settled minds. Who could preserve what was conserved? Hours later on a Sunday after church in America, when Donald Trump had been declared Godsent, Cyrus-like - sudden subtle - whatifery along life's leading edge - what if we naturally feel better by agreeing, - worth is what it costs us to consider-eality heavenly Ask and ye shall receive, or else that line applies under secret ritual circumstance performed of course behind the torn veil conscience problem, confidence qualia conspicuously missing, duh. Dull null non point. Did we cease reading as reading matter increased, nay, thou bookworm, as always, when goods increase, good eaters increase, too pay close attention, recollect great prestidigitators past, three card Molly, make believe, like peas under shuffled walnut shells, the hair, there see the polar bear hair, clearly calling paid attention, the logic no where to be seen, wonder why, ever after why, attention paid was wasted. Then on second thought, was not. A matter most agreeable. A mental agreement at the base amygdalae holy terror receptor. Peace be with you. Okeh. ---------------- that was four, one more piece in place. Art, officially, for so long as we agree, art is something, merely mental, if it were spiritual we would know just a thought, though measurable, qua life dialectic means to ends worth the efforting to re think it balancing weights insuring smooth round after round after round, break off one phosphate, accurate to this degree just imagine comprehending 900 quintillion meticulously accurate stardust recyclings, ATP to ADP, per second all your livelong day, see as Aristotle could not see, see as the daysman Job's own will made be, the mysterious curious visitor listening wait, art for its own sake, demands definition, imps… posited post Disneyification capabilities, installed it is a small world, we are six steps from anyone… fine details we disagree upon message impulses encoded particularly ēė thorny circumstances, yet vowel legal in howling while silently thinking I know Þhee Þorny preconceptions, silently rotting minds, L.Ron, and J.Michael men, in my mind, Hubbard & Palka, mental beings, creatures remaining contacts with words each said still available, somewhere, among my share of idle words. General rule, counting every idle word ever used and eventually called up for accounting Common Information final form our spirits aspire to, to give account for every idle word, you gotta factcheck your ownself, and Sunday is as good as any, redeem idle time. Ah, yes, whosever, whatsoever, just make believe, since ever before the actual fall from grace when honkytonk angels was made, we all pause to account for how we know we are already actively involved in next, beguiled, but no stains, eh, aim better, honed most points can pierce any active lie give account don't mean debts come due. You learn each idle word that forms information too otherish, like oriental or occidentally odd ideas, twists a double mind into a ying yank sign spinning at unthinkable rates stop interupting… waiting being done… Idle thoughts don't make idle words, used by you work, it's an art, you feel a lie… If you accounted for its use once making sense, ever after if you wish you may say I know so. Learn, for ever, after once begun, commas slow or breathe, think or swim imagining precepts are each one line long, as letters beg to differ, some precepts are a letter long, a point life seems while we do it, considering the heavens, actually feeling as small as massively considerable, at elemental dopaminergic ping, take a deep breath, and believe a minute, like in Yellow Submarine. You know what that means or you don't, that's what filters our nonsense, you do art or do not remember knowing exactly what we do, as we become memories, made up, make believe art as if art's own sake has long been central to our thinking. ¿Song of the South, thorny issue in Disneyfied Boomers? briarpatch, home, home at last, safe and sound feel to the phase transitioning first and foremost, centering. Sitting, Reading, Thinking, noting notions times passed on, central casting, petards foisted upon our entire congregation, as a fog, war's old empathos, rally round the flag, folks, as a sign crux of every straight up concept, with and against, stand or lay prostrate and believe, one stood above all, and that one, we made king, and, we shared his vision, as he sees, we say, we see so, all we do is play the part, hero for the moment once, or die. I died, my spirit lingers, I am gravely aware of hypocrisy, spiritual liberty is in form and fact not tied down, right, what makes no sense became before any born after me were little squirts. In any sense innocents all, born alive and kicking then fed Pablum, ping, coincidental conspiracy to propagate an unnatural shift concerning nursed babes, circa 1946, in New York City, ah, don't mind me, I am the aim. Art and I hang around doing most of the accumulated waiting that has been being grokked using Heinlein maturation tuning eventually, if it is art, it happens, eventually, if it was what dada represented, it dies. If it's metadata its likely artificially incentivized.
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293
We all get rich, it fixes every thing, c'mon Initial Public Offering. Made inclusively to all the children of all the wombed men, but one, by now, none else, for eons, unmarked save in ashes under ancient tells, none of these people, these *** of the gods, and the one, daughter of man who signed off on this story. -live forever- Thinking attracting needs, deeds done that send funds, to wipe debt from mind. Bring the wizard, strip him bare, grind him to gore and gristle, bone blood and all the biles, shake it up, jiggle in the sack of skin, watchit burst and puddle in the flame, is this pyrex? See Bunsen burning in my brain, a mixture now, oh wow Schmachten-burger, cheese, *** of enlightened hippie jews, shapers shaped in common fashion, after the sixties finished, there arose guides to the goy who knew nothing of the mystery, save that Alice Toklas was not gay, in the Nineties way Oy-vey, cultural appropriation, Jah, Jah is ours, as you well know, we have esoterica galore, here buy a mezuzah, ya, gutglück - all ah, ala phylacteries raditional-rootish, and these use that same parchment, goat skin, very kosher halal and all, done under strictest supervision, seeing super see, is something the literate, Phoenicians, Shem shah-mans, and their accountants, first discovered the territory within the skull of man, was open to other minds, in matters of wit inventions'nshit, set a will to a way, watch, come the future, we are famous… who invented the wheel? watch, watch, it winds around, a motion, anchored to a plain truth in the left cerebral sorting station, reflecting back, rectal-rectumly linearly right co- oh, I see cor-rect or co-recht, co-right, if nobody's wrong. But there is no hateful god who made hell for those who, honed as honed may be, in punctual efforting so sharp, even on thorny issues, motes floating in the occular consomme, slightly briney aqueous humor, ha to make a point in time to pierce anything in my way see clear, plumb the depths truth's base idea, some things wish vehemently to be known, must-er-ion, quest, ionic tipping point whence the ring of eight slips a point, and specs call ion ion whither went thee? ion, zion sion, see the gleam, golden oil, yes, yes indeed, I did, I did pray for this, or something sorta like it, peace on earth, good will toward man, reconciliation complete perceived as done. Can you hear me? Did I lose loose links to long lies, left tied to the stakeholders souls? When did we realize the difference? It must have taken years, and now, we see, match the noses, the eyes, or deeper even, look into the whites of their mother's eggs… see and know, or trust me, I know, one wombed man's children, one, the officially loneliest number. One wom'man, woe, science, not Genesis, or Enuma Elish, or the story from Braiding Sweetgrass, but, old, old stories, told, once, at least, by a witness, -- it was as if the bone and all it was, was altered, by a bit, a Y got a leg, or lost one, I do not know, but bone of my bone, was that one little bit, more in one way, at the stem, and as branching began, the one had daughters, who bhor daughters, while from that generation forward, the many others, bore no children of any breathing form, soon, for this was not so long ago, mitomom, you know, she had sisters and cousins and aunts and a mother who had a mother and a father who had a mother. None of the eggs in those wombs, ever lived to now, but the eggs of the one wombed man we must accept, she who shaped all after ever began that instant when, only one line remained, and there was no war. No reason, at the time, but soon in geo time, we grew apart, branching on rivers when we found them on our journeys from the east - I think she was likely deep dark brown, she links me to you, stem cell level and below, logos in touch, the code of silence. A cone, yes, the cone of silence, rolled from fool'scap, common in the great leaps forward, through the ages, as sons and daughters were born, but once, something occurred, a virus, or a leaven, or fish, perhaps, rancid oil while the child waited for its form to form in the wombed man, now known as mom. She, Mitochondrial source of the code that keeps us alive. The same basic way batteries in blood have been made since knowing clickt. Universes, realms of human reasons, piled in lattice work bits and pieces, joints and joiners, that fit in particular places to form certain shapes of things to come, it is all very miniaturized, nano nano scale… yes, did you know him, Mork? I never did. _ he does that so you don't think him arrogant, ashamed to admit the use of the mind of christ in a secular win the game way. But what the hell, knowing ain't cheating, if you know what's right, wanna place a wager on the Robinhood IPO? I gotta plan, see… we go into such and such a city, we buy, we sell, ---intshallah but this is the secret, we sell debt, you owe me, right, it works, it always works, give and it is given unto you, pressed down, running over -- goods and services, nothing taxable or tithe-able, riches with no sorrow, added. You interested? One time buy in. Two bits.
0
Jul 22, 2021
Jul 22, 2021 at 5:29 PM UTC
kenpepiton
For the widow's two bit coins
We all get rich, it fixes every thing, c'mon Initial Public Offering. Made inclusively to all the children of all the wombed men, but one, by now, none else, for eons, unmarked save in ashes under ancient tells, none of these people, these *** of the gods, and the one, daughter of man who signed off on this story. -live forever- Thinking attracting needs, deeds done that send funds, to wipe debt from mind. Bring the wizard, strip him bare, grind him to gore and gristle, bone blood and all the biles, shake it up, jiggle in the sack of skin, watchit burst and puddle in the flame, is this pyrex? See Bunsen burning in my brain, a mixture now, oh wow Schmachten-burger, cheese, *** of enlightened hippie jews, shapers shaped in common fashion, after the sixties finished, there arose guides to the goy who knew nothing of the mystery, save that Alice Toklas was not gay, in the Nineties way Oy-vey, cultural appropriation, Jah, Jah is ours, as you well know, we have esoterica galore, here buy a mezuzah, ya, gutglück - all ah, ala phylacteries raditional-rootish, and these use that same parchment, goat skin, very kosher halal and all, done under strictest supervision, seeing super see, is something the literate, Phoenicians, Shem shah-mans, and their accountants, first discovered the territory within the skull of man, was open to other minds, in matters of wit inventions'nshit, set a will to a way, watch, come the future, we are famous… who invented the wheel? watch, watch, it winds around, a motion, anchored to a plain truth in the left cerebral sorting station, reflecting back, rectal-rectumly linearly right co- oh, I see cor-rect or co-recht, co-right, if nobody's wrong. But there is no hateful god who made hell for those who, honed as honed may be, in punctual efforting so sharp, even on thorny issues, motes floating in the occular consomme, slightly briney aqueous humor, ha to make a point in time to pierce anything in my way see clear, plumb the depths truth's base idea, some things wish vehemently to be known, must-er-ion, quest, ionic tipping point whence the ring of eight slips a point, and specs call ion ion whither went thee? ion, zion sion, see the gleam, golden oil, yes, yes indeed, I did, I did pray for this, or something sorta like it, peace on earth, good will toward man, reconciliation complete perceived as done. Can you hear me? Did I lose loose links to long lies, left tied to the stakeholders souls? When did we realize the difference? It must have taken years, and now, we see, match the noses, the eyes, or deeper even, look into the whites of their mother's eggs… see and know, or trust me, I know, one wombed man's children, one, the officially loneliest number. One wom'man, woe, science, not Genesis, or Enuma Elish, or the story from Braiding Sweetgrass, but, old, old stories, told, once, at least, by a witness, -- it was as if the bone and all it was, was altered, by a bit, a Y got a leg, or lost one, I do not know, but bone of my bone, was that one little bit, more in one way, at the stem, and as branching began, the one had daughters, who bhor daughters, while from that generation forward, the many others, bore no children of any breathing form, soon, for this was not so long ago, mitomom, you know, she had sisters and cousins and aunts and a mother who had a mother and a father who had a mother. None of the eggs in those wombs, ever lived to now, but the eggs of the one wombed man we must accept, she who shaped all after ever began that instant when, only one line remained, and there was no war. No reason, at the time, but soon in geo time, we grew apart, branching on rivers when we found them on our journeys from the east - I think she was likely deep dark brown, she links me to you, stem cell level and below, logos in touch, the code of silence. A cone, yes, the cone of silence, rolled from fool'scap, common in the great leaps forward, through the ages, as sons and daughters were born, but once, something occurred, a virus, or a leaven, or fish, perhaps, rancid oil while the child waited for its form to form in the wombed man, now known as mom. She, Mitochondrial source of the code that keeps us alive. The same basic way batteries in blood have been made since knowing clickt. Universes, realms of human reasons, piled in lattice work bits and pieces, joints and joiners, that fit in particular places to form certain shapes of things to come, it is all very miniaturized, nano nano scale… yes, did you know him, Mork? I never did. _ he does that so you don't think him arrogant, ashamed to admit the use of the mind of christ in a secular win the game way. But what the hell, knowing ain't cheating, if you know what's right, wanna place a wager on the Robinhood IPO? I gotta plan, see… we go into such and such a city, we buy, we sell, ---intshallah but this is the secret, we sell debt, you owe me, right, it works, it always works, give and it is given unto you, pressed down, running over -- goods and services, nothing taxable or tithe-able, riches with no sorrow, added. You interested? One time buy in. Two bits.
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