1 I came from Alabama
2 wid my ban jo on my knee,
3 I'm g'wan to Louisiana,
4 My true love for to see,
6 It raind all night the day I left
7 The weather it was dry,
8 The sun so hot I frose to death
9 Susanna dont you cry.

10 [Chorus] Oh! Susanna Oh! dont you cry for me
11 I've come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee.

12 [Solo] I jumped aboard de telegraph,
13 And trabbelled down de riber,
14 De Lectric fluid magnified,
15 And Killed five Hundred ******
16 De bullgine buste, de horse run off,
17 I realy thought I'd die;
18 I shut my eyes to hold my breath,
19 Susana, dont you cry.

20 [Chorus] Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me
21 I've come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee.

22 [Solo] I had a dream de odder night,
23 When ebery ting was still;
24 I thought I saw Susana,
25 A coming down de hill.
26 The buckwheat cake war in her mouth,
27 The tear was in her eye,
28 Says I, im coming from de South,
29 Susana, dont you cry.

30 [Chorus] Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me
31 I've come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee.

32 [Solo] I soon will be in New Orleans,
33 And den I'll look all round,
34 And when I find Susana,
35 I'll fall upon the ground.
36 But if I do not find her,
37 Dis ****** 'l surely die,
38 And when I'm dead and buried,
39 Susana, dont you cry.

40 [Chorus] Oh! Susana Oh! dont you cry for me
41 I've come from Alabama wid mi ban jo on my knee.

Staring into the static abyss
That stretches deep beyond
An electric blue mist...
I dove in with no hesitation-
My heart a well of fascination.
Though my joy mounted steadily
Yells from my mouth did take leave.
Perhaps the pleasure transcends the pain-
Perhaps the rapture only claims the insane.

we'm from the valleys,
high in wales,
dull  as donkeys,
hard as nails.

torvaen town,blaenavon gwent,
council caves,that some pay rent.
black and white tellys,
run on gas,
houses wiv lectric,is upper class.

we shoplift in winter,
cos summers no good,
you  can't wear coats,
you can't wear hoods.

we once mined coal,
made steel and iron,
honest hardmen,
pittance relied on.

now thats all gone,
thro government bullies,
now hoodies steal goodies,
from tesco and woolies.

valley boy logic,
philosophy real,
all good fings come.
....to those who steal.

Doggety-dog
lived attety-at
the top of our block
in  a flattety-flat.
He hadn’t a name
as far as we knew
except Doggety-dog
of floor seventy two.
He was blackety-black
with a belly of white,
he would oftenly bark
but neverly bite.
He didn’t go out much,
he mostly stayed in
(and I’ll tell you just why
in a minitty-min).
But once in a while
he’d goggedy-go
To visit Miss Whizzit
one storey below
to borrow an egg
or a spud for a stew
and carry them back
to floor seventy-two
for Mr MacWhister -
he  also lived there
but he spent all his
time in his armity-chair.
and he never went out,
no, alas and alack
cos of terrible pains
in his backety-back.
Now for Doggety-dog
there was nothing such fun
as the days he went down
to floor seventy-one.
Was it cos of Miss Whizzit?
No, it wasn’t that –
It was cos of Miss Whizzit’s
cat-cattety-cat,
for as soon as Dog-doggy
caught sight of its face
he would chase it and chase it
all over the place -
up the walls and the curtains
and out through the door
and all down the stairs
to the bottomest floor
and then, when he’d made
that poor catty-cat shift
he would quietly go back
to the top in the lift,
while Cattety-cat
(and the egg or the spud)
remained somewhere below
in the rain and the mud.
Now eveything might have
gone on in that way
for ever and ever.
It didn’t. One day
(I remember it well,
for there was an eclipse)
while Miss Whizzit was frying
bananas and chips
she heard on the landing
a terrible din
and the door it burst open
and Catty burst in
with Doggety-dog
hotty-hot on her trail -
oh how Doggy did bark!
Oh how Catty did wail!
Catty leapt on the stove,
Doggy-dog did the same
and both of them ‘mediately
burst into flame.
“Fire! Fire!” cried Miss Whizzit
“What creature is that,
that  is chasing my highly
inflammable cat?”
- but then she remembered
what mother had taught her
and over them emptied
a bucket of water
Catty leapt off the stove,
simultaneously so did
the dog, and the stove,
being ‘lectric, exploded
Now Mr MacWhister
one tall-storey higher
was sleeping and dreaming
when someone yelled “fire!”
so often, so loud that it
made his poor brain sore
he leapt from his chair
and grabbed hold of his chainsaw
his blanket and telescope,
blue-and-red braces
(you never know what
you may need in such cases)
and threw them all into
a velvety sack and,
forgetting those pains
in his backety-back,
cried, “Oh, how many years
have I waited! Oh is it
not time now to visit
exquisite Miss Whizzit?”
- and he ran down the stairs
with a rattety-tat
and burst with a yell
into Whizzety’s flat.
Now when poor Miss Whizzit
observed him appear, oh,
she blushed like a beetroot
and whispered, “My hero!”
MacWhister meanwhile,
overcome by her charms,
had lifted her up
in his spindelly arms
and  sighing “my love,
oh my lovetty-love!”
he carried her up
to his rooms up above
Now Doggety-dog
and Cattety-cat
Were left all alone
In Miss Whizzety’s flat
where normal conditions
were slowly returning
and both now had almost
completely stopped burning
(though if I am honest
I have to admit
that they smelled pretty bad
And still sizzled a bit).
“Come, Catty,” said Doggy,
“let’s get this place tidy.”
They did so, and when
by the following Friday
they’d heard not a peepety-
peep from upstairs,
they decided Miss Whizzety’s
flat was now theirs.
And now life for the two of them’s
twice as much fun –
it’s a permanent chase
round floor seventy-one,
while MacWhister and Whizzit
gaze out at the view
from their flattety-flat
on floor sevently-two.

Mystical kisses
A** perfect pair of hazel eyes
Never fails to make me smile
Unique combination of love and lust
Electric touch
Loving him is so sweet, so deep.

Where were you when the fire went away?
When the thunder escaped
and the lightning was saved?
What did you do when you heard the sound,
but bore no witness to the golden down
that gives a sky that godly crown?
Certainly it was a matter of confusion,
transfixed by the pandemonious afterthought
of a storm that was simply illusion

If I cannot be the lightning in your bed,
but only the thunder you celebrate
--marveling at my storm and e-lectric charm,
and bottling the warning of what you forbade:
"Thunder tells distance, and lightning gives harm",
and yet I too have some meaning to display:
thunder cannot satiate,
nor can it corporalize into much
beyond from where it originates,
I am left blind as sonar and with
a desire that can only bring belly-aches

God made skies so that they would break
and splinter into seconds of worship,
--a blue vessel readied for harbor's sake ,
and with the beating it takes,
the wise sky adores itself enough
to revel in what was and then remain,
forward-fast and backwards again
healing, heeling and staying the same

Calm before the storm and I love when we perform,
Electric touches running through our wires, ecstasy growing higher.
Learning every day your value, happy of the walls we smash through.
Intensely looking into our eyes, getting lively as anxiety dies.
Nothing matters, filled with laughter & intelligent chatter.
Density, you filled with order what was the mess of me.
A*nticipating your sight; with you, the future looks bright.

A silver platter,
I've never had.
Only words for munitions
By definition im smitten with'm
Slow down the rythym
Let the bass drop and then when it hits'm
Spiznit the wisdoms
Please consider your kingdoms!
Held together by lectric power.
Without it you'd be devoured
By thoughts in the shadow-realm
So batten the hatches-of-helm
Scatter the ashes that fell
Sell your attachments
To hell
And roll on your magical mystical
Fantasical whimsical mythical
journey-of-legend
Let's leave a lasting loving legacy
Lamenting is landing zone.
Loud laffs appose.
Poetry & pro's
Just a thought;
"I suppose"

When we Met, I thought I would never forget you....
But now... Your face is just a shadow in Time.
The 'lectric touch of our Lips, a feeling so Sublime
But now... Your face is just a shadow in Time.

Meeting on that day, And me without a dime
You didn't seem to care, just being was so fine
I was lost in the look of your Brown Eyed shine
But now... Your face is just a shadow in Time.

Your Irish Soul, and Blazing Portuguese Eyes
Gave looks that were Sunshine, or Stormy Skies
When lightening Flashed from your Eyes
Deep Down in my Soul, I thought I was gonna Die
But now... Your face is just a shadow in Time.

Nights in bed lost in Lust, when we met a 24 Hour bout
Hands and tongues, ******* and Thighs, Long Low Moan & Sighs
R&B;, Stride Piano and the Blues, our passion always was Wild
When we lost it, and that Guy watched And played blues so fine
Unbelieving & Mesmerized, Bending the notes to our moans & Sighs
Will he ever forget that night we Met, jamming with us in 4/4 time
But now... Your face is just a shadow in Time.......JMF 12?4?14

inside, outside
upside, downside
east side west side
don't be so snide

i find you cried
after you tried
needing two minds
seeking bedside

"abide all nine
thousand and five"
ain't but half fried
feeling you died

your side, your hide
not my own fight
up to you Clyde
but ****, you slide


molded, folded
formed, stolid
candy coated
heaps of no dead

inside noted
kept you floated
safe and boated
from the toted

to your faux-head
mercury and lead
hitting homestead
killing your bed

Clyde I warn-ed
you turned instead
mind insipid
soul got shredded


waiting hating
same-old-stating
working, pacing
"what's you bringing?

me some red things
lectric singing"
know it's stinging
making ringing

could be stringing
I'm just saying
Clyde you're dying
writhing, frying

clinging, peering
never hearing
you keep working
I'll keep singing

Pushing back occlusions,
opening the shame shed,
I said, If I could, I would, love my enemy...
Our... inspiring wedom myth or mystery
bring your least worthy self, knowing
only we
prayers, never having heard me prayers,
save from dying folks on telly,
pray…
------------- times and time, and a half a time
memorial days to come,
during some poor soul's error,
finding I am as alive as ever was,
thinking we imagine life without us
is as if no life were, but we know better.

Ersatz Earth and Star maps from Griffith Park.

Life with no beat, buzzing, humming cicada rate
when do we assume the mind frame, cicada rate

cycles subterranean, staggered emersions, cosmic
clocks synchronized, some when, once, aha, we all,

us cicada, concentrations, thinking we don't have
cicadas where I live, so my ears are in a realm older,

if, in fact, fiction is not an art, fitting future hope
where now, hate and envy and incredulity hold hostage

truths we never speak of in church.

One way I have told the greatest story ever told,
the story bound within the covers on the book of life.

Lo', a bystander waves, signaling all clear. Tabula rosa.

Right on, some where, higher on the pain share meter,
O, Danny Shapiro, the pain, the pain, a toothache in 1873.

As the conditions were, but for a rural farm project 'lectric,
one light bulb, one refrigerator, one resistance coil burner.

A rather Spartan lifestyle, as reported,
in the Washington Star, the Moonies Newspaper,
sa sa lederlin sa, we lost our way in 1983, woke here, as
ware
with python variables accessible by original Hypercard scripts.

Imitating Life, the entirety of living things, non-infinite things,
ones,
onces upon times,
not this one, then those days,

solitude, subtlest fortitude, iron cage, bricked in,
put away in penance in some hyper holy cult of killers.

Here he comes, to save the day!
That means that Mighty Mouse, is on the way!

Who financed Snidely Whiplash?
Who floated Wiley Coyote's single satisfaction source
of never ending creative means to fail, for a laugh,

Slap stuck without the embarassment you see in comics,
assment so wise it feels too cheap, freedominion wedoming.

Give me the children, for three hours each Saturday,
I'll give you certified boomer level consumers, trust me.

Three Musketeers was big enough for you and two chosen.
Who is it who gets it,
the girls, boo, old advertising boom repercussing, whamo!

No fee poetic licentiousness' eh? Free for the reader's attention

in the realm of musing minds joining when winds tighten
to force a flush from the wetlands to feed the fish,
who feed the people who feel better thin than fat.

Thorough, and thoroughly,

Nearly through, throughly true. If ifity fit ifity fit, pfft. Pfft,

Ifity fit not, no fit no fit, wait, sh-it fits, in time, today

-thoughtless of me, wordless, wait ‘but through...’ word. text

-we need e- lectric, mind, appawareness usually clicks time

Was a word as all words are, mere after thought, mere means to points with no lines in reason

We must record this moment, we the scribes and proper scholars, art’s great sifters, shifting screens and lenses,

Lo' looking loci-precise, sharp, pattern
- memory verses versus Youtube.

From a long forgotten dance.

In time we have no long ago, after ever – does what ever does – you know,

Just, justice, just makes no real

Sense one may take as common, as where all is fair, yes, es-sense, knowing more than mere names of things seen. Sounds, reasonable, eh.

If you bring a reason, to the table, why... would you expect to win a reasoning contest?

Writer chose heads. You give a reason, we test it on history, and lead your learning based on attention paid patterns over time. Ai is on our side. Life is openbook.

Do you think? Why can you read these letters literally only forms of sounds words would make, if you

Stop, Look, Listen, train town brain, mindfullness, oh yes, fashionable, aware being as a ware,  
YOUR ATTENTION PLEASE

Selah.  

Page Break


After a full life, per each idle word in books that burned, lifes works that burned in time,

All the songs copied for the choir, all the poor scriveners treasures, burned, as by

Midnight oil, from the brain pan of a great blue whale... back when

Capitalization, o, a ver-ified manmental tool to frame course corrections...

means (n.)

"course of action,"  
late 14c.,  
from mean (n.); sense of "wealth, resources at one's disposal for accomplishing some object" is recorded  
by c. 1600. Compare French moyens, German Mittel. Phrase by no means is attested from late 15c. Man of means is from 1620s. Means-test  
"official inquiry into the private resources of an applicant for public funds" is from 1930.

1 aha footnotes have been invented for poets...

Ok. You set the style, I wish this to be easily read, on any powered page displaying device. {yeah, who owns the air? This is published for peer review, ears hear, ah, then attend} Was it good for you?

-some times

Some times iusta dissipate

And that we find amusing, amaze

Zoom, doom, doom, freeways,

Free mean path. Why factored.

The advantage of being old by any standards common in history. Our species lives about this long, in the realm of measured things.

--- In the cultural patterns, vibes, radio active ifery evers

Candide, the referee and me.
Information, where we reign, really

Leibnizian reasons for evil.

Truth, as life’s mean free path.

-Voltaire, definitely, might agree with Heisenberg.

If it were ever said.

Evil is the best worst outcome,

Chaos is not evil, chance is best

Judge, we need to seem fair.

The wall in Shiloam, answering the reasoning of Voltaire, on the air,

Imagine that. Footnotes. Or xv

Ctrl x, then v, besure

I say exactly the same thing

… to dissolve the political bands which have connected them {the we} with another, and  
to assume  
among the powers  
of the earth, the separate and equal station  
to which the Laws  
of Nature and  
of Nature's God entitle them,  
{when all that occurs,  

in the course  

of human events,  

we are yet in, it seems,  

time being as it is,  

SYFT- fit slipt} {Balaam’s *** has the curley braces- note that} {} for vocalization...

-Yes, when in this course, of course... what were we agreeing... as this we,

- go on... say why


a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation. {same we}

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.--That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, -

Ok, that gets us 1000.

Here, just west of the Pacific Crest, we all are in constant contact, in touch state, stated

Wait. 5G is, livewitit.

Nonsense, this is not the rescue mission statement.  

We are here for fun. Peace is fun. Makesum.

What we do, we, soldiers of the ancient orders, duty bound and regimentally religamental, do & die with honor to the code. We,  
the people who know how to believe all men are created equal to the task,  wombed or un, we die knowing
failure is no option, there is no longer any other ever this is before.

---- did that occur in your ever?

@ today, 2022 tehkne- of course, freedom at the quantum level must be means-tested, mmmhmmm tested, measured for sensitivity to we, being the judges... we who chose freedom, down low, deep pro-fundus-mundus lizard brain, mitochondrial link, yeh,

Phoneme, yah, who, yes, at best is spirit one may deem worth something, a breath, may being
may, as a word described, an action, being... here, mere is

As God is said to be described by Jesus, in the good news,

Made plain enough, to build a whole plethora of reasons for war.

War with reason, by faith, or by the code, that which must be true?

Drama, the idea, information acted out, without words,

Mimes in boxes, you know, you can admire the best performances, and thus imagine a purpose, break dance contests in the joint.

Yeah, and poetry slams, no curses, no spells

When I grow up... I’ coulda been a contender, any contest,

If it ever came down to life and soul, I never bet my soul, I bet yours, and I live,

So see if sense is all mortals imagine, or not... spirit- ual ‘n’al.

hhhh
gggg
llllop
ggggg
gggg
<3
nnnnnnn
e,lectric

fyrre
lyre
liar
fiear
tmin

More'n ten thousand leagues under the sea
next to an octopus's garden in the shade.

OceanGate manufacturer
of the Titan Submersible,
which vessel that set out to reach
Titanic shipwreck with five passengers
officials believe the suffered
a “catastrophic implosion”
apt analogy to mein kampf.

Major tsuris, the loss of innocent lives
or being robbed blind
for seventeen thousand
five hundred buck a roos
alias Harvey Specter,
(a professional hacker and scammer
lurking in the deep dark Internet,
who turned hand over fist lucrative income
at my expense
courtesy cyber currency bitcoin)
bad karma will catch
the *******.

Though yours truly
feels thoroughly wretched
regarding forsaken finances,
yes when put in perspective
with the former
aforementioned horrendous catastrophe
(regarding irreparable loss of life),
I a fetchodit father figure
feels fraught with fractured psyche.

Wanton wickedness wrought
tears me lovely bones taut
remuneration desperately sought
dollars hacked with place value ought,
thus will to remain stayin' alive naught
wily weasel rendered remote control
with slickly polished shambolic
**** and bull story sinister caught
sense and sensibility of said scribe
twas worse fate than death,
I would rather my soul
to the devil bought.

Cyber sea awash with uproarious,
rapacious, opprobrious, laborious,
industrious, ferocious, carnivorous...
beasts cannibalistic traits yield
atrocious, deleterious, hellacious,
malicious, tenacious..., lawlessness
triumphantly imbuing reckless gullibility
unabashedly unleashing unprincipled
piranha - viciously chomping
on mine body eel 'lectric
paralyzing shell shock Atlas shrug
courtesy perpetrator did wield
truncated in God we trust trunkline
tragedy will land me in potter's field.

Unrepentant serpent did asphyxiate
I send an sos where Meg found -
mine devastated legal tender
(hint unscramble anagram
to proffer mine deliverance
regarding acceptable donations)
menacing alias Harvey Specter
stole my innocence and naïveté
hook, line and sinker

masterfully wormed his way
pounced with blackened barbs
fooling me to buzzfeed him bitcoins
both checking and savings account
depletion of funds and havoc did create
once solvent wordsmith now broke
a trainwrecker left no tracks
of stolen pilfered, looted, hocked...
precious freshly minted freight
unknown readers might hashtag me as ingrate.