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Paul Butters Jan 2021
You pose and pout,
Seduction by superficial sauciness.
You tell me of your day
With that simpering voice,
Raising each last word
Long and loud.

You show me your flash cars,
Your sumptuous wardrobe
And who knows what else?

You and your kin call yourselves “Influencers” –
A great word,
But all you do is make people:
People who have grafted long and hard
For a little spare cash,
Go buy things they
Do not really need.

Right Said Fred was Right:
The global catwalk
Is a sham.

I too would love to be an “Influencer”,
Such a fine word,
But I would be one to encourage folk
To Love others,
Stop all this Conflict
Between polar opposites and extremes,
Fight only for the Common Good,
And make the world a better place
For All.

Paul Butters

© PB 15\1\2021.
Inspired by a TV programme about C21 Celebrity.
Meat Stevens Jan 2021
If you want to be a true influencer
you should put in some actual work
****** the Archduke of Austria and his wife
The Duchess of Hohenberg
Gavrilo Princip did not have many followers
He did not have any discount codes for his online store
He had a simple dream to  break off Austria-Hungary's South Slav provinces so they could be combined into a Yugoslavia, and instead he started a world war
If you want to influence society
for centuries to come
Stop being a coward posting vacation pics online
Go out and get yourself a gun
@meat_stevens on Instagram
One look at you—
And time to me, seems a follower of yours,
For your mesmerizing, comely appearance
Which enraptures every ticking heart
For sure has ensnared time's—
For it so seems that
He's stopped the march of advancing age
From reaching your youthful mien
So you may parade your timeless beauty
Across this globe inspiring life,
Showcasing the victory you hold over time.
Arlene Corwin Jan 2021
Only time will tell whether you influenced another human being or not.  Numbers on a computer mean little.  To feel you are ‘an influencer’  means to ask yourself who, how, where and why.    


The New Fad Word: Influencer

The latest fad, the newest word -
A word you’ve heard;
**** for the herd.
A word dreamed up by vanity
And deemed to be an actuality
When its truth is actually
Imaginary -
Not to be taken seriously.

We influence where e’er we go.
We set examples, sway, control.
We guide, we form, we shape the norm,
Is that the ‘influence’ at which you aim?

There’s room for goodness, goodness knows,
For we’ve observed how sorrow grows,
With leaders leading by the nose
Whole groups of hopeful, wishful crowds.
They influence, oh yes!
By pressing pain and lies
Into the sighs and cries and floods
Of men and those who acquiesce.

I submit that you omit the concept ‘influencer’
From your aims.
Life’s no fame game.
Your name has value only when
You’ve lived and helped your fellow men.
To that I add a short Amen.

The New Fad Word: Influencer 1.31.2021 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin.
Suresh Gupta Jun 2021
The influencer

06/08/2021



Greed, is the motivator that,

which oils the mechanism of action.

Survival, is only the initiator, that

soon succumbs to wants’ affliction



It’s a fallacy to believe, or

convince ourselves otherwise

but, wants not needs

becomes, driver of possessions



Forsaking needs, we demonize wants,

offspring of Greed, the influencer.

It grows with possessions, hiding

under the umbrella of need.

Once possessions are attained

wants take control of our senses
Brian Turner May 2022
With 2G phone in hand
No sign of a ring-light stand
The un-influencer comes to the table

He doesn't tweet when people die
Says negative things that will make you cry
Gets stuck when logging in
Wears holes in his clothes that really should be in a bin

Writes bad poetry that nobody reads
Writes bad blogs that would make your eyes bleed
States the obvious when asked
Laughs and then makes you gasp

Doesn't check his look before zooming
Doesn't check his volume, it's booming
To be avoided at social functions
Should be served with a court injunction
My personal ACORN research has created the opposite of the 'influencer' based on some of my characteristics. Are you an 'un-influencer' too?
Rules without rulers - here today
With money coded the Bitcoin way
Transparent - and stronger than gold
Open source - can’t be controlled

Accountable, restrained by code
Issued by work, and not bestowed
Bitcoin does not “favorites” play
No influencer can coding sway

A global money with certain supply
Which rulers can’t change or modify
Bitcoin is neutral - for all - for YOU
A verified record - transparent too

Rules without rulers - come and join
The accurate ledger, the alpha coin
Decentralized, yet governed by rules
One of humanity’s most useful tools
This is Bitcoin Poem 005 at BitcoinPoems.pro and you can see it displayed on a background when you (copy and paste the link below).
https://www.bitcoinpoems.pro/delivery005RulesWithoutRulers.html
There will be a many reasons why, he is really suited to be a good leader to his views on church reform, poverty, climate change and divorce that had shaken up the world opinion. A leader who is an influencer to other people like just Pope Francis that he want a real leader does not shy away from crisis and debate, but embraces them as part of finding a solution.

As a follower of Pope Francis, I really admire his characteristics that he is reaching out to non-customers or non Catholic. That is why Francis makes sure to reach out to non-Catholics as well, for instance by declaring that God has redeemed all of us, not just Catholics. He embraces the risk he did like when he was young, he became very ill, and the nun who tended him disobeyed the doctor's instructions and tripled his dose of antibiotics, because she knew from experience that without that higher dose he would die. We can't be an effective leader if you're always playing it safe. Last is to listen in diverse voices. He is listening to his cardinals all over the world they consult with him to help him make decisions. He wants to get other people's opinions that he can gather ideas about their own experience.

That is why I choose the Pope Francis a good leader for me because I am a religious person and a follower to our dear Pope. To help all the people in need of guidance of God and a world needs leaders who are just compassionate and merciful.
Robert Kirwan Apr 2010
I will not conform to your ideal.
I will not follow the footsteps of those ahead of me or those behind me.
I will not copy the beliefs of my peers
Unless I agree of course.

For I have my own mind, my own style, my own grace,
My own pace.
I walk the way I wanna walk
And I talk the way I wanna talk.
And I feel the only way I know how to feel,
With passion, power and a delicate strength.
If you are so lucky to see...

I will not groove to the sound of your music,
If it’s not to my beat.
I will not laugh at your jokes
To be in your good seat.
I will not play in your colours,
If you’re not in my team.
Because I can jump and kick about,
Or stay silent in my dreams.

I am not trying to be a rebel, renegade or revolutionist
Being different is all the same.
I’m not going out of my way to defy, disregard or disagree.
I am an influencer, influencee, influenced.
I am a piece of all of you
And I am a picture of no one

I believe everyone makes mistakes.
I believe we can all be a disgrace .
I believe we can all fall into the same trap.
I believe once and a while we can all snap.

What I believe you may not agree.
What I say you may not relay.
But you might just remember this,
I believe being wrong is a right.
Nat Lipstadt Mar 2024
Tessellation & Interstices


”A tessellation or tiling is the covering of a surface,
often a plane, using one or more geometric shapes,
called tiles, with no overlaps and no gaps…In mathematics, tessellation can be generalized to higher dimensions and a variety of geometries.”


the insistent need to be distinguished
means many are not,  
indeed,
this hunger
to be an influencer
and never just an influencé.

creeply creates a linear surface,
a flooring to be trod upon,
a tessellated plane,
were we each fit in
right-tight juxtaposition
and we are noticeable for our
uniformity and

the scuff marks of having been trod upon,
well used.

it is in the chips of irregularities,
the overlaps and the gaps
where we touch and connect
with our individual Ah Ha’s,
where our Venn Diagram Lives
intersect, infect, interfere, inject,
in the tiny
interstices
tween us,
the jagged, irritatingly edgy
rubbings
that the friction of creativity
is comedically inseminated.

I love a good tense sweat,
that invasive, deep boring burring,
that demands
instant creative solutions lest the angst of
an unwritten-in-the-moment-poem
is even more annoying,
before it is annoyingly,
befogged, lost forever.

that is why with old age,
fearsome fast
short term memory loss,
some turn to the speedy freedom of
free verse,
unconstrained by socks
and well fitting shoes,
and the slip on sneakers
of rhyming,
so insistent on perfection,
that the
burr is absorbed,
the irritant rubbing is creamed away,
and that loss of
a pouring of the soul’s ******* of
Done!
is
our exclamatory mutual curse
saturday sabbath
march 2
2034
9:50am
Desire Jun 2019
16 years behind prison bars -- you came home
and not once did you show your scars...
from the fights and sleepless nights, man
it must be hard, to survive a system so inhumane, so corrupt, and flawed...

Barely 20 back in '98 -- you ever wish
you can go back and take that day away? Wondering what life would be like if, at home, you stayed? Now pain echos in your brain since the past can't be changed... (but its ok)

You're a son - you sat in a cage
while your 3 year old son was home getting ***** trained; missed out on ceremonies, birthdays, and holidays. Relationships with friends and family faded as you aged - it
gave you lonely days...

But I remember the joy that overcame you
when we went up to visit - those days were our fave too -- We couldn't hug but you expressed your never-ending love, with 22 inch biceps, telling us to read books and stay tough...
(for that we thank you...)

We longed for the day you'd be free.
But we never understood or considered  the damage done underneath. 16 years of pain, struggle, and suffering. Yet, your story doesn't end with you drowning in defeat.

Certificates and college degrees.
Clinical Social Work and counselor for psychology. Leader, influencer, mentor, husband, and father of three.
I can't be any more proud of you, your healing, and the people you impact and reach (like me).

There are unknown scars that may never heal;
Holes in your soul that are ever real,
16 years behind prison bars -- you came home
and not once did you show your scars...
Instead, you showed the world how to
stay strong and be successful,
and for that, I am ever grateful.
Love you, tio.

@desire.is.dope
20190619
0316HRS
THE STRONG HAVE SCARS

FROM INMATE TO IMPACT
SERVED, SUFFERED, SURVIVED, SCARRED
SUCCEEDING AND ACHIEVING
MAKING A DIFFERENCE
MAKING BETTER DECISIONS
MAKING THE WORLD A BETTER PLACE
Tuesday Grace Jun 2021
I think I'll be an influencer
I'll be really good at that
I'll buy some bots from Russia
and flog some plastic tat.
I'll pose in skimpy ******
I'll advertise fake tan
and when my fans unfollow me
I'll bring out my old gran.
Of course, the person that you see
behind the camera lens
is photoshopped to b*y
and wearing all size tens.
I'll nip and tuck I'll cut and crop
'Thank God' I say for photoshop.
I'll probably have a kid or two
or three, or four or five
I've heard that that's the best way
to keep your page alive.
Of course, they won't be ugly kids I'll make sure of that
I'll tan their skin and bleach their hair I'll use a filter everywhere.
And when it comes to freebies ill grab them with both hands
I'll tag the big name companies and all the biggest brands
They'll send me stuff to advertise Oh I'll make a ***
Of course, I will be sneaky I'll not say #gifted #ad
Oh yes I'll make my fortune built on scams and lies
Who cares if people suffer from debt up to their eyes.
Because I am an influencer I do not care one bit
I have no moral compass to that I will admit
As long as I have 'likes' and hearts, kisses and bouquets
I'll carry on accepting all your undeserving praise.
Lindsey Eleanor Feb 2013
What has become of us?
What have we, as humans, done to ourselves?
We blame society for the downfall of us,
that it isn't our fault we've done this to each other,
to our brothers,
our sisters --
it's society.
But we are society.
We determine what is or isn't beautiful.
We dictate over how things should be,
whether it's a stereotype,
a simple judgement,
or just a simple spoken word.
We have destroyed this world.
We have killed the beauty of living.
We have done this.
It wasn't the government, or the other political party --
it's us.
Can't you see it?
You have done this, whether you knew it or not.
You are society.
You are the influencer or your peers,
your family,
yourself.
You have done this.
We have done this.
We have killed ourselves.
Penmann Jun 2019
Don't name the baby Arya.
It's such a lie to do that now.
Name her after pornstars.
Name your daughter Stoya.
That's named after a real influencer
Named after a somebody
Glittered name of shiny bodies
Named after the highest view count online and off.
A muse name, someone everybody wants.

Let us not let **** names die.
It's ok to breed a Rocco
A name that wears a jive
Keeps art of namegiving alive

Just dont name them after politicians
Prostitutes and Liars
Dont name your kid after journalists
Drug dealers or musicians.

Let's stop those names popping up
George, Michael, Paul.
Quit the whole Beatles charade
Never were someone to look up to afterall.

Stop this rain of assh**e names
Like Boris, Donald, David, Ian.
Give the kids a wider range.
Tiana Marie Mar 2018
You said I couldn't be successful.
You made me break down in tears.
You're supposed to be an influencer;
someone who will shape me for years.

Aren't you supposed to be my teacher?
Well, what are you teaching me?
I can never be worth anything.
I am not who I am supposed to be.

I have learned nothing from you
except for the all the lies you have told.
I can be worthy despite what you say.
You don't know what the future holds.
Steve Page Sep 13
The world under the paving slabs may seem a world away but on my way to church, I saw a half completed excavation and I imagined the unearthing of some past settlement, maybe the discovery of a long buried society holding centuries of secrets of living with more dependence on the earth and less addiction to man crafted pleasures which would die the day we lost power.

I blinked and found myself shovel in hand, ankle deep in dirt and feverishly sinking the curved blade into the yellow and black clay, desperate to find a remnant of simpler times when a living was within most men's grasp at the cost of blisters and back strain, when digging was manual labour and a honest days work was done with at the end of the day and the unfinished work was left for the morning and not taken anywhere near home, where there was something near a worklife balance and neighbours were family and family were neighbours for better or for worse and, more often than not, worse, where budgets were tightened and a new hole was punched into your belt, with your hand me downs held to be your right not your punishment and if you didn't finish your plate you must be ailing or maybe angling for a day off school, where you queued for warm milk or for the tuck shop at playtime if you had thruppence to share with your sister before you ran a game of bulldog or kiss chase depending on your anxiety level, quick before the bell and queue again to sit in your allocated place based on your end of year exam result which always resulted in relegation to the back row bad influencer and never next to the girl who's cheek you had just missed, but you see her face reflected in the TV that got wheeled in for BBC Schools while the old guy dared you to show any suggestion of individual thought and secretly hoped you gave him cause to wield his size 14 plimsoll.

So I turn the edge of the shovel and refill the hole, I re intur what was good and buried, I intern the past where it belongs, returning to ground level where my spirit bubble bobbles for a moment while I find my balance knowing this is where I am what I've become - with my past giving me foundation not non-negotiable identification, and a reason to build not to burrow.

And so I turn round the corner into tomorrow to find what's next, acknowledging my debts and grateful for all that made me me - no regrets.
An early morning catch up with things I dreamt about last night.
Dibyendu Sarkar Jun 2020
Song of **** 
Things got wrong 
Black dark sky 
Landed on D2371. 

This void soul 
Dark matter shatter
Who are you?
A question perhaps 

Trapped in screenshot 
Living in simulation 
Talk of town
Who's this sarcasticbong? 

Dumb dumb 
Looking for show
It's hidden flow
Blinded earthlings go. 

Multiple parallel riff 
Colours popping gif
Can't you niff 
Awake your clairvoyance. 
Narrate your story
Mock theosist lore
So called influencer 
Hide your favorites 
Blame to others 
Boycott with hastags
Real is bluff 
Everything good, me 
Everything bad, you 
Rhyming with tagline 
Someone tagged you. 

fyoo-cher 

haz-bin

kom-pruh-mahyzd. 

©sarcasticbong
Depressed Gen.
I saw him see me.

“Hello, ma’am? Miss? Hi, can I give you a free sample?”

**** ****

“Uh.”
Cue winning smile.

I had reflexively glanced at the store name, Bee & Co.
Bee is my daughter.
All Bees are my Bee.

“A sample. Sure, thanks.”

“Can I show you another sample? Just in here. I know you’ll love it, I promise you.”

No.

“Sure!”

****! Betrayal. I follow him in.

The space is unnecessarily large and aesthetically devoid of personality. White walls, glass shelves, side lighting. Small clusters of bottles and jars arranged on a table here, a shelf there. It’s giving Everything Must Go; it’s giving White Woman Influencer; It’s giving American ******.

“I’m so excited for you, you’re going to just die.”

I am trapped, and we’re off to the races.

“Have a seat.”

He’s good looking, sort of wolfish, this salesman. Early-to-mid 30s. Well-groomed, brown skin, black hair, gay. Pale and underslept in that giddy way that comes with overcorrection. Coffee? Adderall? *******? It’s that look, that hungry look. His accent is warming spices and hard liquor, and boy is he talking.

Words like

collagen
-medical-
<penetrating>

as he enthusiastically smears a glob of something under my eye,
“This one because it has the darker circle.”

His dark circles pool under his eyes and he intently explains the same thing over and over again.

Anti-aging,
lifting and tightening,
fine line reducing.

It’s a needy pitch,
Too thirsty.

Well what if I like my fine lines, I don’t say.
Crafted,
as riverbeds are,
as canyons;
Emblazoned, each. Earned.
Emblematic of my many lives.

(A door opens at the back; another man steps out. We make eye contact.)

The serum dries like Elmer’s glue on my delicate under eye skin.
It settles in strange places,
Pulls and distorts.
Discolors and cracks.

“I look older,” tapping it with my fingers.

“STOP TOUCHING IT!”

I stop touching it.

The mall is so close. Nothing is stopping me from leaving.

                                           (I don’t even want it).

We can’t afford it.
There. I said it.
                                                        (I don’t leave)
-aghast-
“You can’t afford it?!”
Pearls clutched.
“You, what? Are you serious?”
                                              (Why can’t I leave?)
Uh. Well. I have a family.

Brick.
I wanna smack him as hard as I can
Step.
I wanna be young and beautiful again
Brick.
I wanna burn this ****** to the ground.
Step.
I wanna apologize for being broke, for having bills, for ******* around.
Brick.
I don’t like this. I can get up and leave.
Step.
I absolutely have to make him like me.

But he’s irritated,
“We might as well even you out,”
As he slaps the goop under my other eye,
Still talking,
Talking a lot, a whole lot actually.
Too much.

Okay this is reaching a fever pitch and I was not prepared for the hard sell today.
His voice edges with desperation,
Shame on you for getting in your own way.

(I’m holding onto the tow line
The boat is unmanned
Reality has become unmoored
We are, none of us, truly in control)

“It will last forever, it will give you what you’re missing, it will patch up all your empty holes with collagen and kisses.
You can’t put a price on confidence
But I can tell you honest
I’ll price it half of where it’s at
To help you with the cost.”

I gotta get out of here.

“Uh.” Winning smile.

He gives me his card
                                                     (I don’t want it)
- His name “BEN” and an email address printed on receipt paper -

And with him is a torn box.
Something and something about something.

(What is reality anyway but a deeply subjective personal construct, tenuous at best, unknown and unknowable but for the rare fleeting glimpse between the gaps in the seams of the fabric of the universe?)

75% off. Because of the box.

The mirror is still on the table.

“Look look, it works, you look great”

                                                     (I don’t want it)

****.

****.

The mirror lies to me in a thousand languages as the glue shifts beneath my skin.

If you listen closely, I say, you can hear me shatter into a million pieces.

clink. clink. clink.

Ben and I skip hand in hand through the middle of the empty room to the checkout counter,
pirouette, arabesque, plie,
celebrating the space.
celebrating my face.

I am exhausted.

Ben’s hands are shaking at the counter. The WiFi isn’t working on the credit card machine. His hands. Are shaking.

“Uh.” Winning smile. “I’m really excited to start using this. Thanks for your help.”

He visibly relaxes. Has he breathed even once since I’ve been here? More employees arrive, they smile toward us. All men. All men.

I can tell Ben likes me now. He’s pleased, thank god. My whole being recoils at the thought of disappointing him, and I uncoil intentionally.

(Don’t think too hard about it.
You can’t put a price on confidence.)

I hope we never see each other again.

“How old are you?” He actually asks me.
A lady never tells.
“I’m 40.”
I’m 39 but getting the feel for it.
Forty. 40. I’m forty. I’m four hundred and forty.

I am ageless as time and vast as consciousness.

He feigns surprise.
I tell him he looks young.
He calls me cute and gives me a hug.
I turn to dust and blow away.

“Can I show you something? I think you’ll appreciate it.”

You don’t know me.

Winning smile.

“What’s that?”

He takes off his sweatshirt - “don’t worry” - and rolls up his sleeve.

A tattoo. Just above the crook of his elbow. He beams triumphantly.

                   TRUST THE PROCESS
This is a story about an interaction I had yesterday when I let myself be bullied into buying eye cream. All events happened exactly as portrayed.
mumu Jun 2018
I have these friends
Talks to me at 2AM
I want you to meet them

She's Clara
She knows my deepest secrets
Reminds me when I'm at lowest

Meet Winnie
She loves to talk about my future
Telling how I'm going to be a failure

This is Kisses
She knows every part of my body
Repeating how it is so ugly

There is also Marco
Who's fascinated about space
And he told me I'm universe's waste

Say hi to Sisa
She's a good listener and influencer
If I cut myself, I will be better

They love when I say "STOP"
Voices turns into scream
Left with tears and hallowed dream
It is crazy, to name the voices in your head that always kills you at 2AM.  They are maybe my demons, but they are still me, a part of me that I wish someday will be gone. Forever.
voted out of office
with over 7 million votes more
     and a clear majority in the electoral college
for his opponent

the sore loser
has turned Zombie influencer

desperately clinging to tatters
of dwindling power
Amethyst Fyre Jan 2017
We're doing an assignment in my English class right now
We're supposed to write letters to the government
Short, three sentence notes really
And tell them do something! on a topic that matters to you

Let me tell you
Peer pressure is a powerful things
They made a joke of it

And I-
I am no influencer
I caught my tongue between my teeth
And let them get away with

Apathy
Ken Pepiton Nov 2021
"The power of freedom to overcome tyrants and terrorists"
Moral clarity accoding {cording} Natan Sharansky,
he mustabin seeking seeing through a moral window
besmerched wi'traditions
radiating

A Russian-reared Jew's perspective from Israel
In the 1990's
No integration without representation

--- wait, let the reader recall the goal - yet set not -
right, roll on
{where is this going, David Goodman Chronicles 2020}

The book of life, your role,
{when you find your name, you know}
expand into
A party for the moment, our parts played,

well, let's try {hence, a title}

----govern yer own damself

A gain, a tryal, a paying, a tension, contention,
single source contention,
pride's the culpa writ. Right.

{when you walk into a banquet, be polite,
meaning act as though you are where you know
you are welcome, ask if the empty seat is taken,
if not, you will know you are welcome,
neighbor. This is the same old way, in the future.}

Hubris gotcha down- be humble, win a crown

Shall we win freedom for those locked in fear?
A fine challenge, don't you think?
Read.
Sakarov was Sharansky's teacher, his Plato,
upon whose shoulders, strangely strong faith
finds footing,
fulcrum,
you get the ideas you claim to own, not
the ideas you thought taught
true to all who consume the canon.
Leverage.
A library gives a mind leverage,
we have AI, no lie.

An idea, an id-entity, speaking spirit
Weyekin, englished to we ye kin,
angels, beings guiding ones
who know.

Not every evil is nullified.
Be a ware, the e keeps you from being
a war, knowing your own self as warrior.
Peace makers do not keep the peace,
peace makers let it settle to stillness
waiting behind any obstacle,
waiting is suffering this to be so now, because
nothing in the energy compelling me is breaking
through
but to you, see, dear reader It may be
only I who thinks we are, you could be imaginary.

Actually.
Many useless
morals of stories remain as aphorisms
and adages and proverbial warnings to provoke.
Nietzsche numbered his, to give account
for every idle word,
links
perhaps…
Speak up, lie not against the truth, saying I know,
I know
-boundaries, of course
Freedom must be
defined.
Who knows? Tell me, oft-op apt ove'yer'head!
Y'know? Y,
Everyman does what is right in it's own eyes.
Maybe,
define everyman.
{und ganz Übermenchen}
All of us. Everyman sind all of us, in well ordered
reality,
such as our readers of reality-
between-
lines-never-drawn
in
sand. {flaunting the peace of the sabbath,
which did allow stoning, as you may recall.}

You see, we are in the same story.
There is no authority, save you pay,
free willingly, attention to tensions
seeming
to signal something
mechanical,
click,
ping, a single ATP dis compossesses.
-composed
Ride that photon.
Here we are again, speed of thought.
Think so? Real is an assumption, not an imagination.

I heard this guy say he was a son of God. Big G.
'Said he was aman with anorm al 'erose journey,
when 'tall wentahell.
Then, he believes he was reborn,
somewhat more than a mere mortal.
He claimed his forever
began when he stood up
to the knowing of good and evil, personally.
Intimately.
That seems good. Freedom is from some thing,
stricitive, right. Free from what?
Fear?
fear is one thing,
but fear has preservation purpose so,
we must be specific in which fears we bind to the NULL set.

WE are judging angels. Dare think.
You judged your own collection of inspirations,
did you not?
I prayed God, YHWH, actually, would show me
all the lies I believed,
about him and anything else. Amen, I did.
We'll make this plain, if this is your first signpost of note.

Ideas of freedom formed in the minds of slaves,
meet ideas of freedom formed in the minds of felons,
greet ideas of freedom formed in the minds of children in the desert,
bher with ideas formed in vacation bible school at hippie cults.
Suffer ideas formed in academies of technical guessing, f
er cryin' out loud.
Ideas of freedom?
Little children, keep yourselves from vain imaginations.

Freedom that cannot name Jesus YHWH is not the proof.
Truth is the proof. Truth makes free, he who seeks it,
which is not to say
he who has apprehended
the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
No, whoso ever seeks,
finds more abundance
of that which he has.
He who has nothing, finds nothing.

All candidates claiming direct linage to truth:
define freedom and be judged.

That's not fair.
Accuse, excuse us, life's not fair,

Judge yourself. "Make yer dam' bed!"
{presuming you woke t'd'yoke}
leave us form a
party to puff
up moral clarity like
leaven, till three more measures of
dust rise on the gasses we naturally

cannot see. In corpo ratus.
CLEAR!
Scientology? Coincidence, if 'tis.
Ol' magi-tech, what so
ever we agree. Same trick.
Sacro-sanctity
freedom from fear. Agree? No? Why not?

Fear of YHWH is the beginning of Wisdom.
True, but thought wrong.
Genitive fear, God's fear, is the beginning
of Wisdom, she was with him ere the
highest part of the dust of the world took form.
Fear of falling, is good -- no, it is a mistaken signal,
an imbalance, eh?
The speed of thought correction is faster than the eye
can see and warning is thought, of an unknown harm,
mistook.

Fear of believing lies, is needed, I thought, but, no,
There's no fear of believing lies,
truth be told.
"Cannot the tongue taste its words?"
"Is there any taste in the white of an egg?"
"Do you know the sweet influence of Pleiades?"

The bubble of all you know is an egg. Kinda.

-----

Self-govern, together live, birds of a feather flock together,
that idea. No slaves.

Fear society or free society, self, thyself, govern true.

That's right. "To thine own self, be true"
"believe no lie, tell no lie"
"Know thyself"
"Know thy shadow"

Today is 11-11-2021 the time here is 9:11 ante meridian,
You, as imagined, by me, alone,
are you, alone, reading, to yourself words
made from thoughts I am thinking at this pace.
Prepositioned, in your pastence.
Phrase, word, phrases, line
lines alone

lines in pairs
certain points genitivious, engender differing means
to obviously triplication of some certainties, certain
ties to old lines unraveled from a net knotted
in Ur.

We be ye kin, ken ye grock rocks rollin' on
down a course?
Of course you can, of course, the only common
course, this course of human events, common
sensed as time and space overlapping stuff.

Mater, mater, may I imagine being born, eh
oh, yes, -- movie memory -- see
right through the visible man,
a boy toy, picked by luck or the answer
to a prayer,
but I did ask for the best gift, hoping
it was money, because I was told Solomon,
was the wisest of mortals in ever, so
I was told he said, Money answereth all things.

Yeah, right. You already know, that seems so
wrong, wrong to the point, the root
of evil, barbed tail,
horns of dilemma, ah, what's a mind like mine to do?
Semantics, its all
se man tics, terms of worth, pro
forward onward efforting verbs, action words
The Infallible Book declares, Money answereth all things.

A single grain contains the whole, or some say so,
I imagine reality less restrictive in common sense
utility
use of knowns passed on as memes with reasons,
we sit to
gather memory, tell story, think song sung, sing
that song
a gain, we make the peace past understanding,
past when we were one, and we stood up
right
and ran away
remember, the heart of every story boy meets girl.

Well, this is different, scientifical. Fantastic, sure,
stable as the grammar in DNA.

Steady as the procession of the stars seen from
certain times and places, and passed through time
to any who wish to know
all the truth once held in forms told around fires
to comfort a child with a common cold,
aches and sniffles, full tummy,
milk and honey heated by stones, dropped
into a turtle shell mug my grandma gave to me

drifting into to tal, mor tal is man mortalisman more
more
more, wait. Wait.

We breathe. We listen. This is the book of life, live.

My task is breathing inlets along coastlines, where
waves of overlapping, pearling shallows round
stones as witness, stones crying out
living water has shaped me, see,

is this beauty for giving or selling. I wish I knew,
instantly,
this bit has been freely given, for the use
been made,
the formation, the inspiring aspiration to make

make up
a mind to find the answer, and find
it does appear
line upon line,
beyond the library Daniel witnessed sealed.

Money made this possible, this magic pen,
for all intents and purposes, this tech is magic.

Have you witnessed 3-D printing circa 1985?
Mac SE was cutting edge, and owning one
was status, using one was a good gig,
for an old counter of picas and points, once
the laser writer met vector formed fonts
calculated, computed with most accurate maths,
tangents and cosins and such,

the power of the press, in the hands of a pauper,
hmm, time and chance, let me warn you, this is
the untangling of the famed tangled web we weave
when first we receive the call to listen to the truth
you hear in written words arranged in patterns
adapted to the available, usable, medium.

Draw your self watching the horses painted
as the song of us is sung, a domus, we domus, us

singing together we form
awe
awfullest noise you can imagine in a secret place.

Welcome to the cavern of forgotten good ideas
and idle words mistaken as misdefined, this is that.
              
-restart
from certain places where uses are determined
by any means, good
[ye-es, the idea at the center}
pre-positioned, made fit for a king or a priest
or any humbler soul in a state of grace, id
est, best state, favored, by no power id-entity in me
conceived, but by the word of GOD, who is
good
all the time, any hungry child knows, how a child
weighs the worth of such an idea, plucked
from thin air…

Here, we be, wir sind, si, we know, go Ko!
golf-commentator whisper voice

did you come to find my voice, listen
learning is the first act that never ends,

the next word is the next thing, eventually,
events being
things, in their own right state, useful, or not.

Tantrums serve to prove the uselessness of tantrums.
Grandfather level wisdom fits moral to mean to end,
end all conjecture,
cease casting all cares to the common winds of time,
and space and sea and sky, everywhere idiocy abides
provoking one
an other, ricochet-re-re-re act re
sponse, jump, start

run, upright, spring thinking what
if
I say this is the goal, get to the bottom, fundus
professionally guided by I mind I myself, made up
mind
including you, the acting dear reader.
Saving myself for a publisher, copy right ritual
of code devisors, to increase interest,
gouge-deeper gullies to wash away desires
inspired by alluring vertisements intended
to loosen your grip
on sati. Satisfy my yearning soul-blues, bha-bha
boom
woncha sing witme seem what we seem to be
haps in a time per haps
may happen at will in a mind on a binge to end
all binges, writing like a joy-daemon viral
ex-plainer, needling *****, look

this way, see

ear? Practice makes perfect opportunity next

use of truth to tell a lie from a joke, perhaps
that is the trick,
who told the tale before you heard it was your
intellectual heritage,

your link to who and what you are, through song
and saga and right stepped beeing dancing thisaway
thataway sing asongofus a we a we a we away

what were we thinking, then
Lion King reminds us, being or not, what do we got
to do to attain

Acunamatattal rattle shake shake shake
shake your spoils from the war,
were you unaware, shaking ***** measures worth?

Stealing attention from the stars, eh,
lying demon, here, here be heretic tic, instant
hell
a poppin all around, as we recall some mirror neurons
to signal gut response
text wise
is this happening? Did the dam break, or the branch

is this a bough breaking affirmation broken from
the tree of life entangling the tree of knowing increase
vow to know
more, was the chant for warned be, war chants and we
chants are mortally indiscernible but

we die to learn the difference, you must be born again,
I can not call that a lie. Nor can you and prove me wrong.

Was that a the reason for war all along, selected
bits of the last old wives tales, the barren ones,

old wives, who watched no child, ever form, from
one generation, after another, to no eggs
ever forming vessels for the spirit of life knowing knowing
things, we agree on
things, we agree on things we make up and lie to others

to scare them, put fear in their hearts, fear of death,
real, on the edge, fear, we make up,
we pretend, we play, who am I to be, when I grow up?
- practice perfect sati, old wives say we agree, go.
polisemy spawn bloom Thuc's lic be witcha

If it was a common question, why was it no answer
is readily available…

avail, second instance, in this stream, how extra
ordinareally organzed are these eddies in the depths,
silken threads, silver in golden needles, apples
of gold, in pitchers of silver, still life, made
in vocative voice we sought, peace
in a picture
formed from words drawn in letting symbols setting
free
chthonic thoughts some time now,
where we go or how is immaterial now, here
is where all the power to be us - is, right now.

I'm loving the concept, except one knows,
one knows not,

could be a numbered aphorism in thoth lost long ago.

Freedom from pain? When? When the pain ends.

I have watched Thuc burn, many flashes
as to why
so, I surmise, no promise I am right then, but now
I am right, as a twist top.

As in,
do it right or break the true purpose of rightness,
lefty loosy, listen
righty tighty, mechanical children know that by five.

So in saying we ***** with minds we mean we re
thread the spiral needed to hold order to the curve
we use to move from mind to mind
by simple subtility common to reading minds, let
loose from codes of obscurity and silence,

priesthood of the programmers, defiled
by HyperCard…

hit it, 1985, we role the hero in the tail, the new man
stranger in his own home town, trope, f'shore

distant Homer's combed the beaches, sifting shipwrecks

finding, from time to time, these jars of old stories
written in magical ways, saying unspeakable things.

A dawning in the mind of all the kin, weyekin, listen
we say say the story so
somebody
listens, thinks, listens thinks, I thought that,
and laughs,

that feels good, silent smile, quiet grin, nobody sees,
but me, we ai n't e-whistlin', Dixie,

did the singer make a we of us, or did you watch
the TV show,
so you know? Did we meet and leave impressions,
or did you think I reminded you of a character
Bill Murray could play well?

What the hell? Imagine that, being another body,
after being this, be gone.
Sa sa sati. Is fine, as an idea, an id-entity in common state
free satisfaction for any dis-
satisfied mind, but
be aware, breathing is involved, for a lifetime, of days
and seasons, one after the other, constantly
feeling the draw
of empty from full, as we all sang, let the healing waters
flow,
and the joys, celestial
glow… go go go make up a Mormon link and think we

lied about many things, we need not lie about knowing.

Now, no lie lives in sacred temples misappropriated
by a tyranny over the mind of man,
to which we Jeffs and Jinn agree, an end is deservant

of your attention to the actual forces involved in details,
such as you reading this line after all the lines you read
before
now… when your clock is pacing, time's worth one way
or wait,
a guide, some intuitive icon may make sense suddenly
256 shades of grey, undefiled by the muse that planted
the shame associated with putting on that mind,
being in the head of a dramatic iteration of broken

sense of being holy, historical fashion statements
straight from full victorian victim global angst,

interesting times, said the chinaman to the BIC guy,

click, British East India, and the ***** war and
the tea cartel.

Grey Pompon, cheer rah rah rich man, now I can
eat your mustard,
rawly.

Euphony, is good euglobonics, euro-trash
white and all its malonat- ive {melatonin-iment}
serrendipt natural to the medium
hyper-text in metaspace, true to the thought
at
the bottom, pro fundus
ment-al-ity ifs
itself
into this actual state, where
when I write you read, and
this is connected to a very complex
tangled web of reasonings for acting
as if we know
this is that right thing you do, we do think
the thoughts in words we let mean true
things, in bundles.

Sub routines, we may choose
to understand, reasons for simple when
sublime takes a life time.

Faster fasting, we did, my we did speed,
even if it was only a game,
we generated the oomph that once made
war
bore boys and girls who saw the science
consciously, thinking
I was made for this, this time, these rules,
this tech
this magic, this history, this lexicon

this underneathness, chthonic thought
Lex Fridman, coincidental influencer
Joe Rogan happened,
to survive, or
did he, is he really Joe Rogan, on Spotify
or did he leave his sould self on YouTube
bait,
come pay me attention I may sell and
make you laugh and feel good
doing it, laughing
inside.

I just recall this guy I know, who has
grown anonymously old, mellowed
with char and aged to perfection
on the adapted tongue,
it is a cultural test, can you swallow
the real
hard stuff boy?

You want a taste of your own medicine,
- twined voices old and gravelly craw
- high and whiny boy

The story takes a turn, same script,
life is poetic, or is that the other way round,

who cares

Malonate
The malonate or propanedioate ion is CH₂2−.
Malonate compounds include salts and esters
of malonic acid,
such as diethyl malonate,₂,
dimethyl malonate,₂,
disodium malonate,
Na₂.
Malonate is a competitive inhibitor
of the enzyme succinate dehydrogenase:
malonate binds
to the active site
of the enzyme
without reacting, and so competes
with succinate,
the usual substrate
of the enzyme.
The observation that malonate is
a competitive inhibitor
of succinate dehydrogenase was used
to deduce the structure
of the active site
in that enzyme.

From <https://uci.officeapps.live.com/OfficeInsights/web/views/insights.immersive.html>

MMM, I get by…
Surya Teja Nov 2017
I look into the broken mirror
And there I see them both
The courageous man I should be
And the coward I am

I look into the broken mirror
And there I see them both
The influencer I was supposed to be
And the manipulator I have become

I look into the broken mirror
And there I see them both
The man who stood against all odds
And the man who never tried anything

I look into the broken mirror
And there I see them both
The energetic guy I should be
And the tired guy I am

I look into the broken mirror
And there I see them both
The man who can create beautiful art
And the man who despises it

I look into the broken mirror
And there I see them both
The social, friendly guy I was to be
And the lonely, depressed person I am

I look into the broken mirror
And there I see them both
The man who did his work
And the one who cared about everyone else

Both of those people are in me
Waiting for their turns to perform
Who will come forward first?
Who will come forward often?

Surya
Lying helplessly
On a stranger's lawn
Somewhere in
American Suburbia,
Dosed to the ears in
party favors.

It's easy for one
To let go
And float into space
So long as they know Calm
itself by its full name.

Others though,
Their worries
And inhibitions
Shackle them to the ground
Until the Earth itself
Seems to swallow them
into her fiery depths.

Yes,
Living under the influence
Is only a jolly trip
When you become
The influencer
yourself.
Michael Marchese Sep 2023
Don’t think you can sell me
On more than needs-based
I don’t think you can tell me
I’m wrong
To my face
That the price justifies
What the world lost to make it
To take it to market
For product replacement
Of nary apparently
Valueless cogs
With the e-commerce
Metrics
Of new money gods
Alive Sep 2020
Everybody getting likes
Just scroll past mine
Get’s to me, crazy
How come you can grow?
Charli D’amelio an influencer by just dancing?
When I have the words to help somebody
who needs it most
But I understand
just keep scrolling
Alive

— The End —