she feels the warmth of him, in every part of her being
she feels the warmth of him, in every part of her being
to his reside her mind ever trips, oh to have his lips upon hers
to his reside her mind ever trips, oh to have his lips upon hers
oh to have his lips upon hers, she feels the warmth of him
in every part of her being, to his reside her mind ever trips

at a locale they meet, they're miles apart
at a locale they meet, they're miles apart
pangs of desire not actuated, close yet so far
pangs of desire not actuated, close yet so far
close yet so far, at a locale they meet
pangs of desire not actuated, they're miles apart

what to do, the quandary begs
what to do, the quandary begs
will they have a face to face, begone computer's impersonal interface  
will they have a face to face, begone computer's impersonal interface
the quandary begs, begone computer's impersonal interface
will they have a face to face, what to do

at a locale they meet, they're miles apart
close yet so far, will they have a face to face
pangs of desire not actuated, what to do
in every part of her being, oh to have his lips upon hers
the quandary begs, she feels the warmth of him
begone computer's impersonal interface, to his reside her mind ever trips

‘Oinos.’

Pardon, Agathos, the weakness of a spirit new-fledged with
immortality!

‘Agathos.’

You have spoken nothing, my Oinos, for which pardon is to be
demanded. Not even here is knowledge a thing of intuition.
For wisdom, ask of the angels freely, that it may be given!

‘Oinos.’

But in this existence I dreamed that I should be at once
cognizant of all things, and thus at once happy in being
cognizant of all.

‘Agathos.’

Ah, not in knowledge is happiness, but in the acquisition of
knowledge! In forever knowing, we are forever blessed; but
to know all, were the curse of a fiend.

‘Oinos.’

But does not The Most High know all?

‘Agathos’.

That (since he is The Most Happy) must be still the
one thing unknown even to HIM.

‘Oinos.’

But, since we grow hourly in knowledge, must not at last
all things be known?

‘Agathos.’

Look down into the abysmal distances!—attempt to force
the gaze down the multitudinous vistas of the stars, as we
sweep slowly through them thus—and thus—and
thus! Even the spiritual vision, is it not at all points
arrested by the continuous golden walls of the
universe?—the walls of the myriads of the shining
bodies that mere number has appeared to blend into unity?

‘Oinos’.

I clearly perceive that the infinity of matter is no dream.

‘Agathos’.

There are no dreams in Aidenn—but it is here whispered
that, of this infinity of matter, the sole purpose is
to afford infinite springs at which the soul may allay the
thirst to know which is forever unquenchable within
it—since to quench it would be to extinguish the
soul’s self. Question me then, my Oinos, freely and without
fear. Come! we will leave to the left the loud harmony of
the Pleiades, and swoop outward from the throne into the
starry meadows beyond Orion, where, for pansies and violets,
and heart’s-ease, are the beds of the triplicate and triple-
tinted suns.

‘Oinos’.

And now, Agathos, as we proceed, instruct me!—speak to
me in the earth’s familiar tones! I understand not what you
hinted to me just now of the modes or of the methods of what
during mortality, we were accustomed to call Creation. Do
you mean to say that the Creator is not God?

‘Agathos’.

I mean to say that the Deity does not create.

‘Oinos’.

Explain!

‘Agathos’.

In the beginning only, he created. The seeming creatures
which are now throughout the universe so perpetually
springing into being can only be considered as the mediate
or indirect, not as the direct or immediate results of the
Divine creative power.

‘Oinos.’

Among men, my Agathos, this idea would be considered
heretical in the extreme.

‘Agathos.’

Among the angels, my Oinos, it is seen to be simply true.

‘Oinos.’

I can comprehend you thus far—that certain operations
of what we term Nature, or the natural laws, will, under
certain conditions, give rise to that which has all the
appearance of creation. Shortly before the final
overthrow of the earth, there were, I well remember, many
very successful experiments in what some philosophers were
weak enough to denominate the creation of animalculae.

‘Agathos.’

The cases of which you speak were, in fact, instances of the
secondary creation, and of the only species of
creation which has ever been since the first word spoke into
existence the first law.

‘Oinos.’

Are not the starry worlds that, from the abyss of nonentity,
burst hourly forth into the heavens—are not these
stars, Agathos, the immediate handiwork of the King?

‘Agathos.’

Let me endeavor, my Oinos, to lead you, step by step, to the
conception I intend. You are well aware that, as no thought
can perish, so no act is without infinite result. We moved
our hands, for example, when we were dwellers on the earth,
and in so doing we gave vibration to the atmosphere which
engirdled it. This vibration was indefinitely extended till
it gave impulse to every particle of the earth’s air, which
thenceforward, and forever, was actuated by the one
movement of the hand. This fact the mathematicians of our
globe well knew. They made the special effects, indeed,
wrought in the fluid by special impulses, the subject of
exact calculation—so that it became easy to determine
in what precise period an impulse of given extent would
engirdle the orb, and impress (forever) every atom of the
atmosphere circumambient. Retrograding, they found no
difficulty; from a given effect, under given conditions, in
determining the value of the original impulse. Now the
mathematicians who saw that the results of any given impulse
were absolutely endless—and who saw that a portion of
these results were accurately traceable through the agency
of algebraic analysis—who saw, too, the facility of
the retrogradation—these men saw, at the same time,
that this species of analysis itself had within itself a
capacity for indefinite progress—that there were no
bounds conceivable to its advancement and applicability,
except within the intellect of him who advanced or applied
it. But at this point our mathematicians paused.

‘Oinos.’

And why, Agathos, should they have proceeded?

‘Agathos.’

Because there were some considerations of deep interest
beyond. It was deducible from what they knew, that to a
being of infinite understanding—one to whom the
perfection of the algebraic analysis lay unfolded—
there could be no difficulty in tracing every impulse given
the air—and the ether through the air—to the
remotest consequences at any even infinitely remote epoch of
time. It is indeed demonstrable that every such impulse
given the air, must in the end impress every
individual thing that exists within the
universe;—and the being of infinite
understanding—the being whom we have imagined—
might trace the remote undulations of the impulse—
trace them upward and onward in their influences upon all
particles of all matter—upward and onward forever in
their modifications of old forms—or, in other words,
in their creation of new—until he found them
reflected—unimpressive at last—back from
the throne of the Godhead. And not only could such a being
do this, but at any epoch, should a given result be afforded
him—should one of these numberless comets, for
example, be presented to his inspection—he could have
no difficulty in determining, by the analytic
retrogradation, to what original impulse it was due. This
power of retrogradation in its absolute fulness and
perfection—this faculty of referring at all
epochs, all effects to all causes—is of
course the prerogative of the Deity alone—but in every
variety of degree, short of the absolute perfection, is the
power itself exercised by the whole host of the Angelic
Intelligences.

‘Oinos’.

But you speak merely of impulses upon the air.

‘Agathos’.

In speaking of the air, I referred only to the earth: but
the general proposition has reference to impulses upon the
ether—which, since it pervades, and alone pervades all
space, is thus the great medium of creation.

‘Oinos’.

Then all motion, of whatever nature, creates?

‘Agathos’.

It must: but a true philosophy has long taught that the
source of all motion is thought—and the source of all
thought is—

‘Oinos’.

God.

‘Agathos’.

I have spoken to you, Oinos, as to a child, of the fair
Earth which lately perished—of impulses upon the
atmosphere of the earth.

‘Oinos’.

You did.

‘Agathos’.

And while I thus spoke, did there not cross your mind some
thought of the physical power of words? Is not every
word an impulse on the air?

‘Oinos’.

But why, Agathos, do you weep—and why, oh, why do your
wings droop as we hover above this fair star—which is
the greenest and yet most terrible of all we have
encountered in our flight? Its brilliant flowers look like a
fairy dream—but its fierce volcanoes like the passions
of a turbulent heart.

‘Agathos’.

They are!—they are!—This wild
star—it is now three centuries since, with clasped
hands, and with streaming eyes, at the feet of my
beloved—I spoke it—with a few passionate
sentences—into birth. Its brilliant flowers are
the dearest of all unfulfilled dreams, and its raging
volcanoes are the passions of the most turbulent and
unhallowed of hearts!

You put me on a health regime,
full of fruits, kale, and hummus,
you put me on an exercise plan,
and taught me what a burpee was.
You have always put me on something,
taught me something about myself or others,
actuated some facet of my potential, and for that I thank you.

© Matthew Harlovic

Three Grandsons, 5, 8, 11 - and me
Thus this day began.  
-- they're online, in school, ever learning early

This is how I enjoy being.
Not
simply
being, being is
complicated, being is made
of many-
maybe, infinite plane plains piled high and multiplied
and probably twisting,
altogether
to gather points of light you followed
to the thee-at-ah
of three eyes
kiva, kindalikka
convenient cave in words
we carry with us, dark places,
often damp and stinky places,
deep
depressions on the surface of reality,
holes
to here, the point of being being
enjoyment
in the silence and the noise.

--------- Glimpsing

Points of lights, thoughts as
sparks
lighting
words ablaze with fiery wills to empower
gentle spirits hounded
by proud lies,
urging proof,
daring the hero to go
native, become ugly
destroyer of good for goodness sake, go
mad, breathe
anger,
rage and jealous zeal,
hold that inspiration, then

blow it out…

into shameless billows of
peace through safety and warmth,
naturally, as real -ifity is, made
to meet the need.
- an inspiration, a visitation
- a mere whatifery thing

_ movie theaters used to be dark as a kiva, yes
yes, that's true. Mythraic caves, those, too.
--- any mental conditioning, the
Alpha version is only perfect if you
sculpture with wind,
and clouds are
all you have to show for it, then…
or cracking ice, yes, cracking ice
lines
on a great lake or a puddle,
branching waywayway many ways,
fragile and gone, after while.
Fragile and temporary,
's mortality… gone.

Gone to where all beauty goes to conspire.
Inspirations for aspiring users of science,
conscience cleared, uses
made up, asifities
seep into mental sap,
syrup of what maybe when we agree.
Peace is a purpose, ours. We,
the people who hold these truths on earth.
Thus it has ever been,
but now we know, science-wise
Man, the species, doth not live by words alone.

Joy is its strength, light its medium.
Owning is not a concept,
except we agree,
mine is mine by reason, aha, I have it!
I have this.
This is mine, at the moment.
Eureka, we take joy as we take fire.
I first read old Thom Jefferson said,
“He who receives an idea from me,
receives instruction himself without lessening mine;
as he who lites his taper at mine,
receives light without darkening me.”

It was he, who held sacred and undeniable,
the self-evident truths Ben Franklin wished to see
manifested, by way
of the actual vision he had in mind,
self evidently,
a thought experiment.

-- like Wanda Vision, right… that's on TV.

----------------

Meaning is what we agree we mean,
there is a rule for readers of possible
bullshat wisdom that says:

Enjoyment has its own sake, mentally,
suspended unbelief
-- to the degree of Disney + free trial,
watched with grandsons choosing
what I'll like,
for sure --

Suspended disbelief, I think,
as a mob state, is patho-logical, sick,
it'll ****. No joy in mayhem.

But self-actuated,
willingly suspended,
disbelief, the weapon, hung up on a point
you recall
safe and sound… now,
we are in the realm of words that live
through historical use,
as real as any angel ever named,
or any spirit ever claimed as guide.
Liberty, e.g., the character,
the dime version, with wings on her
Phrygian cap,
to make a kid imagine that must mean
something.

Seems Mercurial, don't it? Like,
Liberty is free is a message from goodness
in the future,
when all the symbols assemble at the throne
of mercy,
for daily renewal and furbishing,
and the ones worn thin by lying men,
are seen through and lightly
sifted into new clouds of might
being possible,
in all probabilities… even this one. Today,
with all its riches freely mine.
………….

Speculate, see if
this were to happen as would be best
for all of us,
us-ness being the state we exist in as
givers and takers of sense
signals,
vibes,
smiles, winks, waves

hey, I saw you see
the latest from Disney, without the crowd

did you notice evil always loses?
Yes, and
Hell is always prepared
for those who lack the knowledge
to escape
the franchise
mis interpretation of my realm,
where reason is as
reason, says, see
liberty, the character,
acts true
to the true hope, the trope of trust,
true rest, compressed to a moment
at the end of the adventure… DIY
save the world… from the unbelievable.

"Power isn't your problem, it's knowledge"
says the evil witch.
She must mean
secret, sacred knowledge-- that's the hint
in the Marvel universe,
such knowledge is believable…
attainable, learn, ever learn
practice makes perfect, patience.
There's a test.
Will to power
meets will to live free as any truth in ever,

it stands to reason
We'll say hello again…
for, we know,
it is a Marvel Universe, there's always
a sequel, inspired or invented
from something left behind.
Am I right, Stan Lee?

Eventually, we all die and leave hope behind,
or it is
all a lie… so let's make the story fun,
let's make it lift
the lonely, stay at home Disneyfied old man,
into deep conversations
about the poetic ****** of Wanda Vision…

how it ends in a dark theatre, lit from a single
source,
as a kiva is when the sipapu is left open
and all the curio spirits run free,
each to be weighed,
judged good or evil, good for something
or good for nothing.

Then the good for nothing ideas are left in the clouds,
so we never unget that
we got the word,
before it was a word, and we wrote it here
in the cloud,
for you to use as entertainment contained
in mere words, unto the distant future,
or until the entire internet AI dissipates
into improbability.
Pfft. Just like that.

Though the sage would never be transported with delight
He would still feel an abiding joy
In the presence of the true and only good
He would never indeed would be agitated by desire
But still he would be animated by wish
For that was directed only to the good
And though he would never feel fear
Still he would be actuated in danger by a proper caution

There was therefore something rational
Corresponding to three out of four primary passions
Against delight was to be set joy
Against grief there was nothing to be set
For that arose from the presence of ill
Which would rather never attach to the sage
Grief was the irrational conviction
That one ought to afflict oneself
Where there was no occasion for it

The ideal of the stoics was the unclouded serenity of socrates

In the love moments
Rhymed the unsung song
Heart beats actuated
Singing ding ding ****

With pouring in of moon light
Dreams became lovely kite
Language of eyes changed
As if melody of life was arranged

Sweet and sour together
It was a natural weather
There was no duality
only unity altogether.

actuated lust im dangerous
nobody in space time knows what we're doing
its taboo darling
sweet suckling, unbuckling
she and him and me and her
******* over over
again
forget the stacks and ask no questions
live like ya gone
agonal, in the moment
detached retina against the glass
and lights appear to be on fire
easy comin as she does it
rollin under juicy thunder
the salts of my composure
leakin from my porous structures
leaving from me like a rock
that is my physical elixir
tape it on the imagr
hashtag @ lucifer
on tube hollerin at my girl
i want to trend just like zelda
hit ya with a face melta
blow up on their youtube
for seven seasons off the bat
and when im at the party
all the girlies will sit on my,
eh, it isnt what i live for like tools on MTV
give me sunshine to recondition your condition on BET
i contracted some system disease from way too much TMZ
and my condition is conditioned by youtube conspiracy
i cant relate i am afraid
of what is hiding up my sleeves
i hit the brains
and bust the **** off this run away train called
the radio whenever the news of the day is some ******* **** or some ferrari driving ***** that has her own ****** up slave drama telivision series.
we are so angry
inside computers inside of us inside
a web of statistic dimentia
and **** yourself if you ask
"der, i dunno. what is normal"
you *******.

I think, therefore I may be.

Maybe I think too much to be free

But the walls close faster than a revolving door
Where no man will etch my name in precious floor

Lost to the inevitable human trace
A dream actuated to another time and place

My eternal atomic informative electrostatic attraction
Bounces my life across the pulsars
in altercation
And ionizes my dreams within
this distant universe,
To return to dream and inert

Inani, Intelli, Invinci,

Omni, Alli, Tectoni,

Read the pages on the stone
Sing the whispers in the growth
The dance of time, the hand of space
the love of design, a perfect trace

Sing sing.
as loud as you can
Do not get lost in the yaup of man.

There is a special soul inside of you.
It's the trees, the bees, the seas and due

Time will come for us to know
The world will task our souls for new growth

And when our time should come to pass
I let myself dance in Dodecahedral sky

And let my atoms shine

For new eyes.

he broods up your thoughts
he made u walk on thorns
to make u strong
he actuated what u wanted
got up early to tie up your shoe laces when u were late for the school
made u stable to face the world
stood to conquer your dilemma
do u really respect what is he facing?
what is his fear towards the world?
what he really wanted u to be
why did he do it?
no.. the answer seems to be annoying
bcz u don't have it..
he made u face it standing out with courage n with selfless fear
can u face him now without any guilt?
the person who sacrificed himself is the one whom u call ur father ..
respect him
adore him
jst the way he did
don't let his head down by pursuing n following your immature thoughts..
life is all about what we pursue.. make it generous :)
make urself the personality ur special guy wanted u to be

These self actuated
"bags of mostly salt water"
imagine some really
astonishing things
you, for example
imagine me, writing
and I'm not anymore
imagine me, writhing

and I am anymore
'gainst what I imagine
plays these daily tricks
wherein I keep finding
its still me here 'gain
sayin' the same crazy
discolored things
to not be crazy
the same again

Sent my smooching life south,
whereby I felt like poor Georgie Porgie,
pudding and pie,
who kissed the girls and made them cry.

The medical term for cold sores,
****** Labialis, refers
to the ****** virus Type 1 (HSV-1)
that most often causes these sores,
though ****** virus Type 2 (HSV-2)
less often can also be a cause.

Courtesy chafing lower denture
the inside lower lip of mine
(analogous when braces
donned by pearly whites -
long since ravaged
and removed by Periodontitis;
A serious gum infection
that damaged gums
and can destroy the jawbone)
rubbed raw firing, kickstarting,
and triggering throbbing ache
before going to sleep,
whether for a siesta
or bidding adieu
to the webbed wide world until the morrow,
and upon soon after I wake
attempting, daring, and farcing
to crack a smile
experience needling pain for doggone sake.

Yours truly most seriously,
affected with oral blight
when rumblies in tummy
signal appeasement of appetite
teasing viands with pronounced delight
impossible mission to masticate,
thus I reconcile myself experiencing pain
when chomping on solid foods,
whereby the bilabial fricative
actuated courtesy chewing motion,
(especially movement of lower jaw)
doth indelibly etch and sketch copyright
infringement onto soft tissue
aggravating, grooving, and torturing
satisfactorily done by the mandible
constituting lower jaw or jawbone
regarding the bottom skeleton
that makes up the lower
(and typically also the more mobile)
half of the mouth in jawed vertebrates.

While at C(ustomer) V(alued) S(ervice)
store at 1206 Gravel Pike, Zieglerville,
Pennsylvania 19492 - on a whim,
I purchased Peroxide Sore Mouth Cleaner
an over the counter product
and painless solution
to alleviate and heal
ulcerated, and lacerated fever blister
inside lower lip of this mister
re: man, whose spouse considers me weird
and peculiarly wired

as most likely would deux daughters I sired,
though both free and clear
despite their former impressionable years
being severely mired
with unnecessary financial hardship
whose lack of healthy
gainful employment track record
(essentially... I got fired)
linkedin to mental health issues,
thus no surprise when
the writer of these words desired

exiting realm of living social
(think passive suicidal ideation),
particularly manifest destiny
to join the underground movement
of the dead souls, when fraudsters
exerted remote mind control
managed to apply psychological ploy
leaving an immense black hole
sun leaving sense and sensibility extinct,
whereat I found myself in good company
with the Baltimore Oriole
along the Eastern United States.

The posted gofundme page...
oh that came to naught,
thus I live hand to mouth
still holding out hope
some anonymous benefactor
would vicariously writhe nsync
with mein kampf.

as one fairly long run on sentence
unwittingly made locally famous
courtesy residents here at
Highland Manor Apartments
as first one foot and then the other
painstakingly, and agonizingly dragged
across the cement walkway
making absolutely sure
the entire foot touches the ground,
(analogous to geriatric

version of the hokey pokey)
made like toe tilly particularly
more trip lee dangerous for valley girls,
and posing an obvious challenge,
when unspecified oblivious tenant
yakking away to themselves
unknowingly shakily shambles,
(which elderly folk blindly
risking life and limb),
while tethered to an oxygen tank

gingerly, precariously, and zanily
maneuvers a walker or wheelchair
while chatting vis a vis bluetooth;
(a short-range
wireless technology standard
used for exchanging data
between fixed and mobile devices
over short distances and building
personal area networks:
In the most widely used mode,

transmission power
limited to 2.5 milliwatts,
giving it a very short range
of up to 10 metres)
communication maintained thru
miniature electronic paraphernalia
videlicet, now returning
to aforementioned abandoned,
harried, and suspended lodger
left poised to strike hard surface,

when going about their routine task
additionally rendered cumbersome
as occupant carefully finagles
old gnarled bent fingers
to manipulate requisite fob,
(a handy dandy little device
that works on Radio Frequency Identification
(RFID) triggered courtesy
waving or tapping motion
of little plastic doodad)

near a corresponding reader,
and voilá – the door unlocks, -
which technology interestingly enough
linkedin to bit of curious history,
when remote keyless entry patented
in 1981 by Paul Lipschultz,
who worked for Neimans,
(a supplier of security components
to the car industry) and developed
a number of

automotive security devices:
His electrically actuated lock system
could be controlled
by using a handheld fob
to stream infrared data
automatically, electronically,
inevitably, and officially
granting permission for our inhabitant,
or unsuspecting intruder
(since very little – read none

security installed here)
to enter the front door,
presenting an unwelcoming
opportunistic, idealistic,
and antagonistic accident
about to happen if the track opening
and closing entryway portal
(bumped up against thin carpeting)
slightly bunched up
presents a raised lipped surface edge

(barely perceptible to those
who present a sight for sore eyes),
which uneven impediment
the literal downfall
for many a resident
at Highland Manor Apartment,
who tripped and fell ofttimes
sustaining significant injuries
to their fragile lovely bones.