#react - Hello Poetry

National mindsets self interested suffer forms of dementia as the order all confessed, demands of each a concentration of self worth, you bet your soul, but only in the spirit, step into the fray, say, let me lead you, say let me take elected office, democratic to the edges, being your voice in a popularity contest, not an intellectual joust. Tutelary deontology 101. Governing is managing the labor. Ask the king. Any flock in the system, governs itself. Business is business. Some arrangements are always secret. All grown ups are in the business of war supplies. Let your children's minds be at ease. Trust the checks and balances history proves, have never worked on balance, for the poor. Get rich quick as one can imagine, on a bet. War meets Peace, like it is the storm that left Greenland, a legend until now. Easily intreated innocense, who could know. Prosaic first morning pizz to prime the pump. How deep is the generational debt due to war? How many bonds have been sold to pay interest? How many times has the national debt ceiling failed? You know. Every time. "Each major conflict in U.S. history has been accompanied by a sharp rise in debt as the government raises funds to pay for the fighting." But laws do exist… "Without a declaration of war to put the country on a wartime economy, Congress paid for Vietnam by increasing the national debt. Over the course of the conflict, America's debt nearly doubled, growing from approximately $317 billion in 1965 to $620 billion in 1976." Now the debt is rising on interest alone. No need for another war. And America's trade balance is hinged, on the point of war. The ideal centermost irritant, war's hate pump, pain expanded by generational trespass acts likened unto the pea under the stack of feathered beds, or the bit of grit forcing oyster stress that has made the misshapen pearl sold to sovreign entities, those colors on the map, these mental aggregations called nations, by nationalist mind frame riveters, foundational eye beams, remove before demoting, ah, slow, riveted beams spanning ferro-concrete tech- think. Building a reasoning trap, children, ask your fathers to whom we owe our national debt. Ask also who sells the weapons to the world at war. Semper fi, no offence, but… holy hate is as crazy as hungry hate. A voice from a song, from nowhere, you just could rethink, or did, that first time think a bridge over troubled waters being a truly old good idea, come to rescue you, in the early days of Boomer parenthood… being grown ups, we never missed a Disney Movie, though by then, they were losing the gnostalgia, old knowns to be like so, were no longer even imaginably so. Old Yeller, Childhood's end, the separation from hearth felt comfort, to the class rooms and hallways of massive cold concrete schools… where on day one, the child pledges with its cohort of coeducatables, the ancient bond of aliegiance... I pledged mine first in 1954, the year "under God" was added. In the just now settling down towns along the great freeways, there has been no peace on earth in my generation, at the level of military minds in conflict caused by stories, boys bred with old hates just waiting for a sigh-psignal sci-revealed to those willing to become Jason Bourne, to the best of your abilities, ring the bell, any time. Welcome to the front. Sanity is on the line. There is no conspiracy, we sell our souls for what money can be demonstratively proven to allow and even augment. War is all we sell. There is another game, it's a liar's game. Many famous authorities have filled the space at the table. Take your hat off, Bartholowmew, she does not understand you. ------------ Daily communication with myself, one person, with no power to use save the early cultural confidence; sworn to tell the whole truth, so help me, God. Yes, your honor. Except we reactivate the curious why, functionally suppressed during the standard test taking by the proximate others diligently filling in the blanks, with graphite rounded just right, one swipe. Except we see that hanging senselessly realized. Each problem, one answer, not one option. Only select correct answer. Tell the child learning the pledge, God is on our side, emphasize how exceptional those who know so are, extremely discriminatingly, arranging the economy around the great decussation at the air gap, at the back of our national neck. In this time, thoughts and prayers, we hear spoken of as easily done, almost without thoughts, who responds?, who, has ever responded to the said to be going out constantly thoughts and prayers, asking truth to intervene and call the liars liars? God is not angry, nor without resources, according to the cultures now at war-- ¿ Whose mortgage was not paid with earnings from war readiness industrial complexes? Whose talent was left with the userers, because the Bible says y'sposed to earn interest? Whose 401K deflated to oops? Business begins with informed agreements. Let's make a deal. No killing, stealing nor needless destruction. Minds join eye to eye, one mindwise agreed, we become an entity, a being essential to the parts, a mind in harmony, rank and file. Greedy men with no agreement. Hmm, who loses? Line up, not by rank, single file, fall in, first and following, get in on the end, and wait for the circle to close, re done dances, life going wild as we celebrate our circle, we sing of it being unbroken in the sweet by and by… The land of those who talk back to El, yes, yes, we do, to honor Iyobe, who first called for the Daysman, who first told reality, with all it's evil potential, you cannot not be true, you know, in form as spirit and truth containable in words, logos, logos of all o-logies, so powerful as to allow, in fact, cause, new mindforms, species of thoughts that function as a system to make sense, discernible, bits of valuation determinable in agreement. -------------- Contractual obligations religiously adhered to just between us, we take advantage for the nation's sake. Madrassahs and aliegiance pledges set habits hard to break. Set the cost of goods, lower than replacement cost of the price. What does it cost a state to rear a warrior class individual that self replenishes? What does it cost me to scatter confusion in profuse create-ifity? So, add a proper tip, and pay the cost to ride this line to the next re-entering angle. Middle east, cauldron of all the holy empires thus far into the age of entertainment so vast, wise men can imagine, some day there will be a war, and no parents will have offered children to the infantry or made righteous indignation acceptable national pride to **** for. There Hamas, holy brainwashed haters of hatefulness. Repents and perishes the very thought of peace. Repay in kind, here, swear undying obediance, fear not death, this is Allah's Promise, die killing Jews, turns on the monstrous virgins awaiting you… in post mortal walled places, where the oldest civilizations occurred, as God's great idea, I'll empty the center of me, and seep back in through fractured rationality along trade routes between Africa and the forested north above the desert. Me, there, in mental efforting, thinking thoughts, not prayers, but wishes, hopes, thoughts that prayers attach to, as evidence. "Ask and ye shall receive." Love those who call you enemy, can you? Face me, Mr. Nobody, the essence of other, I declare peace, where none is, and you laugh. No ritual, no enchantments with promise, no sacred making of secular deaths, just just just adjust the justice aspect, blame the holy haters whose God dispenses vengeance, at the behest of warriors fitted with military minds. As when holy Americans gather to offer military aid, blessed by the congregations alerted to intercede, on the side that denies Jesus was God,--- ah, both sides, in this case… whither turn we, do we face Mecca, or Jerusalem, or Petra or … Sol or Luna, all our enculturated faith, blinks, a lense clarifying effort, rub the crust of sleep fallen into while mourning, unsealing eyes to see again, a war between two national identities, both with warrior glory emulation traditions, one with money as first de-fence, the other with hate, nothing less than pure hatred, Cain to Able, sorry bro. Old mean spirits. If the hate can live in any man, wombed or un, it will. Willingness to hate enough to **** a stranger, will manifest as holy terror… enough to make Jesus weep. --- and those were a few of the local thoughts made prayer, seemingly automatically, as mysterious as most final secrets. Part three, deeper, faster, harder… or not Doings in the dark, are done by feel. One, you or I, or some other sapien augmented with the messiah's mind, feels the need for the deed. Take the message from Garcia. Mystic experience in story realms, holding all the visions taken raw, as revealed… as when a curtained entry way is opened for inspection, are we ideas in bodies? are all ideas spirit in form? Inhale an intuited absence of evil, breathe the air of answered prayer. Imagine that, let fly the idea of you, beloved individuated potential saint. Here is your sentimental inner edge, your gnosis pressed flat as you see in. The edge of this bubble, is distant only to the holy cloaked in asceticism, twisting wicks for someday light in someday night, circulate one way then the other, rethinking perfected emptiness, there are no others, up or down, to and fro, vectors tie targeted states, spider kites form single ray classic webbing, slim banner, a flag unraveled long since. Follow me, I say to me, follow me, I say to you, saying back, I am not you. My option. Turn on, sit back and watch, evolving cave wall interesting hooks, look around, nothing interesting, eh? Television as imagined by petrified apes, during peak-info preservation history, when men like Franklin and Voltaire, met to share secret meanings of things. Previous to any whole story that remains, as when any mind mistakes tzimtzum inside as first occurrence, total emptiness, pre space, one time this instant accepted as audience in true gaseous we form, auto informing the vegetable phaze passed eons ago, life tells tales too esoteric for novices to notice, in the ideal state, active imagining, as with a child's mind, yours since ever was, so far as you may wish to remember, a time when the state was deemed comforting and beauty filled, chaotic process of floating lipids, in form of air, light has not dawned on us, we are night scene setters of settings, nodes of potential anything you can imagine, level with me, even, straight, right… yes it is the optional meandering mind engine, an idol, or a daimon, madness of sorted degrees, a little bit off the charts, sorted out. Not in, the bubble being becomes, when one emerges in a self… subtle is good, right, we agree? Jesus, before Christianity, as a kid, instructed with his cousin John, likely by his temple servant uncle. That can be imagined, projected on the outerwall of this bubble we be in. At the moment, on an Earth wired for sound, elephants agreeing to meet, to follow the pilgrimage, pilgrim beings activated by stark necessity successful to this degree… by the reader's time's at tension, pull release snap back, at what ifery, at once, push most bottom centered point once sitting in raw time thought processing, in and out, efforting - slightly off, not fully on uncomfortable impression of holy you better get better or else. Holy blank slate, bubble pop, soft wow Now, we're in the swirl, in the spin toward, froward lips sealed, golden silence, subtler than any beast, creature, living thing in the ruliad, am I? No. BUT, you know, those penance prayers, given you as a child, enchantments, as with all your renouncements of evil and pledges under God, in your child mind. Look. To your own self, be true. You still have private interpretation access to your child mind. If you put your worried mind to work on some thought too deep to ponder then, The idea of punishment by the Creator of all that is not God, but was deemed good, by God, because I said so, said the father, in the child mind. To know good and evil knowledge, that talent, initial mark on our blank slate, to know, not what you know, but ask your child mind, how does it feel, flat on your back gasping as others laugh, and your child mind blooms an entire eon - just to catch a breath takes for ever and there were others, the whole family of mankind of your kind, to your child mind, stood laughing at your attempt to perform a first flight, from an edged bet with an I think I can virus perpetuated in ever after, since mind made time make sense in chaos. Instantly, things start to take shapes, in mind. Non sense. Since. Processing time. Go. Instants out of mind, in atari. Fog of unknowns. I used to play the game. Not really, only, one off thought forms, cloudlike in symmetry, no clear tongue and groove, fitting our pro-posed… pose supposed, to listen and while listening, learn the use of any knowing, can be taken as granted possibility by your self. - distant sound of light sabers actuation Your blame and shame catcher, out front, as we steam ahead across the gap, thoughts made prayers must leap. Keep your eyes on the prize, three walnuts and a split pea with a hair, fine infant hair, see it there, your old minds eye. The unveiling of an artifice, an angle greater than straight, from this point… a re-entrant angle, like a point, banked shot. in

0

Oct 10, 2023

Oct 10, 2023 at 6:45 PM UTC

kenpepiton

Shorting Armegeddon

National mindsets self interested suffer forms of dementia as the order all confessed, demands of each a concentration of self worth, you bet your soul, but only in the spirit, step into the fray, say, let me lead you, say let me take elected office, democratic to the edges, being your voice in a popularity contest, not an intellectual joust. Tutelary deontology 101. Governing is managing the labor. Ask the king. Any flock in the system, governs itself. Business is business. Some arrangements are always secret. All grown ups are in the business of war supplies. Let your children's minds be at ease. Trust the checks and balances history proves, have never worked on balance, for the poor. Get rich quick as one can imagine, on a bet. War meets Peace, like it is the storm that left Greenland, a legend until now. Easily intreated innocense, who could know. Prosaic first morning pizz to prime the pump. How deep is the generational debt due to war? How many bonds have been sold to pay interest? How many times has the national debt ceiling failed? You know. Every time. "Each major conflict in U.S. history has been accompanied by a sharp rise in debt as the government raises funds to pay for the fighting." But laws do exist… "Without a declaration of war to put the country on a wartime economy, Congress paid for Vietnam by increasing the national debt. Over the course of the conflict, America's debt nearly doubled, growing from approximately $317 billion in 1965 to $620 billion in 1976." Now the debt is rising on interest alone. No need for another war. And America's trade balance is hinged, on the point of war. The ideal centermost irritant, war's hate pump, pain expanded by generational trespass acts likened unto the pea under the stack of feathered beds, or the bit of grit forcing oyster stress that has made the misshapen pearl sold to sovreign entities, those colors on the map, these mental aggregations called nations, by nationalist mind frame riveters, foundational eye beams, remove before demoting, ah, slow, riveted beams spanning ferro-concrete tech- think. Building a reasoning trap, children, ask your fathers to whom we owe our national debt. Ask also who sells the weapons to the world at war. Semper fi, no offence, but… holy hate is as crazy as hungry hate. A voice from a song, from nowhere, you just could rethink, or did, that first time think a bridge over troubled waters being a truly old good idea, come to rescue you, in the early days of Boomer parenthood… being grown ups, we never missed a Disney Movie, though by then, they were losing the gnostalgia, old knowns to be like so, were no longer even imaginably so. Old Yeller, Childhood's end, the separation from hearth felt comfort, to the class rooms and hallways of massive cold concrete schools… where on day one, the child pledges with its cohort of coeducatables, the ancient bond of aliegiance... I pledged mine first in 1954, the year "under God" was added. In the just now settling down towns along the great freeways, there has been no peace on earth in my generation, at the level of military minds in conflict caused by stories, boys bred with old hates just waiting for a sigh-psignal sci-revealed to those willing to become Jason Bourne, to the best of your abilities, ring the bell, any time. Welcome to the front. Sanity is on the line. There is no conspiracy, we sell our souls for what money can be demonstratively proven to allow and even augment. War is all we sell. There is another game, it's a liar's game. Many famous authorities have filled the space at the table. Take your hat off, Bartholowmew, she does not understand you. ------------ Daily communication with myself, one person, with no power to use save the early cultural confidence; sworn to tell the whole truth, so help me, God. Yes, your honor. Except we reactivate the curious why, functionally suppressed during the standard test taking by the proximate others diligently filling in the blanks, with graphite rounded just right, one swipe. Except we see that hanging senselessly realized. Each problem, one answer, not one option. Only select correct answer. Tell the child learning the pledge, God is on our side, emphasize how exceptional those who know so are, extremely discriminatingly, arranging the economy around the great decussation at the air gap, at the back of our national neck. In this time, thoughts and prayers, we hear spoken of as easily done, almost without thoughts, who responds?, who, has ever responded to the said to be going out constantly thoughts and prayers, asking truth to intervene and call the liars liars? God is not angry, nor without resources, according to the cultures now at war-- ¿ Whose mortgage was not paid with earnings from war readiness industrial complexes? Whose talent was left with the userers, because the Bible says y'sposed to earn interest? Whose 401K deflated to oops? Business begins with informed agreements. Let's make a deal. No killing, stealing nor needless destruction. Minds join eye to eye, one mindwise agreed, we become an entity, a being essential to the parts, a mind in harmony, rank and file. Greedy men with no agreement. Hmm, who loses? Line up, not by rank, single file, fall in, first and following, get in on the end, and wait for the circle to close, re done dances, life going wild as we celebrate our circle, we sing of it being unbroken in the sweet by and by… The land of those who talk back to El, yes, yes, we do, to honor Iyobe, who first called for the Daysman, who first told reality, with all it's evil potential, you cannot not be true, you know, in form as spirit and truth containable in words, logos, logos of all o-logies, so powerful as to allow, in fact, cause, new mindforms, species of thoughts that function as a system to make sense, discernible, bits of valuation determinable in agreement. -------------- Contractual obligations religiously adhered to just between us, we take advantage for the nation's sake. Madrassahs and aliegiance pledges set habits hard to break. Set the cost of goods, lower than replacement cost of the price. What does it cost a state to rear a warrior class individual that self replenishes? What does it cost me to scatter confusion in profuse create-ifity? So, add a proper tip, and pay the cost to ride this line to the next re-entering angle. Middle east, cauldron of all the holy empires thus far into the age of entertainment so vast, wise men can imagine, some day there will be a war, and no parents will have offered children to the infantry or made righteous indignation acceptable national pride to **** for. There Hamas, holy brainwashed haters of hatefulness. Repents and perishes the very thought of peace. Repay in kind, here, swear undying obediance, fear not death, this is Allah's Promise, die killing Jews, turns on the monstrous virgins awaiting you… in post mortal walled places, where the oldest civilizations occurred, as God's great idea, I'll empty the center of me, and seep back in through fractured rationality along trade routes between Africa and the forested north above the desert. Me, there, in mental efforting, thinking thoughts, not prayers, but wishes, hopes, thoughts that prayers attach to, as evidence. "Ask and ye shall receive." Love those who call you enemy, can you? Face me, Mr. Nobody, the essence of other, I declare peace, where none is, and you laugh. No ritual, no enchantments with promise, no sacred making of secular deaths, just just just adjust the justice aspect, blame the holy haters whose God dispenses vengeance, at the behest of warriors fitted with military minds. As when holy Americans gather to offer military aid, blessed by the congregations alerted to intercede, on the side that denies Jesus was God,--- ah, both sides, in this case… whither turn we, do we face Mecca, or Jerusalem, or Petra or … Sol or Luna, all our enculturated faith, blinks, a lense clarifying effort, rub the crust of sleep fallen into while mourning, unsealing eyes to see again, a war between two national identities, both with warrior glory emulation traditions, one with money as first de-fence, the other with hate, nothing less than pure hatred, Cain to Able, sorry bro. Old mean spirits. If the hate can live in any man, wombed or un, it will. Willingness to hate enough to **** a stranger, will manifest as holy terror… enough to make Jesus weep. --- and those were a few of the local thoughts made prayer, seemingly automatically, as mysterious as most final secrets. Part three, deeper, faster, harder… or not Doings in the dark, are done by feel. One, you or I, or some other sapien augmented with the messiah's mind, feels the need for the deed. Take the message from Garcia. Mystic experience in story realms, holding all the visions taken raw, as revealed… as when a curtained entry way is opened for inspection, are we ideas in bodies? are all ideas spirit in form? Inhale an intuited absence of evil, breathe the air of answered prayer. Imagine that, let fly the idea of you, beloved individuated potential saint. Here is your sentimental inner edge, your gnosis pressed flat as you see in. The edge of this bubble, is distant only to the holy cloaked in asceticism, twisting wicks for someday light in someday night, circulate one way then the other, rethinking perfected emptiness, there are no others, up or down, to and fro, vectors tie targeted states, spider kites form single ray classic webbing, slim banner, a flag unraveled long since. Follow me, I say to me, follow me, I say to you, saying back, I am not you. My option. Turn on, sit back and watch, evolving cave wall interesting hooks, look around, nothing interesting, eh? Television as imagined by petrified apes, during peak-info preservation history, when men like Franklin and Voltaire, met to share secret meanings of things. Previous to any whole story that remains, as when any mind mistakes tzimtzum inside as first occurrence, total emptiness, pre space, one time this instant accepted as audience in true gaseous we form, auto informing the vegetable phaze passed eons ago, life tells tales too esoteric for novices to notice, in the ideal state, active imagining, as with a child's mind, yours since ever was, so far as you may wish to remember, a time when the state was deemed comforting and beauty filled, chaotic process of floating lipids, in form of air, light has not dawned on us, we are night scene setters of settings, nodes of potential anything you can imagine, level with me, even, straight, right… yes it is the optional meandering mind engine, an idol, or a daimon, madness of sorted degrees, a little bit off the charts, sorted out. Not in, the bubble being becomes, when one emerges in a self… subtle is good, right, we agree? Jesus, before Christianity, as a kid, instructed with his cousin John, likely by his temple servant uncle. That can be imagined, projected on the outerwall of this bubble we be in. At the moment, on an Earth wired for sound, elephants agreeing to meet, to follow the pilgrimage, pilgrim beings activated by stark necessity successful to this degree… by the reader's time's at tension, pull release snap back, at what ifery, at once, push most bottom centered point once sitting in raw time thought processing, in and out, efforting - slightly off, not fully on uncomfortable impression of holy you better get better or else. Holy blank slate, bubble pop, soft wow Now, we're in the swirl, in the spin toward, froward lips sealed, golden silence, subtler than any beast, creature, living thing in the ruliad, am I? No. BUT, you know, those penance prayers, given you as a child, enchantments, as with all your renouncements of evil and pledges under God, in your child mind. Look. To your own self, be true. You still have private interpretation access to your child mind. If you put your worried mind to work on some thought too deep to ponder then, The idea of punishment by the Creator of all that is not God, but was deemed good, by God, because I said so, said the father, in the child mind. To know good and evil knowledge, that talent, initial mark on our blank slate, to know, not what you know, but ask your child mind, how does it feel, flat on your back gasping as others laugh, and your child mind blooms an entire eon - just to catch a breath takes for ever and there were others, the whole family of mankind of your kind, to your child mind, stood laughing at your attempt to perform a first flight, from an edged bet with an I think I can virus perpetuated in ever after, since mind made time make sense in chaos. Instantly, things start to take shapes, in mind. Non sense. Since. Processing time. Go. Instants out of mind, in atari. Fog of unknowns. I used to play the game. Not really, only, one off thought forms, cloudlike in symmetry, no clear tongue and groove, fitting our pro-posed… pose supposed, to listen and while listening, learn the use of any knowing, can be taken as granted possibility by your self. - distant sound of light sabers actuation Your blame and shame catcher, out front, as we steam ahead across the gap, thoughts made prayers must leap. Keep your eyes on the prize, three walnuts and a split pea with a hair, fine infant hair, see it there, your old minds eye. The unveiling of an artifice, an angle greater than straight, from this point… a re-entrant angle, like a point, banked shot. in