Fission, fusion.
Derision after derision.
Creation, destruction.
Degredation after degredation.
Combination, seperation.
Decay after decay.

Fusion, fission.
Praise after praise.
Destruction, creation.
Amelioration after amelioration.
Splitting, collaboration.
Growth after growth.

I know only
That I know nothing!

I'm sure the phenomenon is
Far wider-spread than
At any other time throughout history.
The want to have been born,
Decades or years before,
And I think it's easily attributable.
Inundated with knowledge
It is hard to come to some consensus
Among peers,
Likewise it is difficult
To be in a situation you'd rather not
Able not only to conceive
But receive, every scenario you could think of.
Many of which would be the least bit better than the reality currently ascribed

The best way to goad a lie?
Believe it yourself.
But it's even easier
To convince others of the truth
Being false itself

The contrast between truth and falsehood
Lie in the whether
The inquiring party
Believe, or not;

Sufficiently convinced enough?

It was the glen of jabberwocky,
Deep within the twaddle mire.
The gobbledygook was being spewed
By the grand codswallop,
The tripe was drivel
And all manner of blethered haver
Did most piffle & bosh.
The great imperial hooey of guff-phooey
Visited with bunk,
There was to be a festivity of the tommyrot;
On the morrow we would dribble bull
Till the cobblers called tosh, ****, cod,
And said their applesauce.
No malarkey here crosses their fingers,
For all the liars have bellywash
And work the flapdoodle with bunkum & bushwa.
All the poppycocks we laid out
For the celebration of the gibberish,
When mumbo jumbo hung a more,
Low & long.
On the fens of the balderdash,
At the mouth of the babble,
We sang the song of argle-bargle
By our native tongue jargon.

It was first rate flummery
By the standards of the order of palaver,
The prime wheedlers of gab & fanster.

He belongs to it
As a citizen of the nation:
Another voice among the crowd,
A plebian shotuing outside the assembly.
Raise up your hands, my compatriots,
And let them hear your opinions!
Is the conduct quiet? Loud?
Have you dampened all other noise out?
Do you have an ear to listen?
It's a re-run made parody
Having been so shoddily done
From being so poorly conceived
By a lack of understanding.

Dabble in travel duel citizen?
Come from the land of elims?
Most are not from Rome or Turin,
Berlin or Bavaria-
Most don't speak Italian or German.
Likewise with Russian, Mandarin,
Arabic, the King's English, Hebrew.
No winding Rhine,
No rushing Niagara,
No swelling Yellow River.
All the ponds & gulfs left behind
Like Aden, Bothnia, Carpentaria.
No more Urals, no more Himalayas,
No Alps, no Andes,
No Atlas, no Pyrenees.
No more blackcurrants,
Going without papaya.
Put back that whiskey,
Send back that bourbon.
No more Jarlsberg cheese,
No more bottles of champagne.
Cut out the list of avocado,
No more palm or olive oils extra virign.

No more fancy foreign fruits,
No more spoiled rotten vegetables.
Right?

This is nationalism
As it's being directed,
You'll get to watch the film.

I'm sure it'll be inaccurate,
But I doubt it.

it's been warm this December
and barely a snowfall touched the ground
they're saying in several Septembers
heat rivaling ol' helios'll be found
supposed to be like Luckenbach, Texas in my area
Funny, I always liked Waylon n Willie
can you imagine the hysteria
when's there's even more to be fighting for
dying over, and killing?

I don't know what you were doing,
But you look like a dog
That just stole the roast
From right off the table!
Actually, I know it,
I'm just giving it a better face.

In that mercy, is it grace?
Is it blessing? Are you saved?

Anchors like weights,
Writs from writers acting
Behind the curtains.
I fear they don't even know it's a play,
But they're aware there's stakes.
Whatever press representative
That today flirt nationally
Are riddled with stains.
Very few apart from the alternative,
Though they have well suffered
By those who are dependents.

Who is guilty? Who is judging?

Old man stroked his chin,
Rubbed his forehead
And ran his hands through his hair.
He cleared his throat,
Tightening the slack in his line,
He was a regular killick in his time -
Youth was short, but was it fair.
These days it's just a simple trolling boat,
And he casts his rod overboard
But he's not been bringing up a lot.
Waitin' on that change in the wind.

i'm glad
i got to see you light up
and smile
even if it was brief

treating her sadly
in his dull pride admired

when his innocence, inoculated
with sour spores,
devolves into thick hides
jaded attitudes
and glazed gaze
raised in the house,
to only look in at the garden
via viewports distorted

From cosmopolitan, to nationalism;
For the world, for country.
For what is the world today
But a conglomerate of nations,
For what is a nation but apart of a world?
On a mish-mash, adrift through a vast nothing;
What a ride, what a whirl-
A mess of tribes infighting.

For any head beneath the crown,
Any hair which the scalp has graced,
Was placed upon there by the Almighty
To give right & honor their divinity
As our King of England, His Majesty.

Long may He reign.

For health & in praise,
We honor our royalty & nobility
And recognize their sovereignty
With zeal & in haste,
We bend the knee happily.

For the success of our kingdom & country,
Who else may we thank?

For our rights & our liberties,
Who else guarantees?

Grateful are we, who share in this hymn,
To have been blessed by the Lord above
For such righteous leadership
And clear-headed soberness.
In the face of our adversaries,
Your strength has never wavered
And your acumen has never wandered.
You have remained ever stalwart,
Always earnest & virtuous.

God-chosen & proven self-evident;
May the sun never set
On you who are worthy.

Long may He reign.

"And it is I
Deciding where & when, if,
¹ You shall go."

"And it is I
Who rows from shore to shore
² Ferrying each passenger."

How to get through to someone
Who simply won't talk to you‽
How to get through to someone
Who thinks they've already "gotten through‽"
How to get through to someone
Who really can't be bothered seeing‽
How to get through to someone
Who really isn't listening‽

What's 𝘮𝘺 name?

For most crave some recognition,
For most know of some loneliness.
It's better to have compassion,
Lest our rasher emotions ruin moment.
It's better to have patience,
Lest our hectic thoughts disrupt a companion.

Who are 𝘺𝘰𝘶?

For many can be very callous,
For many are much imbalanced.
It's better to care for one's self
Than to be hurt by another who only does.
It's better to love who you are
Than to find that you're with someone who does not.

Themselves. Others.

"Remember, remember,
The 𝘍𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘩 of November:
Gunpowder, treason, plot.

For there is a reason
Why gunpowder & treason
Should ne'er be forgot."

Aye.
Drop all the bawny
And read it right:
One will notice
The exclusion in remembrance
Of plot proper.

What drivel, what rot.

A nursery rhyme,
Meant to lull asleep a populace.
You hear the story
That they were religious nuts,
That was projection.

Not a soul on our side
Was for balmy superstition.

We who was folks of science & virtue,
Philosophy proper was our standard -
What that had been & is corrupt.

Remember the Fifth
And remember his brother;
Two blonde youths,
Two tawny royal lads,
And one whom they slaughtered.

We fought for the expansion of freedoms,
Civil liberties & such.
For the likes of social programs now widely enjoyed -
Schooling, healthcare, and the like.
For not a soul among us to know hunger,
That they might have daily - bread
And the like.

A son named
After a king usurped -
Woodville, or Wideville;
For it is a large world,
But really quite navigable.

And a King who took a new name
In honor of his slain uncle,
D̲i̲c̲c̲o̲n̲ C̲l̲a̲r̲k̲e̲

Once more, where moored,
The only survivor.
Might is nary ever really right.
They too saw that
On the Isle Wight.

This line;
Long & tried,
Persecuted & replanted.
Forevermore,
As it had been before
And doubtless shall be again,
Wearing the verdant festoon.

In Old World, like New;
Truth is always the fashion,
Justice is always the passion.

Like bouquets of flowers
Which are all but homogenous
And withering from neglect.

Like a classic & well known speech;
But someone altered it greatly
From structure, wording, & hermeneutics.

Like beaches of glass,
Where time & wave deny
Any smoothing of edges.

Poetry is long-winded,
The stanzas bore
Through ups & downs.

There's talk of rules in a capitol,
Whispers around Moscow
Of how to act clandestinly.

On how to move in the shadows,
Of acting without notice & silently.
On how to avoid & evade,
Of how to deflect & debate.
On how to turn people over,
Of how to churn up info.
On how to survive the living
Of an actor of a foreign agency.

There's talk of rules in a capitol,
Whispers around Washington
Of how to get away with things.

So you know I don't believe
A ton of the **** I'm musing on,
But rather I am just musing on it.
Yet, we know of violent extremists
Which we are funding
Who do believe in similar rhetoric;
But I am guilty?
No. ******* and **** that.

Where's my army funds?
Where are my weapons and munitions?
Oh, right. I forgot.
The Irish aren't people,
No need to apply.

Burnt olive trees, to provide nutrients
For soil's hunger;
For the insatiable appetite
Of the wandering, lost souls.

Out in the desert, praying for a bloom of
Blue lotus;
The river thumps on,
The streams flow

No more dates, no more plums-
Just sick puns;
This is how you worship omnipotence?
Through war & the ****** of innocents?

Second class citizenship, not even recognized at all;
Prison states and dehumanization.
Extremism fostered on either side,
Each side refusing responsibility

All in the name of Allah
All in the name of G-d

Let us not be
A generation of little martlets
Let them hear us
Over the ramparts, we will be triumphant

For even space is occupied,
There is both foreground & background.
That which is visible
And that which is elusive.

Like vapor from water forming clouds.
Like gaseous vents expelling
What can not be seen, but felt.

All is & all is connected.

Photonic resonance?
Is this the most material description
Of the mental processes of the mind
By that of the *****, the brain?
Thought & the like?

Cursed? Condemned?
To wander the Earth for eternity?
Aeneas, or Cain as some call him,
Was a person of renown - a leader and scholar.
Part of the crew of Odysseus,
He was called to the ship
But neglected to board it.
The name of the isle of flowers?

The Garden of Eden.
It's caretaker? Cybele.

Before the isle
Aeneas, like others,
Were offered the Trials.
This was to visit all the places
Currently & properly "gardened."
Reward for completion of the Trials
Was longevity, strength, et cetera.
Gnomen & Seers had procured,
Through generations of Trial & error,
A potent cataplasm
Which they learned to mutate/grow
Into a selected fruit.
Like an apple.

The Garden of Eden
Was a place of experimentation,
Much in the same vein as the Tower of Babel.
Where the Tower of Babel was focused
On the development and perfection of communication;
In things like language, oration, poetry, literature, et cetera
The Garden of Eden was focused
On experimentation with different forms of chemicals.
Chemicals, of course, coming in many forms;
Plants, minerals, other natural phenomena, substances & combinations, et cetera.
Part of this was experimentation with psychotropics,
Attempting to develop natural immunities
To such things like alcohol and cannabis.

Aeneas & Cybele,
Driven mad by drugs & mental-illness,
Left the isle.
For Aeneas was a rule-breaker
And confided in Cybele all that he understood and knew
About the Trials.
Aeneas had one trial left,
The Maze.

The Maze was enormous.
Upon its walls
All of human history was carved,
The entirety of that which was experienced by us.
All that had been relayed by various Gnomen & Seers
Through generation after generation.
Carved in ways that could be universally understood,
At least by those living within those ancient societies.

The red thread?

A guide to weapons, combat, subjugation/*******, et cetera.
This area of the Maze
Also housed a weapons cache
In the event the Maze was threatened or attacked.
Who informed Aeneas of the red thread?
Cybele.
Who informed Cybele?
Scylla.

You see, as previously mentioned,
Part of the Trials was to visit
All these areas which had been "gardened."
Auxiliary to this
Was to visit all those
Who had been deemed unworthy or had failed the Trials,
Like Scylla had been before meeting Cybele.
Living cautionary tales,
"Condemned" not to "wander"
But to live out their natural existences
On isles which were gardened for beings
Like predators and plant life which was vicious.

It was Scylla who "blew" Odysseus & his crew off course,
Knowing of Cybele & Eden.
Cybele who later drugged the "Minotaur."

"Praefectus,
What does it mean to grow?" Said R & R

For I am Hellas - Helios,
But you shall be Rhṓmē.

"Is it just to take a name?"

For all of this is taking?
You, I shall name Romulus.
For you I share nothing.
For it means brutality.

"What might you give me?"

For all of this is given.
You, I shall name Remus.
For you I give favor.
For it means kindred spirit.

"Where are you going?"

You two are nearly yet full grown.
I have given a verdict,
Remus is to lead the people.

"That isn't fair! This is an injustice!"

Come back with me to Hellas,
If that really is your perspective,
Your family shall still welcome you home.

"I deserve this! All of this!"

Deserve what?
Who are you who I named?
Who are you who I raised?

"I reject these ways!"

Good. You may still yet come to understand them.
Heed my decision. When have I ever acted against your interest?
Praefectus is the most honorable of professions, I sense no honor in you.

"That's your fault! Your perception! Your perspective!"

You are still very young, Romulus.
The brutal mind can incapacitate,
Both problem & thinker.
You 𝘤𝘢𝘯 choose to be either.

"You speak in riddles, fool! No one can understand you!"

Your brother understands fine.
In fact, he understands them perfectly.
For your brother, not you, has wisdom.

"I will **** you!"

Save it, child. I told you, I'm leaving.
Heed my decision. When have I ever acted against your interest?
You are not fit to be a leader.



What can one who learns everything
Always still have a chance not to know?

To be unbiased, to be impartial.

this gnawing ache in my chest
like words can't express
miles and miles from you
my love

I like hair enough to whip it,
To have the wind pull it
And muss about my face.
It's reminiscent of living,
Makes me feel grounded.
Enough hair on my chin
That I can stroke it when I think,
Weather it with whiskey
And plenty of smoke.
I'd like to say it's for joy,
But lately it's for the nerves.

God I'm a cynic
at times
I want the world to burn,
I want to die
look up in the sky
and think of the limitless possibilities
everyone out there
hurting
so many possibilities
and joy seems
so distant

why is being a good man in the modern world so complicated
why can't i be good

Shedding, prior to your sister's arrival
Quiet and silent
So it's all my own

Streaming in the car
Quiet, silent
All on my own

For to rest in the gymnasium
Is to watch others wrestle.
There is no pendulum
Which is not but itself a pebble.

I am the gnomon.

For all are free
And each person is their own mason.
From the block of marble we chisel
Out who are ourselves.

You worry about the harm one could do?
I'm worried about the harm being done.

You're worried to offer an inch?
I tell you, grab a hold of my arm!

Ah, yes. Holocaust. Genocide. Yes. Pagans are familiar with that. Just not in the way that you think.

Ah, yes. Holocaust. Genocide. Yes. Abrahamics are familiar with that. Just not in the way that you think.

I've got an inquisition I've put together! We've got to exercise! Burn all these things! For surely they contain evil spirits! For why else would someone think differently from me?

No! Hogwash. Darwin? You must be mad, man! For surely you don't also contest that the Earth is the center of all of the heavens! If we're not special, why else do we exist as we exist?

Do you believe more in the imperfect or the perfect? Do you assign more value to the material or the immaterial? Is there correlation between those two? There is an obvious relation comparatively within each question. For they could be graphed on a spectrum, if one were able to conceive of that. But what is "perfect?" But what is "immaterial?" For I may find the perfections in the imperfect. For I may reach and could touch the immaterial.

No! Some council several hundred years ago settled this! No! I don't know & I don't need to know who attended. Don't need to understand that moment's political atmosphere. The motivations and intentions of those who participated. I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship! I just need to worship!
I just need...

Wanna be pervasive on thoughts?
On carte blanche?
I'll give you a perverted stream
And force you to wade in it.

I'll tease you with wonder,
I'll keep from you the infinite.
Enjoy your *******?
Have another pile of manure!

Alone
But I won't be, forever.
This feeling will go, too
Like you.

commitments of convenience
where one gives another,
they lack themselves

valves let loose
and the sewer pipe spews
till the sludge run down
and your streets turn brown

joining the maelstrom

Stars - gas all exhausted -
Under their own weight, collapse:
A lighthouse, crumbling

Compassion,
The path of all things.
To care about nothing
Would be to learn just the same.

Curiosity,
The drive of all things.
To have it about nothing
Would be to receive just the same.

And thus, we have our twins!
Two constants with reciprocal natures
In continuous flux, each a prerequisite of the other.

To coddle one too much
Means the deprivation of the other.
To neglect either
Means the neglect of each other.
That is,
To neglect either is to reject both.
To foster chaos is by either's rejection,
In that both shall neglect each other.

The incompassionate mind is not curious.
The uncurious mind is not compassionate.

As in, by our neural structures,
The ways we decide to go
Are like the paths which grow.
For you leave more than only footprints
Where no man has ever walked before.
Yet, that you leave nothing,
You constantly walk those roads.
Yet, that it is immaterial,
You still do so in the physical.
Yet, that it is material,
You still do so in the metaphysical.

For it's inbetween being betwixt,
For it's seperate & imperceptible.
For it's singular, yet collective.
For it's collective, yet individual.
For it's infinitesimal, yet infinite.
For it's eternal, yet finite in existence.

That is, existence like ice
Slowly melting into water.
That it remains the same,
But changes & fluctuates
Relative to any environment.
As like with the constraints of time,
Actions outward of the body.
Action of the outward body.
In relation to it,
Matter unchanged
But translated via a different state.

Celebrate.
To live is for life,
But we all die sometime!
Yet, is this change?
Transmutation by that of another order?

Something perennial, yet still coming into being.
Something endless, yet but only just beginning.
Something futuristic, yet which is already happening.

Admiration, often mistaken
As a sickly taste of desperation;
The desert sun falls on my back.
Borders tall, baked in radiation,
Sweat streaking tracks-
Where's my place, what's my designation?
Scale the wall, or go on under.
Dry lips crack, no ailing your suffer.
Starvation and dehydration
Walk, the Sahara

In the boastful, casual manner you portray,
You betray your actual lack of ruthlessness.

The act is a fun game,
But the consequences are heavy.

If no one buys what you're selling,
Suffice to say you're starving.
If it causes greater harm or grief,
Suffice to say you're swinging.

For others yet are playing,
But play not.

For behind many faces hide wide smiles,
By many frames are different the pictures.

From seed, to stalk, to sheave;
Like acorn, root, trunk, branch, leaf -
What are these
If not too living things?
Are us animals
Truly the only conscious beings?

Verily, they must experience;
And so it is only a logical inference
That everything must 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 existence.

That everything exists to experience,
That existence experiences everything,
That experience exists in everything.

That the universe itself must be conscious,
That consciousness is universal.

Yet, conscience is not?
Is not compassion & patience?

A seed too must crack its shell -
As like the bird & its egg,
So too like the ***** swims to fertilize.

Ignorance is universal,
As is logic.
The autochthonics.
Arrogance is universal,
As is virtue.
The migrants.

We who were of origin regardless all natives,
Yet by cataclysm made refugees.

We who have toiled have tempered;
We who too came from soil,
We who grew to learn to grow different.
We who found freedom,
In awareness of existence
By perception of perspective.
By guidance of
Time & Nature.

From labor after labor,
From fluctuation to fluctuation.
It is Evolution
Who is the savior.

It is we who purpose
Is balance & liberation.

Where in the world?!
What in the world?!

- Poseidon

How in the world?!
𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝?!
Why in the world?!

-Zeus

Wanna test it?!
Can we ¹perfect it?!

-Hades

What torture ignorance is!
When you treat ignorance as such,
Perhaps it is.
Being so ignorant,
I could see it.
For the foolishness of it
Is that it is the only route to wisdom!

In how we define it?
By how we describe it?
Of how we perceive it?

Perception birthing perspective,
Yet both products of their environment!
"Self-copulation?"

Of course, given context,
The definitions fluctuate.
So, then our perception of it
And thereby our descriptions of them,
Change or fluctuate also.

Like the rain falling.
Like ice forming.
Like water flowing.

Am I even religious? I ask myself.
Am I spiritual? I ponder.
Feudal, socialist, capitalist, fascist?
Hmmm.
Am I more over here,
Or more over there?
What's my hereditary, what specific mix;
Where exactly am I from?
From where did my family come,
Where have we been?
What did we take part in?

It's interesting,
But where are we going?
What's the heading?

cringey stuff
what is it about
my emotions
that i gotta
express them
through this method
say less
in the coming days
shut my mouth
keep my head down
and just stay quiet
until i die
dice roll
snake eyes that cry
next roll, sevens
eleven, slurpees
blueberry ice
nice dreams
chong with the ****
and that makes me cheech
can't never win
gotta stop trying
busted
gambling
love is a high stakes game
leave you
broken, lost, roaming
and rambling
i ain't happy here