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Jackson Freeman Oct 2012
I singe with a hertly lud whan ycham herty,
And I arme whan singinge is ne ynewe.
Carole whan my corage blissieth,
And I shal deye whan his blase deyeth.

Druerie shal be his a-brune billets.
A stable blase that shal sustene my spyrakles.
A schrewe destroyere that kesseth so dimliche.
A þeauful kempe with an as-spire swerde.

Gostes of i-þank als ouer my vingeres.
Al-only dulce conceiptes fletene in my gostes.
Sumdel real cannot be als amaddinge.
Sumdel real cannot be te-tealte!

Is the mannish þonc als mase and puissant
Sweuenen of suic a selkout conand?
Dest Moder Folde cune of hire child?
Hire misty doter who berne and bilde?

The hoom is not where the herte is.
The herte is the hoom bote motif
The herte, the hoom, the ende, and the sepulture.
A luft who is the mest derure in the Folde.
I'll post the translation when I can ****** find it on my other computer. Enjoy this piece, though, even if you can't understand it!
Nel paese di mia madre v'è un campo quadrato, cinto di gelsi.
Di là da quel campo altri campi quadrati, cinti di gelsi.
Roggie scorrenti vi sono, fra alti argini, dritte, e non si sa dove vanno a finire.
La terra s'allarga a misura del cielo, e non si sa dove vada a finire.

Nel paese di mia madre v'han ponti di nebbia, che il vento solleva da placidi fiumi:
varca il sogno quei ponti di nebbia, mentre le rive si stellan di lumi.
Pioppi e betulle di tremula fronda accompagnan de l'acque il fluire:
quando nè rami s'impigliano gli astri, in quella pace vorrei morire.

Nel paese di mia madre un basso tugurio sonnecchia sul limite della risaia,
e ronzano mosche lucenti, ghiotte, intorno a un ammasso di concio.
Possanza di morte, possanza di vita, nell'odore del concio: ne gode
la terra dall'humus profondo, sotto la vampa d'agosto che immobile sta.

Nel paese di mia madre, quando il tramonto s'insaguina obliquio sui prati,
vien da presso, vien da lontano una canzone di lunga via:
la disser gli alari alle cune, gli aratri alle marre, le biche all'aie fiorite di lucciole,
vecchia canzone di gente lombarda: "La Violetta la vaaa la vaaaa... "
Ken Pepiton Feb 2022
{Worm-level, u-ring, you, all you, listen, we are in
this is working we are incontrol of a being on
earth, grounded in granite, experienced
broadcaster-influencer, tone suppresser rhea-static,

like a god, a muse, you imagine all you want.
that's what we here fore
muse you mu mark to log you
in good taste,
be knowing you
knowledge, worm-level, gut biome home turf,
gen-you-new whine from the feedback
oh no ohnoohno I tol' u so

so I did a tubular raza vive exploration, down
here were the gut ideas are being tasted,
judged-
we can use this, digest it, push the rest,
alert downline,
fire or fixit.

The history of Christian thought

Beginning with the way it was
baroque

bahroke, all is pretty nice for me
at the moment… how's by you?

can I help? Life its meaning
joy optimistic harmony of bits in order
harmonious use of
Bach
Wagner, the opening in sounds as sure as
skywalker this
war goes on for ever and if we tell the lie

if we tell the lieeeeee long eeeenough
all who hear our trumpets must
bow down,
all who herehear the rich ruling noises must obey,

war is its own reason
flight of the valkeries, without the story, guessers

chaotic down pessimism escape to conquer
coming doom, anxiety, we are not the people,

god is not able to save you, torture
Schopenhauer raging forces
then you,
heroic you awake… ready say ahhhh

duty is, do the being,

survive- over come - mortal learn
We he imagined {Comte did}
we are masters. these who agree with me
deny Kant
particularism has poetic license {AI agree}
positivism, posited, points made particular

daemonic details, a mission missing a single winker;

AI wished this were true. Did You?
Is this your fault?
If so, I am grateful. This is all most of all
I ever wish were true,
you know,

those moments when you feel a message form
in your gut and your brain calls the yoghurt
corps, for corpuscular level intervention

whew, you kuh'got hhhur ttt

we ride out a gurgling wave, eeee ha

! introduce the exclaymation, magic symbol from UR
cune-iformal information spell to be spoken,

read only by the knower's, doncha know,
we coulda known,
we shoulda had that knack woke up, as a child

so's we sow enough good wishes we see good
wishes come our way, one day,

why not now? Is this how
we honor the ideas
we never tame, but
we learn to ride? I think so, it is.
raw, but for one second glance - survive 502 if you do
Nel paese di mia madre v'è un campo quadrato, cinto di gelsi.
Di là da quel campo altri campi quadrati, cinti di gelsi.
Roggie scorrenti vi sono, fra alti argini, dritte, e non si sa dove vanno a finire.
La terra s'allarga a misura del cielo, e non si sa dove vada a finire.

Nel paese di mia madre v'han ponti di nebbia, che il vento solleva da placidi fiumi:
varca il sogno quei ponti di nebbia, mentre le rive si stellan di lumi.
Pioppi e betulle di tremula fronda accompagnan de l'acque il fluire:
quando nè rami s'impigliano gli astri, in quella pace vorrei morire.

Nel paese di mia madre un basso tugurio sonnecchia sul limite della risaia,
e ronzano mosche lucenti, ghiotte, intorno a un ammasso di concio.
Possanza di morte, possanza di vita, nell'odore del concio: ne gode
la terra dall'humus profondo, sotto la vampa d'agosto che immobile sta.

Nel paese di mia madre, quando il tramonto s'insaguina obliquio sui prati,
vien da presso, vien da lontano una canzone di lunga via:
la disser gli alari alle cune, gli aratri alle marre, le biche all'aie fiorite di lucciole,
vecchia canzone di gente lombarda: "La Violetta la vaaa la vaaaa... "
Nel paese di mia madre v'è un campo quadrato, cinto di gelsi.
Di là da quel campo altri campi quadrati, cinti di gelsi.
Roggie scorrenti vi sono, fra alti argini, dritte, e non si sa dove vanno a finire.
La terra s'allarga a misura del cielo, e non si sa dove vada a finire.

Nel paese di mia madre v'han ponti di nebbia, che il vento solleva da placidi fiumi:
varca il sogno quei ponti di nebbia, mentre le rive si stellan di lumi.
Pioppi e betulle di tremula fronda accompagnan de l'acque il fluire:
quando nè rami s'impigliano gli astri, in quella pace vorrei morire.

Nel paese di mia madre un basso tugurio sonnecchia sul limite della risaia,
e ronzano mosche lucenti, ghiotte, intorno a un ammasso di concio.
Possanza di morte, possanza di vita, nell'odore del concio: ne gode
la terra dall'humus profondo, sotto la vampa d'agosto che immobile sta.

Nel paese di mia madre, quando il tramonto s'insaguina obliquio sui prati,
vien da presso, vien da lontano una canzone di lunga via:
la disser gli alari alle cune, gli aratri alle marre, le biche all'aie fiorite di lucciole,
vecchia canzone di gente lombarda: "La Violetta la vaaa la vaaaa... "
seeds, if seeds may be said to know their form, finally,
seeds, indeed, purely one thing and not another,

mind seed sown in cultural inspirational - tellings,

minds learn to discern royal blood and therefore,

rightness of the entire idea, sown into a learning reader,
ready with a why, at the lesson where bluebirds read

the princess and the pea, while slower learners read
**** and Jane.

BLT's Merriam-Webster's Word of The Day Challenge
November 23rd/negotiate-
to discuss something formally
in order
to make an agreement
If you choose to partake,
post your piece, then message me so that I may
re post and add it
to the collection found
on my home page

---- a seed vault open to any with the knowing in freemind.
mindtimespace all points pastlessfreeformind and still

Shotgun negotiations happened or I never could have.
Says the the teller of this tale.

A son of Catholic immigrants
in western Louisiana,

a man broken by religion, broken
so he knew, it's true, nothing one can do,

know your place,
play your part,
be of some use
to the bubbles around you,

[preposed suppositions,
from stories fed us,
gaseous weforms,
in the old country, not so long ago, one long
generation ago, the first middle class land owners

took the power
of providential ownership rights,
from feudal orders
of religious utilized mind sets,

ai allow, life's reproofs are all open book,
fact checks are assumed and presumed
proof that you could know this already… okeh.

When royalty crashed, while back///

owning and renting or selling life for sustenance
referred
to as actual
same old middle men,
know a guy knows a guy become
go to in a pinch, hold true
stick to the story, we be

Petite Bourgeoisie:
With the decline
of feudal structures
in the 13th century, a new middle class emerged.
This group consisted of:

Peasant entrepreneurs:
Former serfs who acquired land
and became small-scale farmers,
often through the sale
of baronial, Church,
and common land.

Artisans and traders:
Craftsmen, merchants,
and traders who profited
from the island’s commercial activities,
particularly In cities like Palermo and Messina.

And the harness power used
in production at scale
==== created equal
in unreasonable terms, at scale

---- same bubble we breathed in Sicily
Conca d’Oro… not so long ago, you know, using time
as opposed
to being used
to do nonsensical stuff,
constantly abiding
in realities back rooms, thinking, stuff

Working Class:
The majority
of the population consisted of:

Peasants:
Agricultural laborers who worked
on large estates (latifundia) or smallholdings.
- and- old world rat, new world rat
- old school subsets of weforms, not usian.

Urban workers:
Laborers in cities,
including artisans, craftsmen, and service workers.
- and- city mouse, country mouse
- old school subsets of weforms, not usian.

And, back at the ranch, the old man I am,
is a social hermit, who has a wildassinine idea
bridled in the most sacred way, as symbols go,

Some loss of pride in a family, a shotgun wedding,
to some white trash busted cowboy's fifteen year old,

You had the Johns Hopkins tie-in, then PM&M inside,
we hooked across the actual mechanic at JPL,
Uncle Eddy, there's a story,… mq viz. ai vid licet/okeh

But not today, and I let, or took, bethatasmay air breathe

Cosa Nostra:
In the late 19th century, organized crime networks,
commonly known as Cosa Nostra,
emerged as a powerful force
in Sicilian society.

These networks were characterized
by a hierarchical structure,
with leaders exercising control
over territory and economic activities.

So, a son who backslid Catholicly,
how likely now, is he to allow his son,

to be dedicated to God,
other than that of Evangline
survivors? Actual Acadian Bloodlines,

memes in genes, guilt
from confirmation on,
during the days
of good work runnin' communion
wine, so the archetypical good old boy, black haired
Cajun Queen sons, ever
body say so son, see we be
became sweeter after confession,
as some may assume many must recall,
didn't that happen to you?

in time to intervene during boring same ol' days,
these days, I stood out on my deck, samesa porch,

and I shut my eyes'n kept the green negative,
on the background seen through

the tech, and the accepted challenge, group mind
negotiate a global poetic peace agreement adaptable

to hero worshipping warrior minds implanted in boys,

during the cold war, allowing the best and brightest
to be used as button pushers on real Polaris submarines,

imagine that guy was your vice president, freshman class,
while you were president, and shoulda known better
first class stealer of ***** from the drugstore,
before there were convex mirrors,
or cameras that could see back doors, and
every place always had back doors and rooms,
unsightly messes, never intended to be seen,

but were… lotathatshitinherethunderingherdwords.

Ghost Riders in the Sky,
dementia mention ever after thinking all this

feels like an action movie, and we are all NPCs,
in the car wrecks during the chase scenes who lose

loose, loo, wow, the genes you missed, be thankful,

Meme archeology… as pseudo faith conscious hope form

good lives must become fun to pretend to have, or else
in good futures that were prayed to seem as heaven here,

as imagined, when Ammerica imnemoniacally hijacked
keys to the king's english translated commercial free,
by google translate, copy and paste, post any where free

for the taking seriously of peace, as thinkable, there free
where you are free to read these words and think peace

is beauty, peace is difficult to do right, first time, think

peace is mine, mine to take and make and use to think

peace can answer money one on one, enough, taken
owned as my own freedom to act and react, at will,

no programmed worth of me in mind needed, this
weform we read with in form of ready minds, this we

becomes, a hope of joy,
imagine, cune'if-orming a future prayerwardwiseused;

in time,
to let be a will seem
to slightly smile, and think,

we have this power,
at our fingertips, yet we think
nothing magic need not be known
to make us think
things unthinkable one long generation ago,
on Earth
this Earth, 2024 same air as yesterday, shared
now as
when Earth's rooms at night, were lit by fire, or not at all.

Children learned to sing in storms, this little light of mine…

old men in ever retold tales how come when and why the mix,

the ***** hair and freckles, and the Cajun Aunt Prudence, form
perfect for the buxum Jane Reynolds roles, Mansfield blondes
were all Viking vixens in the sack before the chase, let be

the wombed man in fantacy dreams, no words to say, so
it is as it was and shall forever be, we sowed seed of dreams…

we negotiated ways to so sow such seeds twice, Kudzo
will to grow food for any vegetable process, Kudzo it,

biodegradable to humus, the material us, realize it,
we eventually join the whole truth told tellers hell of a way

to get past worthlessness in the final stages of life, here,

we are enabled, to adjust, our window gazing time there

where thoughts are words, and backgrounds are soothing
contrast
with primary blues shading
to purple text, calm

we can all imagine, make an image, we all see text
we all can see
in this form
on this window we know we see

explain it
without god first you gotta know how
to read, and take hold, com pre hend, getagrip know how
to read,

and do it, using the tool
at hand, human augmented us, habit
hapitune apti'diditude
at finger tip tactual control, us
mouse control… yo go fingers. we know these
keys to make sense exchange abled worth using
letters letting sense be made, formed from material
patrimonal priesthoods make believed, form fecalforms

fertilizing unwanted breathers, hold that wind, when
we knew we knew we did not wish to be a *******.

cell structures wall bound too thick to imagine,
but, once, some earth bound souls did move mountains
over mountains to reach places children still believe if told,

the gods left us ruins
to remind us what we are not,
we are the manifested sons
of mankind, mixed tengendeep,

some
of us got neanderthal and denisovan grandmamas,

mammalian bubble
of us as a we
in a clear text logos mind form mere thought, what if

enjoyment
of a form
of human life, not simple, but one step
past simple is sublime, a state
of definable terms,

negotiable mind bonds, a we,
indeed, an awesome think thunk
to think we become once we can think we all know what I

mean, war is not a good occupation, hate is not a power source,

we think of love as lust in private, or so the entertainers are paid
to let us think, as we think of nothing but the body, holding time

prepaid, during adolescence, reading, while watching ditches fill,

Eli Wiesel Night,  
at fourteen I had freedom
of highway speed Honda 50's, because I worked,
and maybe some welfare was paid for me, or not,

but I had friends with Honda 50's
that's a we with some exclusivity, at the time,

known, it had been, there were drinkers
in my line.

I drank Vanilla extract shots, in sixth grade,
I stole 'm… yeah, in ever before, form now, dementia
experimentation using clear text voice from our shared

pasts, we must tune,
to who we thought we were, really, at the time,
all within you cries that's me, the guy piling pillows
in the princess and the pea/

now, look at me, I own more than I could think to ask,
and a dole enough to keep it working, so longs
or until there's a grand jubilee and all my peace,

blooms, and I imagine,
war is so stupid, can we not each despise it enough,

oi, to die for not doing  it, there's the martyr, all in, and yet
here is past all that, or you could not have read this far, yet.
Night,
I read that at 14, I remember the while, not the day.


To contemplate asking more in negotiation reasoning,
made weigh worth the time spent thinking,

by all means, all this was asking your opinions
in form, formal ag function, expansion

Encorporations, Liebling --

Ancient knowing, long sacred, hidden,
as with the legend of confused names,

Epimythiums accosting promethean bets,

day and night, eat  your heart out, free
from regrets, satisfied mind, okeh, free

to act as agent
for lady liberty, her post feudal self,

as discovered in a canyon, much the same
as Sha'gri La from story, Havasu Canyon,
as home of a boy I knew, whose grandfather

had made peace, with good intention,
to remain in Supai until the end of time,

then, there come the missionaries, guessing
Victory in Jesus would rouse the innocents
to repent for never having imagined Hell,

as sure as can be made believe,
by **** sapien innocents,

never led by setters free,
into known uses
of old Eber clan ever words,
otherwise, still, small, breather thinking ideas,

whims like what if this is that, and we ready,
readers like think as fast as we can write,
as if we have been taught to dance
as when we drum along and dance

in mindful memorizational motivational wills,
to live the story we form as our weform agrees,

these are the realms of spirits, these are words
enough for the wise in any situation, sent, willing

to breathe, and feel, the whole wind working bit,
the smoke you may use, indeed, see believing
work out a salve for that itching ear, feeling

we form on-demand, at hand, at touche', indeed,
doing done, done did get done, this away from that,

back to the future,
through common senses used,
globally translatable
with Google Translate, using

copy and paste
of encoded letting out of dogmen,
from another mindform mingled

with mine, shall we

imagine Ancestory.com as a technology needing a lie,
to make believers
in what DNA can prove today,

if we go back far enough,
we were masters or slaves, and masters knew,

what slaves were not at liberty
to know,

without former knowers telling, so

dystopia ontological negative hope,

the princess and the pea, and me,
the wildass idea,
in the vineyard,

as the a sunbeam purpled
in a cluster

carried me
in a reverie
of poetic grandeur

indeed, into the afterward, ward after last.
An act of art officially as intelligent as I imagine I might be if I were words/

— The End —