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"epistemic" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
^       ^      ^     ^     ^    ^   ^  ^ ^ ^^^ ^ ^  ^   ^    ^     ^     ^      ^       ^ {[a parachute of words to soften death (the impact governed by an ancient rule)] for falling slower, to allow the gaze to linger on a beingscape of prophets, sages, and of fools, to entertain a fantasy, a whim or a kernal sign of epistemic limn}: \| / feline-dolphin friendliness to bring, to sing of paws and fins, to fashion songs.. cut playful, caring, interspecies lens. sprouting karmic stems at every step with toe-gems on a koan-grounded path on which the memories of art abound-- to measure wrath, to nard with wisdom salves the holon vast of intra-earthling givenness and arm the doom'ed nous with lethe-wards: a Helm of melodies to dim the sound of nether-chords in taunting reaper's lure; pantheonic Plate to temper tangent blows of glowing smoulders, darkest passion throws; Wings of flame in kind caressing pleasure licking high incurvate spinal moan... alone... the tone is sure, for underworldly psalm and biding sweep of time, aeon after aeon, eternal bone on bone, in gales of fated nescience, the moment dawns careening, skirrs my aether-self of lighted purpose drawn, and telic web of wanings on... _
0
Jul 18, 2012
Jul 18, 2012 at 11:32 PM UTC
a parachute of words to soften death
Dear Academia; I took the adderall because I thought you wanted me to be a machine.  I didn't understand that amphetamine tasted like candy once you got used to the way your jaw locked and your ears rang.  Dear academia, did you see my face when you read my GPA, did you see the way I stayed up too late after my after school activities trained me to live with anxieties?  Dear academia, why am I afraid of the mirror? Why did you teach me how to write a perfect paper but never prepared me for the look in his eye when he told me he didn't love me either.  Dear academia, i'm ****** off and you're swallowing me, does the sting of your impulses feel better when you know you're eating my hard earned money?   Dear academia, why do you give me empty promises?  Why should I spill my blood with this diploma, list my ethnicity and birthdate next to the insignificance of what you think makes me worthy, do these details feed your impending due dates or are you just getting off to the idea that only the educated few know how to think straight?  Dear academia, I tried my hardest to let you fool me, I can feel your ego fattening beside me as I watch your children scramble for their ideas of monetary gluttony.  You're increasing our wage gaps, do my late night tears fuel your addiction to epistemic poverty?  Dear academia, you taught me to think critically.   I am on fire with the matches you forgot you hatched within me.  Scorpions occasionally eat their parents and I hate to admit that this **** has me hungry.
0
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
Manifesto of an Almost-College-Drop Out
Dear Academia; I took the adderall because I thought you wanted me to be a machine.  I didn't understand that amphetamine tasted like candy once you got used to the way your jaw locked and your ears rang.  Dear academia, did you see my face when you read my GPA, did you see the way I stayed up too late after my after school activities trained me to live with anxieties?  Dear academia, why am I afraid of the mirror? Why did you teach me how to write a perfect paper but never prepared me for the look in his eye when he told me he didn't love me either.  Dear academia, i'm ****** off and you're swallowing me, does the sting of your impulses feel better when you know you're eating my hard earned money?   Dear academia, why do you give me empty promises?  Why should I spill my blood with this diploma, list my ethnicity and birthdate next to the insignificance of what you think makes me worthy, do these details feed your impending due dates or are you just getting off to the idea that only the educated few know how to think straight?  Dear academia, I tried my hardest to let you fool me, I can feel your ego fattening beside me as I watch your children scramble for their ideas of monetary gluttony.  You're increasing our wage gaps, do my late night tears fuel your addiction to epistemic poverty?  Dear academia, you taught me to think critically.   I am on fire with the matches you forgot you hatched within me.  Scorpions occasionally eat their parents and I hate to admit that this **** has me hungry.
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63
Exert life than a void pray, Gone my obey for: a lied rose, Under the deep-deep sky, may the sea beneath, Felt all the existence of died prose. Identity of expiring beyond, an illusion of soon, Or the city lights, may the lights of so moon. And eyes oh eyes of my, heed existence, Who humane instincts to materialise; to disobey chosen persistence. I stood the defeat ; as vanished as die, All hopes, legacy, ideas meaningless; heard I, I stood by god, to hail nothingness and death, Thence I tasted sour on the soliloquy of celebrated Macbeth. For when he says; god is dead, Its innocence absurd that we are his murderer, A cynic, anti-foundationalism, epistemic to crave for more and more, oh i read, For all my beliefs came to bright blur. Today, when I ask a theory of tree makes sound or not when fallen alone, Exculpate not, for I myself flown in the most questionable known. Today, when I ask a theory of Sisyphus as a metaphor on existentialism, Exculpate not, for I know more than seven colors of old prism. Learner, me oh my, how I may counter not, Nihilist not I, neither theory I ever caught. I choose to choose, to see I see, So; next when we revel, keep it over a beautiful night of spree.
0
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 5:41 AM UTC
NIHILISM
pierces deeper                                                                                                           than a lover's cynic scourge impaling orifice of epistemic fruits                                                                                                                                                              appalling so to rather choose       a flowing coat of blood,                                                                                                                                     an existential itch       of ripe,                                                                                                                        strawberry scabs                  at least here, i can pirouette a shower over all i think i've done, attempt to paint the 'seen' a pinker tint of womb-rose red: she beats her heart into a blazing whirl of painblooming over saying and the said. wheels of joyspeed lose their path as digging hands, tearing nails grapple harshly at the roots of hair and other roots; in the earthy darkening you've found something...                                                   you have lost all things you have found love, trapped love                         eaten love                   expelled love,              become love                     and destroyed love    )))"i love you i love you iloveyouiloveyouiluvuiluviluvui<3ui<3ui<3i<3u<3<3<3"((( some love was not love, some love was all love, some love was yours and some was mine, some of your love was my love, some of yours was all love, some of mine was yours and some was all. period some love speaks for some and all, some for only some, some for only all, all love is... part of overcoming fear all love is- (enter plethora of other meanings here) all love... Is. period, period, period, i wretch to define, to cubicle with verbal caging                                your unbridled                      spheroid knowing,                                                   a patient                      sonar-esque acceptance              that truth-hunting in the midst                      of love means: to suffer, for all who love and seek to know its underside, to continue ****** clawing in and out, to shout for answers like existence never lied. all love is this/ for some and not for others, it was this and now it's that: i think of you, i'm changing, i feel you, i'm changing, i'm changing, i feel you are there, a part of me, some part of me speaking to all of me, some poetic voice, some spiritual thing beyond just 'spirits', 'things', 'meanings', 'sufferings', 'truths', 'hearts', 'blazings' into different swirls of wheeling joylists lost into another us that is, was and isn't us "forevermore" but finds us here again, unchanged
0
Jul 15, 2012
Jul 15, 2012 at 3:14 PM UTC
Untitled
pierces deeper                                                                                                           than a lover's cynic scourge impaling orifice of epistemic fruits                                                                                                                                                              appalling so to rather choose       a flowing coat of blood,                                                                                                                                     an existential itch       of ripe,                                                                                                                        strawberry scabs                  at least here, i can pirouette a shower over all i think i've done, attempt to paint the 'seen' a pinker tint of womb-rose red: she beats her heart into a blazing whirl of painblooming over saying and the said. wheels of joyspeed lose their path as digging hands, tearing nails grapple harshly at the roots of hair and other roots; in the earthy darkening you've found something...                                                   you have lost all things you have found love, trapped love                         eaten love                   expelled love,              become love                     and destroyed love    )))"i love you i love you iloveyouiloveyouiluvuiluviluvui<3ui<3ui<3i<3u<3<3<3"((( some love was not love, some love was all love, some love was yours and some was mine, some of your love was my love, some of yours was all love, some of mine was yours and some was all. period some love speaks for some and all, some for only some, some for only all, all love is... part of overcoming fear all love is- (enter plethora of other meanings here) all love... Is. period, period, period, i wretch to define, to cubicle with verbal caging                                your unbridled                      spheroid knowing,                                                   a patient                      sonar-esque acceptance              that truth-hunting in the midst                      of love means: to suffer, for all who love and seek to know its underside, to continue ****** clawing in and out, to shout for answers like existence never lied. all love is this/ for some and not for others, it was this and now it's that: i think of you, i'm changing, i feel you, i'm changing, i'm changing, i feel you are there, a part of me, some part of me speaking to all of me, some poetic voice, some spiritual thing beyond just 'spirits', 'things', 'meanings', 'sufferings', 'truths', 'hearts', 'blazings' into different swirls of wheeling joylists lost into another us that is, was and isn't us "forevermore" but finds us here again, unchanged
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62
The frame has blurred away \ Fever death arising like burst glass || mangled spines \ This is the age of fact | where the violent insertion of cancer cells into animals is applauded by scientists across the globe \ Objectivity is the new face of barbarism | death god // sublimating existence for truth \ Raw data filters from the rot of deformed limbs | tweezers crush the heads living fish // guts spill | formaldehyde fixes the flesh of squirming insects | spliced genes splay the spines of mewling mice \ There’s no doubt || biology is the practice of death \ Animals without niches \ Organs without bodies \ Cells without hosts \ An aperture maw | red // yellow // black // white | leaking nervous tissue over an absent whole \ Reality has been atomised // brutalised // banalised \ Objective knowledge replacing all critical thought << [[Muscle // nerve // fat // blood // bone \]] Experience nothing \ [[The germ cell cycles every 28 days \]] Know nothing \ [[The average lifespan of a lab rat is three years \]] Feel nothing \ [[Over one hundred million are killed yearly \]] Science saves \ Biospace severed // prescription drugs fall // epistemic // into clean white bottles \
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Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:10 PM UTC
Biospace in the Age of Epistemic Mutilation
Ruminating epoché, ‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay. Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay Initiatives imperative consolidation, Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray. Practicing semantic contemplation, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, Forecast in vague extrapolation, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
0
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
Linguistic Illusions to Probable Solutions
I drempt that I flew And then I knew I'd die young Above emerald seas I did soar Salt I dream and I slither Among razor obsidian And on the ash I feast I am alone Watching sun slip Scarlet fury splitting Old & cyclic
0
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 7:48 PM UTC
Epistemic Closure
An all-seeing eye of cosmos opened within me having an epistemic sense of power. The rain trickled down the oval-shaped wet window. 'Twasn't a blue eye, yet 'twas bluing. The blues of the stars were trickling out of their core. Over your tasting part of the tongue full of sensations about itself, suffering words struck the silence between us. I could not comprehend their sense- their meaning sank in the sadness of the rain. The blues were absorbed by this rising dreariness. I couldn't see you. Nor could I achieve the tranquility of mind. However, I might presume that God might see this.
0
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
An Eye for An I
What is it to be loved? What is it to be alone? Epistemic ambivalence. How many rocks are being thrown? What is truth? And is it a secret? Your true natures apples Or your artificial peaches? Through a true friends eyes A true friend sighs. The knot of a true friends ties. A true friend, why? Cynical much? Its not enough. I love ALL so deep that I hate my guts. What am i saying? I better start praying.. But to who? The big picture I keep reframing. Oh well nevermind The bright light.. And rusted mind. Memories lost, to be regained. Absent feelings forever remained. In the void of time we cut the line, I would explain but i cant rewind..
0
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 4:23 AM UTC
Humans
Ruminating epoché, ‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay. Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay Initiatives imperative consolidation, Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray. Practicing semantic contemplation, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, Forecast in vague extrapolation, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
0
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
Advanced Aporia
i left the spigot dripping last night and now the whole home is submerged — archipelagic scraps of tatterdemalion things line the floor like dead bodies and poesy atrocities. but i have not in mind, this disfiguring lament. 1 Take for example, a fine line darting towards your ******* 2 And bend it towards the direction of genealogy or analogue fire 3 Henceforth commend contention and differentiate beyond hapless extensions of body to body mirror to mirror 4 Where all axioms define the universe and there is an epistemic afterthought looming past the arithmetic of things such is that of a steady punctuation mid-birth 5 Take the corporeal and eat Suns, thrash the Moon like how a bed is meant to be whacked by the spanked edge 6 Cold resuscitates flame and flares congeal all frigidity — or at least arbitrarily, remember it by whim caprice and then fade out 7 As misery clots in the same vein pulsing with different blood which we shall ensconce with laughter — a drunken hilarity 8 And then oppose the dictum that forced us to the point of recalcitrance, rousing hungered heat with memory of waking ice 9 Recount what I said about such opposites complementing each other in precise farce 10 In this exact exhibition faint upon recollections — going far inverse to poles only tells another distance covered by wide strides and a place nearly forgotten rekindled by newer ones.
0
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 5:47 AM UTC
Numerals
Somewhere across the Noise. Someone died And I was glad- it- Wasn't Me. I have shallow Empathy And don't mourn My losses. They lived Longer Than I ever Wanted To. Still. I Persist In this miserable Monotony. Lucky, Epistemic luck, I don't think I know you?
0
Jul 1, 2025
Jul 1, 2025 at 1:00 AM UTC
Tangential Nothings
⸎⟆⥉⦕⫯⟴ Ode to the Count De St. Germaine ⸎⟆ Dearest Count, I know you watch and listen. It is through you I set sail upon this ship of thoughts To you, to whom, I christen. These polysemic effulgence do, alas, waxen, wane, but seldom in vain. In antediluvian silence drawn, manifests in hyperborean dearth a logos, sir in autochthonous rebirth. Their, hierophantic murmurs will obfuscate, the omphalos of matter, still inchoate, where perichoresis in vertiginous tide the fractal that doth assuredly bide. A palimpsest of null embrace where these false augurs drink from hollowed urns, and time itself forgets to turn. Perfidious orisons, whisper-thin, in circumflected aeons spin, converging on the cusp of naught, where paradigms in silence rot. A chrysalis of paradox, enshrouds the fey, unbridled clocks, that chime in fugue, then dissipate beyond the hinge of latent fate... The pericombobulatory grand design deliquesces in auctorial decline! (Syncretic palingenesis unspools, within the aether’s epistemic pools, a syzygetic parallax unweaves the thaumaturgic spoor that time bereaves.) For naught but vacuous profundities remain, a simulacrum of the arcane mundane, where in sesquipedalian grandeur lies a syllogism clad in grandiloquent guise. Ouroboric concatenations of antinomian design, circumvolute within paracryptic paradigms malign, as obmutescent theogonic vestiges coalesce in the eidetic zymurgy of aphasic largesse. Metagnostic palimpsests, fracto-linear and obtuse, catachrestically wane in hyperchromatic profuse, whilst locutions, effulgent yet contrite, obumbrate the paramorphic tautology of night. A transcendental abecedarium, paralogical and vast, consanguineous with the inexorable umbrage of our shared Jungian past, germinates within the syntagmatic— Ever relaxed or ecstatic, Coalesced to pragmatic, Lugubriously emphatic. Within this hypostatized ratiocinative mire, where sophronistic axiom and non-being conspire, one finds but an echolalic, chimerical gleam, an ontosemantic palinode to the dream. The Archetype realized. The Alchemist mystically re-materialized. Count, oh Count. "Wherefore art thou," indeed, in this : our time of greatest need.
0
Feb 24, 2025
Feb 24, 2025 at 4:23 PM UTC
⸎⟆⥉⦕⫯⟴ Ode to the Count De St. Germaine ⸎⟆⥉⦕⫯⟴
⸎⟆⥉⦕⫯⟴ Ode to the Count De St. Germaine ⸎⟆ Dearest Count, I know you watch and listen. It is through you I set sail upon this ship of thoughts To you, to whom, I christen. These polysemic effulgence do, alas, waxen, wane, but seldom in vain. In antediluvian silence drawn, manifests in hyperborean dearth a logos, sir in autochthonous rebirth. Their, hierophantic murmurs will obfuscate, the omphalos of matter, still inchoate, where perichoresis in vertiginous tide the fractal that doth assuredly bide. A palimpsest of null embrace where these false augurs drink from hollowed urns, and time itself forgets to turn. Perfidious orisons, whisper-thin, in circumflected aeons spin, converging on the cusp of naught, where paradigms in silence rot. A chrysalis of paradox, enshrouds the fey, unbridled clocks, that chime in fugue, then dissipate beyond the hinge of latent fate... The pericombobulatory grand design deliquesces in auctorial decline! (Syncretic palingenesis unspools, within the aether’s epistemic pools, a syzygetic parallax unweaves the thaumaturgic spoor that time bereaves.) For naught but vacuous profundities remain, a simulacrum of the arcane mundane, where in sesquipedalian grandeur lies a syllogism clad in grandiloquent guise. Ouroboric concatenations of antinomian design, circumvolute within paracryptic paradigms malign, as obmutescent theogonic vestiges coalesce in the eidetic zymurgy of aphasic largesse. Metagnostic palimpsests, fracto-linear and obtuse, catachrestically wane in hyperchromatic profuse, whilst locutions, effulgent yet contrite, obumbrate the paramorphic tautology of night. A transcendental abecedarium, paralogical and vast, consanguineous with the inexorable umbrage of our shared Jungian past, germinates within the syntagmatic— Ever relaxed or ecstatic, Coalesced to pragmatic, Lugubriously emphatic. Within this hypostatized ratiocinative mire, where sophronistic axiom and non-being conspire, one finds but an echolalic, chimerical gleam, an ontosemantic palinode to the dream. The Archetype realized. The Alchemist mystically re-materialized. Count, oh Count. "Wherefore art thou," indeed, in this : our time of greatest need.
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59
I'm not sleepy, and there ai n't no place I'm going to, this is it now, … then I come again, return, interrupting my self with crosscurrents, these are those riptides in opposing forces shifting enemies to good fellow earthling survivors, spinning in the system, pole to pole and back never the same river twice, but always the pattern, meandering, serpentine, path of least resisting we know we are of the samesame value, goodwise. truewise freemade with a will to live in happy, the state of mind, ever after all of that… from now on whatever ever changes, we are in the mix, this is id est time-ated, tict to silent breathing commas, in our mutual mind space aloud at any given instant or moment, moment works instant in season out of season, how did you make sense of that? This way, right. I knew at the moment then it was past, this is ever after, never the same, fluid-ity enticed to artifice interfaces, knows to gnose, epistemic tehkne sci-psy-psi with use, knowing takes on a second nature, less guessing, let the cloud calculate the tip, wait what is this tip, this social debt, I owe the server? Stupid question, certain impulses urge me to declare, look it up, but you know, if you were the server, you know… if you were the aimer, you know, if you were the trigger, you wait to be the joke that starts the whole world laughing. ------ Survival of the we-ity bits of wits, was we an effort to imagine? We, the idea. Who imagined that? I could not form an image, imagine, yes form, in form fit an i-dea ology **** where did she come from, wait, is she the mother of all living? who told this story, after whatever resulted in now, when we know, we all are related, matrilineally, mom-wise, ...? if we were to reason, for a moment, of the expansive sort, see without the knack for vision my people perish. So seeing eyes and hearing ears, goodsense forethought, backup senses great ideas in the ongoing perfection of ever after, post Disney ification of the servant corp, and creds to Berners-Lee and the CERN concern for how ideas may evolve from necessity inventing Frank Zappa in time to fix Romania's budget.
0
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 1:47 AM UTC
Survival of the we-ity bits of wits
I'm not sleepy, and there ai n't no place I'm going to, this is it now, … then I come again, return, interrupting my self with crosscurrents, these are those riptides in opposing forces shifting enemies to good fellow earthling survivors, spinning in the system, pole to pole and back never the same river twice, but always the pattern, meandering, serpentine, path of least resisting we know we are of the samesame value, goodwise. truewise freemade with a will to live in happy, the state of mind, ever after all of that… from now on whatever ever changes, we are in the mix, this is id est time-ated, tict to silent breathing commas, in our mutual mind space aloud at any given instant or moment, moment works instant in season out of season, how did you make sense of that? This way, right. I knew at the moment then it was past, this is ever after, never the same, fluid-ity enticed to artifice interfaces, knows to gnose, epistemic tehkne sci-psy-psi with use, knowing takes on a second nature, less guessing, let the cloud calculate the tip, wait what is this tip, this social debt, I owe the server? Stupid question, certain impulses urge me to declare, look it up, but you know, if you were the server, you know… if you were the aimer, you know, if you were the trigger, you wait to be the joke that starts the whole world laughing. ------ Survival of the we-ity bits of wits, was we an effort to imagine? We, the idea. Who imagined that? I could not form an image, imagine, yes form, in form fit an i-dea ology **** where did she come from, wait, is she the mother of all living? who told this story, after whatever resulted in now, when we know, we all are related, matrilineally, mom-wise, ...? if we were to reason, for a moment, of the expansive sort, see without the knack for vision my people perish. So seeing eyes and hearing ears, goodsense forethought, backup senses great ideas in the ongoing perfection of ever after, post Disney ification of the servant corp, and creds to Berners-Lee and the CERN concern for how ideas may evolve from necessity inventing Frank Zappa in time to fix Romania's budget.
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78