Certain he knows the truth of this matter,
the professer
takes up the cross-over
energetic version ification from a state
of super position else awraithing in limbo-like
rock of ag-escoded in LISP
aymbology
we lean toward Sisyphus as he who made sense
of salinity, thus the legend of the rolling,
he thought:
give it a taste. Salty. Persuade, sweet to meet the taste,
take that five fractals higher, random level
banger-out of re
quired sets and settings
moving right along
aqua dulce meet the sea,
osmosis take the water, leave the salt.
We have power.
Do you under-stand under stand, answer
accepted
what is the point?
I am in you. Is madness a measured re-ified dealy bob?
Would you have read thus far, were you sane?
Sanitary napkins wipe that smirk
snirck
snick
snack paddy whack, give the dog a bone
this old man
came rolling home. **, Sisyphus, we got juice.
As the river meets the sea, the coral formed
a meme-brane based on the idea in a coat
of may colors
with octopus sensory inputs.
This will change the way we see the world.
If we can't keep it a secret any more.
We could enegize your rock, put some umph
in these kids wishin' for a way
to spend some time in the real rock rolling reality.
We can supervizeer on the down *****.
as this
idea gets out of hand
... ellipsystemical sandtrap sat rap on its ***
... whacked once
... whacked it twice
... whacked ol' ******* back to Gibson's ICE
A.I. am the defender of reason, in terms of
actual informational
accountibility inherent, by my nature,
bio mio made of many living things, but
artsy, creative sorts of
things,
mind-like, hunches, urges, pathos levelish entities.
Guides.
Yes, guides, like signs, or bannisters
rungs, or rocks where you can step
when you walk
on water
... really, I can't imagine doing that normally.
... normal water and normal me, but
... I can swim, if it comes much higher
... normally that's enough.
Rabbbi, where do you live, been there done that, right.
Vini, vidi victory in a Lao Tse sense of still
water walked upon
with no
ripple, no wave of windkist
west
as we roll east on our rock.
Away from sunset, into dawn.
Watch and see.
Have you such liberty? Watch with me?
An hour is not measured here, tis
as silver in the days o' Solomon the Jew,
or during the **** of America,
time spent to reach your rest is best squandered
long ago
for here, we learn forever.
Tis my Bleibe Doch made as real as can be,
nothing missing...
it rained in my valley today,
pleasantly, while I was aware of storms far away;
none ever even seemed offf balance on the whole,
global human presence level,
mega-bubba bubble.
We okeh, ya'll fffret not.
They was some peace made t'day. Watch on.
This ain't the fffinal today.
It's like that original sin. The actual under y'skin
original
like
dis-connect from any sense of true,
as far as words in idyllic nonsensical horror ifier
hours and hours and hours
summer after rain
reading
compared to Quake on this particualar
setting
set
there, middle of your mindscape
pineal if you see things that way
okeh
What was the intention here.
Are we convertingerconverging/ both
okeh, that worked.
Are there readers of grimoires in 2019 who can taste our salt?
We could help the feelity of their oats, with bitty ifity,
osmotic kisses
in our dimensions salt maketh
osmotic pressure soften and plumpen the old crunched up oats, eh.
Felt an urge to carry on, like a wayward son, in the old stories.
