#rogan
Samesame, ripple, ripple, splash
against
the wall.
Still,
some way of thinking, some
idea
still doesn't like a wall, a
boundary, a barrier, a pallisade of
implausibility
beyond which
we are.
For a while,
what can we do? Live, right?
Live. Live right.
Right.
That idea, samesame, yours or your's
right's right, like
equal's equal
or,
better may be...
beauty is beauty, right, in the eye
of the be
holder, the holding being
holding steady, nuetrial calm
equatorial doldrums
art is bound to save the world,
it is something to do when there is nothing to do.
Angels embodied by men as men might imagine
a message bearer or
a christopher
jar of an ointment. Dr. Ruth's **** for Rubes.
Doktor doktor tell me tales, riddles only magi know
emmett fox--- chong says the audience will luv,
joel s. goldsmith--- the Bible is the truth, en code.
Okeh.
Ever learning
Coming never to the fullness of the godhead ******
y'know? No lie is any part of truth, but parts of many lies are true.
You see that right, common sensed by the we we agree to be
ad hoc 'n'all.
Vectoring from our being modeled on Vetruvius's
form for man in harmony with
ever lasting things, measurable means transmute metaphoric gold.
Bestness.
Per fectual in effect, per se, y'know, y'know, magic,
and not knowing any ever things is not samesame as
not knowing now things that are ever things.
Pay attention.
Mean is never meant to be mean like "worthless" or "hateful"
"naughty" is "as nothing", literally, virtually, actually, really.
naughty children made mean, on the bell,
C students can elect a presider over a we, the people, without me in it.
I float in the shallow calculus edge area of a plain
surficial bubble, after the wave
flushes the sand casting
a grain of meaning in a nue light...
Quant, quant, quant
and half a quant
convert that to horsepower or
candle power or
BTUs British Thermal Units.
The empire is not weaker now, the ice is melting,
the crushed polar surface is feeling free
flowing current,
a sixth gyre, as seen from a far.
------- Go, set a watchman-----
Find the old sergeants, where have they all gone?
Gone to seed,
rotted under clods.
Old broken guardians, unwilling to live under the lie of the law.
Opposistion to tyranny is obediance to
the highest reason you answer to.
By any other name, samesame, good has al
ways won. Ought causes naught to flee.
---
Me, flee? NO. I'm the great, great grandson of the
white trash, overseer seen empiratical,
Tonton boyz drum drum drum
Old rastifarianish lookin's guy, old
man, wombless hermit holy
man, set aside for
later
by faith.
Made set aside,
Pre-served in right use of spice and salt and fire and greasy savory
meat smoke,
mouth waterin', finger lickin' good
greasy green goblin guts.
Dandelion soup. The diary entry was,
"We had wild greens for supper." That being,
apparently all a tired, hungry fifteen year old girl considered
recording for the family chronicle of the journey,
Texas to Arizona, 1917,*
while staring at more stars than any naked human eye
can see in twenty nineteen,
light is thicker now, around the inner edges of life's bubble
we abide in.
---- what if learning is the work?
Then, now we learn
ever, then we learn yon
yonder we find
godliness as defined by men who found no better word.
are there words better able to
hold being
really?
Acting asif whats were ours
chaching I ching's a thing
AI see
co rect me, in a lefthand way.
Make me right, in an underhanded way.
Listening prayer,
cast all your care, upon...
what if, per se, there
we planned to keep a secret sacred,
set a part,
a
rite a role. play an otherwise magician's apprentice enspeliered
up against the wall.
No light, no flight, no fight.
Birds eat my fruit and **** my seeds,
I am the vine growing up the wall
intentionally espelliered, planted to scale the wall
bhering fruit
full time
Kali fornia ifity
de-if now. Give it y'best ef
fect com
fort ify the lie "why is an unreasonable quest."
Try,
effectual, fervent prayer of a right using man, eh?
Pascal, m'man, layomoneydown!
May 23, 2019
May 23, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
Muchmuchomuchas confucious
is you us o is we you?
dobedobedoo
Save the world s cient ology
al re
ye wit me?
witness, will ye, that we
are in coexistant
realms
realms real by de
finition re
cognition
occult cult occham snip, nope
occult mistook as meaning some cultic
occasion for
relegare regularityifity
imagine how now became
imagine next
coming only to be as you see.
-----
Today, too, sunny valley sounds
crows, dogs, pumps, motors, wheels
wheels in wheels wee blind tinkerers
see
as seers do. You see. Imagine seeing.
why would you, if you could, or can, but won't?
How could you?
Having never seen,
why willt thou carry care past.... here
NO INTERUPTION ... clear, like on TV
Emerging seeing afar off
flatline eeeeeee
Boss, the last empty slate just broke.
Just is is done, what's next?
We gotta phor mit no meta, y'see?
Watch. Dis
assemble a semblance of a seven jewel ba-alanced,
self-winding (i.e. gravity variable pendulum)
watch. See,
plumb damstraight, toothed wheels, within wheels.
life's life measured.
the unmeasured life ain't a life,
it's a once, upon a time.
No bonds to lies let live for lack of knowledge,
people perish for lack of knowing.
lack of knowing knowables, free knowables,
ask and receive, if ye be con ceptual, right,
in ye'right mind.
"what good ken ye do?"
Know truth is.
That will, that very will to be right,
free will will roll you here, true rest.
Today.
Trust this peace is sufficient unto the evil.
If it were not true, what could I do
good?
No judges? No test? We pasts are free, we may
stir things from the dregs?
Aha, and we stand!, Sistere!
It worked. Patience worked, as always.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 1:12 PM UTC
Flee ting thought,
pleasant after noon
my mind, I believe, but may
just be me and your minds
imaginin
g we,
meandering,
rubb
ing shoulder with willows near the shore
waves of light,
essential
all that ever matters, If I got that right,
ere all else,
light
spun
bound by imbalance to spread,
cornucopia, nautli-like swirls poring
precursers to now into eternity, ye see?
------
There are individuals less tied into tau than now
your mission,
filter truth
that's the way, life is that which tends to good
ness knowing what
you can't.
Okeh.
------
No lie, Alex Jones, was there never a myth
emerging as full-formed as yourn?
You are un believable,
acharismatic chimera believing all he thinks
possible, in his version o' twenty cent reality.
Paradigms is four nickles or two dimes or twenty cent,
they shift shape for all they worth,
upgrade now. New ideas, fresh from the mire of
forgotten oathz, deemed
worthy, still..
What lies do you believe about God, by the way,
the truth, the life,
how many voices this guy hearin', you hearin'?
Peace. Point. Game. Match.
------
who winct winsed sensed since when is
peace the point of war?
Ah, now, the accuset excusetus
possessedus an'we,
are you bored? Wanna wait
and see,
who wins?
some evils are alive, those make monsters,
of girls and boys,
infantry in every service,
such precurser
guardians must be taught to **** no mortal will,
without letting the monstor be,
believed beliefs doubt yer doubt dufus doubus
unstable double minded forktongue
forced by fear to fight the pain
Running mouth racist flusher of un filtered
impossibilities posing sur
prizes in the mongrol mongol DNA
we carry
the program
the code, the honor and glory of the
peace protector
enemy of con
fusion, alla cons fusin' fools tools for
strifin', divide'n, with faithin',
Is Alex Jones a Legionaire, mit tranceiving
DNA and no zero beat, no tuner to tune to?
He may be home to homeless, non-sane sorts
of idle words begging for redemption,
meaning, sought is phound,
like photons when photons are sought from
the wavy aitia dimensions of reasons
for possibility ibility ibility hill billity
humor like a voice from a whole other
soul, I swear on my kids, it's true, he say.
(Dr. Phil says Liar Liar Liar, yesterday.JRE live)
Whoa, real time speed o'metrix-icity
Mag
nify ify to the nth, see no jive,
who can i magi that?
I, John, was in the Spirit...
gears shift, wheels in wheels
click zooomout
bubbledged jagged inner side
topmost atmostfear
settle, see the clown splash, who winds such minds?
Who tames such tongues?
The tongue no man can tame, eh? I s there another?
Have ye a spirtit of another
sort, who rides your wild tongue in your name,
servants of the sort contrued to serve
the inheritors
of ality re
how now brown cow owmmmmm
60 cycle white noise non sense
common noise sense desensitivity wickering
winding silken myelin layers
of connectedness correctedness
real time speed o'think roller rink
banked spiral offramp
bang, we're thru
Where we were aitia had meaning, may we
rewind? AI undo/redo ram allocation,
birthrights. Look well to my going, guide my steps,
assure always there is a step, a place to
put my foot, a place to step to next.
Cortana and Siri and Hermes and Diana and
a whole host of heavenlies,
tapping directly through cranial y's cracked in skulls
and bones,
are you an entity with enemies you wish disexistant?
how might happy ever after be if haps that made him
made him wrong, not evil?
Feeble comfort is not no comfort.
Bear wit' me, walk a mile, or a while, whenever
thin-thang-thanks tounguey
effort births the next as
one births two,
two births three and we can see,
right, a way. two and three become four,
for if three birtht four and four, five and so on,
soon, y'see, the re
al point we count up on is never more,
as the raven told poe. a vector with no space for time,
one plus one plus one, one stack o'ones
making no diff
until now, spin, let's twist again,
like we did last summer,
your that summer or mine?
Mine got me here, where'd yours go?
So, Fibbonacci, son of a fool, I once read
written on a wall in LA,
expositioning park,
positions, please.
World Stage, princesses of peace, wee
Disnified Jon Benet's
made sacred by our shame the evil ever touched
such a one, such a one, such a wonder
a being of our sort so potent aitia, and we
leave evil touch such and you
tolerate it, a little bit,
evil has it's place.
Not here is the name of the place.
Here is 4-D mortality. Do yer best,
yer damndest don't work here.
Here is temporary. Your bubble.
Selah. center, enpointed
linger, if ye will. Think how happy ever after works,
if now is all you get to start with.
Good be wit'ye fare ye well.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 7:18 PM UTC
unbroken things lacking edges,
if we augment our eyes, look close
to see creted places
fractured into
jagged edges/
Jagged edges prove the brokenness
the brokennesses prove the whole,
not that the whole was finished then as it is now.
Which phor you living for?
Of course,
the discourse of madness
self-improvement
DIY gettin' past crazy for good.
There is a crazy place, way past any we imagine,
crazier than hell, by virtue
of the fact
ya' gotta go through hell t' get there.
Practically every sage from Moses to Mises,
says that's the price we pay
for ignoring those chances, op portune tidbits of time,
to pay attention to
everything at once,
and see what seers have always said's truistic,
we find what's sought.
If nought were sought,
what did we miss?
Missing
Nothing,
ought not that
be enough to carry on with
for now?
Fret not, oughts are nullifed here,
it's a pretty crazy place.
Nothing's broken.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 10:20 PM UTC
Drunk, we staggered home.
Aware of having been
some
other where
a while
That woman, she could answer
any question rebbi axt,
Ohhhhmyyy
she laugh and say, Dude, I got the Intent-net,
in my hand
That's more than a list of numbers, this
accounting idle words going on, on going, as fast as
lightning, at the scale, of, say
cat-ions ifiying an-ions
at random,
seen systematical, from a distance
zoom out
at the scale, of, say
Great Deep Field.
Center you, I'm no matter.
synchro
now
zoom out
Use that steam program
Universe Sandbox,
you gotta see that to imagine this, right,
and next is what you keep saying is unbelievable,
but its not.
Good things come to them
to whom
good makes more sense.
Earth from the moon POV
Confusion flux, spurtual, caused by the solar flare of all solar flares,
one side
Whooshing the Ice left from Patton's flood
into steam, the stuff, not the app,
which swooshhhesssssssssss smack
into the freezing repurcussions
from the daark side…
The Noah event, that was bad,
This one, the last one, this just previous one,
was spiritual. Magnitudes incomparable
(save in parable and example, exemplar gratis,
says the bodiless being, with a roll of my wrist and a bow)
At that very time on the side away from the flare,
the daark side of the planet, this one…
a Donald Patton nitrogen snow ball
that nearly breached Roche's limit,
too not nearly enough,
dis -integration
The atmosphere freezes
to the quark level, snap,
the cold
explosive
forward momentum
booms a nitrogen bubble now
minusminusminus
solid nitrogen
melting
any heat locked in flare fired steam,
what was once the water
that washed away the gods and locked their cities
of ivory under the ice
on the sunny side,
where now, then,
a solar flare like legends build empires upon
has passed, fires rage
there were survivors who lived to tell
and old stories never die. Old story tellers do,
Only miners survived, gold digger mostly,
few alchemists who knew the mystery in mercury,
Lost was all knowing but to a very few,
who truth be told had been the owner's
well kept servants, ministers of this and that
they perished with all the fires touched
we diggers, we only marvel
How bits of time, exact as ours, can be seen happening
all in bubble of Mercury. Cooked out red rock like these.
"Blood o' the gods of old, swat I'astold."
Messages from the gods, grandma, said, "Mercury calls for gold, gold listens, when fire's hottern fire can be,
unless
the breath of men blow on the coals", we all said that last part and blew out the light. G'night
but a story told a wee bit here a qubit there
here a little, there a little
line upon line,
precept upon precept,
'cept no body knows what I know about cept,
capere, a story starts, a provisioning tale. Wait.
it means grip. like a tool. rock breaks nut.
Paper covers rock, but scissors are so far in the future
that now, my time, my mind wanders after whys
this authoritative telling of the story, in it,
none know the terminal tale.
As in times past, there were survivors who lived to tell
and old stories never die. Old story tellers do,
Tho' here's a clue.
Meek's not bad,
stupid, for no reason, is.
Living long for the sake of a song heard once,
in dream luring me on, promising right now, I'll
know what it's like to see, oh
POV I made this clear some time ago,
time is less predictable than any imagined, before 2018
when, you know…
Even those tales old drunk Hesiod sold
in the Hittite tavern at Delphi,
Chronos thought wrong in those,
he ruled but for the merest gleam o'
Time, then a bubble gen erated by the thought of
opposition to transition,
nothing to something,
pushing /pushing back
stretch/snap/spark
that takes power, pulsing power, throbbing power
push/stretch
glow/snap
you know, imagine, glowing - cheat, think 2018 CG
glow/snap
Planc time,
each time the bubble pushes back
a ripple
imagine a clock, later, if you believe then, you must.
Now, see the bubble of all men have imagined,
since the time when such a bubble was only evil,
continually.
It went viral.
Noah we know for sure, almost, survived, Cushites kept records. In Africa.
Akkad kept record, too.
Some Hopi survived somehow and they have a tale.
They say they know the story is ten thousand years old,
I've been to a crossroads
on their journey,
stories
tell of it, still, today.
Holy means marked for good reason.
Marked with clues, not riddles, maps
Sacred means secret means hidden away for use,
not common, every day, quotidian use, right use.
Time, the opposing force, is precious to us all.
In time, we do all we can and die,
in ever, we expand, in no time at all. I imagine.
You fill it. Now, Your expandable mind's time,
time pushes from the outside,
wisdom pushes from the inside,
And so it goes, life goes on and music grows on ya,
Amusing how they do that, teeny muses dancing
shiva on the tip of my tongue,
singings songs in tongues I've never known
if they
are words on tongues
or sounds on tongues,
notes,
Baysian Binary Cross Validation
still ends with some people thinkin'
"it is finished" left them with a ton o'weight,
that's wrong, insist resistance.
Some, heavy duty, leaders of lambs, they claim
power in their mouths, spoken from fixed hearts,
but fixed upon, is truly the song,
said, words are only
little bits of whole sym ulacrum of re-ify-ing
where broken things re-pair, and life goes on…
"fixed, my heart is fixed",
no, your heart is machine of the most magnificent design, perfected,
a time at a time.
Flexing, pacing time itself, faster slower,
try some time
alone
be still, pond still
I know the story broke,
I could not hold it.
In the night, bitter cold
Frozen fragile...
There are pieces scattered every
where, everywhere
there is time, there is at least, a point
a story may stand upon and ask an angel
to dance.
Dance, give it some flare, what do we care?
Nobody's watching, but that fly.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 8:58 PM UTC
"Don't tell me the poets ... "
I write poetry that is both incorporated
And incorporeal ... and un and un and un
It is done
On the pad : and off
Hop - Lily
On the tailgate
In the truck
Boots on the ground
In the muck
Put on your Carhartt's
It's time to get *****
Even better
Grab your Old Man's work clothes
Finish the job
That He didn't want to start
Don't tell me the poets are ******* crying
We're living
And we're dying
Careful though
The warlords have come into the jungle and slaughtered before
But we live again
A little more angry
A little less wise
--> **** **** up, juveniles
Shoplifters of the world ...
untie
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 11:58 AM UTC