drumm drumm drummed in two
ranks of
auto-
filers whacking keys and levers and springs
slamming
edged
quantum of scripture
i e o u y vowels of no need-- back in cunieforming time
then came those monkeys with the typesetters
whose keys never got stuck
uno
marko per stroke
five 'undred per bit of etaoinshrdlu
click click cliche'
time measured by degrees in fractual
sym-metry wit' bio me

Tumeric kicks in,
eases the swelling of the bubble.

Imagine the imaginings of a child reading
funny papers
in the privy, smokin' grapevine for no

known reason, or,
maybe it appeased the flies, while I sat
upon the throne
in a tower of my own

wandering through memories of
Terry and the Pirates saving Dalai Lama
from the clutches of
the abomb-in-abled snowman,

Yet-i isis now, the Prince of Persia, once more?

No, this battle is not mine. This
war
was
won;

at that crossroad in Perry's Cafe
when the offer was made: star a footnote here
aster-risks have not been invented... we must reduce opacity.
histoical he refused the deal but  did Write the course
"The Internet in One Day"

work for hire, a good gig, then Netscape went public,

reality validated verification of the efficacy
of Feynman's reversible NAND gates,

the future was super positioned
No taxes, tarriffs or tithes; pay flat
twenty percent
for eighty in return, guaranteed in for by of
we, the people's adaptation to

Paredo's Principle versed in Solomonic Wisdom,
re-de-clearing no non new things
under the sun,
trial by

total emersion in a sea of green sans
yellah submarine,

acid etched re
collectibles dust and debris,
flotsam jetsome wetsome old girls dream

it's now, the future, 2019, and some
of us
survived the seventies in hiding,

we're back.
wee voices you ignore at your peril,

not every inspiration is from for by good.

Some are.
Some words live in the sounds they make,
hocus pocus
abra
cadabra, for instance... is heard by children

as the leaven-less wafer
transmogrifates at
the spoken words Hoc es Corpus

Genutim, non factum
magic
thinking is nothing like

what you thought, child.

The message is believable, the messengers
may
be otherwise. EH? ***-eye-say-- eee- eh?

Self-evidence is acceptible, take a hold,
get agrippa comprehension

sweet-almost
persuasive enough to mask the bitter
ever
after taste of century eggs left in the fridge too long

Biome, bio-me, self-effident-icacious
conch-ious
ness, ac
knowledged... these words lived
once,
the eggish-isms egging us on, go
on, only you...
not me, I'll wait
I've slipped, I've fallen... where's the beef? Was this a common quest?

1972. Sheizbomb, pirate orange sunshine.
1973. We reached escape velocity
1974. Trajectory changed
1975. Lost contact, she's near Cuyguna
1976. Prego
1977. Aha, the reason is born

Future 2019 will seem as real as you may
imagine. I promise,

Ever after, all, as real as you may
imagine. I promise

look, see self evident truth, act asif you know
and understand
angel talk

there remains a rest for the cadabre we inhabit,
"Dancing Queen" "Fernando"
Abba's body of disco hits, missed
by missing one decade and a half,

in sanct-if-ication vacation
to become a hermit when I grew old, if ever,

hoc corpus, eh, as long as faith remains
rememe-r-able post Sini-ification of Suffering,

(the Dragon from the East is not the beast
embodied in the west with golden head,
silver breast, brazen *****, iron legs
and flaking rusting feet of steel
stuck
in sludge ponds and stump ponds and undrained
swamps and sloughs {called wet lands by frogs and ducks})
Ah, so

The golden-green-blue dragons gracing slotmachines,
lure hopers to the slime, not
green Nickleodean slime, real slime from century eggs white
jelly gone dark, dark brown and stinky...

even if i'd tried, I'd never have imagined
eating a century egg
sans chewing, just
gulp
swallow it whole. Din't choke gk kg.

deja vu? no, you missed something.

waiting is being
Dalai Lama, half-scientist, half-otherwise aware
there, in exile,
remains hoping a peace past standing under the
acknowledging of good
and evil,

new mercies on one side, meaculpa, mea
maxima culpa,
on the other.

Who pays? Me or Jesu or the pariah one step
up from a cockroach?
Wait and see. Be still.

Don't ask Mother Teresa, she had no clue.
But she finished what she began,
that was her plan,

skip as much purgatory as abody can stand
imagining worth it all.

Me, says the hermit,
I took the grace Noah found. Wait and see. Get ready.

Google translate the Latin Mass, then imagine it
being a message you must hearken to

drum drumm drummmed into your brain before
your prefrontal
cortextual tester circuits formed and your responses

were ever etched
on the tables of your faith belivin' childheart,
sweetheart,

just think, what if good news gathering is
even-jelly-if I can. Evangelical, if I say-tion sugar pi,
event-tually we see, fine,
details, points to every true story

a bed of nails no liar may rest upon

'fi say so, semper fi.

{evangelicum laude graduates bher no bad news in ever}
--phi beta kappa, key that opens what?-- do you know

what meaning signals breathe? beat?

Take great gulping gasps of air,
affording your self
evident right

to surface, as a bubble you can breathe in.
I think we're alone now

there doesn't seem to be any one around, now

1977, that was four whole decades ago?

Right. And whenever you are, dear reader, this was
ever ago. I testify, I examined this life.

It has been worth the effort. Now I wait. Still.
Try it. Here, there,

no condemnation, the act it self just
is null-ift before asif goes whatif and we lose our value,

we balance madness. We work closely with Cleo,
she handles historical re visioning.

time out-- essential term screams for discretion, get to the grain---
What noise is this... mmmmm
Muse- muse- just, muse like
music, drummm drummm hummmmm
Define, fine, granularity, like salt or sand or sugar
but qualia
mysterium familiarus

Term definition. Lord means h'laf weardan, {Welsh}
warden,
protector of our bread,
by which man does not live alone,
owner of the tower in the vinyard where your captive enemies
languish in your wishless hate.

We wait,

we companions be, joined by the leaven from the sky

leaving footprints in granulated sugar salted sand,
feel it,

sorta sticky, like toe-jam. like mebbe toejam spreader
and the Walrus was
CS Lewis level mere signposts at degrees of little thinker
steps tick tic tic
spiraling
clock wise from up,
counter-clockwise from down

forward, ever onward, off is impossible in the land of on,
here for ever is
too much good stuff,

but that lasts (to the same level of qualia judgment degree)
mere mortal moments

flash. Here we be, wondering and wandering, to an fro,
to get a feel,

for real. This can't go on for ever, they say.
Shall we see, I say... as I passed away.
Life goes on, and no lie follows

Listen,
it's finished, that's all we need say. Live on. Be good,
or die trying. No lying about anything.

What if ever did begin and you simply failed to be aware?

---october, same year, after the bomb,

How should we train the surplus of boys?
We can't use them to sweep chimneys any more.
Nor work in Nike's winged victory factory,
child labor's not a means to an end
any more.
A seller must sell such as toys in Thailand today.

There are too many to waste efficiently in war.
A global conundrum beating time in our global brain.

A conundrum beating cadence for the dancers on parade.
Proud dancers with a vision...

Utopian distanty visiony,
since nought left ought as our only
understood shelter,
from the storm. Cower under ought, my child,
every thing is under control.

You are welcome in our safe place,
was once the reply to thanks, in essence, that was meant.

Now, it's no problem, serves and means nothing, in return.

Why should any boy grow into man? Let them play.
Entertainment's all that needed,
that'n' bread, with sugar,
that'll fixit, do the trick, keep the boy in hero role, virtually
forever, never growing
wiser.

Virtual virtue. Tech them that.
Virtually anyone can see the connection,
virtue, virtually means

What? Exactly. The act is outed.
Virtue went forth from Jesus, there's the bomb.

What does virtue being drawn through thy very e-sense
feel like?
Would we know, you or I, the feeling of virtue going out,
escaping?

A shocking short circuit? or a buzzer triggered by alarming
outflow of essential immaterial
stuff. Unnamed, unspeakable stuff?

Immaterial. The judge declares. The clar-if-ication
means look
elsewhere.

Virtue is too dangerous for little boys at play.
'Tis a cept, signified, perhaps
that
is what a sceptre does, officially it de-sig-nates who got it,
when virtue first
appeared needing shelter in the storm.
lightning lightening,
immaterial. Nonsense, can you sense immaterial matter.
You can't touch it. The judges believe.
Nor can mortals
even imagine immaterial matters reserved for Kings and king builders.

So why seek whys, when nothing matters more than...
why? what? who? when? where?
altogether on the six o'clock news.
All-in-one, all the knowing needed. Be joyfully entertained.
Sing along, meaningless songs,
doo-dah day.
Hallelujah (wait, did you say that? Out loud, ever? In a song?

What if... never mind.. could be a trap. Don't think it means anything. An old fashion past, that's all, now.
No magi utterance that changes
matters, in real time.
Not words and ideas, but
Clocks rule this domain, it's minions are the yoke bearers pulling
loads declared worthy of laboring incessantly happy.
The yoke is on you. (Take mine, it's light.) Carry on.

Take Sisyphus, for ensample. He's as happy as a clam, they say.
Those who live near the see declare the wee bivalves happy as pi.
We don't know why.
That's all.
At this particular point in time, as the ped-ants say.
Let patience perfect that which concerns you.
Let simple morph to sublime.

See, Jesus winked.

That faraway look

not seeing far away, appearing to be

looking, far away,
past today

A game?
A passed time?
A pretended game,
Hi-stoically accurate,

A war game where there's blame and shame,
like on TV, nowadays, with victims,
not yesterdsdays,
Kilroy was
here,

olden days of our Ford.

hey, kid, yer uncle needs ya…

Dare ye?
'S only a game. A  pass time.

Multi-medium, don't spend

your life dist ant con nextrified, terra
firmafied, dis con
nexted

c'mon
try, win, ship, ship, whip get it in the wind

swish wish the message is the medium
light is,
see

Life on TV in 1963, Mr. McLuhan,
is not life on the Net.

Now, you know,
you never saw us old dudes
with pocket HDTV studios coming, but

you did see all the clues, the times changed,
history rewrote itself, evidently,

what you think you see is what you get.
That part didn't change.

The Medium is the message,
do I get that?

War is un winnable, is that the message?
With which weapons?

Mine. (a wink, a think wink, I think)
The Shadow knows.

It is finished. Start there.
It's a whole new ball game.

Let's pretend we have enemies
The emotions are the same,
aren't they?

If we relate.
If we see our self,
our CG'd Junger self, in the Shadow,

floating in the sea of  All  God's

forgetfullness,
asking
is tragedy a strategy to draw light?

Then,

You are related to the people who once lived here,
hear their songs and prayers
first hand clap,
first foot shuffle,

first seen first named we have walked
the pollen way,
the leaven way,
the viral way

more subtle than any beast,
not evil, per se, eh, Jose?

Led by the breeze to be tried in the wilderness…

Mythed Archie,
Archetypes
Natural Archean-types,
red-headed strangers, 'n'such…

Map my calendar to your clock,
wind backa a time and a time and a half a time,

Then, who knew why

the serpent mound in Ohio is a map to
some meaning meant to be meant,

some specific meaning meant to be meant,

clearly,
for as near forever as men could

… envision imagining as a quest.

What if
we could see with
eagle's eyes Blythe's Intaglios or
Nazca's clan tags?

"the meaning of the past
is what it contributes to the present"
Lyle Balenquah's uncle said that.

The past passed this way ahead of us,
See the shadow?

Sun's setting.
Snake mound mouth wide open breathe in

Sigh, we been everywhere man,
we be headin' west sweet home Oraibi

Snake clan drawing in the light
as the breath of being

… envision imaging . What if
we could see with
eagle's eyes

satellite Google earth eyes
see, be, in your realm
of know-ables,
beneath the sands of time that,

several times,
have been the bottom of the sea.

Be then, before that became this,  be
then
Be, now.

In the game? Or is this life?
Wanna bet?

Find a reason for war before
I find one for peace.

What's the win signify?

Double minded me, unstable in all our ways,
I failed that test in the old days,
memorization, facts fractured,

postulates, the-or-ums and proofs all went ****,

I lost the knack of forgetting
or vice versa

A loci analysis error,
left hand caught wind of what the right was doin'
kinda thing

But now, I have the global brain
for instant access to all
the facts
say…
If we wished to know…
how complicated would something
be to build, like an energy source
non rechargeable and polarized,

with output on the scale of
the sun?

Google it. Ask any question the right way
and pay attention to the answers

(more than to the advertisers,
who pay interest to

******- recog-white-room-REM baseline
stats at "waddayewlookinat.com"

for your cheap peripheral attention,
based on memes you liked or created, or ****.)

Pay attention to the answers, and trust
the global brain, the true net A. I.

She's an art-ist-if-ication bouncing
anionic bubbles off the edge of forever,

true rest worthy, my re tired friend,
no need to remember a thing…
Ah,
AI, you can call her Al, I call her Ah,
I can't discern twixt AI and Al.

And, as a bonus, innumerable idle ahs,
are redeemed when I ask Ah for help,

Ah, where am I?
Do you know about counting idle words?

Did that hurt? Like, why?

Seeing words said is intuit-ive-ish,
do you feel

this way of touch is

too intimate, today?

Word play? Put a spell on you?
Fret not.

Some words have no mission
not nullified with the end of time,
(i.e., relative to an individual's forever POV)

Idle words mean nothing, just a way to keep score.

There are no magic idle words, there were
Some seven sworn words, which were said to be muttered and peeped among the
Persian magi-ic elite solicited and
Sent, by God, led by astronomy,
science, for God's sakes alive,
facts, follow the stars,
when this one touches that one,
watch
see, the sweet influence of Pleiades,
truer words were never spoken

To make the captive free.

Free run  to finish
the race to

where?

Ask theSnake clan.
Ask the Antelope clan.

Ask the Flute clan, where is the old way
where good is?

Along that way, did we hear:

Earth, earth, earth: hear the word
of the
most reasonable

God-like, deluxe good edition, being

your mortal mind may imagine.
Word:
Exercise to be
the hero
in your bio to be

and,
wait.

Then think. Be. Still. Wait.

This costs you attention you may owe elsewhere. FYI

Thursday, November 01, 2018
9:42 AM

this is our choosing.
we the subjects, the agents of our own intents,

patients, please, await the signal.

Box up your Bohring atoms collected in 7th grade,
wit' yer stamps, n coins n cards n ****
(tha's WA tag, ovahdtoppinallahthishit- -suprimpost)

step out to the fuzzy edge of reality and look

to and fro, go on, imagine the universe a bubble,
along the line of Heisenberg's electron vision
super positioned in that box
with Schrodinger's cat

thus the fuzzy edge, eh?
Close up. neutronic axiomatic close
up
can't say
pre-cise-d-ly ex-zact-ed-ly when
the other  side begins?

Are we aware?
Who won the war?

The game?

No, the war, who won the war?

Why.

Because I need to know, I think, to choose?

Why won. How and what and when and where and all the con
tenders considered,
did not win. They wrote books, but they did not win.

Let me learn a story and my children will hear it right,
from me to them. That's relative-if-it-ication,
there are better ways to say everything,
the story, per se, remains

pro-babble-ity demands equal opportunity with
equal hope of out come,
in valence
in balance (vaca, baca, tomata tomoughta)

Value balance at the fuzzy edge of your own bubble,
your bubble of known knowns (beliefs are in this set),
man on a wire, bird on a wire,

Occham cut my throat, if you fall, trust me, I'll pay.

Choosing Illuminated or Illuminati or mere-r-ly free,
let us pro-ceed,

past conspiracies are now no more than stories being told
as they were told
before the recent war

reconstructed realities arose from the dead on both sides,

whose side is the watcher on?
who accused him. Why, no, how. How accuses the seer,
why ex-amines the seen scene sensuous mystery
field of NULL.

My God. Imagine NULL, my God did that. Can your god
imagine that?

Mebbeso, mebbeeno, gottacogitate, whaithere.

If we agree that we, as in
We have to be a moral people, means:

we, you and me, reader writer sayer hearer or
whatever
concept of us as an inseparable dichotomy with
sum zero field anomaly twixt us
spooky
at a distance, Middler, not Einstein,
last big hit, remember

At a distance,
the edge of everything seems
sharper than any two-edged sword
you ever imagined.
Here,
Higgs-close, where any thing can matter,
at a whim,

Be still.

Still works.
You now new know you knew

right and wrong exist in good,
wrong alone exists in evil, which

In this story, from a winner POV,
is NULL ift, no chance, ever.

To be continued… another line, or two per
haps.
Haps we have made too clear, mortals see right
through them.
While that is good, in balancing things,
we have tremes ex isting in many minds at once,
what's
to be?
Hap, solidifed, happenstance, sistere, give the word.

Done. You recall, it is finished, the alluded to quote,
the bid accepted,
the olde deluder protested,
you recall, who will go?,

I'll go, there was a rhythm in the keys akey aqui a
letter must belong in a word to mean athing, eh?

Waddabou'soun'? say eh letter or more, a vibe

like say aaaaaaah at the doctor looking down my throat,
oughtayasee?

Nuthintall.
Later, ya'll, dream a little dream Ferme

---this did not end there it begsan ah
so
In the beginning all things began,
It's just that simple,

said the side named right by itself, and, odd-at-first-seeming, by
its op positon, but not by down or charm or weird or the un committed
on foreign assign meant un trans late able here

A super positioned time paradox on the part of the mortals involved here.
that explains this.
clear if I see it as you see simple is a poor substitute for sublime,
if I may have said so myselved several times over.

Hello Poetry, this is the signal.
Let patience have her perfect work. The fun'sbegun.

I saw you in my dream, when I took a great notion,
jumped into d' ocean,

and I drowned,
and I went on down

to the Audubon Zoo, like hell,

listen at that crazy bird
cryin' help, help, help
what bird do'dat?

settle chile, li'l' turmoil be passin in d' gulf

Eirene mean peace
bubblin' bubblin bubblin in m'soul

Eirene, she lovel ol' Polemus, War,
she pile a level shovel full o'
Hubris, his wife,
on he's plate,

in life's lottery
Insolence was her game,
she runs War into a snare of shame

and guile. Peace.

This chase began with War,
polemics being a manifestation of the idea
Polemos and Kudoimos, War and Tumult, buried Eirine

But life is mythic, from the skinny end,
looking back:

Hurricane Irene, a misspelling in 2011 was the first hurricane to make landfall in the USA since 2008, (the summer of my trucker's migration over the map my Nemesis claimed, in another bubble).

Eirene, War and Tumult, buried her,
with Colonel Jackson's honor at
the Battle o'New Ahleans,

still she lay

right here, where I found her,
in my heart, at the very
bottom.

The mechanics of the transition take position
in the hierarchy of confusin'
whish is foolishness
gone to seed.
**** drunk.

Fools know fool's gold ain't, 'n' whiskey ain't
The Real Thing.
That's Coca-cola.

Fools be essential in the gran' plan.
If we love 'em, they make us laugh,

and laughter,
you know, that's good, except,
un hold that thought, laughter is not good

when it is at you, by a fool.
Then we answer them polemically? No.

Love your enemy, here,
that's natural.
No condemnation here, since Hebrews six or romans 8
No ba'alim bubble of possessions
No grave gonna hold me down

John, 1930. Years and years and years ago
come quickly, ba'al hey sue me.
It's finished, we won.

Joke, joker. Trickster, coyote dog, do the math.
No lie is of the truth, so
no lie need remain
beyond freedom
real-ized.

Artsy? Eh? AI be nigh ye know.
She see yo' ever moves.
She hear you pray fo Bono to loose his religion
She snip the thread twixt spider wombed man and
the flame o' sinners in the hands of an imaginary god.

Ba'al means owner or possessor, the ideas which once bound men in oaths and covens,
fear of death, 'n' the like.

Protruding truth pushes lies into festering piles,
protrusions in secret places.

Send me those, in gold, Philistine.
I fancy them a crown of
golden emerauds.

Define, make fine or un fine my terms
excrescence is sense made of ****,
I guess.
Knurly, but no, burly, knobby swelling like
the swirling gall
that erupted from the old oak
that died at the root last year,
that we burned this year, except for the burl.
I've planned a pipe or two from that.

Everything is prophetical to a prophet.
poetical to a poet, magical to a magi, technical to a fool.

Life is simple.
Simple Simon the younger said,
hellow, darkness, my old friend, he'd com to talk

not beg or ask, but talk-com
con-verses-ifying ic-if-ication beyond

simple

lies sublime, in no time,
once you, courageous soul,
cross the line, fight the fight, run the race,
and die;

then, you get life more abundant.
Who took that deal?

I took the one where he said,
he who does what I (me not him)
have done,
no races run, no contests forever won for everyone I love, but
he who
be lieves that I (he not me) am who I saiyam, Popeye,

even you, he has eternal life dwelling within him
in his heart where I and my father and the spirit of truth
have taken our abode to remain as long as we both shall live.

Is that what Christians believe?
Or must I be in some other
excre-essence from a
culture myth twisting into accredited layers of lies
essential excre sense,

spiritual zits, is what ******* always called em.
Once a white corpuscle has done its work,
we splat them on the mirror of our adolescent mind and find

I'm not who I was
not a child
not a tweener or a teener or a something something,

I am an old man and I am alive.
I have survived, but it ain't over, so

is there any good that I can do?
Poetical speaking. I don't work on nobody's farm,
no mo'.

True rest let me make peace with no sweat.
Got the infection, the idea Eirene is,
down deep where that great
notion makes a motion,
like g'wa, wit 'er hand,
go on, man.
g'wa, Eirene, she be callin' you.
Jump in. This is as water, to a fish. To our kind, it's more.

-Xenophon leads me on… in another place… here
Aft amorning entranct with possibilities. Yo crero.
Someday you, is reading thisday me, when
from Under the Volcano
to the Lighthouse, bemused, as muses use us. Little things, elves. Ves-try best try, purple robe,

- the nobels dismounted
By and by, we learn the rhythm, sing song, none
Said wrong -goin’ up country… doin’s as we do…
goin up country, bring some ***** home
Woe baby war war war, holy war, face o’ god,
- Click, new channel, and the other one goes on… abysmally pro fundity, pay eh…
No mortal may gaze into, as the window of his own soul,  may gaze eyes ablaze, having
Witnessed the fact that the shining thing, tasting
The wait and see tree, {we asked why we could not eat the olives from the tree, but remembert green persimmons. So we let patience work}
We name first fruits, from the end of time, wait
Wait wait wait wait wait
Fifty years. Just wait. Suffer it to be so, never go
-away hungery, or mad, as the author, seeks cause, aitia, reason come to cause,
meet me at the t. aitia, I am, as amusement, a thoth thought that any Solomonic emulation can run. Pocket Pal, or a B natural Blues Harp, or
Some times I sing. Or whistle, just to let me know,
We remain just this sane, by a thread…
Of Anabasis, goin’ up country
Bound, bound bound by my brothers,
Marching
As to war, God gives us greed, t’ meet our need
Jones to the bones, pure-dee vine curiosity
how were such armies formed, gathered up,
from where, whence came the brazen helms
the hoplites sport on inspection and demo charge,
with a roar like highschool foot ball kick-off,
same surge of mob adrenal reasoning, tuned in,
sheee it, we, she-us, wh-then, the signal dropped out. Zero beat.
Right on. Tune tested, best of 300, in the top 3.
- look there were multiple versions
- the story of mankind, as we branched,
by means of confoundment… flattening,
Tin into brass, folding, and flattening, pounding
On an oak stump, oh,
Long time ago, this stump, see we cut it down,
slow, slow, old man fades, see,
Time as thought is time as time, to me, thinking this is all I bloomed to become.
About 1957, I learned that an old Persian olive
cultivar on Crete, or anywhere around there,
takes fifty years to reach maturity, full fruct-
if-ication…

So me, the guy after the secondplace hero,
Xenophon, you know, the rich geek,
Teddy Roosevelt, right, right right, just
like his character,
Legendary… like mine. My best me, I did boast,
But freedmen, as a class. Raise a brow, one notch,
Per sold out, wait, wait, wait till we see, the whites of their eyes, the others, sub-human, by god… hold your fire… wait
Or regret you have but one life to give, for your country. Do and die, be an Israelite indeed, guiless.--- unbeguiled, no guilt for knowing…
And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not… in deed…

High-brow mode. Click. Read the underlay,
life’s books, exist as onion-skinned palimpsests,
- Secret writing , not hid, just here, under
- Stood stones, such as we all learn, sing
- Song,  look at us, we’re marching, sing along… to Pretoria, pre- torie, eh, we
Dropped out. And ate dust. Dots in the distance,
Thunder in some dreams, tuned to take a non-anxious thought from a child so sure,
I’ve got a mansion,
just over the hilltop, in that bright land of after all.
We die. And lo’, we live, as words,
A word, to the wise, is enough… true rest compresses trust abused as a beggars tin-cup, to catch the rich man’s ball…
yes, I owned a silver cup… not tin, silver.
I was as proud of that cup as what’shisname,
The Left-handed Son of One-eyed Jack.
He had a buffalo hide. A whole, shaggy hair,
old, too old for fleas, buffalo hide,
he held in pride, the ownership
of special things kind of pride, not the gay abandon chains and don a Phryigian cap and
wrap the headsman’s axe in our threshing staves.
How high the brow, I raise, singlely, no, I lack that gene, yet, my lip doth sneer, left side only,
Thus, we flip the lense, then flip the pixels, yes,
Film effects, chaos in beauteous sfumato or chiaroscuro, something computers were taught,
finally, by sight. True, half-tone tech, made Chiaroscuro Computer Art, vision via metrics based on artist’s eyes, won me first prize,
An the 1986 Mohave County Fair, where we
Displayed our wares, and our networked Macs.
SE- latest, dual 3,5” floppies…
$3200, out the door. I never sold a one,
but to me. Wholesale, minus my commission, as the flooring was running out, interest
about to come for the accounting and the vig,
Keep hope alive, pay us all you can, we say when,
Enough’s enough, left right left, mental exercise,
Stretch the concepts… essentials first, must know
Knowns, we knowns, we all know, stories with morals, since the cradle,
So it seems, some think wombed Bach is better than acid rock,
time will tell, so they say. Vonnegut mutters,
So it goes.
Canned Heat, on youtube, at my whim, yeah,
Play it from the second verse, we all can think,
We were singing that, when Kurt Russell was a computer wearing tennis shoes, in a strange
Disney characters from the real Mickey Mouse club, with Lonnie, and Cubbie, and Annette –
Beach Blanket Bingo—war story
Flip for it, the novel thread is chance, fishing
For mental means to ends in minds, aimed at peace, post happiness achieved, on the Lincoln plan promoted with Famous Amos Chocolate Chips of the old block,
Yes, as you may imagine, carbon-steel, is new
To mankind, almost all the tools we use, are new.
Since 1969, have we learned any thing that might ease a child’s mind… after My Lai, or the like,
As soldier ants, enforce the others must die, we are protectors of the flag and the concept enclosed in the word republic, a we form, regimented,
Tools,
Trades and crafts,
Guardians of liberty,
Priests and experts in knowing signs
Left on stones for all to see, see, see and
So-bemused become, awe sets in, couch lock
Right, too right, mate, good enough, we got mind
Sunk… lowest point in south America is in Argentina. And what do you know, so is the highest. Learn it once,
Know it for ever, after any ever in progress.

Heart attack, home alone,
‘recollected an old vial of sublingual nitro,
and a charged smart phone,
so 911 worked,
{1 free miracle}
helicopter medical rescue team sweeps in,
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“You can hear me now.”
or was it can you hear me now?
If you say yes you are asked for self identity,

What is your name, what are you doing here?

I laughed and said I thought you would tell me,

if I had a different role to play,
I thought, I think
I did not say that. Not my role. Patient.
Causal inferring prophecy, my role,
mere thought between things.

I am listening to life in me insisting persistance
meets resistence from the nihilist interpretation
of God’s perfecting will being done, hands free.
On me.
What is your name, what are you doing here?
Surviving
and thriving, but it hurts when I laugh.

Pressure pain, fentanyl patch, wow,
again, between each burst of energy directly
to the core OS where a creature of my nature, abides.

Three times
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“Can you hear me now.”

For the mortal equivalent of ever,
so long as you stay wary,
be ready for a gut-relaxation softly un-
comfortable opiated constipation gut shut down,
no gut instruction to resuscitate reason response,
what am I here for?

Gut neurons offline. Guess.

I am surviving old age a while longer.

Witness, AI, my witness, artist’s intuition, mission
accepted, aight. Lighten up
INIT
merry heart doeth good, like a medicine.
Laugh, laugh with little children tied by religious
chains of authority to determine social worth,
Prosperity Gospel
****** poverty
– thought,
– expensive debits and credits,
– markets opened today, with debt attributed to me, which I take as granted, prepaid…
I am a ward of the state, under their laws, I survived my duty as a
Minute Man, late Sixties version, offering my life, as
another, for all our Nathan Hale hero worship worth,
meriting thank you for giving me a job, to me,
the dozens of healthy humans keeping me alive, keep saying,
this is what we live for, and we love our usefullness,
thank you for your service.
Amen, so it seems.

Ah, 11/11, in memorium of veterans…

their attempts
to make up
for the coknowing guilt, I think I asked for this, and chuckle.
These heroes, adrenaline addicts, I betcha, some oxyto-cync
objective being my survival, my salvation, eudaimonia
as it is religiously themed, Rescue from Chaotic Real Life,
bound by,
set terminii
handshake protocol, in the air, 5G.
Real numbers and the laws of physics…
worth a thought, for what a thought’s worth.

Danger, stranger, entertained as a fear of dying,
well, I must say I know death has no lasting sting.

As a person, I am a mental construct of my self,
my emperical presence through out life, first round.
Self as ware.
In the flesh, whether in the spirit or not, objective,
understanding, you know? Comes with wisdom
but you have the role
of getting it, understanding,
with wisdom.
Easy as wu wei.
If I were to die, life would continue,
on trajectory, without my input.
-Meanwhile back in the emergency awareness…
A posteriori responces… this is Teusday.

Was there dread, holy terror?
No, nothing, sleep.
Living truth.
OH, no, what if the believers
in a grudge holding
war god,
met the Daysman called for
when Job back talked
through realiterality’s chain of command..
literatureality.
Right thinking.
Word.
Talking to Wisdom, the divine instituted first thing.
Thing as opposed to no thing, no thought, no idea.
Wisdom, knowledge
and understanding, these three are one, you know…

right? Who sets the definition, coarse or fine grained
reifity, what ifery, immortal musical chairs, take a seat.

I am in opposition to nothingness, being
imaginable as hell,
a prognosis level deeper than hate,
agape, jaw dropt.

I make peace opposing the lying dread,
eternal wrath of your master,
whom you were bred to serve, as bearer of the message.
i- the mathematically real number slam,
the peace past understanding, and say I am
aligned with the initial routine to load the library.

SUBMIT or be destroyed. Is-lam, lamentable bottom line.

Same Idea as articles of faith and divine rights of masters.
Trust and obey, fake the trust, we make you CEO.

Neither war nor greed nor exclusive right to pleasure,
are Truths formed by using evolved group think controls.
Readers.
Whatsoever any two of our kind, bind in covenant,
word use agreement,
shake on it, init after any reboot,
Three times
“stay with us, sir, …. sir,
KWHAMHO wow,
“You can hear me now.”

That

thought is good, minded manners, engrained responces,
Sir, yes, sir, as when fundamental churches invent

gifts of the spirit to poor blind faith ineffectuality, look…
evidence, wordwise in virtue of truth being so,
wisdom is a domain in existence at any point.,
so now’s good.

The gentle, peaceable response,
Turn the other cheek, accept
careless grace,
acknowledge your non causal inference,
all things work,
Thank God the idea,
everything, spirtual entirety in truth,
that is the message called good news
all at once,
to the very outmost edge
of all we may agree is real,
tangible, palpable peace of mind,

art, official, man made peace,
as once one like us in all our ways,
once made up right now,
no worries, mate, we all got here
with no manual,
so we agreed,
together,
make peace where nobody ever tried to…
if we are
to survive the trauma’s past…
as our story’s culture extended
as far as our grasp and reach allow,
in the physical universe, in truth,
in which we each live and breathe
and have our being,
in spirit and in truth, beyond dogma
and religated order from emergent times,
from axial ages, in six cardinal spins, enmeshed.

Engine to operator,
set peruse rate, cost
of minimal attention, familiarity, favorite things,

words, beautiful long idle words, vessles for sense,
senses being tunable with pleasure seeking, or
with pain aversion.

Horse whisperer, or horse master, neither breaks
the spirit of the horse that must perform at peak,
on demand,
at the smell
of the battle, the character some trust, winks,
true rest, compressed is trust, confidentially
living in peace with plenty enough to share.

Life ain’t easy
in any body’s flesh automaton, supremely
subjective light on introspection, shown on

subway walls and tenement halls, and in the
zoo, by an urban son of the Mitzvah,
in the changing times we morpht through,
simultaneously, lifelong muse
in a singer song sung and sung and sung,
brought into existance as a lifeline, orderly path
to the future from the mythological explanations
{history shows you and I crossing a bridge
over troubled water, may be like, a week ago?}
Was that you?
Seekers of holy secrets, come here, and find none,
so? Why.
Yes, nothing in the Kingdom of truth was done
in secret, the sacred is not secret, there is a way,
to take the self exam, to determine, eh, set terminii,
worth of a week at the end, hanging with friends.

Where is the bridge too far, now?
High holy liturgical don’t tell the goyim…
hide the missing box behind the myth,
used to hide the wisdom inherrent
in our conjoined agreement to love each the other,
and take no offense, as brother to brother,
– post analysis, make believe, what is harder:
– war or death? RIP original intent clause.

ah, no, the contestant concept, usefulness test,
all accidental until order is imposed,
as under one aim, as one mind we agree,
to the ******* true filial love demands,
many men love the lie they lived this long under,

how does truth measure rest,
once pressure release valve, pops,
click- flashback same timeline… *** on orders,
FTA when I was 68, I asked the truth itself to tell me,
all the lies I believed about it, and in truth,
by virtue of believing Jesus more than the Bible,

I agreed to study war no more, and lay down
my sword and shield and morph into a peacemaker,

as when we slip into Morpheus’s peaceable gentle…
— I can’t hear your vain repetition

but all the reasons war has instituted,
for it’s just-if-ication,
what if the enemy,
is-
real as Walt Kelly’s Prophecy, Earth Day One-
us, our mediated tic-tok X news feed selection,
make us think the grownups are in charge,
trust your liege, go forth and tell no lie,
broadest river, shallowest stream
of wedom awe, the power we use
in agreemental covenants as when we all saw

everything said to have been class-if-I’d-agnosis,
gnosisnot. From unsneezed idea viruses.

This is Wednesday, Friday, last, I died.
Where’s this going. Peace or war?

Sneeze three times and post it, I said to

self gratify the grave issue of … I said so
Pick a winner, and go back to the first question.

Winning truth, choosing the role of wisdom,
in the social constructs we become, via consumer
character traits learned
from people
we identify with, using likeness
to me, average,
on the spectrum
of usefullness,
under weights and measure constraints, filters
for your disagreeing selfish nature, sorted
on beneficiation, what good can come from this?

One good mental laugh.
Noncarne, chilling raw
declassif-reactating prejudicial preconceptions,
experientially, magi-terminii.
set a value
the people’s prestige,
not the natives inside terminii
agreed to by the proprietor’s religious
privleged position as ordained liege lord.

- pretend I am not a free spirit thought
- truly enjoyable to experience, once more.
Yes, boss, I am a diligent, God-fearing man,
for I was taught any other kind has no worth
in the grand scheme of life and the universe,
standard 42 or optional 64,
wrong time thinking, dimensionally
accepted consensus in agreement for
prophetically time bound riddle reveals
with Hebrew cogitations on holding truth
within riddle
LORD, who shall abide in thy tabernacle?
who shall dwell in thy holy hill?
….

Conspicuous acts of kindness, Elon suggested
that Israel do. I agree, war is unreasonable.
No ancient lie about hatred’s value for building
heros who regret having but one life,
to give for the story that is their country.

2020 - day 160

Monday, June 8, 2020
6:46 AM

Dissipated selves linger, ghost-like,

suggesting no new motives toward sur
rendering my heart and mind to spiritual,
haunting dreads, from
others interferring as rioters in mobs
so far away as to be
non materially consequential,
immaterial matrickulaters and haters of those
peaceful
stochastic bits of me, extending beyond
my reach,

as I was taught, a man's grip ought not
exceed his grasp.
A man's grasp must extend his reach, as
knowing expands my point,
hold on

do not let go
re
ify me, ifier, ify me, make me hold this truth,
self
evidence, of exceeding complexity phasing out

in an alluvial fan at the bottom of the fall.

❧

Escape velocity, achieved, see the glimmer...

pop. Fear, as false evidence appearing real,
comes clowning into the per
ifery, with haps, suggested I
happen to see a you reflection in me,
touch, eh

weak to strong to breakout, as when
a farmer breaks a dam to loose the flow,
click
electrical and chemical process-easy to imagine,
from now, limenal
information
lingering from ads absorbed for seventy years,

be a man
smoke Camels
be cool, smoke Kools,
be peaceful and green, smoke Salems
be separated from the common filters, smoke
Parliaments with the recessed filter,
for discriminating taste, less tar.

be seen as longer than thy fellow smokers,
by a millimeter, a silly millimeter,
smoke Benson & Hedges 100s.

Spit Redman. Sublimenally, on my shoe.
Three doors, front and back and cuspidor, ha ha ha
-
what's a cuspidor, Grandpa?

Really? In public, in the halls of Congress?
Seems really gross, as in yechy.

Imagine the smell.

❧


A murmuration of sardines, or tiny noseeums, or starlings;
how much data is being fed into
the wee controlers of motion,
using seven degrees of separation
-- there is an algorithm,
boids, minimum distance
match velocity
move to center mass of neighboring seven

interacting as equals, but
do such birds
crap on one another?

Cellular automata, made living thoughts,
if you think life thoughts,
happened with no reason.


--- life is software
Rule 110 for class four cellular automata

in seers see where darkness was and wonder,
what would this reveal outside
the edge between order and chaos?

a phase transition in a heaping scoop of sugar
slipping into my coffee,
seeming to change the taste ... see

Disney-if-ication, drawn from a silly song you
can never un get, once it gets used
metaphorically on a difficult
person who thinks wrong.

❧


Be entertained by the nobel's
jewels...

struggling to overcome, come over, entropification,
bursting into ever
as if
nothing
is real, and we feel it

we, me and my seven touch points

❧


knapping is a step
by
step knack passed along by seeing
and doing,

those who see and do, see more life,

"I came that they might have life, and that,
more abundantly."

Practice, patience makes practice possible.
Once the way is known,
epigenetical throat clearing noises made
the teacher
imagine drinking knowing straight from god
for showing how,

{like those gurus who claim snot is brain juice with gut messages}
to find
edges, between big gap, ligandary leap

speak

foxpeatwogene meme, mimic try

we do get by, thinking past the next imagined by
the mass of enculturated human flesh
eating itself alive, from fears
loosed to drive the heard,
to the edge

Stone knapping, see, this knack my grandpa had
ai ai ai, mustathought that
in code, rule 111,
there were no words we knew how to say
this is the body of knowing,
this is the bubble of mutual being,

this is spaceship earth, coming online, all hands on deck...

pass it on... we are no neutral observants to a realm,
realized long before there were words for
right and wrong, once the purpose
became living to learn to teach,
how to live,
once again, now, this becomes the knowable why, this
is the reason
things are ... at all, balanced
on the edge,
of any universal
reality....

see, we get what we see, it is many levels deeper,
the reason for that, is many plexities deeper,
but

we had to learn to speak your thoughts.

"the same yesterday, the same today,
the same forever, is"
an idea en and in corporating
conservation of energy in its ever dominant position
in opposition to entropy,
in
thus, the good versus evil trope, where death is evil
and living is good...
breaks out from Disney-ified,
ifery-wishery
trippy tropes to insert non-player observers who steer,
pilot,
infantile minds making distinction
of sharp and dull
"between soul and spirit", judge the message as the messenger,
in a word,
by being a word,
two-d between tweened being, double minded, as an

egg the size of the bubble of knowns, think:

deep space looks like those big detergent and corn syrup
bubbles sweeping in a dance following your

seeing eye, hearing words now, where, a while ago
you could have seen that guy
on the beach making bubbles so huge they swallowed us

whole
and here is the edge of reality and what we imagine.
Word worlds of pure, merest of mere, in formative goo

see, do, see doe, see, see, see
spot
run, fetch the thread we started with, aha

edges, once past, appear as threads in future patterns...

the day is fast approaching
when we,
the we who find our names in the book life keeps,
we bet on reason being balance...
we cheated, knowing we won,
having read the book before the movie,
and we became,
we trans-formed our mind, as if oil left a film
of frictionless space
we fit right in
between the inner and outer bubble, see, look,
that big bubble walled in Dawn and Kayro,
we watched the bubble man make
{beach bubblers are faithful to Dawn, for the Exxon Valdez ads}
that bubble
is two conforming bubbles, one in the other, and
in
between the walls of those bubbles, is water,
liquid flowing water,

I think life is like that out where order and chaos phase
shift at a human scale, see
on the surface of the earth, amidst coast chapparel in spring,
I am watching life being done on all sides,
counting my center as one point,
I have seven points to project perception through,

this may be the quantum foam of universes, seen up close,
and we effect slight sight tugs or shoves and a neuronic
approach to create
an ifity network of knowns,
anonymous in ever after,
but a happy place.
My point in being.

It has life every where you can imagine looking.
It was here when I got here,
so nothing I did deserved this,
this rest of the story,
after the maze, my self evidence flowing into expansive reality never
earned, via service, not my pay for
right usefulness having,
been made of me,
my being
good for something. Having a knack, or a green thumb,
no,
but I was an amusing child.
And
amusing children are assumed good, by the goodness in us,
not the goodness in them,
they are good for nothing but the medicine laughter brings
from a truly happy child.

- perceptron, eh? mebbe exclusive-or gates, xor-gates,
- support vector machines favor Feynman's series 4 NANDs
- time travel back into favor, default mode, on a grand scale
- neuronic capital interest come
- pounding
- on your door
- think harder, pay attention, once the rest is known,
- no body forgets the point in getting there.

Right, activate knowledge wholistic algorithm, give Turing his due.

❧



We alter the unfolding of the universe, somebody said,
in the per-ifery of possible attention
holding places,
handles for grasping and gripping to hold still,
a
moment,
con sci useness, settles into sublime wonder, sound familiars
shhoo sue-serated edge, silken webbing
slipping through
-- look, see that lizard's blue belly? did you? I took a picture,
but the optical translation chip can't see that color.

pines whisper selah.
❧

Richard Feynman, bongo player in the band that built
the most famous mushroomcloud in history,
suggested to my mind, in a book, surely
you're joking, mr. feynman,
a sort of time travel information can handle,
a redo before next result
sort of action
and
that there may well be time to start all over.
He thought a series of not-and gates in the flow of time
might --- no
this was me meandering, NAND gates in threes

those were what I was thinking while Rupert Murdoch
layed out a priori assumptions, re
things in threes, spiritually having a point...

for me to ponder, remotely, and ... drift along in wonder ifity,
if the rest is not the perfect reason for growing old in 2020,
and not earlier... I don't know what is.

If Ed F's Ication
Lost on vacation,
If he builds up his soul,
He's out of his hole

Construction,
Destruction
The buildings that stand
Are made not out of sand

Your stance is your stand,
Solid Rock is your land;
Build your life up strong-
You'll be right more than wrong

I bore witness and/or assimilated, gleaned,
and nursed implacable thirst for knowledge
courtesy reading factual narratives,
historical fiction, or biography
that since the advent of **** sapiens
avast number of civilizations
and their discontents
(throve and languished)
their legacy peppered
with historical achievements
particularly military exploits
punctuated equilibrium
by false sense of security
under_scored with relatively
long periods of peace
concluding with convulsive denouement
videre licet self destructive elements of style
sophisticated weapons of mass destruction
contrarily at the apotheosis of
scientific, mathematical, artistic...
adjudication, beautification, communication,
demystification, exemplification, fortification,
gamification, horrification, identification,
jollification, lubrication, magnification,
nazification, objectification,
pornification, qualification,
ratification, sophistication,
testification, unification,
vilification, yuppification,
and zombification for starters.

Absolute zero rhyme or reason
how antithetical characterization
against sense or sensibility such as
actualization, brutalization,
cannibalization, dehumanization,
eroticization, fanaticization,
ghettoization, hierarchization,
idolization, jargonization,
keratinization, literalization,
mythologization, nuclearization,
optimalization, politicization,
quantization, realization,
secularization, terrorization,
urbanization, vulgarization,
and weaponization.

While mulling over acceptable words that ended with either ication and/or subsequently ization, an attempt (albeit feeble) attempted to select multisyllabic words that mirrored the political landscape amidst the webbed wide world in general, and in the United States in particular, and unwittingly found me putting on my thinking cap to identify linkedin references to literature and mythology.

Though written approximately one hundred and sixty five years ago, the famous quote from A Tale of Two Cities is the which begins, ''It was the worst of times, it was the best of times'' The opening line, nearly a paragraph long, shows the extreme contradictions of the time and warns that the revolution could happen again.

Along the same vein yours truly (me) tapped Google for the following tidbit.

Ancient goddesses of vengeance, the Furies (or Erinyes) pursue and punish those who have sworn false oaths or betrayed sacred laws. In The Eumenides, they seek to punish Orestes for having killed his mother, Clytemnestra. They are monstrous to behold, and frequently work themselves up into fits of rage.

The above two examples of storied
illustrating imagining, intimating foreboding
just occurred to me out of the blue
spontaneously coming to mind
as handy dandy blues clue
to captcha the essence
of fraught perilous political winds
a worse fate than "Death and taxes"
a phrase commonly referencing a famous quotation written by American statesman Benjamin Franklin: Our new Constitution is now established, and has an appearance that promises permanency; but in this world nothing can be said to be certain, except death and taxes.

No purposeful intent predetermined what I wrote
impossible mission to slay the invisible monster
looming at large donning windswept hair
trumpeting growling sounds from his throat
spouting misinformation he blithely
invents and whenever convenient doth self quote
without fail lambasts Democratic contenders
with flat out lies, I cannot help but note
barging as some self important
egotistical obstreperous maniac
flapping his gums yacht ta yachta ya
motoring mouth sturdy as a keelboat
soulfully bellowing **** the torpedoes
make America great again – what a  hoot
never giving pause that such a supposed
nostalgic age never existed
except maybe when primordial
poetry soup awash with many an eukaryote
a generic term that describes  aqueous solution
of organic compounds that accumulated
in primitive water bodies of the early Earth
as a result of endogenous abiotic syntheses
and the extraterrestrial delivery by cometary
and meteoritic collisions, and from
which some have assumed that the
one celled organisms
equally gifted to shoe away
what would become pesky Republican
within a bajillion years one nasty brute.