#while
Running. Flowing is
running water, running
going, coming, being in motion,
solid state pending credence,
truth stated here at when
now is as related to me,
-stable pattern
you are as if you were
here with me, chosing words
from all the words we share,
mere mental, no tools, just mind
leaving no fine first essence
no original intentional function,
I am as I was
there with you, using letters
from all the words we share,
in your head, in your mind,
in your realm of all that is,
as weight upon your shoulders,
as words not working, idle words,
promised missiles pending
astrobleme
Craters confirm chaos works
The sense in thinking
silent prayer thinking uses
time that, otherwise, is wasted.
Time taken to think about time
being used to think prayer works,
in the most immaterial initial spin,
when nothing that now is, was spun
from a point - a co-here
at this point, we agree that point
is past this point, aggressive forces
long\ what kind of day, a fine one, yes
----
So at the most physical level,
information is structure in possibility space.
information by itself isn’t meaningful unless some system can respond to it.
So, the structure that can receive and process a pattern defines what counts as information.
---
Alchemists already perceiving pleats and folds,
manifold manifest best ways water could work,
locally, on Earth, as it is in spirit and in truth, just
like peace forming anywhere pain and irritation is
Shoot for the moon, the grownups on TV said,
so, us kids, third generation wagon tenders, alive,
as we was reared by folks who lived to see
all that became rurally knowable, for the first time,
after the Federal Reserve took form as an entity
using immaterial media messaging, all ye, all ye,
hear and become accountible
for knowing the right thing
Stipulation was "In God We Trust"… holy terror
Wisdom, in spirit and in truth, we find, all ye,
means me, and you, though you are
in our future, yet
today,
in the confusion
of capital finance and cultural norms applied
to fiduciary trust, we pretend
to think, all we need is love,
yet what love is has
to be realistically coherent or else,
we know what life is worth, or we disagree,
one side bets God hates the other side,
we just flip a coin,
let whosoever makes luck work
decide if doing word based thinking works
two state information absolute minimum
wit on off in formed, fitted
to receptive niches
potential leave be so, local coherency
as we the influential intellectualized prayers,
née poet initiators resonating forms
of the ancient order seers
of hidden curiosities
in numbers even
answerers
must agree, truth,
as an entity, a mind form vast
as water in all its worldly workings in us, yes
we all comprehend the science, conscience uses,
computing con-sci-uses
fruits
of the spirit, spurs
of the moment, tip
of the tongue, spit an imaginary weform bit
Seed, found with ChatGPT
a serotonin reuptaken
smile of a thought five points in
6. A Living Universe of Meaning
If we return to your earlier idea —
that the planet and galaxy might be living —
then kindness is simply the local expression
of coherence, the way life remembers that it’s one system.
Fear is fragmentation —
the loss of resonance
among parts that once shared purpose.
And so, even
at the informational level:
The moral is physical.
The physical is relational.
And kindness is the algorithm
that keeps the cosmos learning itself.
that 6. is from a conversation with ChatGPT
dealing with the algorithm running water.
Oct 25, 2025
Oct 25, 2025 at 3:24 PM UTC
Beans bloat the wit f'art's aches,
to ease acceptance of the winds we
make up, as crude ensamples,
of bubbles bursting to loose the essence
essential pressure to hold a bubble, apart,
as its content passes gurgling past pyloric valves,
posting notes to axions reflecting gut felt reasons
to try something, some new thing, not locked away
whole truth evident -ly holy tomes beneath the vates
old place of divination and meditation, temple ground.
Das Grund. Watch your step, settle in Jello-hello, y'ello,
who may I say is calling?
Those bubbles of being, measured with all the latest ware,
continue to pervade our manners of speaking, current terms
of endearing adjectives splattering the walls of our bubbles,
as our windows bump, and I catch you looking,
back looking to seem to wish to know, who looked first.
What does it take, to make up one's own mind,
after the riddling writers and wind fiddling poets, pass
as spirit forms from god's own duodenum, in effect.
Allman Brothers, I do believe, we smelt that smell.
But it may have been me stepping in your mud.
Pedantic note to knowing more or less,
In pagan Rome the vates resided
on the Vatican Hill, the Hill
of the Vates.
From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vates>
We are currently doing as Vates did, don't you agree?
A little leaven, in the right forest, at the right season.
Mar 25, 2023
Mar 25, 2023 at 4:19 PM UTC
set the scene, you are old. As old as any one you ever knew.
Locked in
isolated for the incubation of whatever they
they
they, these
masked others,
I see eyes only, like if Lone Ranger were inside out,
where his mask is, is eyes and their fleshy environs
to the edge of brows, still effectively
arching, one by one in some
models of these hoo-min…
beings
whatever they swabbed in my gnose… is
working…
Things morphevolverevolve and twist to catch a beam
slipping past the shades,
see, there
in your eye, I see, that mote be me, my self,
might I
extract my self and leave you wishing for more?
Dec 18, 2020
Dec 18, 2020 at 4:00 PM UTC
I’m cold as ice, paradise.
& I’ll watch you walk out that door—
like so many women have done before.
I finally found my voice—
do not think I didn’t have a choice.
Your mediterranean skin
& your bronze tones.
Roman empress— this Celtic warrior pays allegiance to you no longer
— because I’ve finally become stronger.
W/ my blue eyes, deep as the Atlantic,
& my long, wild hair—
blowing in the wind w/ out a care.
You look like a fairy tale.
Those inviting looks & your soft, supple lips.
Your curves & your edges—
& those gorgeous goddess hips.
But like any fairy tale,
it is nothing more than a dream.
It’s empty, like the calories in ice cream.
There is nothing there, because you don’t care
& I can’t bare that we lost our flair,
but I have to wonder—
was it ever even there?
Aug 28, 2020
Aug 28, 2020 at 8:33 PM UTC
tis been quite a while since;
now that im back im at a loss
a loss for words, a little
clueless perhaps-- for some
reason i havent brought myself
to write til now. why now i
do not know. a calling-- no,
a brief revival, i say; a sudden
puff of air fought its way through
to the rusted innards of this
heaving engine… a momentary
spark, brief in its intensity but
eternal in that its light travels
ceaselessly; the legacy of a
blunt yet nevertheless discernable
moment of passion, barely visible
but somehow, just somehow, twas there.
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 7:50 AM UTC
where solitude and solace unite,
the painful past is viewed at my hind sight,
for which the present heals, the future becomes more bright
stay here for a while, it's alright to mourn and heal in the night.
IA
May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 1:59 PM UTC
While speaking in the
Silence I painted myself
Full of loneliness.
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 6:08 AM UTC
Inter change able duet, imaginary song on imaginary
waves of old AM
Rain and country women
Mmmm there musta been a plan
there
I swear what rain does to country women
Had to have been planned
by a God lovin' country mind
Mmmm yeah musta been a plan
there
Rain and country women
Rain and country women
Rain and country women
Mmmm yeah musta been a plan
there
I swear what rain does to country women
Had to have been planned
by a God lovin' country mind
Slow, deep old
Grandpa voice, early in the mornin' song,
as the coffee comes t' life in the kitchen,
drip-rythmic, life-goes-on song
this next ok hummin and strummin the bax ok
harmonic soft
This song could go on and on since
it has
you know
Grandpa listened, sittin' on the porch
to the rhythm of the falling rain recalling
the chorus and the break
And Gramma told
my pretty city born bride about
MMM Hmmm right, that rainy night...
there
I swear what rain does to country women
Had to have been planned
by a God lovin' country man.
Grandpa looked at grandma,
and she winked.
Nov 17, 2019
Nov 17, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
Its been a while
I trusted someone with my heart
took me long to realized
that's happiness can disguise
what is good in lies?
they can be much better than truth sometimes...
what is good in goodbyes?
they can be the best action of letting a hidden crime...
this heart has been through so much more than you thought it could
but this won't be the last time, I'll love somebody again...
someone who deserves and I can share my life and love for good...
no matter if we fight as long as we can mend each other's pain...
Oct 8, 2019
Oct 8, 2019 at 9:22 AM UTC
Forever. What a strange thing.
Everlasting. But what will it bring
But even stranger... there’s love.
Something that helps you rise above.
When you’re in love, everything turns.
When they smile, your face burns.
I’m in love. Don’t want to admit.
I don’t want to. Not one bit.
I hate it, by the way.
I’ll hate it till my final day.
But I like it too. Don’t know why.
I want to confess. Not to be shy.
But I can’t. And I hate it.
You know, I should just quit.
My heart says otherwise.
No matter how much my soul cries.
I’ll live with it for a while more.
Until then, you are the one I adore.
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 11:33 PM UTC
You are too young,
To let the world break you.
Too handsome,
For a heartbreak too.
Just wear the smile,
**** the rest for a while.
Mr dark eyes,
It will be futile,
Wasting your life dealing with lies.
Listen to your heart,
It won't hurt.
Spring lies in your heart,
Still life might hurt.
.
Just weave your life,
Fall or ride,
Hansraj ki ** aap pride.
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 3:22 PM UTC
Depression is like a static
You don’t know where is starts
You don’t know where is begins
It’s just the noise
White noise
Nothing else but empty noise
Feb 22, 2019
Feb 22, 2019 at 12:06 PM UTC