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Lee Sharks May 2015
BELIEF & TECHNIQUE FOR TELEPATHIC PROSE
Lee Sharks & Jack Feistfrom Pearl and Other Poems

1.     Compose real poems telepathically, with mind control powers, inside your glorious brain.

2.     You are your own best advocate. Insist the world acknowledge your poems as artifacts of tiny doom. Accept nothing less. Threaten to smash yourself in the face with gasoline and set your hair on fire. Leap over the seats to aggressively stand inside the world’s personal space and get up in its grill. Take this container of Tic-Tacs and smash it on your forehead. Crush each Tic-Tac individually into your eyeballs and ask the world if it likes your poem, and if it likes your poem, then eat your poem: “Do you like my poem? Then eat it.”

3.     Always seek constant approval, then punch your cat in the face.

4.     Arrive alive. Don’t text and drive.

5.     Always write poems all the time.

6.     Never professionalize writing. Professionalism is the last refuge of responsible people looking for work.

7.     Your life is your poem. Take care to write it biographically. Failing that, invent false biographies and post them on Wikipedia.

8.     Get as much education as you can, then ****** your education in the face to save it from sloppy education. Get enough education to respect your contempt for education.

9.     Give it all that you have, as deep as it goes, as desperate and total as taking a breath.

10.  Also be pedantic mundane pig-critic of precise punctuation juggling and ruthless crossed-out darling murdering of your own puny sentences. Save every draft and revert to original after enormous work, then drown yrself in the bathtub. Remember: editing is organization.

11.  Be long-sighted prodigy of skeptically believing in nothing, but also believe in destiny, but quietly, and hit yourself in the face for naivety’s sake.

12.  You are a seamstress of words—place each stitch carefully, deliberately. Develop a series of rituals and perform them, without variation, prior to placing each word. Allow the frequency and intensity of these rituals to grow until you spend hours, each day, touching and retouching your left index finger to the tip of your nose in a rhythmic, counter-clockwise motion, in sets of thirty revolutions, in order to place a single character. Spend years of your life shut away from the world, wasting away into an awkward, unhygienic shadow of your former self, and have, to show for it, a two-syllable word of Germanic origins on an otherwise clean, white page. This word will be redoubtable, the bedrock of your writing career. Go on to spend vast sums of personal wealth and total dedication, alienating the remaining handful of long-suffering friends who continue, despite all odds, to solicit the memory of your humanity, in order to learn the arts of metalworking, Medieval alchemy, and font design, recreating a metal-cast, alpha-numeric set of Times New Roman font, from scratch, going broke long before “numeric,” and with only the half-formed germs of the characters W, N, and sometimes-vowel Y.  hat are such retrictio s to  ou?  ou are a poet,  ot a mathematicia .  ou are a creature of steel.  ou  ill  rite a  e  and better  orld, a  orld  ithout the letter   , forgi g it, o e smoki g husk of a  ord at a time.

13.  Turn over a new leaf. You’re not getting much done like this, anyways, let’s face it. Break the chains of your censoring, conscious mind; tap into the spontaneous well of unconscious human brilliance that springs from the source of dreams. Thwart the stick-in-*** tyranny of your internal editor by making a commitment to write constantly, without ceasing, editing, or even thinking, no matter what, ignoring the anally retentive quips your brain will no doubt make. Make a further commitment: you will not only write, irrespective of internal censorship, but in a way that is unconscionably terrible, on purpose. Your writing will be, by turns, embarrassing, infantile, automatic, and marmaduke poppers—or shall we say, antagonistic to the indoctrination in repressive concepts such as “sentence” and “word” of your reader, who is always, and only, you. Let your writing be a spiritual discipline of Bat-a-rang pancakes and lightly alarm clock, ding—your toast is done.

14.  Always Alka-Seltzer eyelids all the time.

15.  At last, you are ready to make it new, to ****** your darlings, to first thought, best thought, to your heart’s content. Your adverb will be the enemy of your verb, the difference between your almost-right word and your right word will be the difference between your lightning bug and your lightning. You are ready to have a spontaneous overflow of powerful feeling, then censor the s**t out of it. You are ready to turn your extremes against each other: Unlearn your apple pancakes and burst through the mental barriers; then slow the flood, let the lovely trickle out & edit, edit, edit. Capture spontaneous gem of native human genius, then marshal vast armies of technical knowledge & self-discipline to ensure it glimmers and cuts.

16.  Believe in things like destiny. No really—the path will shatter you so many times your shards will have splinters, your bombshells, shrapnel. By the time you get there—which you probably won’t—even your exhaustion will be tired. Exhaustion of mind and body will have passed so far beyond the physical, and through malaise of spirit, that it will emerge on the other side, as physical exhaustion again. In the face of this, nothing but a little Big Purpose will do. Besides, a little ideology never hurt anyone. Feel free to be all Voltaire with your bad self, in public—but don’t give up.

17.  After all of this, when your will is finally broken (again), and you have given up for the final time (again), start over. The former model wasn’t working. Refashion yourself and your writing. Lather, rinse, usurp your noble half-brother, and repeat, until you get somewhere, or die in the trying.  

18.  Achieve consistency of voice; it is the signature by which you will be known. Your “you” should ring out clearly from each individual letter. In this, the writer is like the salesman. Like a new car, neither the writing’s merits, nor the reader’s needs, will be the final, deciding factor. Ultimately, the deciding factor is you.

19.  Unlike a new car, it is difficult to drive a poem, to use it to get to school or work. Unlike a car salesman, a writer does not wear enormous ties.

20.  Be so consistent that your writing consists in composing the same words, in the same order, creating the some overall voice and style, consistently, over and over, an eternal return of the same. Maintain this disciplined drudgery over the course of years. Let years become decades, and decades, an entire life: You will have “found your voice.” Variety is the spice of life, but consistency is its signature.

20.  Be so consistent that your writing consists in composing the same words, in the same order, creating the some overall voice and style, consistently, over and over, an eternal return of the same. Maintain this disciplined drudgery over the course of years. Let years become decades, and decades, an entire life: You will have “found your voice.” Variety is the spice of life, but consistency is its signature.

21.  Then again, consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds. Throw things up a little bit. One day, put on your hobgoblin hat, the next day, your small mind.

22.  On second thought, re: #16-17: Stop here. You don’t look like much of a writer. Save yourself the trouble of a deep investment that is sure to yield no returns. The prize is big, and not many take it. The Iliad showed us that the prize of writing is life eternal, and taught us to long for that promise; but the Odyssey taught us not to bother. There are many suitors, a single Odysseus. While the husband wends arduously homeward, Penelope weaves impending glory, an evaporating glamour, enchanting them, until he arrives. We are in for a bad end, if we chase another man’s wife, or a prize not rightfully ours. There are many suitors, a crowd of them. They begin as a chittering swarm of bats and end in the very same manner. You cannot have what is not yours. What is yours, no man can take. So, like Emily says,

I smile when you suggest that I delay ‘to publish’—that being foreign to my thought as Firmament to Fin. If fame belonged to me, I could not escape her—if she did not, the longest day would pass me on the chase—and the approbation of my Dog would forsake me—then—My Barefoot Rank is better—

23.  Therefore, take these Sturm und Drang commandments to the trash heap. Return to step 1, as the only useful piece of advice: Compose real poems telepathically, with mind control powers, inside your glorious brain.

(c) 2014 lee sharks & jack *****

from Pearl and Other Poems:

http://www.amazon.com/Pearl-Other-Poems-Crimson-Hexagon/dp/0692313079/ref=sr11?ie=UTF8&qid;=1429895012&sr;=8-1&keywords;=lee+sharks+pearl
BELIEF & TECHNIQUE FOR TELEPATHIC PROSE http://mindcontrolpoems.blogspot.com/2014/12/belief-technique-fortelepathic-prose.html
Something's missing, alone.
- locus focus fire
- relief
At first, the state
of being, only, one like,
in the extreme, being

once,
in a while passing
at thought speed past
instances
on planes,
like that one
carving lines up there,
above my head, so here,

I laugh and materialize,
a new idea,
as long as I am breathing,

I am not exactly alone, I know,
not alone, at all,
on Earth
on average,
we all breathe
at once,
half breathing in,
half breathing out, but

never, on Earth does one breathe alone.

-----

The defenders of the news,
used to keep the mob's on task,

deny the common sense was, once
commonly sensed, there were no trans

girls denied the right
to dominate natural born girls
with warrior spirits or herd instincts,

edit maeeks, scratches on the window

----- what do I make of this?
------ all in, same bet riding.

K!@#$%e Frontgomery. 11/14
This is not a broken record,
it is relearned relearning
released attention paid

Pathos, we sense,
awesome strength
of us, as speaking spirits,
soul bound
to finish life, once.

Or I read some lines you wrote,
and this is a blinding dose day,
later…
the names change
to protect the innocent
whoa today
by accident I know,
public access channels
wild winds blow though
in the metadata, there's a curve\
we are on one
of these secondtho'
ghtought
cought 'opesup-resources presense
Showing results
for k!@#%$ie 'ontgo'ery
Search instead
for k!@#$%e'ontgo'ely

Kay-yes Frontgomery
Based
on the provided information,
K_e Frontgomery is a Legal Assistant
at Frontgomery Law Firm
in a sebseensense - State. Her previous experience
in Customer Service
has equipped her
with exceptional communication skills, making her
an effective Front Desk Person
for the firm.
She greets clients,
answers phone calls,
schedules appointments,
and handles administrative tasks.

Additionally, K
e  Frontgomery has a presence
on social media platforms,
including TikTok,
where she shares videos and interacts with her followers.

It’s worth noting
that there are multiple individuals
with the name Kaylee/Kaylie Etc Frontgomery, and some
of them may be unrelated
to K
_e  the law firm employee. According
to public records, there are 27 individuals with this name living
on Earth in this US, ranging
in age
from 25
to 79 years old, and residing
in various states,
of attention
to details

including past caring, past wishing,
past knowing if any body cared
to know
what change occurs
at full myelination,
post first heart attack,
simple peace
of mind
available locally
goes virall fungally in
Washington, Mississippi,
Arizona and Texas.
as Sublime Insight RSO
unified fungus organic,
mossy recipes for keeping

fire lo' no smoke, little light.

As we always do, we tend
to cluster,
thinking we all agreed
to go all in, what
if
now is the instant this works.
Bloomub'ug boomer chicks in flicks.
The instant I read it next, I continue,
after choosing here, a branch chance…

If your worst you met mine,
and we felt so much alike,

we could laugh
at ourselves,
and make our worst effort

make all the difference
in the world,
destroying
on purpose oh, art thou

… huge caches of idolized

times messengers
to next,
typesetter's ever,
what type's yours…

look out trains a comin'
hear that whistle
in my head,

so, I sit up straight,
to say I looked
paid attention
both ways and breathe-d, I see
that was not a heart attack
danke g-tts
yo, it was gwanowgnow our wake up
call,
all you plural weforms
in reformed
minds attempting a pearling
tyranny form
on the screen
minds tie through
in context
conscience used wittingly, aware.
Startle response store repurpose
Hot seat. On same response,…

That was not a train whistle,
it was my radiating heat wave device
hoping
to stave off the doubt devised
substantially,
to allow
spacing out, society some reason,
has a will
to keep us thinking happy
breathe-ing slowly
all
of the time,
being seventeen
in a wall projected dream,
go on, no lie, bliebe doch, this is it,

to the instance
in active prayer,
taxing old smoke songs meme-or-
ized materialized re-
ality
of ways al el 'aps
new
from hence forth,

for this very reason this is true,
peaceable, easily thinkable,
freely shared, peace
of mind, works as wisdom,
no war finds footing in, deep.
Smooth.

Gentle grades
to the top, mentioned once
on the cover
of the rolling stone
as the guy
without garbage can ears.

This imaginable in ever after, test,
could mankind continue in mind?

Soothing touch, oaken shade
on the bright green moss.

It rained last night, the moss
on my slowly decomposing,
granite wind sculpture
on the south edge,
of my rock wave

winds and water
have softened,

to be thankfuller timesoslow
printings all paid for let it ride

at the time it is sandy shore

let it continue becoming
decomposed granite
shaggy manzanita
thrive on.

Rain in fire season,
always feels like luck,
or answered prayers.

Luck is not a factor,
the phrase, often used
by holier me than I am, now;

makes me rethink my reason,
balance time and chance
at why,
would I know
of suffering it
to be so now,
and laugh out loud
on noticing
how rations
of mercy
and the best
of luck
are essentially one
matched set
given post amazement grace.
swatsgwanon, seentrue.
Clear.

Is it bigger than a bread box?

I laughuckinchuckled…

Do geniuses congregate inside?

Is it the hall
of just as it is,
in here,
it is dark, but nothing inside knows.

Feel for familiar touched once known,
think it felt, in a memory once formed,

is it important enough
to sing about?

I'd doubt it, were I you, but you know
that's not the case, not the situation,

you slightly guessing there is importance,
but which port
in the storm is always any.

Lighthouse

"signify, show, bear
or convey
in meaning," importance
at an instance
in co-knowing recognition.

Old spicy hints
screen wide
for long rides,
uploaded
from Grandma's educating books.
Good sense needed
to sell books.
Read books.

Humor and humorous
Henry W. Fowler
["Modern English Usage," 1926]
may be of use:

HUMOR: motive/aim: discovery;
province: human nature;
method/means: observation;
audience: the sympathetic
{ . }

WIT: motive/aim: throwing light;
province: words & ideas;
method/means: surprise;
audience: the intelligent

{ ! }
SATIRE: motive/aim: amendment;
province: morals & manners;
method/means: accentuation;
audience: the self-satisfied
{ soft yes ? }

SARCASM: motive/aim: inflicting pain;
province: faults & foibles;
method/means: inversion; audience:
victim & bystander
{ intaken sigh  }

INVECTIVE: motive/aim: discredit;
province: misconduct;
method/means: direct statement;
audience: the public
{  the blame to shame claim us }

IRONY: motive/aim: exclusiveness;
province: statement of facts;
method/means: mystification;
audience: an inner circle
{ chuckle, too, should I were I such }

CYNICISM: motive/aim: self-justification;
province: morals;
method/means: exposure of nakedness;
audience:
the respectable
{ oi, the real poets out-
here naked spirits bet    }

SARDONIC: motive/aim: self-relief;
province: adversity;
method/means: pessimism;
audience: the self
-- burp, sould aameri can,
free
to request refills
free
{who always laughs right here.}

And the sunshine rises,
the shining green moss shivers,
and another November is noticed.

Time Machine,
to prove we all can
imagine things many never think to…

The film was originally released
on August 17, 1960,
and was distributed
by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
It received the Academy Award
for Best Special Effects[
for its time-lapse photographic effects, which show the world changing rapidly as the time traveler journeys
into the future.

{SO, seen by me the second release.}

Thus in the summer it had surefire
second run,
in that summer
of 1961
a story I read said
Aliens had no humor,
and the lie survival response

limits information leaking
from old, tape memory,
truly, late Eighties, Zips
from the Nineties.

Men, as in mental not the model,
men was translated cognatively as

firstpure, not simple pure indeed, done
on first use, we suppose, we seem to think,
this is always what wisdom is,
not kept secretly sacred
by trained guards.

Wisdom exists every where t
relitigation truth hides
nobel lies believed
to make mankind servile,
intentionally willing
to life,
with fair share,
Announce it today, simple act of faith.

Jubillee, across the board, all interest paid,
applies
to principle and any remainder
may be carried forward
in good faith put
to good use,

wise savings idea,
paid,
along the way
with usage fees and guarantees.

No holy turmoil,
have a jubilee,
and refuse
to move money
for war

any more,
at the core ai
we make think we wish
to be free
for banal evil actual reality,

we can learn our way past that,
first feed us no threat
of hell
to pay,

eh, old man, can you do that.

Indeed, I winked, and said, I think I can.

And laugh, holding a breath,
added to, intaken,
another
to the humm
of the whole room,
aware
at most the one fan
in the works, the rest is mental
and the radiant heater and noise
in the air, … Goethe got me
at bliebe doch,
think again, all things thought before
all things, indeed, done, did be done,
just the facts, calls all truths,
within context
of a wink and a nod, and a humm
from a thermo switch,
signaling same finger malfunction

as last winter cold finger first arroyo
corrugated plane re-al re-if-ity, live

This it, the initiation ritual old men do,
each year, this era
of moons, easy super close,
to suppose wisdom rides the night,
breaths
deeply taken
to make
one appear materially taken aback,

an aweform we are forming, a pattern.

Death and memorializing

Life, longer than planned for,
Lucky me, more experience,

letting dogtags identify the dead,
so witnesses need not
recall… but f
or dramatic effect.
recollecting… biographically
vivid real once,

how I came
to be kept alive,
with none certain why me,

and not… the dogtag owner.

- wonder if I would read this online,
- so I do it and, think while breathe-ing

Things that feel worth thinking twice,
some times feel worth the asking price.

Some times, not.

Rock formations, inform us now, yet,
this solid rock, was once under us all,

deep, down
in the viscous magma
above the churning flux, and then

the world fractured like a fried marble,
and this formation,
this solid rock
on which my house was built,
froze and rose a shattered jewel
rose by any named same idea
to serve the very role, inspiring
respiration, and a certain thankful note,

this window seen into and through,
as seeing into light
in all the colors
that make white seem soft
on the eyes.

It was a weekly dose day,
I look
at the time, while 3:29
cloudy, good wet outside


sneezing a series
of three and
one snuffle not swallowed then

breathe'd again,
take some space,
feel safe
for a while, kinda thinking

something's funny.

Weil's, not Wile's Proof,
this is the last stack
to filter
I have one gingerbread cookien
and two once used Tetly tea disks

when I am hungry and have coffee,
wish I may return
to satisfactory
resets
tea will do
go on, do it

Crossing the commons, laughing
in cyberspace, as conceived
in ARPA networks
of children asked
to form opinions,

what would you do
with a spelling tool
which knows all the words
and holds any we catch
on an infinite roll
of light we have
to write on
-
now can
that mean the same thing
in 197 Wikid-pedian tongues?
-
Wikipedian, parsing
CamelCaseLinking the scattered
data base fed us weforming plans
at will, all one could read and draw
to scale, brains cooperating
in scattered mankind,
so…
by late 2024…

as the doctrine evolved,
to seem globally alert
wise as
to clues, portents
of war or rising tides,

culturally mingling reasons
for worth and value
to be judged,

worth the attention paid any TV,
as we pass and take
in the time
of day;
when the whole world could know,
at once, a long anticipated event,

the second coming, acknowledged done,
indeed, or right now, some one who was

alive, at the announcement,
"there be some, standing here…"

In each short generation, each era's
birth cohort, those born between wars,
too close
to the next war
to be useful, they
strive all their lives
to prove war good, agreeing
to spend all life's potential profits on it.

Well, it came
to pass, when noted
in scripture globally used

to form powers
to enforce adherence
to interpretted dreams.

Holy gnosis, indeed, that knack,
of make believe, be not deceived,
Truth, as the Way Life's made,

is not mocked.

To tell the truth,
to one's own self, late
in life, as it were, while information
access, as it were, wetted the appetite,

for total immersion global literacy… a
we, we develop
from scratches
on stones.

Hohokam, those who vanished,
those who's lives are all used up,

lived where Phoenix is today.

We can recall research, just enough
to get by,
with an unresearched reason

thinking once
in Papago Park
I don't remember
to define my terms,
in order
to converse
with dead poets, preposed
who chose
to stay quiet, across time,

taking patience stretching lessons,
from story rejecting Jews, whose advantage,
in almost everything is the result
of knowing how
to sell a set
of moral values,
with Wisdom, patiently

post comprehension
of good news,
in times
of turmoil, such as we survived, as well.

When I know, my Grand ma,
was a rescue bride, twice chosen, once
as an orphan
without words, a native child
it was assumed, she had

{really materialized during an attempt
to understand, funda mind stant instance
ghost dance whyingmisabuse}

Minds
with ever sworn honor,
on each and every signifying glory ribbon
in the wind, as the Fighting 7th represents
arms, and bemetaled banners wavering
for victory held

each war reason, was the last.
Aitia.
Stood still,
to say what have we made today,

sense of many things long stood under, now,

looked down
on as signal
in side-real time,

just thinking
if we were
to judge angels, message memes,
when should one think
one must begin,
feeding children Suessible minds, begun

Genius
of us, uses made up just
in time,
to leave us co-be the makers
of the storm, portending
inheriting the wind;

these days, and those days, such as always
reoccur following abstractions
fit precisely
to the drama
of the childhood
of common man, wombed or un, undone
presupposed, prepositionally, spelt
discombobulated needed
no pedigree,
real state…
we knew the feeling,
finding dime store
time stretchers,
an abstraction Lisa painted,
touching moment, did it happen?,
here it did,
canonical internet
stories
with culturally significant messaging,
recommender bot 101
for strivers ever
after managing such wills as are being done,
on earth, but not as those same roles play out
in heaven,

as truth forms a self concept
in time, and we find ourselves swallowed
agree, this is ever,
after that, happening as we
agree, this is ever and we are init
for goodness sake,

rock on, Sisyphus, it's all downhill from here,
Jello time wink
slow thunk

this, an loneliness, amused me to no end.
I hope you had fun, you were not obliged,

religation on formal spirit mind sets,
never works, you could say this any where…

any one spends time reading
on phones.
502 or not please tell me if you don't especially like how long in takes to read.

— The End —