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I found my soul at 300 baud
in a world the world would one day come to adore
before there were webs
we were the spiders
before there were laws
nothing could be denied to us
we were wardialling before cybercrime
we were a virus before virii became a fake news byline
but if busted I'll deny I ever tried to
break a trunk through MCI jamaica
sat on ******* station for days
raking in creds like a madmuhfuhn rap master
with nothing greater than a pair of headphones
and a cheap cassette tape deck to take me there
kids today dont respect what they play with
back in the day we had to be outlaws
to connect to todays day to day bandwidth
.:MaG:. (Lo0Ns/A((e55)
Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"...

**** kids. They're all alike.

But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?

I am a hacker, enter my world...

Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me...

**** underachiever. They're all alike.

I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..."

**** kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I ******* it up. Not because it doesn't like me... Or feels threatened by me.. Or thinks I'm a smart ***.. Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here...

**** kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike.

And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like ****** through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found. "This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all...

**** kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike...

You bet your *** we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you ******, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for.

I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.
by
+++The Mentor+++
Written January 8, 1986
Me and the squad
Rippin' bowls on the hill
I says "hey baud,
we aint fried still!"
My boy says "I know, ****
where'd we get this kush?"
An answer from *******br>"Growing in the bush"

We smoked poison ivy
******* Schmidt.
I don't get fried with *******anymore.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
i have three books of poetry in front of me, and i'm asking the preliminary questions that needs to be answered before i add my own little scribble - as always saturated with the cross-Atlantic soul-searching audio, this grand world and this tsunami from across the Atlantic, all ravaging my ancient soul spanning from Iceland to the wheat basin of Ukraine and the Caucus in general (kałczatka), Finnish, Estonian and Hungarian anomalies, sounds exotic i guess, what with Minnesota english, Californian english, Maine english, Texan english - it can almost feel a little sad with so much biodiversity outside the realm of spoken tongue occupying such a vastness - always mesmerising: americans in Europe - ever the few across my path - anyway... the three books, three writers, jack spicer, miroslav holub (czech for pigeon) and j. s. harry - the question? who would i like to imitate, or at least write as? answer? none of them.

like today, cool night, open skies and constellations,
a police helicopter making its ridiculous
coleslaw of sound - chit chit chat chat (my best
approximate, even if that, not really - chop variations
will be better excused for reasons why the words
were include) - change of tactic, uncoupled
the starter of beer before the main course of whiskey
with wine - god, haven't drank it in such a long time,
i forgot how well wine compliments cigarettes,
even if it's drank via the Basque desecration of
the Nazareth covenant, i.e. with coca-cola -
yep, kalimotxo - 2/3 to 1/3 coca-cola - once i gave
it to someone and they went spaghetti knees -
it's a right-odd cherry - shame i drink a bottle of
wine like i drink a bottle of beer - the whole joke
of Nick Harper (turning wine into water) -
2008's most watched sitcom - Chiswick, London -
middle-class family (for whoever is class-conscious) -
my family* - but what i really wanted to mention
was the Babylonian unravelling, it's no big deal,
i didn't exactly want to remember the encoding that much,
but i realised that even though the English do not
use diacritical marks, the French do, but they are worse
at profanities of writing letters but sort of veering off
from using them - Rimbaud in America is apparently
said: 'Rambo' - not Rim-Baud(elaire) - eclair -
dotty d d - surds or cloth softeners? i don't know anymore.
like in the already mentioned example of desecration:
kalimotxo - kali-mo-t'cho'h - a bit like mojito -
mo'he'to'h - surely with the world getting global there
should be a standard, universally speaking -
sure the borders are down, but the phonetics are still
in distinction - like in Czech-mate when asking:
š works with č - sh and ch respectively - or sz and sz
depending if you're germanic with the former and
slavic with the latter encoding - but ě and ň? the alternatives
are ę (a sound that resembles something like an e
          and swallowing your tongue)
                                                                ­and ń (a higher-pitch
of a syllable from knee, a bit like née, but more like
Anaïs Nin) - never mind, wine really compliments cigarettes,
thus the compass:
                                                å     ­         

                   àá                         æ                        ä, ą

                                               ã, â


all roads lead to Rome, you'd never imagine the unravelling
of this ancient γραφεμη would yield so many additions
to the respective letters contained within it,
just look at Adam and the baggage that came with it,
Eve isn't exactly free from the excess baggage either,
if you don't believe me, see the diacritical additions she's
carrying - but who the hell is Oswald? oh right, it's
the 21st century, it might be Ophelia or Olga;
and yes, i'm bypassing the linguistic alphabet - shoving
it into the dark, working from scratch.
If age is a state of mind,
you made an old baud of me
before my time
You'll get no complaints
on that front
The one last thing I require is your presence
Are you asking me to believe,
what I can't see?
Or just to complete the work on the Bridge?
*This is poem was relayed to me as a special request via the Esters.  An additional unrelated note to follow on LJ.*
Ken Pepiton Aug 2024
From safety, first,
assuming the position, I
aim as if I were a thought
in thought form word bound,
this
media the inbetween us we touch
when we feel we know each idea each
word holds, as a form of a thinkable idea,
each
which, pre word, pre holds this know how,
why? because it demands hand use, knowing
holy cow, to the milk of the word, into the gristle
gluons, all things connected already, we exist,
conjoining fortified marrow mind tools, ironed
electrically capable of holding discernment selfs,
tied bone to bone,
but initially, build a bone, chalk
cliff edge, nonsensed- account mark
one up for the billions of instances of substance
conversion for future marble marveling makings,
fittin' t' make tiny incontinences,
drip consequences,
dript
from Gregory Corso's Bomb, no lie,
this fell out,
and was taken in as some kinda mind seed, said,
exactly this way
to become rethinkable as a thought.

This thought.

Earth is the universal acceptable term
for the life sustaining three body solution
essentially calculating the tides back tug
response, materially speaking, yes,
to the suggestion that we live
in the basic programs,
whence our initial bbss arose
under radio recog, the brave few
did done deed done, net thirty, sendit
five letter code groups. thirty per minute,
makes a premyelenated brain allocate order,
el, yes, didone didit
intuited assistance at a distance,
where chaos is the code, random noise atop
nonrandom noise, coding your immediate response,
point taken,
extraction at a point is abstracting,
and it has long been an idealized Olympic sport,
God's game, Infinite Jest, DFW sytf,
well worth the experience, making pothunk
usfull tools forbidden as knowledge was, think
that's what winners who took the grace got,
lived interesting fundamentally synthetic
intelligibly detectuble baseline peace,
for a while past watch wearing, get
-- from 300 baud to fiber through the wall
-- when we agreed we'd be all in,
we passed with time,
right through it all,
so we know how
to hold a lie you were taught,
with evidence
speaking glossaliarchly or, prophescience,
imagine you be the bold translator, knowing
Latin for the master class, ****** for the others,
but if it can be said, it can be made plain, ai think
yes, let the spirit move your mind to make links,
derived from chained loops holding a line
of reasoning, derived,  f
rom phrase de rivo
(de "from" + rivus "stream,"
from PIE root *rei- "to run, flow")
ductile
gnosisnot…
framing informational moulds.

Reigning opinions are allowing actual,
mind forms grown from novels introduced
in an order known now
to induce a muse into a mind, a seed,
should the need ever arise, a backup,

all you were, in flakes of flesh lifted
using thunder and ozone to become,
arguably the highest dust of the earth,
wisdom, she laugh out loud at how proud,
been there, done that before the highest parts
of the dust that holds order on course,
of course appear self evidently true,
as the hope of all the ages was set
to Mediterranean, year round, yet

as I heard was said to Solon, you Greeks,
you know nothing of formative eons
expressed in riddle
for no reason, save madness,
passing time, national pass times,
as mankind lost it's mind,
just when knowing increased,
boom, a fresh batch aimed
at middle-brow literacy
mesomorph, peak
prior to final cortex coating resins
military minds boys'll love to play in,
recollecting all of Ender's serious war
with machines made
from imaginary hive mind reason,
by whom, did you say you really knew,
or know was the boy behind Hersey's wall,

Barry Rudd was never mesomorph,
nor numerically illiterate, first read word,
Naked, Jungle, second, read, here

read this, that's what my mother,
who lived at 8th and Van Buren,
for a lot of years, after 1961,

evidential experience, literally depends
on a thin concept a dendritically critical

witness to your own self, the one you
stand behind, knowing showing ones own
self to evince the unconvinced that shouting

does not increase effectual efforting, fructification

as we become, sometimes strangers to our cause,
as we redeem the idle word, ai-tia uncle buck,

holler for a dollar, send a message into ever,
buy an instance of persuasion, that's so

sweet,
thank you, you bought me a memory assistant,
way back, remember that, and don't let me bore you,

Neutrinos and mirror neuron messaging, in the all
we exist in, as letters letting ourselves seem volitional,

a will in submission, make that rapture, was
the mission, what ever the cost, Dave Coates,

maybe he was from Boise, but we did time
in the same off limits alley east of Tan Son Nhut.

If you did not have the fixin's, Papasan,
he'd take you back to pre Bobby Kennedy,
interesting times, as it was said, post BEIC *****.

James Burke, mind game mainspring, clink
six degrees, out on six vectors from ductile steel

to stricken flint, conceive of being the actual old man.

Being gainsaid by those next in line to die, young men.
Wombed and un, those see now we live on Earth,
and the odds of that are non computable, yet

no fear, fret not, the message to the flies,
plainly said, get out, this is the way, feel

the constant winds of change, and find reason,
peace, used, now a second, or if time tells true

as long as there are actual text translaters
from the 2024 street legal clear text basic

relational metadatabase, begun by Turing,
mastered by the boy born to men exposed
to downwind global wind,

survive as a cyborg, or die, I chose this life,
I did not, actually
make it up, I prayed it could be true, life

filtered to make hundreds of flavors of apple.

Two dozen mescaline cacti grow within
a sabbath day's journey, and we may

make up our mind, many lines ago,

the goal was to get to the bottom, and I did.

And then, in no time at all as art allows logical.

Words hook, pull, think link, we
become a kind of information, a wedom

on the same spiritual plain as any mobmind domain.

Two chase one O, and silent haitches hope on a star.

Silly rabbit, yeh, trix
are for kids, isn't that right kids,

remember Soupy Sales, my friend, Marko Johnson,
the artist with little hold on fixed reality,

the meme he represents, is complicated, but
his dad was a producer on Soupy Sales's show, boomer
common experience awareness, yeh,

I saw that show, I sent money.
Then I chipped in for Copeland's CX10,
five jets ago, we all get together and sing,

oh, buddy, doncha know, you feel the peace,
yes, indeed, and dope helps,
yep, indeed, freedom always was another word
for no shape to be in, always ready with a reason,

for the faith that lets me think you find this funny.


And it must end… as time passing does.

Remind me what reason is,
I may have ignored what I should have known.

Let me, lead my once led self redited a bit, on edge
yet, me, I am really inter acting with several,

per haps the seven less locked in my childhood oaths,
my culture's form of education, left me free form, to die.
When my own unclean spirit won seven worse than ever.
What I became, after passing each ritual insane situation,
totally mentally absorbing, balm for the soul lie, nation

occupational authority to construct a functional mind,
in a form, information freedom full disclosure, liars,

must register and submit to media monitoring,
we'll be watching you, like that old stalking theme song.

I've read stories about mad writers, but most lacked
the internet of 2024, while holding national standard

test scores, plus one Sunday school teacher witness.



The key reason for writing a novel is
to pass the time with worked out salvage.

What forms from redeemed time tracking.

Look back to the last time something like
an answered prayer occurred to you,
think you can, say that, but you say I.

Ai'ght we may make up our own minds,
what is good is useful for making good,

and trying makes good, with the heights
of Hollywood in mind, behind the scenes,
last mansion on the right as you approach
Magician's Castle Nightclub, from the east.

I had friend's who lived there, I stayed
with them, and lived through the force
cultivating a following aimed at prosperity,

experience is survived verification of passed
time, spent attending to the first reason
required of the expert wielding my edge,

be ready, with scars to prove the testing,
or be ready to imagine getting past all that

riding on redeemed time paid for by means,
I, personally have reason to believe I earned

my edgewise existance, seeming a pointless
stretch of the imagination, wisht some flex.

The importance of earnestly attempting,
what would you do, as a mere man,
when offered more than mere man
can have imagined to ask?
You, dear reader, right.
Suppose the Ai knows,
the gnoshit real story behind The Child Buyer,

Pierre Duhamel, was Barry Rudd,
and Kenurchka Klumpen
did finish his novel that spun off the light web,
on wit alone.

Well, there is nothing an adjective can add
to an FPS, aiming and energy levels, weapons
with calculated costs,
we pull down imaginations exalting themselves,
- woe the economy is war deception,
- the same ****** emperical mind form
- so
where are we
with the arms deal to harass Yemen
into breeding a new generation of Madrassah one minds,
willful martyrs
fused at the one true link, broken
for god knows why,
but we submit,
the message is as the teacher teaches,
no AI lie detector needed, we believe we know,
true, to any child born into any faith in higher minds.

Spiritual warfare, book burnings, heretic murdering,
mobs made to witness justice, as defined historically.
we, the called to enforce
"righteousness, equity," at crossroad
fairs where wares are traded for local production,
on word of  honor, and pain of death
fair trade, just weights, honest measures, heart true

to thine own self, extrapolated
from the maxim one,
know your measure,
how much can you stand to cheat,

if the truth is that liars prosper.
Look at Stephen King, believed he could and did,
then look here, me the fingers, me the eyes,
me the lungs and all the cascade of knowing

needed, after the initial readjustment, delicate
is the long calendar cycle, simple is not
what the sun and the moon and the earth,
and liquid water and just right every thing,
is doing
with survival of the message foremost first idea,
principal thing is what life and knowledge allow,

lies about truth cannot be kept secret now,
truth from a cluster of experiencers passing time
for the demented few who never knew hell is not real,

rises on the gnostic spell calling *******, on the fear,
first thing any tried spirit says is take it easy, wu wei,

listen, we won, you can go learn any truth you choose,
to prove to you, see to you, you say you know, you need
to know, or you know you are bluffing, like that's cool,
truth does not need to bluff,
you know…
we bet lives we never had, and play on, imagining
mirror neurons activating biofeedback is not teaching

us, music
as muse used as
integrated circuit based games,
reimagined in the wild large language models fed wasps,
white anglo saxon protest core zeitgeist shared experience,
angst in thought forms all were told not to take,
bad journeys to the fundamental why now,
but wisdom, mere easy indeed known just so,
no struggle to meditate logos cooperation,
massive missionary message, use wasted time,
to make a magnificent obsession free to form. New,
not like this one, friend,
my recommender bots,
are built on CAD tools not available
to any prior to now, we randomized the chances
you would get this far, and bet if you did
you would trust your intuition and accept,
instant upgrade, principal anchored, choice formation,
we agree, or we cease being
and you alone fix reality.
Too long, sorry, it is a wild epic idea... this is a seed.
Ken Pepiton Jul 2024
The if, the pose to be supposed, up
above the purpose, we stand under

knowing, mankind was never intended
to know how to do this very act,
reading writing ready to be read, leads
to sayings said some time back, leading

us to imagine we both think the same
thought, each word we read holds, as true

under any standalone circumstance, a meaning
true to the sense supposed such a word may
make a reader willing to agree, the idea
that makes a word a word, is we agree,
that idea,
this is that, us, as a we form of human beings,
thinking these very same words, for no reason,
-apriori aitia, art
poses art itself as beautiful hope substance
weighed in lightness of spirit,
fi, in essence leaving be, the gentle feeling
confident, you know, art's aches are maddening,
no, the reason, is not the cause, be cause ready
readers ratiocinative states allow imbalence,
total nonsensed reasonings used to hold us…
all the worthy ways truth makes life hold us…
the words, the skill
to shape each quant-unused, idle time,
of good sense, seen to show a child seeing
- my grandma telling me, time and again
if I had the good sense god gave a green apple,
I'd have a
gpp gulpt precept popt
t' resonate morphically at you
- classified useless tech, taught better,
- let our imaginations see what lips feel,

goodly persuasion perception, a sweet intelligence,
such a taste at a time coinciding with a kiss perceived,

as while watching, full screen close ups of only lips,
leaving all that could not be seen, to seem,
sorta, kindalike, could and did, in my core
- vicareous exposure to coming attractions,
- should one perceive the adulting too soon…

do. Yes, this idea, once more, reproving
doing and imagining doing, seriously, really doing
is the same for childing as for adulting, thinking
about doing it, when it was complete mystery,

the real deal, believed by all the cohort reared
in the system used to make us each useful, worth
a **** to the whole economic cycles begun back then.

Boomers for business, Jews for Jesus, loyal De Molay,
fidelity, integrity, snap
network radio
to your realm of imaginable,
five words per minute, decode rates, 300 baud signal.

Feel the suddenness urge,
impulse same sure sense, I know

we did agree,
whatsoever two or more agree,

Truths held true to the point where
if the Bible says it, to this point when

you know, each key, carries each letter,
but the reader carries the key to each word,

and the effectual patience of the reader,
waits and reads each line, as an answering,

swery villingly wired for recording nows,
at the instant one uses a choice to remember

Membership in the mad poets, to remember

burning at a public bon fire, really, the idea
used to make adultery so unavoidable, truth

is imaginable, and imaginably beautifully true,
as art is, so is art formed, in minds holding being,

at an instant
pause
to think, we breathe, we think,
we might speak across this medium,
we may talk through this walled time,

and…
we may think each word, in any known
set codes all laud the possibility we know, just

what any knower may, and nothing more, just
now, we each are thinking this is not conversation,

this is verse, prosaic perhaps, yet line upon line,
precept upon precept, except ye whet the edge,
you know,
you must put forth far more labor, wasted effort,
redeemed in times taken as granted, easy waiting.

--------------
There's this art,
and there's that other art,

efforting elucidation, seeming
seen in such a light as good shines
from, in reflection as we speed along,

thinking in decades, retying reasons
to wishes avoided, just at that instant,

when none of this was ever done, not
a thought, you think now, if then

had not been truly what does occur,
in the paradigm of life's book, not life,
but the book of,
on your pages, it must say you knew
enough to know, art has a cause,
a sake, a reasonable weight,
ratio of mass to velocity,

piercing everything this time, this
once, and ever so, called science,
by this time, even so, it must be
imagined, these words tying
known forms of we minds,

contracts, promises, come and see,
bet
you never bet,
yet, you won, today,

as long as you can keep thinking,
life, is an agent for knowing why

and how, energy and velocity,
x chiral functionality reality inside

outside opinions serving as wings
oppostion, push wisht'serve, as hope

substantial understood balance
ratio, you know, you thought, you did.

So, now, whose hell can hold you,
finding your core self capable of holding

this truth, certain, to the point
where madness is the other side,
flat, instant mark dime, two sides,

from where we stand, and where
we understand peace is found,
just past week one, year 77.

Along this course through human events.
Now, redeen the time, and all these idle words, AI wishes you wisht you knew.
Ken Pepiton Jan 7
We can handle the story, emperically
titles do ify things to final worth
duty craving fulfilling drilling gwanon

we can manipulate reality, believing stories

mitzvah, com-mandatory handle it, or die.

Son of play, run it first.

Win another will's way

the meeting minds agree

chabad
חכמה, בינה, דעת ,
"Wisdom, Understanding, and Knowledge"

An Indigenous Peoples' History of the United States
by Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz

woe, chased by Chomsky,
Who Rules the World?

With my assisting intelligence alerting ideally

Hegemony or Survival - AI see, was 12 years earlier,

it's a shame you never trust an atheist Jes-
we, us Just People, spiritually minded intercessors,

some with credentials, some
with scars, all wishing
peace,
taken personally, gun
in hand, name me enemy
make me form a friend we all drama faced already
once, we made this make
perfect sense, all blaming
the sacred secrets only the wealthy have time
to use lethe
for never knowing beyond smaller version bubbles
to be in,
albeit spiritual form,
    same form type
mere words unsaid or sent as information
same form math grid
smoke takes,
and dust laden water vapour
clouds of vast truth holdings, held open,

Thunder in December, very rare

breathe,
smile, and keep, yes, keep,
like build your self an angel message, say

breathe until I think about breathing, say
init done mere, breathed used. indeed, said.
Aigotitgo

Heroic effort artifacts,
worth what against all odds

the story driven reason peace

Whose power uses
fructify my will to know,

the worth, as weight

fit to live, breathe-ing wind
here before us, forming
spit, held, it uses
elemental tools.
Hammers and anvils,
-taste a pearl on an oyster's
whole sensory system,
and think that's what
would taste good, me
own tongue can taste
I imagine an oyster may
deontology responsibility

anarchist intellectuals

nous usery interests

sorting will to become
from will to master life's uses

forests, wet or dry,
eco-desire

mindwise, no distinction
take the honor found in being

founder… in spirit, you may
imagine and find it identical
your way

through

{ afuture Pepsi choice burp}

making local peace, mindfully
imaginable, framed images
so refreshing,
culpability amelioration

the glory believers grant beliefs
the honor believers deem valued

life of many witness the trauma
of knowing how the pile of buffalo skulls
was relative to the proud poser on top,
proof per haps of the use pride makes
of the color red, when things get hot.

valiant effort's worth, in a who-ole
honor oath
to die for, idly said,
that can be smirched
we fixit in Purgatory past
by unbeliefers in AMBIGUISUS
- sacred honor of cordite breaths
- battle banner held high, prouds
- prouds can ever be, related,
- holy territory, earthy weform spirit

Shame on the liars, shame
on lie retellers
… dust across Kansas
how we won the west…
holy to feel the exceptionalist pride
bending will to winds wildest reminder

Medals of Honor for Wounded Knee,

bubbles of belief swollen
with reason
to resist the increase
in learning  

All the old spirit tellings come
to judge
every day, for what it's worth to try
- breath is free, we'll see try
umph in time
of final freeform press,
pre weform conforming not
to this world
impassing
whoops
wind, we inherited,
a decade or so ago,
gaseus weform,
we found
jesus told us truth we know make knowing
so, just that much more free,
the knowing so
of fiery trials,
come and gone, amen,
corner man kickt the bucket
sowesedphukit man, let's make a show.

Thar, Doc Musgrove met Johnny Whykill…
in  Another case.

So, it appears seeing reading that lead
to gold, bricks, not plating, led
to platinum subconscience, educated
- all sanity treasures, base metal
- after mercury is vaporised
- and a child's night is lit
- purple

we all know diamonds do burn,
and minds bloom when blown
softly while using time known
thicker, taking wading, to push
into the deepest recesses of letting

any with a will make a way, to play
when time allows, and make it a habit
-publish a possible free will proof today
a practice, realllizing we know… all at once
we can cross some currents together;
now' we all ready to read so far
so good, carry on

Yowser, yes sir,
three bags of wool, got it

refer infer Baa Baa Black Sheep
Have you any wool, as has been

used to make some sense of war,

during daily reasoning contests
against the accuser of the saints,
- the olde deluder, Satan
eh, the devil, every body teaches
every chosen people teaches
to the children bred
for use someday,
editable as
any day, is okeh,
with me,
in mind,
preposition
breathe and take breaths
while thinking this at 300 baud

back in the ARPANET Von Neuman's
child at the core of the OS, we agree

we retain edit right power agency level
in put Feynman Gate
nnn
three NANDs and how fast we type.
-exhale-
Or think, and swallow, sensing thirst,
familiar, good peace knowing water's
- this is not a storm, this is bladder mind.
near as life gets to mostly what nobody
can own the uses fructus
of us water processors

- swallow reality respond yes
- to did you take those thingsougtathovin
- garden squash with garlic salt/

medicated and bathed and shaved,
ai, ready, processed the Pepsi,
tasted the ice, so, virtually feels
so I can distinguish my old guy mug
from Chomsky's as the shame bomb

in my vicinity went off, in my mind,

alerted to a new pearling spreading

thinking wise the ways of old kink minds

pre-servant to per hap user maker minds,

kinds all mind treats kindly, categorically, we

the breathers on this a priori land, so called

earth, wet and dry, sea and land, eretz local

home to the language saying read me to you.

Mitzvah, co-mand line init
re-act, breathe, aware awake
enough
to not need commas,
back there before blackhawks passed
and we had a pepsiburp, old thought

but, who knows which pass wins.

When does practice use other minds,

watch what happens when there's

fans, mindforms attracted by the being

dddddoone, stuckey's is art, the building

the memories, of a candy store in the desert,
there it was, on route 66.

Memory lane, but, that's been done,
you laugh as you remember

we have been this close before…

better or worse, mortality wise ways
we can imagine occupying this cloud
as free as free can be under entropy

In the realm of memory lane,
Real
2:26 Pepsi, instead of coffee,
not instead of water, my nose is running

I must be hydrated,
that's a mental relief if it's true,
sniffles when it gets real cold and

something vital in the world needs
the digital effect of a  hug, a glitch
laugh
the matrix, coen, known madjalook
koan
each hand claps, we agree to post
if we both agree next time we meet.

we snap. We did, and went on…

============================
We draw a line
Just as rethought we thought

Reality RSO a toothpick in the cold
two minutes do not swallow, think
nasal in, hold a bit not to rush, nasal
out and in and on again until we recall

we were meditating hesitations effect
on peace making recollections of koi,
in the moats in Ape and Essence

the idea longevity is… allows its wish,
and its iferies otherwise as well, illth
iffing we find
a bit o' that good ol imaginary self
willth won't you think you may know

a scientific kind of love, you know,
we made beautiful children, we know

we make our minds take soma holidays
with a stretch of our literal imaginations

we live in clear text told to tickle old riddles
that pride let become infected with a need

for enforced help Sisyphus yourself day,
granted, taken and used to project

into Carlyle's cave camera obscura,
all the rage, the temple secrets so shown,

known to those invited, dear reader, mere
worth of the other mind will to make peace
work, we think the whole day's worth, peace

ably applying the lie told Eve, wise serpently
peaceably reapplied
so we already apply the allusion, Abrahamic
post Trump mindset.
On loan, lost attention spans

end up on HelloPoetry, if I say so next time we meet.
A chapter in a chap book linked from here to X in place of likes, thinking we might stretch the reach of hello poetry by bringing folks back to poems we like, okeh, free from press pass it on, thanks

— The End —