Camping,
we discuss the stars.
Augustine's thesis depicts the history
of the world as universal warfare
between God and the Devil.
From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TheCityof_God>
And my mentor,
once Balaam's talkin'assets warning vision,
bids me recall fools rushing in, where angels fear
to tread, eh, see the banner,
- agape. slack-jaw. Awe-some neighbor's flag
do not tread on me, I am already sliced to bits.
-it seems to me… to say, don't you read history?
Believe me, it was the mob, the mob maddened me,
yes, it did, it did, I think I may recall it did seem
they scorned the exposure,
when the curtain parted and the secret obsession,
became magnificent, if you can imagine
the torment of the unbelievers who must know,
now, how could there be unbelievers in hell, hell
one must imagine,
go look for reason to bring to the table
in the peace talks, McNamara was asked if
he read history, at all, had he never read
how this mind in agreement to be we,
the people who take life from
and give care to this land.
We remained free.
The land was taken, not our story.
Given to us by our ancestors, who taught us
the middle way, we win a war by fighting least.
True,
and lying least, being open, fishing in murky ponds
with lemon shaped frag grenades, the new kind.
plenty dead fish,
ten bucks a pop.
and there are those who swear
by these, a chosen weapon
for a wise man duel,
Elijah, drench the would, watch what we heard happens.
It was super-natural, no lie, but in this realm of words,
the burning in the bosum heated seven times hotter than wont
the image in the made up mind, said nothing,
The depths of not knowing, Kerouac,
had Moriarity, playing the role Ken Kingman,
plays in today's excursion into the wonder years.
I can decide I have the whole cast in mind,
people I grew up with, became the thing I was,
a being born to roam this earth's barren places,
picking up pieces of all that has been held in tales.
Intuitive knowing, often linked to a so-called gut
reaction, as when one is dared to dive into water,
which may or may not be deep,
plan for shallow, be ready for deep. And
dive, don't jump.
Jumpers believe, down deep, this dive-- blah,
no flow, so so slow, some secret sauce missing,
some means to an end in sight, some next
we land on our feet and, it is us, once more,
the year after Vietnam, when the war was still going,
but my part was done, I had been trained and rebrained.
Fitted with a military mind that found comfort,
in polishing boot toes and buckle brass, any brass really,
I once used four standard footlocker sized cans of Brasso,
to prepare a big brass bed for sale at the Alamo Thriftshop,
in Hollywood, on Vine, west side,
across from Hollywood Ranch Market, and the White Castle.
Burnished brass, is a beauty I find richer than Gold,
for many reasons I may put forth, conatus, new big idea
word containing sense of something at the core, more
than noise, meaning, yes, meaning
Spinoza used, and I may judge its use, once he defines his term.
What is the meaning of me, relative to the words in books,
billions searchable, by me, using tools I watched evolve,
always, sense first sence of sets in theories, kindness,
likeness, aspects, as seen clearly---
this is that, return of the king, the crowned head,
the wanderer, man and his horse and his dog, satisfied.
Moksha is the horse, Sati is the dog, I am the saddle *****.
Hand to hand hand grenades,
order out of chaos, leaves a dent, in tented tavernacle choir
concertina wire, I am on the outside of,
how does this happen, I might ask, but as you may have learned
this is a trope in a neverending story told to myself in solitaire.
And now, I spend my time thinking through it,
as it happens, using tech that is as magic now as ever was,
but part of me paid attention, in crypto-school,
part of me did endure the mandatory drill morse code
five letter pattern, random faction find FTA reoccuring,
the signal is hope, yes, hope we find the answer,
yessir, I put that on my helmet to say what we all say,
with these plastic forks with one prong, onward finger,
remember the answer was once known, we must tell the world.
That is why I fight, sir, yessir, very good, thank you,
three day pass bull shat, in front of god and eve'body,
just
but for foolish jesting, ha
like god don't make jokes, you ever seen a golden Hemoroid?
