drumm drumm drummed in two
ranks of
auto-
filers whacking keys and levers and springs
slamming
edged
quantum of scripture
i e o u y vowels of no need-- back in cunieforming time
then came those monkeys with the typesetters
whose keys never got stuck
uno
marko per stroke
five 'undred per bit of etaoinshrdlu
click click cliche'
time measured by degrees in fractual
sym-metry wit' bio me
Tumeric kicks in,
eases the swelling of the bubble.
Imagine the imaginings of a child reading
funny papers
in the privy, smokin' grapevine for no
known reason, or,
maybe it appeased the flies, while I sat
upon the throne
in a tower of my own
wandering through memories of
Terry and the Pirates saving Dalai Lama
from the clutches of
the abomb-in-abled snowman,
Yet-i isis now, the Prince of Persia, once more?
No, this battle is not mine. This
war
was
won;
at that crossroad in Perry's Cafe
when the offer was made: star a footnote here
aster-risks have not been invented... we must reduce opacity.
histoical he refused the deal but did Write the course
"The Internet in One Day"
work for hire, a good gig, then Netscape went public,
reality validated verification of the efficacy
of Feynman's reversible NAND gates,
the future was super positioned
No taxes, tarriffs or tithes; pay flat
twenty percent
for eighty in return, guaranteed in for by of
we, the people's adaptation to
Paredo's Principle versed in Solomonic Wisdom,
re-de-clearing no non new things
under the sun,
trial by
total emersion in a sea of green sans
yellah submarine,
acid etched re
collectibles dust and debris,
flotsam jetsome wetsome old girls dream
it's now, the future, 2019, and some
of us
survived the seventies in hiding,
we're back.
wee voices you ignore at your peril,
not every inspiration is from for by good.
Some are.
Some words live in the sounds they make,
hocus pocus
abra
cadabra, for instance... is heard by children
as the leaven-less wafer
transmogrifates at
the spoken words Hoc es Corpus
Genutim, non factum
magic
thinking is nothing like
what you thought, child.
The message is believable, the messengers
may
be otherwise. EH? ***-eye-say-- eee- eh?
Self-evidence is acceptible, take a hold,
get agrippa comprehension
sweet-almost
persuasive enough to mask the bitter
ever
after taste of century eggs left in the fridge too long
Biome, bio-me, self-effident-icacious
conch-ious
ness, ac
knowledged... these words lived
once,
the eggish-isms egging us on, go
on, only you...
not me, I'll wait
I've slipped, I've fallen... where's the beef? Was this a common quest?
1972. Sheizbomb, pirate orange sunshine.
1973. We reached escape velocity
1974. Trajectory changed
1975. Lost contact, she's near Cuyguna
1976. Prego
1977. Aha, the reason is born
Future 2019 will seem as real as you may
imagine. I promise,
Ever after, all, as real as you may
imagine. I promise
look, see self evident truth, act asif you know
and understand
angel talk
there remains a rest for the cadabre we inhabit,
"Dancing Queen" "Fernando"
Abba's body of disco hits, missed
by missing one decade and a half,
in sanct-if-ication vacation
to become a hermit when I grew old, if ever,
hoc corpus, eh, as long as faith remains
rememe-r-able post Sini-ification of Suffering,
(the Dragon from the East is not the beast
embodied in the west with golden head,
silver breast, brazen *****, iron legs
and flaking rusting feet of steel
stuck
in sludge ponds and stump ponds and undrained
swamps and sloughs {called wet lands by frogs and ducks})
Ah, so
The golden-green-blue dragons gracing slotmachines,
lure hopers to the slime, not
green Nickleodean slime, real slime from century eggs white
jelly gone dark, dark brown and stinky...
even if i'd tried, I'd never have imagined
eating a century egg
sans chewing, just
gulp
swallow it whole. Din't choke gk kg.
deja vu? no, you missed something.
waiting is being
Dalai Lama, half-scientist, half-otherwise aware
there, in exile,
remains hoping a peace past standing under the
acknowledging of good
and evil,
new mercies on one side, meaculpa, mea
maxima culpa,
on the other.
Who pays? Me or Jesu or the pariah one step
up from a cockroach?
Wait and see. Be still.
Don't ask Mother Teresa, she had no clue.
But she finished what she began,
that was her plan,
skip as much purgatory as abody can stand
imagining worth it all.
Me, says the hermit,
I took the grace Noah found. Wait and see. Get ready.
Google translate the Latin Mass, then imagine it
being a message you must hearken to
drum drumm drummmed into your brain before
your prefrontal
cortextual tester circuits formed and your responses
were ever etched
on the tables of your faith belivin' childheart,
sweetheart,
just think, what if good news gathering is
even-jelly-if I can. Evangelical, if I say-tion sugar pi,
event-tually we see, fine,
details, points to every true story
a bed of nails no liar may rest upon
'fi say so, semper fi.
{evangelicum laude graduates bher no bad news in ever}
--phi beta kappa, key that opens what?-- do you know
what meaning signals breathe? beat?
Take great gulping gasps of air,
affording your self
evident right
to surface, as a bubble you can breathe in.
I think we're alone now
there doesn't seem to be any one around, now
1977, that was four whole decades ago?
Right. And whenever you are, dear reader, this was
ever ago. I testify, I examined this life.
It has been worth the effort. Now I wait. Still.
Try it. Here, there,
no condemnation, the act it self just
is null-ift before asif goes whatif and we lose our value,
we balance madness. We work closely with Cleo,
she handles historical re visioning.
time out-- essential term screams for discretion, get to the grain---
What noise is this... mmmmm
Muse- muse- just, muse like
music, drummm drummm hummmmm
Define, fine, granularity, like salt or sand or sugar
but qualia
mysterium familiarus
Term definition. Lord means h'laf weardan, {Welsh}
warden,
protector of our bread,
by which man does not live alone,
owner of the tower in the vinyard where your captive enemies
languish in your wishless hate.
We wait,
we companions be, joined by the leaven from the sky
leaving footprints in granulated sugar salted sand,
feel it,
sorta sticky, like toe-jam. like mebbe toejam spreader
and the Walrus was
CS Lewis level mere signposts at degrees of little thinker
steps tick tic tic
spiraling
clock wise from up,
counter-clockwise from down
forward, ever onward, off is impossible in the land of on,
here for ever is
too much good stuff,
but that lasts (to the same level of qualia judgment degree)
mere mortal moments
flash. Here we be, wondering and wandering, to an fro,
to get a feel,
for real. This can't go on for ever, they say.
Shall we see, I say... as I passed away.
Life goes on, and no lie follows
Listen,
it's finished, that's all we need say. Live on. Be good,
or die trying. No lying about anything.
What if ever did begin and you simply failed to be aware?
Musing, as a pass time, not a wast of time nor a killing of time, but a use by right of time. This is my examined life. I find it worth living more loudly as I age. The ripeningin, reminds me of cheesy-ness.
