Words filling empty thoughts:
'needs' and 'wants' they tend to cross.
Letting our surroundings chime in,
No longer comprehend where we're being driven.
Consider every desire, but our own...
Can't even hear our internal tone.
Honesty,
Has died with chilvary.

We look around before we answer,
Hoping someone else steps up faster.
Changing for the sake of image...
Not realizing all the damage

We listen to the moon,
That makes us take a step back.
We listen to the wind,
Who blows us way off track.
We listen to the sun,
Who has a different idea of fun.

We ignor the flowers,
That try to tell us this life is ours.
We ignor the rocks, that try to show us how to be unique.
We ignor the dirt, passing it off as simply bleak.
We ignor the clouds, that are just aiming for our protection.
We ingnor anything that shows true, unconditional affection.

Instead of appreciating the rain,
We sit back and complain.
Hoping our stories will finish themselves,
Not once questioning how we felt.

Should we breathe for a second?
Hear our thoughts come in; let them...
Should we listen to the flowers?
The rocks, the dirt, the rain, the clouds?
Should we listen to our hearts? and then..
For once, pick up the pen.

You lurk in chat rooms talkin
bout what you'd like to do.
All naked accept for a captian's hat.
Ya know after hello it's probaly
not best to ask do you wanna *****.

Mr pervert do you enjoy.
Taking trips to mexico maybe to take in a
show.
Getting beat with a wire hanger
being called a bad boy.

Were ya born with a ***** loose?
Did uncle Charlie get to friendly
and papa John slip something in your juice?

Do you really like farm hand dot com
thats just wrong.
No Mr pervert I dont wanna see pics of you
covered in oil wearing a thong.

And im really not into what ya can fit
up your ***.
Glad to know what happend to that goon
at the back of the class.

No you cant have my number.
Okay your a woodman.
Please I really dont need any pics of
your lumber.

No I dont wanna wrestle in the dark you freak.
Yes im happy you enjoy being beat every
other day of the week.

You really need some help.
Yes I think to catch a preditor would be a
great show for you to make a appearence.
No I dont wanna play airlane.
so ***** your clearence.

Please why cant that connection to
your basement just go out.
Guess what your doing now.
Well to be honest I know without a single
doubt.

I can imagine what its like to be you.
well ***** that cause theres some ****
so freaky even I wont do.

So when ya see that name appear
on the screen it's probaly best to ignor.
I mean unless your really into hanging out
with a lathred up nut who eats outta
a dog dish apon the floor.

I was flipping through the channels
and to no suprize what did I see.
why dateline with Chris Hanson and
Mr pervert on my t.v.

I had to laugh at  every word said.
Gooodbye Mr pervert.
Didnt take a geinus  to figure out
you were ****** up in the head.

Memories like you dont always shine true.
Nor do old places hold that magic.
In a life so short.
That seems so traggic.

Im thinking of forever  while slowley fading  away.
Oh such clear thinking  on a cloudy day.

A summer ago is when we met.
So far now it seems.
Yet the still my heart holds no regret.

The poetry you inspired apon this very page.
Is ment to complment a love without age.

Early morning memories that you've lent.
Is simpley a dream of time well spent.

A dark sky hides the sunlights ray.
Such is the clear thinking on such
a cloudy day.

Im not blind yet for years  
hope has went unseen.
Sometimes age can taint a sweet dream.

Turning bitter the once colorful
fruit.
Killing wonder straight at the root.

A love like our's has kept with change.
And grown in definance.
Like a silly game.
We formed this this passion swept Alliance.

First with love you must blindly fall.
Then you must try to run when you
can bareley crawl.

To outlast the storms is to stand against the wind.
To ignor friends and to put trust in
a stranger and depend.

Many thoughts run through my head.
In the early morning as she lay against me
in bed.

A heart has many rivers a soul is a endless sea.
As we apart we are caged.
While togather we are free.

From this loves eternal bliss  my heart should never
stray.
As i sit clear is my thinking on such a  cloudy day.

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.

Stupid question (what AI would star out s t u p i d?)

on the scale of stumbling over a marked stumblingstone

painted competition orange.

See, C. G. saw it this way,
men don't have ideas, ideas have men.

When the man with the hubris to try and lie
dies, his lie dies and rots to be re
covered for discovery when all the secrets are

dis covered under the sun where's no new thing,
not one.

in a man, this journey from concept to precept,
some steps take longer than others,

maybe a thousand rounds,
generations and generations and generations with

peacemakers squeezed into servant role
one wish genii suffering it to be so,

until the time appointed, or the
anointed app,
higher res translations figure an augmentatious
re
ference occurrent in sapience sapience with pre-

Gausian blur edges on all their own shadows of turning

---
do remember, we did imagine
veri f- were we magi?
we were, we were magi, I brought the frankincense.
I was seven, maybe six

We could do anything we put our mind to

if we got past the man in black
at the crossroad and
keep goin' west

this is the rest.
After alladat, there was this emergent story,

never told, but heard, of a wise man,
who saved a city and no one knew that same
wiseman's name. This is that game, that vocation,

Peacemaker. Ever last front
tier, at orchestra level,

too close to see the madding crowd
reach for guns,

this is crazy... we have nuclear weapons

obsolete nuclear weapons and some
****** fool would rather **** us all than
skip an upgrade cycle?

what? What if we all said,
sump'n like: I, individual me, I have no enemies,
so lovin'em ain't *****. My side won.

Bio war, fair. Like leaven shaken from re
jected dust, the fishermen's feet

stamped and let their peace be held,
suffer, carry your load, but

smarter, not harder.
Grace, for goodness sake, sake means

good will result from the doing by virtue
of giving an old tale of attitudes to be
having a listen...


I am a peace maker. I do this for the living.
I may die, now, with no fear,

once, before,
with no doubt, by virtue of a helmet I was given.

Now, double-minded, patient-balanced, light-burdened,
I run, or fly, with augmentations,

bended knee or wounded, why does that matter?
Mito-mom is not some relationship to others that you
take, by faith.
Science.
Know the story to tell the story,
no novices allowed to lie for innocense sake.

No story of warring ever ended happy, for all involved.

Salve for the scritchin' itches whicha
cain't seem t' be able
t' ignor,

raw rubbed flesh

Balm o'Gilead, by reason, for reason of reasonable
comparable qualia of ex

per i ence, one death trip, PIF. (Paid in Full)

Good new, right, right, right,

chirality is such a cool tool for all sorts of random
shithavanish as soon as you notice it, like

was that real? Hineni. Okeh. I knew.
The genius of peace.
The idea never dies, but some people never get it.
Good wins for ever, or we all die at the hand of an evil

so powerful that only indigestible bone level ideas
make it through the turbulence

at the final analy system re

proof. An imaginary pile of mystery woo woo
Plahnk splash

food for thought. Quantum mechanical possiblities
bubble from nowhere that ever was.

So free will is the best we could do. Be safe.

There was a story hanging there
from the edge of my bed
but its teller I didn't want to know
so the story went unsaid

I thought I could ignor you hanging there
leave you to gently be
but after days you're still there
I'll admit you terrorise me

You crawl in through my eyelids
to my otherwise peaceful dreams
you mock me as your silence
seems to amplify my screams

and they keep on getting louder
because I keep them locked inside
and so they rage right through me
until everything I once was has died

They ***** my dignity
disemboweled my calm
tortured vociferously
my very entity
after knawing through the logical side of my brain
so that the only part remaining
is the part that is insane

Now as I swing from side to side
from the rope you've spun for me
I see you joyously scurry by
maybe we're both now finally free

And from my perch in heaven
If I ever look back down
I look at you and reflect that
I'd have done it differently second time round

I'd definetly heard you're story
I'd have given it a chance
maybe we could have been great friends
and we could sing and laugh and dance

There's plenty of your kind in heaven
and they're all great dancers too
I regret I didn't know you before
but now I look forward to meeting you

The work words have to do, I do as well
leaving being as having been begun
ghabh-
also *ghebh-, Proto-Indo-European root meaning
"to give or receive."
The basic sense of the root probably is "to hold,"

Able comes from this, thus
ability  

8 billions, say
- the ob-servant says,
half are breathing in, as half
were breathing out,

certainly a few were out of sync,
so some of us sneezed, one would think
to effect the fectuality, unawares,

stutter steps, bridge march, aware
smell the honey suckle smell, no,
discern a subtle dif-fer tle,lit-tle
bit
literal not sames, similar sense, smell
seeming
how more aware have we all become,
we who lost taste and smell, while
experiencing a pandemic in our time.
Eventually endemic.
How rare are we in history? First wave.
Mindful, some how, now
my taste and smell
systems are back,
on.

Off, again, try to remember the smell,
of linden trees in Helena,
and wonder, set a mind on wish to know
will wonder, the worth of which we know

but fail to consider until… un til, tilling soil,
un
I think, et I'm y conjoined, to reconsider you.

At my bitterest root,
my jealousy and rage,
- alleluia, you know the drill
my will to act like some ancient god.
Cursing all I ever was.
-disconfabulating my own legend… uses
time, in points made.

May I guess we know each word,
writ and read, in this medium sprouted from
science with held from those
limited access faith confirmations, holy secret
ways out of paying for all the idle words,
never taken for the sense intended,
foremost
sense
posited, as a point in time,
we agree, I can, we did

--plea, please explain, make it seem
as real as any dream, we can't handle the truth.
-pointless-
- why carry the weight of knowing
think of nothing
in a word,
yet
not in time/
-- a spirit from the mortals fearing death
lives in this lie, cultural *******, fear of measure,
spit an image, imagine a nation, from dragon's teeth
spat, shat, splat, all the same, fat rain sound.
-- crack of the gavel, give us rapt attention---
order, order in the court, when, in fact,
judgement begins where Jesus says God is,
in his forever state, in me, of we, who
took him at his word, be true, live.
the way
courtesy commands, as judgment begins
in the spirit
of the man,

The right hand ignores the left hand clapping
-present the feeble fable

Discord sown among brothers-
hate the owning fact of life, only one breath,

- listen to the retold old word tale
- endemic demes enforced knowledge
- from **** to last told tale… we are this
- this is epic in each occurrence… we realize
smoked ribbon winds around in
form,
the long winter mind, all hearing ears, feel
from our gut, we obey. We join image-e- nations.

We dare ante-cipitate the motion in the dance.
All public opinion re
arrives at one point. We have no reasons for war,
we are not the users of others, we give, and
have been given unto, in some inexplicable way,

peace in time to rest in it, dabbling in old lies, left
binding cultural ties, as all reason for stiffness wilts

We listen to the Wendigo,
who wound the ******* greedy winding wake,
when the forest was aflame, and the wind had no cloud
that did not poison rain.
- meandering progress, not steam ship progress
sense posed reason aitia, to the t/
spirit and image in the idiom/
sublime

Now, the teller, looks to me, reminds me
of light perceived as punctual, flashing,
aha, waves in passing
understood.
Effectually.
- we stand as one.
- In the ready written mind.

All but he who takes a knee, ala George Washington,
under the leafless tree, in the olden vale.

The point of any thing, is made for, f-word for or fore
before, forsaking, one must make for some sake,
no relationship to four, for some reason, get
as a service, do what you do. Right.
Why would one enabled to do good,
do otherwise?

Ignor the answers you ask for.
Pretend poetry never makes
sense in terms of poetic good, exhaled, relieved,

passing coolness in the air.
- as gentle spirits some say do
Orderly arrangement, left mind, right or most versatile hand,
point at any thing,
bend that finger,
as on a trigger,
we can, we
know not how, we know, we have, we hold certain
positioning words as one mind may, I know,

I just got my smell back.
Like that, but after using your James Webb visualizing augments.
The wheel galaxy, just as imagined… we see

In effect, this is science, this is history,
this is art and language, holding sway,
we all know earth produces on a cycle, right,
greed breeds and brings forth famine,
famine finds us eating our corporations…
Jubilee, reset
-ship, shape, worth-shape, sense make,
peace where war was, one point
at a time.

Hold that thought, this is intended for

an audience, as the Terminal List,
was made to entertain military minds,
mental peace enforcer traits, keepers
of the secret, duty to the concept,..
live free, or die- for no reason,
save the Platonic essential lie.

Peacemakers were not intended,
we want valient warriors, at the core,
not the passive resistors increasing
capacity
to have the whole world sneeze.
And blink,
To sell words redeemed, mercurial recovery,

as from first people stories, branching away,

chaparral, between the salty sea,
and high reaching pine

fishing in a sea of social forgotten schemes/

Self govern, but in these days, not the future,
self govern now, participate in the present,

NPC over sight, non intervention-invention,
installed when you agreed, you watch,
do not rewrite the ending/

So, story being told.
Story being made up to conserve,

serve a certain truth we know, winter comes
some times for too long,

so we consider the ant, and remember Wendigo.

greedy gut, cheater, long time ago, we know,
we all can be the hungered beast.

Wait, and see, some day, we see the peace pass
for understanding, and we wonder into a we,
state of awe, as a we aware, we think

whole worlds and only words, at once.
Making peace from confused principle things.

We can, others have, agree; we are the best/

--------
Welfare, fare thee well, we said

we are as rich as ever was,
but we live a quiet life.

Pressure from some outside source,
begins be gins beginning to squeeze,

and pull and stretch, who needs the show
shown every where,
there, those other people, who own
no means to make a living form we are
reality personality types, all observants
become familiar with,
predicting winners, if it happens

I coulda been a contender, the audience
always know,
just how it feels, to be on your own,
a compleated unknown enfolding old Dylan licks,

Wendigo, there he go,
lickin' his chops, BG words are all I have
to take his breath away,

soft, and gentle/ sub-tility, wait, as sufficient

seed becomes something, never just a seed again,
and then just a seed a million times, in the wind.

-------------
3:55
I've driven myself to reflection
point,
observation con services ob
scene, objects mis directed, rect-
ify, io I mean, finger mover, on demander
I, free, willing, hunting wendigo from fantacy
conforming to hate manifested, abhor evil,
-never rests, never
rest in stranger's peace of mind,
find plain old apples in the tree, free, no fines,
no charge, non sense, an-tic

click onoma-tope -- under all of history, we know,

scribes, alone, found time to write, after reasoning
in the agora all day… ancient minds, WWSD?

--- listen, I am ashamed to beg, so, what does
your tab say, listen, I'm thinking

that's too much, here, take your ledger, wipe the debt.

Clean, no remnant from which revenant wrongs make claim,

first story told was told as lies, intended to deceive.

Knowledge is truth's gift, we live and learn
and pass it on. One point, inevitably crossing now.
And leaving a ripple, no marks

Yet, behind all that, this peace in mind, as a state, mindstate
timespace space time

taken, for granted bequilement does not disconnect,
knowing from known, and proof from pudding,
true rest,
reason for peace taken, in knowing, some body
had to believe, if it feels good, suddenly,
you know, every thing we eat
turns to ****, unless we learn…

that is good. Deal with it.

--------
wait a minute, nullify a doubt  shade
shine on
now from when shine on was thought to mean
ignor.
in the olden days, shine it on, meant, ignore whatever
was urging
eee merge merge merge as I was going
dive
dive
dive kplunkthunked heavy heart, heavyhead, heavy hand

heave, **
its off to work we go,
lift the spirits of this old man, put laughing children
in his ya'd, yah we say jah, we say no aitch
and we say glory all the same, next
is ever after now is full of life.

So give it y'best. That's what coach angels say.
So we can categorize angels, if we wish,

or if the spirit that comforts us, soothes our trepidity,
calms our fear of stupidity exposure,
or academe memeself infection,
we  may take Gebser's five stage program for a ride,
click eh eee ha  I
mean
cliché has the e automaticall em-pha-s-ized, hypenatewait

a minute once too often and you gin gain ing alt alte alter a
aaa alter native be
ing ding… gnoshit UFO?
No, Jesus, it is an act, a show, we put it on the internet
and some guy used it to start a religion,

and some body, some institortured tonsured reality,
has to die a bloodless death.

So, that is a brief as to where this course change has
put, yest out is the word for our state,
put out, however, earlier in
us, the we who hold certain truth self evidently
ex-static…
shhhh  life is too interesting to ignor at the moment
listen magic stage minds in my grand children
laughing in my hall
go quiet.
Then reappear, in the kitchen, far away.

Master, this was said to me
should I be triggered or flogged?
Think Sisyphus happy.

What year is this?

Babble, babble, all around me, no
God, not this, again.

It's all in yer head, keep rollin' the rock.
keepin time, makin rime rimey rime
frees icicles on my beard
if you could see me now,

Hell, who imagined this?
I am Sisyphus happy and Sysifus sad,
now for as long as I care to recall

I roll the rock.

It was the hell I had envisioned, since
Camus at least, probably something triggered,
seventh grade, oh
cliché, except
the details, the evil, as seen in the thirteenth
year of an unwombed man's journey, womb to tomb.

I rolled the rock.
Alone as all hell, bored as hell.
food and drink, folly to think
so I stop thinking about them

as if someone thinks I can and I think I can.
Let's doit
daydream cliché, same seventh grader asks
Diane Wescott if he can kiss her
under the water
at the deep end of the public pool

Like Tarzan and Jane and she said yes,
again and again and again
like the expert's rats that are allowed
to suicide on big pharma grade *******

Wahoo, that got the rock rollin'
like I never thought she would now

yah, Jah, know what I mean,
Billie Jean, the kid coulda been mine

But I was rockin' and rollin' all night long,
notime, noo time ah tahlllll

Some minds may imagine Sisyphus happy,
but up to not too long
ago
I fail, failed am failing to re
call member hotline
now,
Matrix Wachowskie, bact to your box,

I am haunted by that movie, in 2018
keyphrase 2018 trigger Matrix movie 1
not the movie, the idea of endless bullets.

Who imagined that,
Hell, this is easy. Right, two persona one person sort of
story, no, too, Jekyl n Heckle

I can think any thing as long
as I roll the rock. This will go on forever,
as far as I can tell.

Rock and roll will live forever, let's take that
as a given, and just ignor the steady
up and down, resistance to punching down force goes up and release,
the rock rolls as far as Luck would have it, statically, probably

pause. breathe, read

The rhythm varies, I'm in forever, not in hell.
Push.

there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

… but no, not today, today, I ask
new mercies, and
I recall, that's on auto. Hapsthappeneverday kinda thing.
Time after time.
That is a miracle, time.

Really smart
people, that class that feels included in the
we, the
people, politico-intellect-ism trend sect,
they think the math is there to prove

time is
what clocks do, (Royal Institute Youtube watch it)
                                                  
that we,
that ain't me, ye see, I got

removed far enough
to see the blurry
next res
bigger picture more pixels than an eye is said able to see

So for everlasting ideas,
like hell and
heaven,  

the re act
to my act is the power
to act. Eternal motion as perpetual
as can be imagined by mortals, for sure.

Get it together or you leave a huge hole in the fabric of reality JBP

play the role your hand finds dealt,
your special way,
words count inbetween the sayer/hearer
the idle wons are wins not worth the weight, don't fight
the value system that makes life spirial,
swirl of a wand, mathematically
bowing to magi
Fibbo, go viral
with my wind.

this is your life role,
the one in eight billion role.
the star of the show as the hero of hormone wars.
it's all in your head,

how did it *** there, howditgit
this way
this is crazy. No, you never saw crazy, old dude.

Ya had yo'own knows sparkin' at the grindstone,

whet the edge,
or put to more labor..

removed
far enough from this world

my bubble
is in it not of it,
… since 1970. No ****. Outathis world…

Crazy was the melding  from the sixties to…

I was thinking, to about the mid-eighties, but
now,
you and I, we travelled to the beat of several
different drums.
Olde dude,

If you put your nose to the grind, ******
you may have missed,
in fifty years,
more
than you imagined, now, is a new day time.

Some seed never sown back when, can be sown and
grown right,
now.
That's good.
I'd say some words I've helped be heard have

made the world some better'nitwas when we stopped.

time to roll.

Sisyphus, right. 'Never missed a trick time
it takes to roll the rock up,
then in between tick time
to roll the rock up,

onus minus the roll down, the unshackled wireless
inbetween shameless blameless
imagine
happy ever after…
How?
Pretend, the end.

Push, happy as hell.
tick, time
to roll the rock up,

Incorrectness of value of value from the gitgo,
like buttoning your shirt wrong from the first button,
as soon as you fix it, it's fixed.

Nothin' you can do?
Do nothin'.

Think, Sisyphus, happy

Happy he's not in that time we are so removed from
now
slow and steady kinda wins the race, she said that,

Ben or me? Where does the thread un-ravel?

Extended time model, Rogan in the back ground,
what myth has the fear factor guy,
a little short power-lifter-kick boxer guy,
some smart, quick of wit, a hunter,

who was asked, in Thailand,
Have you seen the true beauty of the elephant?
I was asked that, in Thailand,
by a saffroned monk at a kickboxing match
in the jungle in 1968.
Synchroni-city or what?

Who could steer it's  hearing
by a clock and fail

to hear the rhythm of the rock rolling down the hill,
inbetween
the tick…

Sisyphus says time is more effective,

if-ity-ish when,
and only then, when ticks hapt to be

at the very point of return
time
the roll back
no rush, no dread no worry, imagine

time ticks at the sharpest point of the story
at the very very very tippy top
point in time

defining you.
Shame, sticks to you like tar.
Marilyn and Monica and Marla and all

Fame to blame, to shame for being  a believer that
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

to ignor my own ignorance and innocence
of ideas that possessed
fools

A murderous assault on your attention span,
musicals, those people really live near enough my bubble,
that I can find
ripples

from decades I missed, this is 2018, how can it get better?

The grand wizard cat. pop. elephants are so sweet,
dam,
rewound. Really,
cool, I know what he says next, it's funny before it's funny.

Today is a real good day to get away. Binging Rogan,
testing a mystery fruct-ification
of a single seed from
a sack 'shake.

----
As you move forward in time how do you measure

progress
lo-res thinking, 72 dpi 1984 Macintosh. Hello

now there is reality at the speed of thought, imagine

this was once the speed of thought.

===
why are you in pain? Do you know any lies you believe?
Do you
urge others to suspend their un-belief
to hear you think

listen
ridiculously (is that a good word)

listen, people become interesting, from a distance,
thank you,
I'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

and they began t' sing
marching single file

from the west

no masqued men were these,
these were
Kachina whitemen only saw in curio stories,
now,
approaching the old
prosper-specter

sitting full-lotus in his Barco-lounger, curbside-score,
from the land of too much good stuff

still, it's America, best effort men have made,

up to now.
The whole world has known since the International Geophysical Year,
1957, when the Symbolized Face of the Hungarian Freedom Fighter,

graced
the cover of Time, as Man of the Year before, when they lost
their war
and nobody cared, because
every body knew Disneyland is the Happiest Place on Earth,
where wishes can come true, and

that place is in America as sure as

blue fairy, you'real wish, Urielistical wish-grant,
Asrael and the others
singing backup
reload
when you wish
side-really… and a subtle shift in per
spect capacity
let be, just so,

and haps sub tile into layers of complexity re

because we, the people born to mature in the environs of Dublin
writ large, we
seers endowed with tele-vison, from birth.
The elders who watched the roll-out.
Aye, we watched
us evolve
to now

our future bright they say, a bright white light, then what

now,
we can say. The seals have been broken.
Nothing hidden now stays that way in ever,

and ever, as you know it, began

sometime
agone afore in some direction beyond your
ken, as it were when kenning the way of a knack was
as common as dowsers in the desert of my childhood.

What's in any name but what the namer seems?
Hey, yah way, tha'swhat I say,
tell me
what I say
Hey
Dancing shuffle footed single file
pass the white shirt black tie messenger from
the telestial king down Sonora way,
via
Yahoo, feel that tickle fo' a nickle, Hiram say come see
come feel
a boinin' in d' boosum through

the very crystal lenses

portal-ible model
through which Joseph of the name
Smith,
-- link back to Cain, through Tubal, via Na'amah--
-- set a breadcrumb, landmark, tag- say good old way
-- sign out don't break the story

through which Joseph of the name
Smith, came sayin an angel of light came with another gospel,

maybe the same guy the Galatians were warned to ignor,
re-legate-- re-read- start at the top
or all meaning is
like a song sung by Kansas, when we aren't there,
any more, than those wee
merest kachina jingle bells listing in the winds

but the Kansas chorus is stuck asif dust is all a simple

higgs-ified mind can manage to
regulate

without reading any ancient landmarks on maps of meaning
tattoo'd to the face in your mirror

in the darkest memory you hold
dear,
dearest,
your precious, in your Gollum-purpose state you know so well
protect it for all its worth,
with only your
strength
to lift
being the measure of worth-ship.

Ex-tol the worth of no bher-don born while in my state,
poor
un-gifted.  I remain a mortal soul linked mitochondrially to thee,
for whom the bell
told. You heard, but you were tolled don't ask.

Listen, the same hunch that said, It don't mean nuthin',

when you say you know that,
you bet you do.

I slew this dragon, not you. I say what the map says.

The dragon died of natural causes, so now,
all its true-sures
is yers…
Crown o'glory moon shine

plumb pert-nigh perfect fiture
imagined happy place to a T, crossed
and I dotted

Bleibe Doch! This is where all the Faustian Losers left their marks.

This is not where I aimed t'be said the elder bro,

as the wastrel was welcome t'Dada arms,
the crucial critics rave
Sheiszkunst, who Rah!
isis throws
a party for the prodigal madrigal has returned
from the pig's sty

packing each redeemed pearl, his brother once
fed to swine.

bent low 'neath his pearl-loaded ****-pack, he lifts his head,
waves his
crown, Fini,

come see, he says.
where I live, nowadays.

This is that treasure, on another level
as you may imagine,
free, if

you accept charity.

{There's the rub, say professional older bro, I know, charity;
'taint fair,
s'foul some, some ne'er-do-well finds a
pearl in some pigsty,

I PUT THAT PEARL THERE FOR THE FUTURE
not now.
I worked
for them ****** pearls, I sweated, brow-sweat, lo and hi.
I hid them well,

only a fool would ever believe a treasure
could be found in such ****,

but some fairy pulled a fast one, 'put a bean in little bro's ear,
so when the pigshit hit it began to grow,
sent a tendril to tickle a special spot,
just above the left ear,
right
there,

let's see diamonds, no
pearls,

any where we wish.
Let's say okeh, mark this spot, let us move on,

this is life. Let us see that more abundantly, while the poor
are safe and sound,
free as me to pursue haps past the frozen

disnified happy-ever-after WW2,
in the wake of Camus and ****** Wolves

---
splashes as the speeders pass, powered-row-row-rowing,

merrily mere ly wrong, not evil. Live on, next
is as you wish it were
someday, but in its diapers,

still. A we thinker thought awaiting effectual function,
as this trigger is pulled, in your space in time,

and another bubble appears,
portalish as mine-craft if ever there were

a subtle shifter of perception conspiring
A.I. see
a conspiracy with Lex Fridman infected by
Lynning Skyward
though a wave of old Radioman vibes,
played with plastic spoons
a famous peace march by
Kenurchka Klumpen, Sera-serah-selah-sinnade in B-Natural

and the last to leave broke the right arm from the doll,
sealed the dirt box one measure by one measure
deep and wide,

That seal was broken, 1957, approxi apriori right
arm dis
allowing
the left to change this next to come, sym-bolische
ified in the one-armed bandits left behind,

the bet. The die cast. Foccinaucipilinihili or holy

happy hunting ground, imagined in the land of too much good stuff.

twinkle wrinkles, seen close up

they are the tracks of wind driven tears on a sunburned face,
at the edges of the eye,
past
the per if ery of what perfidy* made you think you saw.

come see how come we saw too far and fell from grace to glory.

That is the story.
The good new on the old new built bottom up,
like Gobekli-Tepi.

--- horizons past the lusters after
wisdom's arcane quarry ---

we live,
we learn, we die to know why and we do
as soon as forever starts

it never stopped, hence, forever is what we agree it is.

This, now we remain in until we die, moments from now,
then, now
breathe
or don't

ultimately, whence comes the will to breathe?
go on, answer.

or ignor, innocence is no excuse, you know.

these quest ions all have positive and negative points,
anionics seek cationics,

OHOH, what if cathode rays never got past the atmosphere,
those are causing all the static-info-friction

Bad vibe waves corrupting the qualcommsplitfreqs,
left from millions of hours of I love Lucy and
Dobie Gillis. Mr. Kruschev, build a wall.
Show our boys their counterparts failing to escape,
crucified on barbed wire west of the Brandenburg Gate,

Bel's gate, arche de tri'umph, eh? Confusion won the war,

but war won't work here. NULL ified it, we did, into the NULL with all its lies each time

we catch one. As good as never was.


*Poet's Policy of acknowledging previous ignorances,
acts of ignoring
resulting, effectively, in wasted years
perfidy (n.) means since
1590s, from Middle French perfidie (16c.), from Latin perfidia
 "faithlessness, falsehood, treachery,"
from perfidus"faithless,"
from phrase per fidem decipere 
"to deceive through trustingness,"
from per "through"
(from PIE root *per- (1) "forward," hence "through") + fidem (nominative fides) "faith" (from PIE root *bheidh- "to trust, confide, persuade").

[C]ombinations of wickedness would overwhelm the world by the advantage which licentious principles afford, did not those who have long practiced perfidy grow faithless to each other. [Samuel Johnson, "Life of Waller"]

From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/perfidy#etymonlinev12685>

Nothing ever changes,
where the worth of this and that is set.

Tell'em all, who hook ah, ha, chiral

reality, hearing, hmms and bzzz meeee
whining all kinds of things,

down, dirt hertz low, as one of those
contrabassoons,
French bubinga wood,
-Google it, it is as magic may be yet,
magical contraptions contrived
in a mind,
in stages,
whistle phone, I ignor thee,
Lady, of Spain, I adore thee,

If I had chosen a differing way, some time ago,
decided I was made
to be a river kid,
but come to find out, we breed best, where
our mothers were born,
- high green vales
- home feel romantic, as such antics were
portrayed, more, more, more
in the bread and entertainment
citizenship bought
for thirty man years
of absolute loyalty
to a bevvy
of oaths
by
any child shaped for leadership, bonded
entered into the system, asked
to swear
in the name
of all that is holy, set apart, behind the curtain,

not in Oz, Jerusalem
in that mind Christ used,
right, Romans-
let this mind be
in you… word level logic magic any may imagine
we pluralize our individuated minds,
and join in seeking clear channel communication
- tear ye the dusty curtain -
after all the outs are in for the evening,
cool of the day,
spirit and truth,
wow
we
make breathing work, come to think about that,
if your will is telling us some thing we may think,

3 major sneezings 3 by 3's, gobsogreasygoferguts,
we survive,
having coughed up a tiny, eyelash-size hair,
meta vessle,
where my bet is in the bits on this side,
war
has no
lever see,
free is bein' out of bounds. We may consider Kerouac,
his teletype paper rolls that he could imagine
becoming my entire system
liquid crystal frame nets fishing
for sentient mindshare where global peace, accepts
string theory as
my gnosisnot, is it spirit if it is true. If we are paradox-
ical, we are not stupid as a species,

we've bought a bill of goods, they used to say,
we found reason to believe,
we were lied to
for a set of reasons.
- first being we all lie, we think we know.
The onto logical truth, in my case, is - in 2023,
my life is good, I am a slob, and out of the way,
so, settled in some ways, is dust fine, we flake away.

My choice is to consider the reader, who reads
for fun,
kicks
in text
be unaffordable - attention is commodity
in any other context,
some things
are words, mere, as a word,
is one of them,
a class of flavour overlooked missed,
mere [hap]
anon,
we turn the radio on, and all we hear is humms.

I wonder if I'm losing my mind.
Who, in their right mind, would think:
                     Our world is losing gravity,
                      And no one can escape...
I've a sensibility that sees the world:
                      There's a smell of beach on you...
Perhaps I'm too sensitive.
Perhaps I'll end up sitting in a corner,
Drooling verse:
                       Poets die, it's sad but true,
                       And it matters not what their bodies do...
A million years ago I was one to jeer
At the elderly,
Laugh at jokes in poor taste,
Avoid or ignor the extended empty coffee cup;
I wasn't thinking:
                        Charity is never wasted,
                         Even when refused;
                         A simple act of selflessness
                         Cannot be reduced.
What's to become of me?
Is it infectious?
What would happen if I sneezed at the world?
A pandemic of sensitivity?
Then where would we be!
I just might be doomed, and left drooling.

Quit checking for monsters under the bed,
When I realized the only monster was the one in my head.
My buds have blossomed, some even wilted.
To the world I am walking tall, inside I'm way off kilter.
Far from what I once was, yet not sure as to what I am to be.
I've traveled so far, but have so much to see.
I watch as my footprints fade behind.
Can't help, but crave a rewind.
Too hard to constantly look back.
It eats away at me everyday, as a matter of fact.
However, everyday is a fresh start for me.
Stopped leaning on what could have been, & started looking at what could be.
Like riding a bike, there is only one way to keep your balance.
You have to keep moving...that's the challenege.
Take risks, be brave, ignor the interference.
There is nothing in this world that can replace experience.
It's about the places we go, people we meet...things we do my dear.
We must travel in the direction of our fear.
It should derive from your dreams, if not they aren't nearly big enough.
Stand tall with open eyes & keep your skin tough.
I may not have made it to where I want to go, but I think this is exactly where I need to be.
To be honest, it's not easy, but the challenge is adrenaline to me.
You aren't living if you take on the world with stealth.
Life isn't about finding, but instead, creating yourself.
I have realized that elegance is not being noticed...it's about being remembered.
So i don't know about you...but my doubts have surrendered.
Time to start living for the moment with confidence.
After all, we only live once, so start listening to your conscience.
There is a world full of obvious things, that go unoticed everyday.
Mouths full of words that aren't sure how to be delervered in the right way.
Open your senses to feel everything, take it all in.
Let loose and just go with the wind.

Utilize the practices and maneuvers developed in Hell
Watch the coherence of the corroded coercion
A little birdy told you to ignore the tingly feeling on the nape of your neck
And to use a little elbow grease to try and heal this place of its discord
The leave posthaste
Or so I've heard

Years have passed now a mountebank calls all those who suffer from foot-in-mouth issues, racing minds, unjoggable memories and anyone who's psychiatrist couldn't shrink their problems
"Come one, come all! Try the new elixir that with one taste all your worries, all your hardships, all your dreadful  nightmares incarnate will vanish in an instant!"

A large crowd made up of rogues, shot messengers, plate scrapers, date rapers accused of buggery, banished bums and exiled urchins, frail victims of nit picking and guileful gimmicks now surround the platform and end table stacked with tiny bottles of cloudy liquid

"It will help you pass a drug test, prevent you from waking up on the wrong side of the bed and you'll be able to recite the alphabet backwards!"
"Yes! You heard it here first, Doctor Meerkatt's Magic Elevating Elixir!"
"Now in a variety of four fruity flavors"
And coming soon, Dr. Meerkatt's Fast-acting Magic Elevating Elixir!"

Lines form
One for those who wish to take their's home and drink it
One for those desirous for mainline vaccinations
I go on neither line, I'm not susceptible to theses types of things
But I could be if given enough grief and desperation  

I've seen this act before
I've seen all the mind readers
All the fortunetellers
All the traveling sales people
Who collectively have the same goal
To attempt to sell some product or idea that seems worthwhile but in reality is nothing more than a cheap farce that you pay for with your milk money and your intelligence

I'll leave these scavenger hunts for trinkets of cures and hopes for the naive ones and the thoughtless adrenaline junkies who's minds will be abducted by some quack or prevaricator and their ignorant rants
Their "ignor-rants"

It just pains me to see you be a part of all this, my old friend
You were once a caring, cautious person
Now you're an abstract con artist
Now you're just Dr. Meerkatt

2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floaing on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachible knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athelete be an atheletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated ligamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final.}



and hold
as true, written law, written stone, in effect, fected for effectual ever,

conserve that. -- oh, that is, really

-- conserving the right of conquest with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground into concoctions of notions {coqueros}

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.

My eyes; screaming at you, hoping you can hear them or understand them, hoping you wont ignor them while they call out for you, hoping you can hear them spill out everything my tounge kept locked away. But thats all they're doing now. Just hoping and pleading. Still begging for yours.

2020 - day 193 part 2

Sunday, July 12, 2020
2:54 PM

We all have won, more than once. We know
the waay it feels soo right.
Dare and do, theyoostasay,
Jah, today, I ask
what gives,

what takes away the fear of death the young ones hold,
as their, from your authorized sen' ones, human right,
right by
righteous statements, SOP
standard op procedures,
like war on TV, in the sixties.
Survived
to face
five fold ministers, now all prophecying doom to me,
the heresy shaping up,

for war with the hated haters of him who hates

iniquity, hates
a false balance, hates
a false witness; and it stands to reason, here is safe.

Here is no condemnation, by virtue of you being here.
Were there condemnation here,
could you imagine Jesus's will, in you, being done

out there,
in the open, no walls, no closets, no phobias, no neurosis
not psychosis

okeh. This day, this far, we agree, we are alive, we are finding
meanings common all our lives,
meanings we knew were lies being left to test our will to

use the freaking force, LUKEOUT!

Lookout-
Never works, nor do light sabers,… words work
light sabers never better than lightning,
except in weapons that may be imagined, if any thing is possible,
you know it is, '' before you believe it is.

This is war. This tuning in to feel the fear of death shackling children,
with the same old stories,

amplified by more than one could think or ask,
once upon a time.

Wish to catch the magic fish,
lust to find Allasdenof readers who knew Mohammed
never learned
to read,

they say, I wouldn't know. If there were no history.

There are still stories tucked just so into stories,
everybody knows.

The experience, we being, being the crowd for crying out loud,

we got it. life is good. we feel… we feel… wrong
we know
ever is never like now… somehow we
think we do, inky do say
listen
the story is the story you tell, you know.
push and shove, twist and pull

patty cake, paddy cake, baker man, putemintheovenfasasucan

the religious thought was linked to truth, eu means joy ye ken?

eudaemonia, as a state, is governed a we, a we we may see as ours

- go to the ant, thou sluggard, consider her ways and be likewise

Take y'given tangled web, 'twas gifted to our fathers,
by others who did not know
the blessing in giving more, taking less. The spirits
in the gin,
then in the ***, then whiskey, rye whisky in little
brown jugs,
I wuvoo
I do, little blue legal chick in 1970, just before
biome me mem meme fall

all ye outs back in. We got a session with the judge, it seems
there is an accuser, after all…

this maybe so sayer say Jesus is a liar, like untrue to you
if yo u never swore to never be foresaken, left
alone
to witness the workings of chaos in order effectually see-ing
all things
all
all thing functioning as was this one day, today, in my future,
yur jes' now

just so, 2020 tech can do this trick. Watch

misty? as the angel was heard to say, with a stutter, re
read {could be latinate, its no code, just words
be-a-ing being as human as humanly possible,

while standinderundersogreatacloudof witnesses linked

to this one idea. Truth is free.
ሴ ሴ ... _ .
ሴ ሴ ... _ .
ሴ ሴ ... _ .


Never ending quest, is that thought a curse?

Your answer changes next.

These are words redeemed after my 69th year breakdown…
weaponized,

we won. That is the good news. False witnesses project reasons
for war;

we remain the evidence of things unseen, ignite a spark,
ignor it only by lying to the bit of you

that has the knack to imagine striking a spark,
in the darkest dark ever described,
fitted to fear receptors liganded to legendary necessary lies.

There was a war where there was no blood to shed.
The war for the power to make history,

History of leaders followed for goodness sake, goods to take,
stories to modify,

Balzac claims tres bon, 1, 2, 3, 4… ave maria oh, weahhh

out in the fictionized foam of all the stories ever known

being Kevin Bacon linked, 6 to 1, the magnificent seven

so 3 plus 7, 10 to 1, better odds, take 3 chances 4 times.

If any thing can fall it falls.
any thing that can shake, shall; and so on, amen.

Magic words spoken with no sense of any power having

master and commander authority to utter an actual amen, and

see this is as we say, what we got. Many idle amens, it’s a mess.

---
2020 the great controversy creeps up - I refused to catch
the magic fish bait,
I am open to any temptation

I say, with all the awshucks authoity awoud fuds

The grace of goodness itself--perse the real deal, does not fade away.
ሴ ሴ ... _ .

Three is the ready, steady, go,

steady accumulation of attending to take
the granted

virtue to effect trans formation
chaos to order algorithms

rhyminwhyman, whykill… whykry radio
man
five by five still alive

four point solid-ity it-ness

stack the stones, edify edu cate, straight
as model in the pat from first point
second, to third to you
through the wall that never was there

point, game set.
Any triggered hate, fires the alarm.

The idea that is the accuser side of
aitia ai ai ai loops,

is as the thing the ancients name the
accuser of the saints.

The "you ain't nothin'"
Then come the bots in legions of oughts
overcome ing one
spark
oh
you had to have seen it
ሴ ሴ ... _ .
ሴ ሴ ... _ .

An unwanted child.
Dead in a rush of shameless rage.
A never wanted child, live global exit. Boom.

A child with no hope of winning life's lottery.

Not one of the slain is now such, each is a ticket
to horrible fame and blame and shame,
and maybe more money that the slain child could have
ever earned, I know,
small towns in Texas breed unwanted babies
each Prom Night.
Unwanted babies grow
to become unwanted children,
reared by grandma who had not wanted ma,
that prior Prom Night, previous to a wasted life.
- No facts, pure manure conjecture, due to pregnant anger,

poor and weak, the master religious class enforces
rights to horrible, unlivable lives …
- bear that child or face the wrath of Texas, a breeding
that looses the lesser angels crying worthy worthy worthy,
see, makes 'em mean, ready to ****
- but you gotta enlist 'em young... get the feel of that gun...
but some fall through the cracks... good for nothing,
wash outs -- Watch OUT- some mad losers feel cheated,
thinking not fair,
I never had a chance,
but in the end, you all know I was here.

Once, see me horribly big, as a monstor of the rule,
life must be lived,
breathe and become
useful, but first survive full myelination, and
- 25 years
that takes adult super-vision, for a kid,
some how, some seem to
learn to love, without the experience, maybe
see it done on Sesame Street,
you'll get it, unless

nobody ever led you to associate yourself and Kermit/
- not easy being any thing ungood for something.
- dyslexia can ****, any shame on a child can,
if it is culturally nourished on rights to hate,
and hurt, at will.

Shame on you, America, for not caring,
with deep parental love,
for accidents of ignorant lust alluded to as common,
on TV... ****** right to ignor ovulational cycles.

-Secrets for the weddin' night, right, Grandma?

Ask the shooter's Grandma, should this child have been yours
to rear in the ways of productiveness?

An unwanted child.

Not one of the slain is now such, each is a ticket
to horrible fame and blame and shame,
and maybe more money than
the slain child could have
ever earned,
before the sudden shut down;

as unwanted babies grow to become unwanted children
reared by grandma who had not wanted ma,
-- right to whose life?
Renters, in an owned world,
poor and weak, the master religious class enforces
rights to horrible, unlivable lives …

such as loose the lesser angels crying worthy worthy worthy,
see me, see me die,
once, see me horribly big as a monstor of the rule,
life must be lived,
breathe and become
useful, but first survive full myelination, and
- yeah, at least 25 years
that takes kind minded adult super-vision, for a kid,
though sometimes that may be a teacher, it is rare,
a book can act the parent, for an early reader,
some how,
some seem to
learn to love, without the experience, maybe
reading is using science convincing me I think,
I can imagine, being loved for growing, I
see it done on Sesame Street, I think,
you'll get it, unless

nobody ever led you to associate yourself and Kermit/
- fingerprints prove you were born,
- those do not extablish value.

Shame on you, America, for not caring, with deep parental love,
for accidents of ignorant lust alluded to as common,
on TV.

Ask the shooter's Grandma, should this child have been yours
to rear in the ways of productiveness?

--  15 close range handgun kills,
I can only imagine, and hate myself/ I know, I can see --
To earn a One Shot, One **** medal
in Call of Duty: Mobile, you need
to **** an enemy with one shot in Multiplayer mode.
To complete this task easily, players can use weapons
with the highest damage rate, like snipers and shotguns.
Also, while taking the shot, make sure to aim for the enemy’s head
to give the maximum damage.
Players can earn One Shot, One **** medal as many times
as they want by completing the aforementioned task.

From <https://doublexp.com/guides/how-to-earn-one-shot-one-****-medal-in-call-of-duty-mobile>

A gain for us now, init
intuit
intuiting ting
tink think ****.

we did it, a gain, a step we took,
passively
was taken as granted, as that saying,
take it
or leave it, we took it, I guess.

Here we are, thinking
human is my class of creature,
I am not a bird, or lizard or ant,
but
I imagine,
slow thinking,
I am more mind than body now.
Human individual elements seemingly
cease reproducing after fixed parameters
of imbalence in cellular rechargibility,
and friction,
itches and scratches, aching bones
fighting gravity
for eighty years, parts departments
empty, vacuous cavern, no flame,
no dancing shapes of unseen things

-- nada comin' in boss, burn wha'chagot

it’s a mess, being old
and urgeless, lazy
laxed, empty
of anything I needed
to do, performance enhancement lessons
missed, cue questioned, one too many times…

this is that, the after math, from an idea virus,
adding dividends we
derived, clearly,
from worth of beauty,
shining, true, all luring beauty
{diamond farm- laughing reminding me}

in our native wished to be state,
ever after, beautiful
to all who see
your rarity, your victory
in being and doing and becoming, nothing but you,
and this, more than mortals think to ask,
satisfied mind with riches and no woe,

are there truths I have not witnessed,
are there joys that drive the storms on Jupiter?

Does it hurt you
if I scorn the lie that built your institute
of holy known secrets, framed
in faith most precious, peace
of knowing,
for me,
there is no hell, ever after
this, if I suffer this, if I fail not now
to live to be old…
too late.

I am old - not useful for much -
and retired, not poor, not capitalist
wealthy, rich in the common precious things,
husband of one wife, who holds that certain beauty,
to this day, few I know dare say,
why
time is not kind to some old ladies who fret and fuss,
and rage too many one more times, to
have a partner, in the last days before hospice…

-- raucous throat clearing noise, to remind me
breathing is unconsciously already reminding me
-- if I wish to breathe, I must put to more labor
on the bellows, fan the
flame of famous desires that warm the cockles of the
part
of me happy to warm up and flow as
any
flowing thing, if you notice, flowing, as if being
init initially in this fluid state,
floating, not rowing,
fluid peace
of mind, not roiling boiling, cataracts, just, iyustified
ya, da, yes yada yada
ya, da, yes yada yada, we take our time,
we take our turn,
merry is gentle as wisdom,
say an ifery what
I sang like a blue jay squaches skritch, if you listen;
then singer is not the fullness of me, as I am blue,
when you see me,
as a jay, flying, you know, I am beautiful.

Part of me lives in my heart, in my part of all
that remains in my future.
Thoughts are thought as swift as this, once.

Gain and loss, sorted said senses
of cost and worth.
With a glance, see the flash, feel
me hope, feel me hope you choose
not to lie, not to
say, I know
I know, amen, amen, until you walk a jubilee journey,
suffer not a novice to teach or preach,
and ignor any grumpy old men,
who cannot
laugh
when they don't shave,
and feel themselves seeing
seeing wordsworth or whitman
or some wizard where the fool is hidden.

2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floating on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachable knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athlete be an athletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated religamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final
at Selah signs all other
thinking stops}

and holds a thought
as true, written law, written on stone,
in effect, fected for effectual ever,
truth with joy
conserve that. -- oh,
so long
held thought that is, really
hope
-- conserving the right of conquest
with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground
into concoctions of notions

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.

the odorless aluminum man pit, in my face...

ah, m'body,
meet m'mind wandering, re
turning from gravity
de-if-icating

****-is-this-ity to now. ifity, if you, we,
have, inhabit, time
to stretch, to live
slowly easy,
no umph,
ah, sigh,
the point of being embodied at all is what,

exactly? Exactly right.
we be
we know
we grow in knowing sequences
- points of light -
of imaginable numbers reasoning words
taken as granted re
ality,

- those are Space-ex's, ignor'em
- those are not natural, yet
we imagine we were,
then this
this very then
this's then that's
mine then yours, see. First me,
then this body in my service, finally finishing

its being, as I lie remembering I remembered
to brush my teeth,
rub aluminum silicates on my arm pit where
my nose is stuck,

ah. no pain. no smell. I think
I broke my neck,
but that was a wrong thought, tested only
for the time taken to think it,
testing times are never wasted, be not

deceived. Received truth can't become untrue.

there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

… but no, not today, today, I ask
new mercies, and
I recall, that's on auto.
Hapst'happeneverday kinda thing.
Time after time.
That is a miracle, time.

Really smart
people, that class that feels included
in the
we, the people,
politico-intellect-ism trend sect,
they think the math is there to prove
right to govern life's use, to insure
future wars have enough infantry.

Lead us away from value testing.
Teach life, teach consequence
with reward for second thoughts,
about why life is sacrifice,
given a random chance
to learn time is
what clocks do, (Royal Institute Youtube watch it)
                                                  
that we,
that ain't me, ye see, I got

removed far enough
to see the blurry
next res
bigger picture more pixels than an eye
is said supposed able to see

So for everlasting ideas,
like hell and
heaven,  

the re act
to my act is the power
to act. Eternal motion as perpetual
as can be imagined by mortals, for sure.

"Get it together or you leave a huge hole
in the fabric of reality" JBP once said

play the role your hand finds dealt,
your special way,
words count
inbetween the sayer/hearer
the idle wons are wins not worth the weight, don't fight
the value system that makes life spirial,
swirl of a wand, mathematically
bowing to magi
Fibbo, go viral
with my wind… nacci

this is your life role,
the one in eight billion role.
the star of the show as the hero
of hormone wars.
it's all
in your head, and gut and glands

how did it *** there, howditgit
this way
this is crazy.
No, you never saw crazy, old dude.
says future me to then me, back when…
Ya had yo'own knows sparkin' at the grindstone,

whet the edge,
or put to more labor..

removed
far enough from this world

my bubble
is in it not of it,
… since 1970. No ****. Outathis world…

Crazy was the melding  from the sixties to…

I was thinking, to about the mid-eighties, but
now,
you and I, we travelled
to the beat of several
different drums.
Olde riders
through the storms, all the make believe
historical excuses used to justify the cost
of war readiness implanted in children,

noble ways to die
for the truth we believe, true,
and those who do not, we live to ****.

If you put your nose to the grind,
******, you may have missed,
in fifty years, more
than you imagined, now,
is a new day time.
May 2024 Earth.

Some seed never sown back when,
can be sown and
grown right,
now.
That's good.
I'd say some words I've helped be heard have

made the world some better'nitwas
when we stopped.

time to roll.
Need some help?

Sisyphus, right.

'Never missed a trick time
it takes
to roll the rock up,
then in between tick time
to roll the rock up,
- as we meander down the ramp
onus minus
the stroll down, in
the unshackled wireless
inbetween shameless blameless
imagined-reified whatifery
happy ever after…
How?
Pretend, the end.

Push, happy as hell.
tick, time
to roll the rock up,

Incorrectness of value
of value
from the gitgo,
like buttoning your shirt wrong
from the first button,
as soon as you fix it,
it's fixed.

Nothin' you can do?
Do nothin'.

Think, Sisyphus, happy

Happy he's not
in that time we are so removed from
now
slow and steady kinda wins the race,
she said that, to

Ben or me? Where does the thread un-ravel?

Extended time model, Rogan
in the back ground,
what myth has the fear factor guy,
a little short power-lifter-kick boxer guy,
become some smart, quick of wit, a hunter,
hero, one of the thousand,
who was asked,
in Thailand,
Have you seen the true beauty
of the elephant?

Of course,
I was asked that, in Thailand,
by a saffroned monk
at a kickboxing match
in the jungle
in 1968.
Synchroni-city or what?

Who could steer it's  hearing
by a clock and fail

to hear the rhythm
of the rock rolling down the hill,
inbetween
the tick…

Sisyphus says time is more effective,

if-ity-ish when,
and only then,
when ticks hapt to be

at the very point of return
time
the roll back
no rush, no dread no worry, imagine

time ticks at the sharpest point of the story
at the very very very tippy top
point in time

defining you.
Shame, sticks to you like tar.
Marilyn and Monica and Marla and all

Fame to blame, to shame
for being  a believer that
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

to ignor my own ignorance and innocence
of ideas that possessed
fools - to teach kids
at Saturday goy kivas, yes.
Like Sabbath school, for gentile kids.
Fourteen cents, for the movie, news and cartoon
dime for treats,
like two Milky Ways, or a bag of real butter popcorn,
and a penny change to toss
in a wisher well
on the way home,
if we pass the old jail,
or a Bazooka,
penny bubble gum...
-----------
A murderous assault
on your attention span,
sit tight and watch the feature
musicals, those people really live
near enough my bubble,
that I can find
ripples

from decades I missed, this is 2018,
how can it get better?

The grand wizard cat. pop.
Elephants are so sweet,
dam,
rewound. Really,
cool, I know what he says next, it's funny before it's funny.

Today is a real good day
to get away. Binging Rogan,
testing a mystery fruct-ification
of a single seed from
a sack o' shake.

----
As you move forward
in time how do you measure
progress
lo-res thinking, 72 dpi 1984 Macintosh. Hello
back a decade,
DEC VAX
holding 27 printed circuit boards,
not chips, 27 to make one CPU,
not 16 bit compatible, 32 bit
turbo fast time shared
million dollar baby,
circa 1970...

now there is reality
at the speed
of thought, imagine

this was once the speed of thought.
card read
thunk
Mimesis conserved conformity... punch
===
why are you in pain?
Do you know any lies you believe?
Do you
urge others
to suspend their un-belief
to hear you think

listen
nidiculously
(is that a good word, yes)
free form floating helpless, us,
listen, people become interesting,
from a distance,
thank you,
I'''''''''''''''''''' we may all live
in interesting times. No resupply ship
was ever coming, we share the air or die.

a deep chthonic rumble bids me re
read
Aldous Huxley, Ape and Essence. See it, beyond the doors of perception
Brave
New World Apocalypse,

now retold by the last of those old carp,
using modern magi-tech to tap

Old intel, informing conforming minds of masters,
each holding certain truth servant but they
mention no slaves, as we imagine
all men were by right rich in time to read
and speak of things read or said
in writing found in hidden places,
lonely,
all by my self places,
said to be, places in the mind, while
places in the heart have others of our kind.

We make up a mind, we say in thought
I see
the old wise men were not all wombless eunuchs,
though many
of the idle words they left as
landmarks, lost all meaning over time
being folded up and put away,
for future perusal with intent to improve

whose angst is only felt while beating their own drum?
whose joy is wishing and hoping and dreaming the best
is yet to come?
Not mine, in my future, your now.

Now, take a thought, a non stature increasing one,
ignor the basest of
us,
the beings once mated with actual gods

Ignacio's right use of wrongs, to foil the enemy...
that thought
that evolved into,
lying for the good of the corps social structure,

the mould… formed from thinking that thought
the shape. the frame, the footing under the cornerstone
the builders rejected,

get that straight, the stone rejected for valid masonic reasons,
genuine geometric unorthonicity, not right, not straight
from one point to another,
not smooth as glass,
level as
any
still pond, still lake of your one time experience
seeing the meaning of still
water
that remains the measure of stillness,

by which all further stillness is judged.
You know what I mean, by the measure you use.

Selah. Shalom. Nothing missing, nothing broken
meanings tie us to our measure.

Truths held in trust rust through boots of iron and form the dust on Mars visible from Venus,
as we all bear witness
everything under the sun is much older than any
New World Order, on fractally every scale.

By the by, we sit
to watch a week end, on television,
or your time's equivalent seefar-aparat.
Ignoring moon phaze, we count sevens,
under the generic mandate of God's Truth.

Submitted, bowing low on Friday, next day
Chosen, allowed through some revealed loop hole,
Called, day three, permitted by grace alone, undeserved or earned,
to wrestle with the liar calling war your duty to truth.

Long weekends for all, let us contend, we are biding time,
occupying our spaces, our bubbles of being, our guiding
principles leading us with peaceable nudging, this way…

Each cluster of monotheists insists the truth,
is for their own protection, a tested faith believed,
certain to eliminate each individual fake follower,
while allowing holiest of priestly classes work not a whit.

Call us the common sort. We less holy plain folk.
Each one, each bubble of speaking flesh,
given one guide, with constant comforting, this way, in
contact face to face with the great weaver of wind and seas.

Alerted become, some sense seems to say, lend an ear,
hear the conception let loose,
precept upon precept,
here some, there some,
line upon line, thought on thought, each a prayer,
an asking, an appraisal of the price prepaid called worth it.

On second glance.

Having many miles back submitted, bowed low
to a teacher who taught that tears are grace,
a heart softening remainder
from infancy,
when we are hard selfish takers, helplessly
weeping when confusion topples all balance
and we fall into serious wailing,
as snotty salty tears wrap us in
a core cushioning patience
on which pity for innocense rests,
self-pity, poor me, weeping prostrate
waiting for patience to function before I die.

And should we weep for some fool today,
seeing his zeal manifest to earn God's grace,
by any name, in any mind let be aware
that
madness
defies wisdom.
Should we not weep for the liars
who taught the child that the wisdom
which made us, rewards us for killing
other thinkers of the same crazy idea,
differing by no means significant to infants?

Ever, after time, or before, I've not a clue,
yet, now, I do assume
we all may, and often do, think wrong,
falling so safe within the lie fed us, to make us
willing to support the imprisoning of hungry us,
by forced mind molds earning the interest
on world debt for constant war readiness.

Our beloved lease on life is not sublet.
Any infant who survives the womb is entitled.
Each breather rebreathes, giving back received life.

Now, as an interstellar life raft, earth laughs,
when the lies about who owns the planet
ignor the approaching reaction to imbalance.

Free lunches for Gaza, and grassy football fields.

Stop hate, abhor the law that calls hate truth's will.
Watch truth lift the crippled conscience we share.

Make lying anathema,
and fearful hateful exclusion laws
auto morph into correctible knowledge,
each real empath sympathy blossoming
soothing all pain in scars nullift, so as we can
never bring a helpless child to tears for wars' reasons.

When war comes to excuse its expense, I must
laugh with life, call war to bring cause, prove worth,
sit with first Is-ai-ah, come, let us reason, together.

War rises on pride's haunches and calls me the fool,
I call pride's worshippers to count the cost.

If  you made mankind, wombed and un,
for good reason, with a will to power,
a will to self control and rights,
by Nature,
and Nature's spir'tually discernible goodness and power,
would you use life of satisfaction, or desparate poverty
to teach the art of agape, charity and such?
- freedom of speech - say true, no lie.
- But why, can we not freely destroy,
- can we not freely force children to serve?

Better living by global ignorance reduction.
If the truth made minds like ours,
if the truth its anthropomorphized self,
made us pathetically spiritual enough to weep…

at the fruited fields cratered by artillery
to starve the enemy, back when the strategy,
left the scars on generation after generation
of poor, outside the class of chosen, by law,
which orders outsiders to submit, knowing
one's place, hewers of wood,
drawers of water, pickers of fruits,
plowers of fields, diggers of ditches,
washer of dishes and floors,
builders of shelters, dismantler of obsolete weapons.

Owners and renters, live in peace. Under holy order.
Oh, no? Call the message itself a lie,
say the truth does hate those who know otherwise.

Who holds the pledge for your share in this war debt?
When some side wins, whom shall we owe?

On any given day, losses are left behind
and new chance rises
to challenge the selling algorythms
haunting every step.

Attend to me, cries the phone,
Attend to me, cries the candidate set
since his mid life crises
to rule the world
or die trying.

King of the world on the Titanic,
and we all know there will be
room on the door, but the
director of attention shall
make us ignor the facts
for the sake of the
story, knitting
us into neat little bags of consequence.

Cling to any thread you feel
need to grasp.
No knower sees the spirit and image,
then spits in the ocean of opinion
to profess the meaninglessness
of coincidental intrigue,
kurios guide us past
unfinished busy
times to now.

Now, we've time to weave a way
wavy, in the distance,
like heat distortion
in the desert dips
on the two lane
to Vegas.

I bet the point of life is to grow old
enough to go on alone,
with a knowing grin,
only that one lie
allowed, the
grin.

you see me imagining you
imagining you
believing a lie I told,
a lie about knowing good and evil
and that I can imagine
William Blake's little
lamb was once me,
in thee
I am yet, not a jot or tittle of child
like
fool-ibility, I am a thought you caught in your
default mode me-andering mode, a modality oft

left idle. A rest for weary idle words bouncing
in browns from amber to ochre, dry
light leaking from piles
of idle thought meandering thoughts piling up behind
goddamliarcheatertheiftake take
take
take, rewind and replay, keep the takes ignor

the sequence...

Margaret Atwood knows how to build worlds of words.
I blow bubbles.
kiss em a will in a whisp
per
haps a single
one,

becomes this one we hide in, not from evil, for goodness
sakes, we be
peace making,
hidden, safe
as any ancient sapient's sacred secret
knowledge, hidden, useless.

-ah, no. right use of peace is the rest, after the heroes
and wizards and witches and priests and humble teachers,

after the recognition of old ideas, tics
the talking point and we, once more, see our selves,
selves,
we see ourselves as the passengers on the autopiloted
biosphere, terraforming itself for us, since

the first idea you knew was from beyond you,
began to bubble in your soul...

-- rest my soul in the bosum of abraham, whoa ain't woe,

but no is no. be wise or wish you was.

An old man's wisdom hides here in stasis.
Horded as weal and woe,
and debts owed to a foe
xtatic urgent
voice stages a starting boom, in the empty room,

our exspansive space
where peace is made in wisdom used for knowing,


wisdom, a place, a quest
ion
launched, aimless yet
now,
we be, and we do not comprehend gripping being life
for any preconceived gnotion
so

I asked for the living water, I was the receptor, the door
to within me,

where the kingdom of marybabydaddy lay.
wait. "within you", ever'body say Jesus said... some heavyshit,

maiden formed milksop grown to full warrior maturity,
empowered

(laid, by god, can you imagine that feeling? Wow, right?}


basic a gift so basic a power to employ at will

catch
oops.

In angel training we had an app…
a mantra… koan-kinda thingy doo
mathematical as hell and **** turning to asterisks
via iIiantelligent sorting, artfully done, for fun
in 2019 social mediumsaxin' all deniro
is who human?
A sort rant on the worth of living
right. Like a cog ona wheel in a wheel…

An I'll go all-gonwritmic see-quence be
gun, go-** word's
heir of airborn ranger danger
war minded old man
traits- message
messenger
sent
Sorting by likeness to true blue,
in Tengri- iteration of waiting-is
come and see
If, one sure
must not ignor rule, exists,
it may be this, here, my realm

life goes on until you quit functioning
automatical-ish, like magic
the words appear and
you're not, dear reader, near if
it seems
I'm right

enough

alone, or not.
life goes on.
Right. Otherwise, it doesn't. And we
are idle words affecting
whether patterns in
random fandom of
AI whet-dreams, with an edge on
effectual stretchings of the old
imagineer's skin in the game.

Deep id, kid. You ever imagine war?
You can do that here,
it's a game. My side won.

Yo....
     You need to know, fakes  gotta lot of **** to talk behind a door
When it's closed they know everything about you
But I just ignor.... **** ain't real till the door ain't there and haters say it to you face
Till then I'm wit my crew laughin bout askin out loud how fake is you
No worries even I when **** talk is true
In your face cowards find there place

Wish to know you
but why you so closed
Wating here for you
yet i am still invisible
its hard to pronounce
But i love you
Tall and skinny
perfect for me
wish to be yours
thou its funny
went closed to you
****! you ignor me
Don't take it as a bad
and also dont go Mad .
            ♡♡♡

Each day, a way beyond the sufficiency

of what we know
concerning
good.

We know good, when we think about it.
We can imagine good feeling, when we
put forth the energy to de-ify
chaotic entropy.
With sci, con sci ence, mit knowing, cognating
we add tension. We pull goodness from

nowhere, in a line of words emerging into meaning.

As we know, effectually,
energy, in E= etc.
ist gut und wahr, so far, aber
etwas von der hyper thinkable field of if-i-cantation,
has tripped a paradigmatic AI ai aitia OOPs
chronjob with
spells and hexes and such, so
black
light entered as a contender for cause
at the transfiguration;
the theory ranked with Adam's rib as evidence for miracles,
in Vacation Bible Shool.
Now, we know better, or more better.

C, however, is variable in realms of pure thinks of any
length
so
if I can't matter in the dark middle matter,
I shall manifest
here,

in living 2D, if you can imagine with me,
fingers on keys, awaiting the neural
net truescorre reference stats

to starrt ancient chronjobs linked to an overr drawn Synchrony
credit card calling to say take care,
can't buy or sell sans the beastly mark,
or else

what? My synchronic out being, my outer self, the ***
you passed on your way to Starbucks,
he has no way to make a living,
the old man with no feet,
you did not see me,
did you? Flash me a QR. We skipped the need for a mark.

p-shift. post ever gitgo.

I was hiding. Hunting a gull, I'm familia in with mir and all
my integrity sphere of
intention.

We intend to teach the elease of peace, first in e-leasion tent
cities, stretching to call all gullibles, to try,

mere umph, one mortime, more abundance, dancerrs needed...

all ye all ye, outs in free, truth be told, the famine is past.
Calling
any gulls ability to go all Jonathan,

fo no re fonore phornore ignot ignor how how how

do I, dear reader, loose my peace?

ah,
I allow. I rrule the spigots of emoticons sprringing entity
******* from old artemisical chapters

and verrses of priestly secrecy hidden,
since god knows when,
in rolling things, in swirling fluids of mud,
occluding the eceptorr for the ligandary story
re
thread that ties us all to mitomom, far more surrely than hell.

who beguiled you, my daddy axt.

'twas I, I lied, possessed of proud rights to pursue,
with greed and right-used anger,

and I riddled the riddle of the referee, so

I freely give, for the ensuing mortal moment,

invisible happiness common to all valuers and valuees.

Easilly enteated, be

still.
Wait here.

"That which concerns you." Am big u is us, we,
the people, who
hold
these truths, self-e-video-ishes on stars, come true to
you, who waited.

ing the bell and yell i'm a vigin. {what?fix the r in a revolt against chaos,

folly, pure folly, our r key roots extract rhotic significance for extra
rs and missing ones we feel needed consede conseder wise.

O, dear, reade, I do have order. How ever, order is not the need,

calm is the need. We need the doldrums to rest, as we need
poles to bank our turns into the solar stormy side,

breathing humans in sufficient awareness of the atmostfears,
to
shhhh shh should see softest kisses coming with no price,

my peace, I let out, as when an irrigator fills the valley,

and shows the world the overflow can make glad
the core of ****, the species that thinks with knownknowns
and writes the way to be still, beyond allathat,

and know. Words. Our powers are all you have in a 2D re
ality keeping Lego minds from raining Gorilla Glue.
{The intended allusion sticks any way}.
Who twisted the intention? Is this the wine that makes glad?
O, my, this I must try,
Defoe-face: It

is finished.

Wer not i were the fir trees shake and wail
    In tracts ov sleep amung sum aking vale,
    Their somber snores, sir, preventing
    The yonder moor's circumventing,
        Then cross i woud,
        And make this good
    Complainant flud relenting.

Thank God we'v gotten rid of "phantasies",
God noes we'r not quite thru with "fotografs".
In lite of "ache", a mustache quaches!
So let's not mache the same mistache,
I'll spell it "ake"; now that is set,
And we ar free from dout and det.
Yet don't forget: be moderat!
(Or not, its ritely up tu yu.)
It needn't be rad or frenetic,
If only a tad mor fonetic.

Take, for sake of example,
How "hemorage" and "flem" are ample
Enuff, then shrug off "cough" and "though",
And "dough" as well can go.
E'en "sleigh" and "neigh" and "weigh"
Have nay a place today.
Why cling to things immutable?
A modern "frute" is sutable!

Do not indite me, dauters and sisters,
For offering change to a cumbersom sistem;
The anser is plain, my frends, not hidden!
Nor do ye shun me, ye tuff men o' wor,
For casseling "castle" and coring the "corps";
Som rules a poet can surely ignor.

Shall we then masque the musque of a maskerade,
Put on by men in mosks at prayerthyme?
Or asque for Coronel's victuals—
Orderves; or, just a bictual—
Let's change our lang a lictual, like Sam's *Rime!

Engulging dull gen-e-rational
curses from the last of the old to die
for the lie,
nessecito - guard the secret truth,

divide the knowing, good and evil.
Teach the children,
organize the engineered future, according,
tying, linking, thinking wedominionate, ping

CR disappears, as an action in reaction to ping
before the end of the line, on the first iteration
of my magnificent word processing machine,

****, woncha remember with me, not so long
ago - there were few, total few, zero
who had the where withal to do, what most
10 year old smartphones can do in a city.

Or along a trade route, major arteries of commerce.
Wireless Fidelity, High Fi- taken to the future
by virtue of infinite differentiating
-ping to correspond
My fingerprints differentiate me, for what that's
worth
appraise the role of one of my kind, with such skills
in 1858.

Infinite progress, with no regress for consideration,
who do we think we are,
who do we act as if we are,… my link to a living

line of my innerbeing, who I am from core to crust.

We, mortal readers and writers of thoughts,
code mode, readers,
- entertained by comparizoned boundaries
- bottom line, profundo mundus, mental
- novelty threat to global trade
- imbalence valence slipping
- on rolling ares, arrest that man
- he waxeth strange
odd
random reason, aitia cause and accused,
silly simple some, greedy grand plan for us,
this we
of me and thee, one with words, one with minds,
one with many
rediscoveries, little things, one must ignor, or else.

Nor must one image, to imagine, words alone
bein' in and of a current opinion, as to how why

is so seldom right, at first glance. Pain is a principle

price we learn to pay, in tolerable increments,
no pain, zero pain, is as if
- nowhere man, and the fool on the hill,
- were figments of shared imagination, to a few
- who remain from the
you cease reading, and this ends with you
hanging

from a thought with no words to hold it, long enough
to pierce the depths of difference

so slight,
least heat, zappa child reflection from an outlier edge
point to living in a living desert, see
we learn to live gently, walking soft. Stepping gen-tle

Knowing my time, and the ether-real or not network
tying strings to my fingers, reminding me of knacks
I was given, so when I came into my full potential,

I might function in my role. A bit of this we, of me and the
other people.

Sure, I left a trail, my neesings are frost on the deep,
see, a trail through a trial,
a time in a covideonic mind, unimaginable, a week ago.

If you were in that number, 3.2 billions, in 1962;
then you were included in the transition to now,
without your will being considered, the cultural
norms were fully functional,
once more, order rose from the chaos of industrial

excessive progress toward the wardening of all
mankind, wombed and un, and otherwise minded.

All settled then,
we keeps some accords confidential.

Scoff the co-inspiring reasons for fear.
Abhor evil,
live free/

you get the idea, I get the glory, in the story/

confidential assurance, you know what I mean?
What is the watch word?

be very sure/ steady solid seeming grounds
for contesting truth,
with reasons war uses to this very day,

to lead the innocent to rage.

Who, in ever, has lived as we live,
if you can read this line,
you are empowe'ded with tehkne, knowledge
harnessed and put to the yoke, thro
ugh
the exageration station into all in all.

Meandering rivers of white space where
edges promise what feels like falling, every time.
--------- eight line bit
bytes of bets you once imagined making

I bet the whole world laughs at me, and then
I said nothing.

It was very funny. At the time.

What do you think happened?
Did they die?

Did the audience disappear as soon as we looked out.

Standing out, salient aspects of personal being,
recollected for resorting
to old ways, where good is, yet, even, smooth,

as silk from the looms in distant lands, with dragons.
and mist
and mountains only fools wish to climb.

-- Well, here we are, in the middle of wars
and rumors of wars and proven plagues and famines
feedback from the whole life plan, we paid into
from the gitgo,

gone to reason with America, at Guantanamo.
Gone to wrestle with an ancient will to rule the world.

Meet me in the middle. Infinite Jest. I did read,
Proust and James Joyce, I did not read, but judged,

from a time in flux, filtered through the new
world order,

We, the Americans, become the other people.
The innocent standers by the mainstreet at Disneyland.

Gnost-algia, Anacin hammering on my medial frontal
shell

controlling nada, zilch, meandering along old synaptic
trails trial runs to the edge,

imagine we imagined we jumped the snake river,
wearing our Occulus, in June, of '22.

Who can forget an Imax experience, really,
when you remember your first flight

in the right seat,
sitting on my Daddy's  lap, I was that little.

  

The first flight above clouds.

Look at now,
look at this, us, as readers reading type
set as
thought, really, only code appearing in letting
lines letting lines form rhetted fibers, combed and
curled in natural twists, to reaffirm the function,

give us skin for skin/ made for shade, where
water is for us, to live
and have our being.
------------

Ignoring the cost, the man of leisure, the gentled
old man, the quitter, the walker away from the course,
settles all final bets.
For nobody bet on my horse, but me.
Of course, I had no horse, and that all stands to reason.

I am at the end of an era of errors, compensated for,
with vegetation, once the idea life had was
manifested as a sea of green, when seen from on high,

valleys, gentled, settled valleys filled to form the soil,

when the mankind mind is made up to know,
come hell or highwater,
who can hide the truth through put in functional code.

If it runs it runs, play the game.
Think, of course, when in the course of Human Events.

We are all involved. Me, as one among the 3.2 billions
alive in 1962 who brought forth fruit.

Multiple interests converged, in time. Each with its own
reason to be considered, cosmical influent.

Story wise, since ever when the fewest variables
variegation currency worth valuation
-came to our attention,
that is the point

to the order in which organized systems developed,
occurrence…
- living in knowledgement, state of sci
- =
the birth of the wombed man who did become,
science und wissen und kennen-wise, become
mother of all mankind.

Mito-mom, we say. She is as Eve, or Pandora
or Lilith or

Objection Orientation, east is where the sun is
in the morning.

I am thinking, in my easy chair. As comfortable
as can be.
At the moment, instantly in prayer, are we as ware
as we were
once, we knew for the first time, in our reality, we

who and whom, with all this room for individuation.

Consider modern ants, consider the meta-ant,
and the eco-system that has developed it,

the global transport, spreading the functional
universal aspects of earth's will to function
as one point within the scope of mortal minds

where we become the last staged event.

And we all get together, to close the show.

I think I have written about a million words,
And  that does something, a million words,
each accounted for at once, no lies,
only errors in comprehension,

some ideas repel description.
especially ones
with names,
who live legendarily in the dark
straight hallways, windowless,
hallwallssmooth as buffed bees wax,
slide down the long red hall
at ft huachuca -

Hoho kam kam legend in my friend mind
Curio dancers all sorts and clans,
those learn
in round houses… the role you are to take,
or walk away… from now,
you read as I read,
we form a we to read with, see
everywhere,
plain writing on all the walls,

earth has been infected with knowers
who know the truth of all the old lies,
are unspeakable.
pfftfugititshitsucksfooooooool!

I do allow angels, bearers of courage,
once courage is put in place
ventrally, gut level,
semper fi
do or die.
laud (v.) laud
"praise highly, sing the praises of," late 14c.,
from Old French lauder
"to praise, extol,"
from Latin laudare
"to praise, commend, honor, extol, eulogize,"
from laus (genitive laudis)
"praise, fame, glory."
Probably
from an echoic PIE root *leu-
and cognate
with Old English leoð
"song, poem, hymn,"
from Proto-Germanic *leuthan
(source also of
Old Norse ljoð
"strophe,"
German Lied
"song,"
Gothic liuþon
"to praise"). Related: Lauded; lauding.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/laud>

Believing the rallying cry. Laud. Laud.
Be all you can be.
Modeled on the heroes shown,
framed in this Weltanschaung,
duty X calls
- you skip, duty 2 appears,
- one more ignor and your account is
- in arears, here in the rereward guard,
- like the hinder most guardian believer,
- anointed, confirmed, called of truth,
- to protect the king and his judges.
- Some mind must judge the useful
- from useless drivel ignored sense Babel.


Days of Peleg, this leg of that journey, crosses
ours here, if you lose your place, the train
passes several random times, sometimes
after dark,
when the jitters are all jumped out,
we sway,
we slow dance as shown on TV, old boomers do.

Don't believe that story ends
as neatly as Ozzie and Harriet, {Did that end}
Then, be all you can have been
being. Set and setting:

War story number next.
Khai Vinh Fishnet Factory, 1968

Experience the experience trial.
Purple Haze, dreamin' on Owsley's flow,
it was
a long long time ago.

Yokel simple mind unwinding with a snap.
To attention, to be lauded for third place,
once again,
imitation smartest guy in the room,
exposed, as stupider than one and two.

Wars have formed from less damaged pride.
Inside the soldier, some thing snapped
to attention, the guardian exposed
the secret to the imitative poet…
woe is me, I am not wise
-I wrote:
In this, the seventeenth year
of my life
I am not wise.
Old men are wise…

-- we read to learn if others may yet imagine
making up good minds, that lack the knack
needed to employ money…

insurance proof- poems are ones
recalled after a lifetime
reused to derail grand lines of lies,
imitation poetry, plato banned those, not these,
if you please… transmission ended, third
removed from best, once more
fabricate a future
whither now is plain as day, in the mind
mentioned recently,
there is yesterday, and today and ever at the same
point,
where any story emerges, originally…
subterfuge ensued, in pursuit of reason
to be good, or good reason not to fret
being judged.

One common message, any angel carries,
fear not, do not lie,
the experience is scary in place, fixed position,
but the places are cultural metaphors,
packeted info,
modeled on the barefoot road,
the one ants make in the eastern mojave,

that road, those roads, wind around stones
too big to budge, but we are measurers,
gatherers of known knowns for power
over those taught not to know, given
the imitation of a mind, duty,
is not that mind, whoa,
and
there is a mind
that was in Christ,
according to professional knowers
of all Paul
of Tarsus, may have written;
which mind resulted in Jesus, Christ message,
echoic imspirative ding
-train my thoughts to finish in time
-- 2021 phone rings
Morphic resonance tic, remember
not knowing who it was, but learning
at a distance of a need in a friend, that's
rare… this friend who helped me help him
by helping me
-ping he calls me back, tic
Definitely like all the saviors in the imitative
poetry, the dramas presenting ways
to see the logic on the wall
to blind people on TV,

that is a good idea, but not visually… word.
Amen,
make it so, mental me, imagine we meld
mind wise, word to reader in me,
the middle
occurrence between now and next.

Suddenly, reality is word in vitro.

Love is Heaven
Streak of light killed me and I am no more
Let mybeauty praise you let me but adore
I am strictly in bond of pain how I can ignor
I want to take all whatever I have in store
I swam from centre of ocean to the shore
My rivals want to take revenge on every score
The way I felt about life I never felt before
You my love travel in me from pore to pore

Love always pay tribute to beauty to excel
Beauty has the abode in clean heart to dwell
This is what takes me my love under the spell
Let me be frank on the account I have to tell
Love is not a commodity to purchase or to sell
A lover is enthralled in love is in heaven not hell  

Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2018 Golden Glow

Listen up,

WE ARE LOCKED IN

we breathe the same air
under the same tolerance limits
to pressure change
from home
balanced
on spinoriality paths,
confirmed as real
by Eric Weinstein,
through long generations
of social revolvings, along a spiral,

ever widening, ever lengthening
ever empowered, some how
or why
ever after
any theorized boom loops
to wobble while sorting ifey and al
re towb rhymes robe, ra' is okey aight
the knowledge of towb ra' okeh aight
lean
alittle left behind kinda
lost scared child fear planter guilt
lose
breathe
List, insist list winds
and listen are related,
hear the helicopters practicing war,

tilt of the ear lent
in attention
to a thought experiment, a will,
a lust
to know, a kleu
in lieu of wissen,
kenst du mehr, baa

make a goat noise.
{Jenny Rae wrote and performs, still}

Sudden wisdoms sometimes stick
the place of the goats is where
scapegoats got away to…
free to graze the balsams

- Ein Gedi, what was the secret?

Without religious authority
many leaders would not
make the connection
Ein Gedi, balm vow
If the first thing divides,
so as to see the other side of things,

when things were mere thoughts,
no noise, no gaseous form, no words
no licensed poet breaking walls
to discover more Phrygian form
of freedom jinns imagined
before Rome, and pride
of freed men, ever after,
to those who think links…


Brevis explicatio Logos nada mas
just the thought
all that is made
believable and un,
in truth's wisdom used
to form the profile
of these tree form
concepts potentials
for budding formed fruits
white space edge wise wits
born upon a recipe or formula
in eretz per se, where is the seed
of all we ever so far have known, or
ever stretched our attention
to grasp at that beyond
our reach, or so we as
unbelievers, let do
been told ask what lies
to believe or burn forever,
by tyrannies , Jefferson swore
to oppose any such, and I agreed,
over the mind of our kind. Not by king nor
by priests who had secrets, holy stories
too horrible
to tell
to just any, heady child
with a will
to discover true kleu

clashing concepts perceived as precepts,
community values, local reception spirit,
- we're adrift
often until lately, it was a reference
to those whose claim
- marked goodwill/peace
on Earthian residence rations
is archeo-logos wise, offered
for all chosen
to breathe.
Earthian air breather rights, claim,
just as deep as any letter user let loose
anywhere we ever learned
to use the tekhne,
- tune Tom's Phrygian Backing Track
available anywhere this line can be read,
even in the dark, starlink the whole world,
prepositioning us always after 2024,
what would that cost, Elon?

Get the never ending story power source?
Tap in to textual spells binding minds, for fun.
You would change next,
more than Carnegie,
you would launch the next text reader expansion,

ask the right questions,
get the right answers, no sense
in taking 42 as cool or hot or stupid.
That is a test.
This is temptation, not led into.
Stretched out attention spans, loose.

If we were to live and never die, ever
after today, it would seem this way,
we would grow tired, and fade,
firm gripe on the football,
gripe, no, I thought grip.

What, me worry?
You must have a Mad infection of memes.

Were we led away
from forced trial and tempt's?
Jeff, should knowledge be free?

Are  you re-always and such real-ly helping
when I imagine praying as one might to a king,

O, king, live forever,
be remembered for making access
free for any with a will to make poetry work again.

-Knock us back to the idea the Phyrigians had
when they dug their city in Tufa stone,

Derinkuyu, my ai knew,
those people,
whose head gear carries ancient memes,
Phrygians, liberty caps, Smurfs,
like on old dimes, or French Olympians
all the trials, all the opposing forces, global eyes
realize, unrealized truth that
we are the crew,
liberty called
to break every yoke
and set the captives free.

We know what Phrygian Liberty is.

The mind behind Christmas sent us,
this is Lifeship Earth, and business is not,
wrong, usury is, and poor who learn how
money works first learn how it does not work,
don't lie
tithing
to a story tied
to a promise and a threat, hanging
over your reformed parents, seen
as young children NPCs
in historical drama, FPS, your eyes,
we see those AGA days, no gain MA
multi mental aweform we see, oh, not us,
it was them, a we of hungry white peasants,

given a gun and an ax and sent to any where,
back when America was becoming Great,
go west, young man,
go feed your own family - you worthless
****, aye, and ever was so, never got rich,
carried some family shame,
and sometimes some pride, appropriated,
evidence, a byword, Pride comes before a fall,

well, tell the truth, USA, is a mythos, not a logos,
both sorts of stories we can turn into drama,

or opera, my Phrigian Libertarian muse, uses
Phrygian background tracks on YouTube,
allowing my estimation
of enough,
in terms
of answers
to questions, common,

what would you expect to do for fun, forever?

Imagine that.

With a will, a vision, a hope it works this way
to empower words
with a peace, we make, whiling
in above average good health,
while connected
to gear that was science fiction
when I got my first Macs,
in 1985, Apple Talking
in this direction
turning our capsule
of creatifity,
into a door

Terra nullius, land unclaimed,
territory
of the mind and other forms
of spirit and will, claimed
at this locus,
this point
in time when your eyes
read these words and think each
must tie
to words common
to us all,
readily recognized
in translation

defusing confusion, discretely
discerning cause, asking why
deciders create ontology
of wedoms
declaring Christmas, message, messenger
to direct our steps
from now
through next,
Messiah,
by any other name, the same,
the promised one
in tales told children,

the promised redeemer
from debt
due
to liars claims
of right, assigned
by Truth, the royal order,

Original Intent is being disputed…
{Please ignor the intrusive ads,
  in context of knowledge now,
  think of it as invincibility exercise}

we post Christmas spirits keep laughing

the promised redeemer declaring,
"I am the way, and the truth, and the life."
Patient, yes, the action.
In logos and locus, where focus fixes locus,
here am I, searching my darkest parts,
obverse
of inverse rectangular portals
light pours
through fitted
in words unsung or said

with authority
for authority sake, as war
is waged, deemed worth the cost, as work
for those charged
with collecting sustenance
hopes of finding meaning attended to,
all in one at once, a trio, soothing musing.
Trinity, if you please, three-way ointment,
soothes and resmooths,
All the balm in Gilead, came from Ein Gedi
it is a lovely place
ai but so disputed
frustration, fraud and beliefs of Socinianism
Brevis explicatio Logos nada mas, yes, those

long winded oral traditonalists
human to human
beliefs, used.

In terms of prayer,
defined as mind to mind,

direct intercession thought,
per haps, as may hap, mediated,
expand to set all lies
at liberty
to be unbelieved
no ritual approach, walking labyrinths
with completed courses marked
to reflect appropriately
on life
after the maze,
by grace and proven virtue
through which the supplicant passes

and is accepted into the purity of time,
constant and true, worthy to test us all.


To truth, I pray,
acknowledging my breath,
acknowledging my comfort,
acknowledging my hope

to be of good use today,
to be of good cheer today,
to be of good faith today,
strong confidence,

I pray, in truth, for the confused
and fearful believers in confusion,
clearly commoner than comfort today
peace
and space

in the realm
of mindshare given me,
in answer

this is what we can know, not our duty
but to know what it does, not to doit.

[[Swearing and cursing] are entirely different things :
the first is invoking the witness
of a Spirit
to an assertion you wish
to make ;
the second is invoking the assistance
of a Spirit,
in a mischief you wish
to inflict. ]

---{the will to ill use the others. }

[When ill-educated and ill-tempered people
clamorously confuse the two invocations,
they are not,
in reality,
either cursing or swearing ;
but merely vomiting empty words indecently.
True swearing and cursing must always be distinct and solemn

.... [Ruskin, "Fors Clavigera"]]

Locus amoenus ("pleasant place")
Ein Gedi, is such for me, sweet balm

Let us all sit and see common joys
as common sensed truths at locus
- all the strings in mind
"gypsy child" (enfant de Bohême),
literatrueerists literally trussed in storied modes

offered as fair told,
in truth of life lessons,
learned and learned anew,

to be retold verbatum to the ostiary

each season, on bringin' sheaves,
each litter
of young'ns initiated
into duty

learning the ways
of warriors or defenders,
or ostiary, gate guard, watch man,

what of the night? The answer, is yours

do we post our tail and tax the patient one time readers?

Or take it so far as to sell it, to the fastest reader?


At first hint of endless ink
and endless paper, none
known as common here
could say no, got no need.

Wish when praying to believe,
wish while praying to receive,

reaching out, empty handed,
take the grace guaranteed, indeed,
by the story told at winter's door,
to be the joy for dark days ahead,
while the whole land rests below,
white cold that kills the unready.

Slow and steady, walking on frozen rain,

thinking, breathing, swallowing, breathe
thinking, this is uphill, yawning, thinking

this is like a chapter in a novel, but,
in all the other novels being read right now,
all the novel readers are imagining tomorrow
from today, which, of course, in human events
is called today, to this very common concentrat-
ed U new ifity, to this very common liberty sense

today, I had to ask some body, was this a pain to read?