enemies - the needed element to make a warring mind.
How was war imagined,
how, was imagined
easy to imagine,
kwo-, stem of relative and interrogative pronouns. Practically a doublet of why, differentiated in form and use.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=how>

These be ambush thoughts thinking they may be read if any one is patient enough to see beyond the sheer longwindedness
of this character lacking an enemy to war with.
Looking for
Enemies - the needed element to make a warring mind.
How was war imagined,
how,
per se,
was imagined
easy to imagine,
person-if i am able to attribute such qualia to a body
how any unthing is realized is
imaginable as well.
Add a jot or title, a li'l art mark, an art-tickle.
Games teach us how,


how any unthing is realized is
imaginable as well.
Add a jot or title, a li'l art mark, an art-tickle.
Games show us how,
not why.

Why is the quest at the moment. There are rumors of enemies.
The we of me and thee, herenow, we lack emnity.

Hey, sports fan,
where is the frontier, the edge of the maddened crowd
whose
enemies are those who
stand pat, calling the game as game-over, and life a lessoning
as we speak, abundance of known knowns
rotting all around us, putrefying under pressure,
seeping to the surface,
to be burned.
Why,
let us guess---

Disnified pride of pur pose, positional sign-ifiers
of place,
a destination for faiths full pursuants
bemused in bubbling joy,
or shrieks of terror when
the child from the hinterland locks eyes
with Mickey Mouse, and finds no joy, no love, no depth,
but a mask.
The reaction reverberates al(the)way to la Brea,
Peacemaker say,
It's okeh, baby girl, daddy said,
ignor them, they ain't real.
Monsters ling grrrring, then
it's agrin
for now, of course. Here we are. We've arriven,
Happiest Place on Earth,
as imagined realizable by a child in 1917, say,
better yet, 1925, and oh, there were major Wars
being imagined winnable in pressure
application to the spiritual slippage from rite,
the ritual passage of child into adultery at a whim,
so such imagined haps fade.

connect or break connection, on the bus or off the bus

you all
sing
think nothing new under the sun,
teach preach reach out and touch

the face of Java man, eaten, swallowed, and gone to
the believable
history of life,
the accident,
the unplanned, yet
taught as known believable, a pre-dict-ible,
one in ten to the seventy-nine-thousandth power,
yet, if one pays his life time to learn when to bet and when to hold.
Then in this,
the secret journey to the soul,
to the core,
we must assume,
we become
as wise *** (***, the word for a donkey, why would some one prevent you from reading *** Asteriscktical ignorantce,y'axme, stupid AI)
the ***,
as harmless as the serpent from the fire on the island
Ask,
are we of the bovine ilk or pithec-ant-us or
embodied soul-cores
forming, en nue
fitting the mold, the pattern, the plan of projected nexts
built on Locke steps from whence to
whither did we wander?

have we all forgotten the actual question just axt?
Or the answer?
Have we not
gotten what we now
know
we miss,
or was it only I who missed and as the
photons forming the shapes
you see, these breathing commas and such
here
is the point.
You see bits of things.  We see so.
Time and time again thinking less and less.
Least fusion, least pressure, least heat, cool idea ideal or ideology,
twisted idio,
You shape them on patterns.
Ones you imagine formed from
Patterns recalled from some out perienced
time, ere now were ever subjected to the supertwistition
of tongues and interpretsations of unseeable things seers said they
see us seeing.
How come means why, by reason of time.

Palindromiclew, missing el signs missing hahi ai

tia tic, we're in
Ai got this,
whole ball o'wax, thats how we disconfuse the big mess age,
the catas
trophy finale
phase of
world three,
or two, or one, all valid world views,
deepend-enteron discerning spirits,
winds, breezes used to disperse
the heat,
{fans,eh}
evenly in harmony with the heavenly winds,
and the planned six gyros of earth,
guiding the mists that feed the rivers from the seas,
no clouds needed,
save for shade by day.

When all the geo-waves have settled in geo-time,
see,
here is broken:
this old earth is folded and fractured,
surely,
a wreck of a world, yet, as a whole,
we live, we won.
Winds and clouds and continents,
all islands seen from the moon,

which, if the stories hold some truth,
can be manipulated by massminds of mankind, as if, if I am

seeing this
right
each voice might be seeable in one dimension,
or several, four at least,
time, the ever outlier
of sorts
as a flame with fuel source of
flamable fluid upon which
the transcended space
twixt fuel and flame,
floats
seen, merely seen, that emptiness twixt wicked,
mastered flame and
hell's fire spreading on the oiled harbour
protecting our shore
where our little boats lie in anchorite fantasy, asif

we see a way to quench hell per se,
Percy, ah, he lives.
My grandsons know of Percival,
there, here's hoping they get the joke before the yoke.

Riddle me a riddle, son of man.
Is there any hidden thing that shan't be known?
Is here a true place?
Is now a true time?

(to be continued)


squeezing out the lies, the idle words abused,
spreading them thin as the light we see right
through
transcending this at most feared mortal failure
finding
impressions... are from pressing points, dulled by ab
use, tempted uses succumbed to,

didja try to sell your soul for rock and roll?
wadjagit?

My point. out acted, ex-act, en nowd by your creative self,
who never copped,
out or in,
es no mi culpa, all along. I was the voice of resistance,
Job's en core inner held horde of known knowns and
an old key to ever, should the worse he can imagine
best his best laid plans for perfection
in the eyes of God and man.

--- enemy at emnity with me?
--- I see none, save me, as in except me as in me being
--- free from the grasping grip of the reality
--- war is realizable in. You see?
--- I and thee, at this degree of seepeance, as we coagulate
--- we behave as chaos, we be having chaos and entropy as tools

used right, we troubled our house,
which is now known to be the bubble of our being
a child in each popped bubble
of being,
squeezed for the thrill of explosive pus,
gross and good to be rid of, dam the infection,
wipe the blood with the back o'my hand,

I ain't no disgrace. I won that battle with the zit on my gnose.
Wanna piece o'this, this mind of mine,
shelved since,
who knows when, says the old man, with a wink.

We be a lotta beings sorta rolled up. Like a whole ball o'wax
waning into a puddle
as the flame sheds us as bits of light leaving the rest of us
spread over a vast imagination,

resting, willing to burn,
should any wick drain me near the flame once more.

Fried green beens
Whirl of the machines
Flashing lights
Squeals of delight
Games to win prizes
Drinks in all sizes
Pig and cow judging
Old friends hugging
Bands in the grandstand
Fried pickles at foodstand
Gator bites and gyros
Rides tossing to and fro
Cotton candy
Salt water taffy
Beer tents
Free events
Pies, canning and art
Contest to take part
Many concessionaire
Great old fashion state fair

A leaked sanity
derived from a single unintentional stimulus
She immediately drowned in her illusions
A cascade of ecstatic emotional state
Led her to unexplained exhilarating lub-dubs
She entered a trance
An imaginary setting of pseudo-relationship,
originating from a deceptive analysis

Butterflies lodged in her stomach
Like drifting into the sweet tranquil breeze of fall
Odd feeling brought by an accidental impulse
an addictive sensation, continually sought
Like an ice cream that thaws
and never did she regret for this

Like a bud that delayed its bloom
She is a fixated lass
fast-tracked into maturity,
Depriving her of being subjected to adolescent giggles and anguishes
Coping for deficiency,
to undergo short-lived fascinations

It was never an ordinary night,
for it would happen only but annually
It was extraordinary
where angels descended from heaven

She looked at him
as a critical thinker *** philosopher inside a venerable physique
His intuitive notions flowed
keeping his cleverness inhibited,
ingenuity simply emanated
Decisive metaphorical analogies were mesmerizing,
in the depth of the gyros and sulcus
in his intellect she wanted to drown

The mystery of his smirks
she wanted to decipher.
In the profoundly of his personality
she wished to be familiar.

Electrocution!
Extreme voltage in her physique
sanity almost dripped
She cared less about reality,
forgetting about lucidity and rationality
A plethora of outlook insurgencies
led to confused convictions

Nothing big really happened,
just a matter of split seconds summarized as a simple skin-to-skin contact
an exhilarating interaction between epidermal layers
A premature ventricular contractions.

He came home to the ordinary sounds of his everyday life. The phone would ring, the teapot would whistle and his parents would talk and argue. He closed his door, discarding his bag to the side and laying down on his bed. He laid there quietly, his computer beeping and blinking with messages from friends, those sincere and those insincere. Reaching out for the **** of his nightstand drawer, he pulled out the music box he received from his grandfather before he passed away. He flipped it over, carefully holding the lid and wound the silver turnkey tight, letting go. The familiar whirling of the mechanism inside came to life and the tone music echoed the room.

As the music played, he took the turnkey out and attached it to the lock on the side, releasing the lid to the hidden jewelry case. He didn’t have any jewelry to store there; he folded up snippets of letters and notes into tiny squares and dabbed them with color on the edges- each color meant for an experience or a person he favored. Purple was for his grandmother who wrote him little notes every two months… while she was in the nursing home. Red was for the girl that waited for him after school every day… before confessing his love for her. She reciprocated that in later years. Blue was for his own private notes of good times and the good things that happened to him… there were seldom few of those. Black was for the bad things he experienced… and it was in full abundance. The whole case looked much like an obsidian beach with rubies, amethysts, and sapphires hidden within. He looked at them one by one and placed the case back afterwards, then placing the music box back on the nightstand. One day, he’d turn the beach into sparkling gems with few obsidian stones buried below.

He placed his hand on the box, feeling the insides run and imagined the whole process. The spindle turned, rotating the cog connected to the metal drum with raised bumps. The thin metal comb came to meet these bumps and each bump struck a harmonized tone. Inside the mechanism, the pneumatic drum turned and hummed along as the gyros twisted the cogs, seemingly indefinitely never ending. To him, they felt young and ripe at the start but grew old and bitter after a while. The keys would slow, his head would ache from the loss of tempo and his heart would resonate with the soon to fade tones.

In that moment of solitude, his eyes would close, his breathing slowed, and his body relaxed into sleep; and one by one the little bumps would cease to exist on the music sheet, simply melding into the flat mundane roll which began its birth.  The roll just turned and turned silently, never touching the flat metal comb or anything else again. It became like any other music box- silently playing with no purpose. It became his life in sleep… silently living with no purpose but to dream.

All the people and colors move by.
Life poured down streets and tiny brick
Sidewalks rubbed with decades of shoes.
The aroma of yesterday and tomorrow
Filled the airstream carried by the traffic
From a vendor a block down.  Gyros.
Every-so-often I like to come into the city
To see how people act around other people.
It keeps me sane and washes from me
Big land’s disconnect. I recall, with every
Memory trigger that shoots off and cracks
The things I have not thought of since
My last trip here. I think to myself why?
Memory and time, occasionally, don’t mix,
But time needs memory to be remembered
And memory needs time to exist…
I suddenly thought of you, though—
That time you told me that news and I
Ran off for a year and some months.
You called to say you were sorry—
You even wrote me a letter, but I was gone.
Your call the other day was nice.
It reminded me why I am the way I am,
And you are the way you are, and why
We aren’t together, and why I enjoy spending
Days and days alone on old barrier islands
To spear fish and make camp in the sand.

The question is listening to hear the **** written;
kissing leaves moves society's                Spanish big boys star invisible sister
of Ireland;    plastic Standard heavy rain lips
began to talk to white sitting prostitutes,
lights dot wave club pictures to read the task
desert hiding Georgia's revolutionary magic;
Barbara is sacred jack perfect **** ***** top
hold leaves gay turn to cut the sky daughters
wrong alchemy teeth with weapons angle revenue
machine; beverage paint written motion socks on the floor;
wet, broken fat scents started from birth;    ***** acid pregnant plot works
                                       gypsy drunk material side fool countries planet gun
standing still married to a ***** the world has come to know,
indeed, a monster buried the box,  signs,
pictures of the Arabians in the heat of the summer,
the cold is said to be a burning-African language,
M. Ma King,    and carried a license to bring them
full of the smoking of jellyfish common in India
where they meet Mark, turpis augur minus John Cornelius,
blonde strippers, other strippers, bar and parents
willing to be converted in the hole of thin places in the mountains, rising,
                                                                ­          face-****** robot fingers &
stick voice of the boy's older time football uniform,
center of the light areas of human knowledge;
king Snookie the way of the wild William safety
of poetry Asian problems, the Saudi Museum;
Arab songs better memory, Mexican consumer
pitches knowledge of vitamins; Chinese support
the high writing of heaven clothed on earth's rich health field
waiting for the modem is sweet,                      to-day the secret of the dream,
the brain is unknown to the care of England,
the door of the star of the smoke, of course,
the fish, I remember the books of the natural
bean, France, Greece beer is, in general,           the mouth of the darkness,
a **** to be heard of the evil of his life,
the space of the mother of Satan is blind,
        I feel a little bit ****, insane, a group of ***** MARYS
        listens to the all important temple of a simple car,
the pink of the devil,         silver sandy beach sound bright cat lady angels

Of the Russian South of Italy and the body of Asia,
John prostitutes his minutes of the stars
of the Greek is the color of the bandit's large gift of gold;
George on behalf of the work of the skin,
the blood of his hair, Blue Bell,                  things to come,
Thomas, the head of a change in the history of the friends,
of a dog, the son of the sun of the Germans, hot & naked,
the heart of the cold to be Christian violence of the waves
yellow as the means towards the legs of the evils
of Russian to heaven, the money of the earth, the moon,         the food riddle Latin morning north of glory amigo;
home-a-little beauty prostitutes french
book loses acid spirit of your wife year
left born in school Kenya in Alice York,
queen of ***;                                                   Julius, rock poet of the world
to find his son, among high shade
animals on live real full homepage
the number of images of the golden
days of paradise;                                                        ­  Robert died at the state
Human space story of a son's holy;
Song drink changes hands together
art the book dogs Brazil donkey
East German Radio's Descriptive language in the hands of a child's wind law

white & black women at the time of the year
the United States will go Red Star music city
woman and her mother light of day;
very young girl's death the most beautiful green eyes in Africa,
Australia,                        Europe, America,
three men in a watery darkness of English

The question is listening to hear the ****
written kiss leaves move society Spanish
big boys starts invisible sister of Ireland's
plastic Standard, heavy rain lips began
to talk to white sitting ******* lights
dot wave club picture to read the task -
desert hiding Georgia's revolution magic;
Barbara's sacred jack perfect
**** ***** top hold leave gay
turn to cut the sky-daughters wrong alchemy;
teeth with weapons angle,   revenue machine
beverage, paint, written motion of socks,
floor wet, broken fat scents started at birth;
*****'s acid pregnant plot works,
gypsy's drunken materialism's side fool
countries planet gun standing still married
to a ***** the world has come to know,
indeed, a monster buried the box, signs,
pictures of the Arabians, the heat of the summer,
the cold is said to be a burning-African language,
M. Ma king, and carried a license to bring them
full of the smoking of jellyfish common in India
where they meet Mark, [turpis augur mine] John
Cornelius, blonde strippers strippers, bar and parents
       willing to be converted in the holes of thin places
       in the mountains, rising, face-******

robot fingers stick boy's voice many times older man football uniform center region of the light
The question listens to how a kiss is heard from the written word,
letting the steps of the great Spanish boys begin a standard invisible feminine rain. Plate Lip spoke to spitting ******. White Point.
Work. Image of light. Reading books. women breaking left gay,
driving from the teeth of the pudding
with women's weapons drinking the alkaline color
to write wet socks' odor of grease,  removing parts
stirring the man was the birth of *****
indirectly group gykos conspiracy, acid boyfriend
for gross material gypsy mad crazy;
The planet's weapon still married to
The Bride of the World found out that the ghosts were buried in boxes, posters, images of Arabs,    hot and cold summers
in African languages known as ardent,
                      but a king of India who took to smoking from a full license,
where the video of John Mark Augur met
Cornelius' yellow strippers,                                               bars and parents
ready to turn into a hole in the thin
places of the hill;                                            do not stop, face of the *******
    The fingers of the robot hold the ballot,
and the child in this again highlights
the football center of an intelligent man,
Asian Barracuda, the king of the law,
William's security, security, Arabic,
Arabic and musical memories most
important of the Mexican users of CAMPTSE
INEAID-D: The support information of the air
writing that carries a large amount of medical
assistance waiting for the secret,       secret of love that the brain is known,
the care in England, the ports of stars steaming,
of course, fish is similar to bean books, France -
                 Greek beer generally heard verbally the dark scandal of his life,
his mother was in the destroyed space of Satan,
I felt a little ****, crazy, the group ***** of MARY
heard all the important machine to clean a temple,   rose, devil, sand, sand
                                              arena headlights cats

From Russia, Italy and the star ******* of Asia,
John Greek affirms that gold is a great gift of gold.
George's blood in his hair, Blue Bell,                               what was to happen,
and Thomas,                         the story of the main change of friends, the dog.
A child in the sun, Germans, hot, naked,
cool and yellow waves of violence as a means
to become a Christian heart to the evil feet in the air,
the money of the earth, the moon,
the food puzzle of the morning north of the Latin
Latinos' reputation for beauty. The French hotel
is losing some of its women's breathing notebooks
the year of its birth date in Kenya,
not the discoveries of Queen Julius in the shadows
of a rock rock top living with her son,
the current home page full of photos and paradise died.
Robert in the situation of human space,
the son of the sacred arena changing hands,
the drinks provided psi books, Ino art,
German language radio,          radio in the hands of the children who write it.



The question listens to how a kiss
is heard from a written word
letting the steps of the great
Spanish boys begin a standard
invisible feminine rain. Plate Lip
spoke to sitting ******. White Point.
Work. Image of light.                    Reading books.
women breaking left gay,
driving from the teeth of the pudding
with women's weapons drinking alkaline
color to write wet socks odor of grease removing
parts,      stirring the man was the birth of *****
                  indirectly groups of gyros conspiracy,
acid boyfriend for gross material gypsy mad crazy;
The planet's weapon still married to   The daughter of the world learned
that the ghosts were buried in boxes with posters,          images of Arabs,
hot and cold summers in African language
known as ardent, but a king of India
who took to smoking from a full license,
where the videos video of John Mark
Augur met. Cornelius, yellow strippers,                                  bars and parents
ready to turn into a hole in the thin places of the hill.
                                                                ­               do not stop, face = *******

The fingers of the robot
that hold the child's voice are several times more
                                 than the light football center

The ache of the mammal or primate
The pull of the lizard toward Heat
The Paramecium tasting satisfaction
The protons feeling the raw power
The wantonness of physics
The ******* Sizzle of chemistry

Pulling the hair of the universe
That tight black hole
Swallowing salty time
In a showy slow motion

Gravitic disturbance
gyros into a stars face

This pulling together
This entanglement
of drawn
fabrics ricked

Universes for sale
The latest to the oldie but goodies
You'll find a way to enjoy
Or pretend to defend

Your very own
Universe

Observe your eyes passing
this line

fiancé music
a masked Frenchman
beer mugs
and Hallelujah
ice cream and gyros
ringing bells
carillon empassions
aquamarine capos
bug-bite hoverings
Follow me !
through haydream
daydews, to
songs out of
no where.
I guess that's
why they call it the blues,
because God only
knows what I'd be
without you;
Bethlehem.
Maybe I'd be a
breathless mess
or a hapless test
but flowers are for today
and toddlers are for tomorrow
there need no more poems
about sorrow.

My son is gonna read Dune
A warning against trusting in Heroes
Maya Cosmos in Seattle
Calendars with knowledge of Zeroes

One song to sing
Before I bite the Dust
Love is remembering
An angel disguised as Lust

Love is when he takes a risk
Tells you you are the one he trusts
Eagles in Rocky Cathedrals
What will become of us?

Vegetarian tacos
Mediterranean gyros
Talk nerdy to me
The language of theoweirdos

                 My Darling.