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Nat Lipstadt Aug 12
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"for the vanity of man is as porous as dust...and, in their supreme wisdom, because of this failing, the Gods have decreed, that mankind deserveth no more, no less than his designated allotment of being.
And such it shall be."
writ by
The Marshal Gebbie
June 2023
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rise up, rise up,
son up, sun up!
see for yourself a newly birthing day,
the early rays licking the unlocking of a grinning earth's face,
humbling humans and their perpetuity e~mo/notions of eternity.
how are the daily~we, to measure ourselves, versus our ancestry,
by whom shall we~be set forth as examples to our posterity
what tools we fools think, we possess, an etch~a~sketch,
to imprint of who we are,
what we were, and
who we might become, and
be  beauty becoming,
marking our time with ensigns of
words of integers in some giant network
authored, offered, up unashamedly

and even though the sun
does not always greet & meet
the discombobulated human riffraff
every diurnal,
daily identical,
when it shines,
it shines for us all
in an equality of glorious,
it shines upon us all in equality,
it, great equalizer, who restores and
replenishes our colored planets blue green,
a methodology of air, soil and water interactively,
for we are all chemicals, forever effervescent rebirthing

and so it goes.
our cells, are a
rare earth depository,
we plant ourselves
eternally, fed by
foodstuffs of
our ancestors cells,
their brewed ***** dust,
and thus each of us singly
is thus remembered, reconstructed
as are we, both, individually and collectively,
from dust we are, to dust we return, this matériel future prepped


postscript

We Hebrews have a knowingly foolish,
a most beauteous custom, gifted to us by
our forefather Jacob, who when espying a
solitary grave by the road, a nameless marker of
piled-on stones, marking an unknown person last remains,
added one more, add-on to ensure this nameless one yet remembered,
so we too do not pass by without adding a stone, a tiny pebble,
we encumbered, to solidify, perpetuate, renew, ever sustaining,
cannot pass by without adding another rock,
another pebble, that time will surely shift,
but as long we follow this custom,
spiting time's erosive nature and until today,
yet the same, for at a cemetery, every grave,
all marker, ego big, humbled small, topped,
festooned, with small stones, we top them
signaling that this, very spot here, here!
for now, until for ever
shall never
be forgot

<.
and so this peculiar, deteriorating canister places
one more smoothed handy beach pebble, upon
this, his unmarked resting spot
nml
<>
Monday morning
7:10am
an august, August dream day
specified as the 11th day of this
eighth month in one particular
calendric methodology
and as the
17th of Av 5785
in his ancestral calendar
sJews place stones on grave markers as a long-standing tradition symbolizing remembrance and respect for the deceased. It's a way to show that the person hasn't been forgotten and that someone has visited their final resting place. Unlike flowers, which are temporary, stones are seen as enduring, representing the everlasting nature of memory
Historical Roots:
The practice may have roots in ancient times when graves were marked with piles of stones
In my so called startled desperately stance o' interactively yearnings,
So wantonly emerged  the worse anomalies by far
(yet the peak-est good time)  to come..
I'm so naturally stupefied..so inclined on making & molding,
making'& wanting

As trial & error precipitates;
Virtually stagnant in the  stillness o' haven-
Temptation stricken--chaotic world..An idolatry dernier cri chic!
Sets the tone o' a Caring Mom, would tell her kids
Not to be fooled by a a mainstream fool-
A Con Artist as Weird as he/she gets!
For the norm to behold!
On the LOOk-Out
but not lethargic.
Stigmatized out o' the blue, I surely reflected,
In a Dark-Dreary tunnel -- I 'd Die for
&  to Root for-serenity subsides!
As I come out, I see rays o' Guiding light, I reckoned ..
"I have given You EYES to see,Ears to hear and a mouth to speak!" ..
but perhaps as indecisively as I may seemed--
It is what IT is!!..,.
SORDID!..so holistic ambiguously odd for me alright.
I speak my MIND fervently...
But as one may  say, "My Smile can mean a thousand Ships nor launches its Value than Money ..
For every Smile to give out Comes with
a Territory o' Joy & Hope worth-
Every seconds inhaled-Priceless--
The breath o' Eros exhumed ..
I'd rather be ever Smiling along comes..
Head over my shoulder
however excruciating
can be, in life.. .
Neither in Bliss o' Ecstasy nor Dismay.
Just as though to keep my SANITY intact..
Oh My God keep my Salvation up in Heaven above! ..
so Creepy, too
Cloddish to think.to be canny
At all cost!
& not easily persuaded by the devil.
Lurks to get me..
A standstill Safely & Warm in a timely fashion,
In my own Rosy- Scented room thy PRAY, Oh Lord forgive US ALL Sinners, may GOOD Girls & Boys go to HEAVEN & Bad BOYS & GIRLS go to HELL !
I stand uprightly poised attitude
& be corrected if one varies-
The Age of Aquarius in stateliness!
Traveler Oct 2017
Good friends
Don't always see things the same
Certain amounts of animosities
Interactively remain
Politics and religion
A measurement of wits
Constantly clashing
Good friends are the ****
Although sometimes
Bigotry comes into play
Cleverly crafted subliminal displays
An elephant in the pathway of justice
A mindset politically seasoned
Can easily corrupt us

Oh how harsh the voice of my reason
Us Liberals are always up to our treason
Watch their eyes roll to the right
As their fascist-ism
Peeks through their white
Hold on to that gun
With all your might
Wealthy people
Love to fight
...
Traveler Tim
Vivian - RJ Nov 2020
There is a tree
with falling leaves.
It releases a sigh.
Flapping leaves. Lifeless.
The sigh
sentences the death pile.
You stand besides it,
and release a sigh.
Are you the judge
or the executor?
You tilt your head, laughing with mockery.
“I am neither.” You cite yourself.

There is a network, working interactively.
You think you are sick. Doctors certified.
Thumbs are numb, mumbling
on the crumbles, plumbing
comfort from the invisible.
A plaster face,
the same as his, hers, and theirs.
You stand besides the tree.

A monster is awake:
too much noise,
too much vibration.
It opens its eyes:
Who are they?
Faces on him, her and them.
They move fast,
faster than lightning.
You stand besides the tree.

Then the face is torn off.
You look at the tree:
Life in the trunk,
death in the pile of leaves.
A judge or executor?
The face in the leaves.

You think
you are unique.
Which face is it?
Seeing a fly on the net.
And thousands of flies.
Then you encounter that tree
out of thousands of trees.
That tree and you:
Half alive,
half dead.

The fly, or the tree, on the net.
You watch and cannot touch,
You stare and cannot move.
The spider climbs close.
You finish the sentence.
Quite abstract. About uniqueness and self-perception. Some places may not even make logical sense, but it leaves a lot of space for imagination... or maybe just nonsense... ♪

— The End —