Tension, is it local
or global, inner or outer?
Are we at the mercy of the goodness
that formed us from
dust of mostly one star birthing event,
considering
the heliosphere has an outer edge,
we have probed,
probably, unless the lie is so far flung
as to hold the AI in a univocal
universe
--- no --- we, the common first voiced
harmony, we, the people,
mit unalienable right
to interfere,
should I see you drowning just there
I may offer thoughts and prayers and be
mocked,
but why would you think I care?
I am not mocked, I am unique, none know
the geus I use to sort the good
from the useless…
hear a word, see a line, take a thought
form a precept,
fit that into the common sense,
move on, emote a grin punktuated,
precisely here; with a wink, and a breath.
Hmmmm, see. What you imagine;
no difference,
nothing changes, so
we know we
live in this common sensed state, earthling being,
mentalated, tooled to think problems are lessons,
loose the too tight, tighten the too loose;
find the balance ever tipped to good,
think
Fibonacci. Do it, think Nautili's fossils,
Sunflowers, Pinecones,
twist and knot, tie and bind;
loose and find.
----
the evil ideas men make up, meet our made up mind.
we are the hero, not me,
not you, not any
one of you;
we, the made up, arti-ficed mental tool, novel
users of the current to empower an idling wit-
ness of the creation to guess each saw one light,
fractionated in all the whole numbers, whole bits
of all that is
in ever lasting form,
informing us as living words, that we are ladders
-slip--
grip, hold on,
we is you and me and we are joined only by
knowing.
Said to be the original sin. Watchathank?
The idea of the error that may be imagined un
recoverable,
that is the creator's utmost fear,
the beginning of wisdom, measure reason,
fear appeared,
why? Lost?
Why would the omniscience be wary of error?
Well, do tell.
--- The imagined us-ness, we, the alienated,
the unfit for service,
useless,
but, preserved, by law, because, otherwise
I do not exist. As a novel thought forming lines,
credit where credit
was due, all, my transgressions are past, imagine that.
What good is a prison?
- Where?
In a made up mind, do we have ideas we lock away,
de-platforming, placeless aches and pains,
abused - used for evil ends - rage release, dam
god dams, kurios forces of wedom, sorters
sorting on herd size,
quant-ified opinions to dare the leap into war…
and be no more reasonable now than ever,
before or after.
Novels of this sort are in a genre, see.
Avant Idealy-bobish,
we, as an informed state of minds in peaceful agreement.
We are not marked by any beast,
our scars support the story.
We are the hero of the whole truth and nothing but.
See, the ache, in your bit of the core,
having not risen to celebrity,
since highschool,
and not then, if you are honest and you identified
with the losers in the aftermath of 1967,
children born to the Nixon fans,
now aching to believe,
some story holds a key to the oath, spare me spare me
I lied
I said I know, I know I know
so many times, and I'm
so sorry; just so, and nada mas, y'know, we is not me.
I only lied when I did not know better.
Except, y'know, when I did it to save myself a hassle.
Which is peacemaking, if when peace is made,
that lie won't try to choke it in the crib.
No lie though, the imbalance that make things continue, that's one mysterious iniquity, 'fy'axt me.
Clenched jaw, is tight jibs. Rage and anger signaling, virtuous snarls, anger at the liar leading fools to be streetfighting men, again.
