That old clock is ticking away,
the days bleed on one into another,
mostly all the same, nothing much
new to report here. I do what I can,
what my aged body will allow.
A limited return on my investment
I guess, but still finding little joys
that sustain me, mostly given up
on big dreams and illusions, anyway
being rich and famous was never on
my wish list agenda, all in all it's been
a very good run, with strong family
love given and received, our linage
prospers and continues, that is after
all the only real reason any of us, man
bird or beast were put on this earth.

To believe otherwise is but a
human delusion that in the end
matters not in the least.

Mermaid, the moon in my cloudy sky on dark nights,
I treated you like the most precious gift from the Ameer,
in my ****** life, though I  spent just one night with you and fell in love,
I adore you more then my sweetheart of long years,
I remained loyal to you, a dancing girl, more than to my dear wife,
in lonely nights my heart pined for just you, nobody else
I wept bitter tears hoping that you'd somehow hear my sobs,
most hardened stone, your heart was, you never reacted
I heaped praises on you, bought you expensive gifts
lavished perfumes from the most exclusive perfumeries
I waited in the most breathtaking oasis,days on with camels
to take you far and be with you ditching all other loves of my life
my heart on embers, I forgot how respected I was, what was my status,
I became a lowly beggar of your love, in your presence
my eyes lost their glow, got sunken in the cavities making
me look pitiable, my dress was shredded in many places,
my body became emaciated, I made a living only by singing
paeans to women of easy virtue, just to buy as much things
that pleases you,  make you jump up in joy, as soon as you see it.

You drink the best wine, would wear the rarest of lingeries
that peeped out of the muslin dress, I gifted you
still my love, you weren't pleased you looked daggers at me
without any regret, and asked to bring more gold and silver,
it's the life of a slave I happily lived, I know so well
I composed poems on voluptuous mistresses of men of royal linage,
and collected pieces of gold and silver for my labor
with that I made bejeweled  ornaments for your lovely body.
Mermaid, you are a wonder, you walk on two legs,
yet swim in deep waters with others, whom you don't even mention,
I only dream of you and wait endlessly here, all the same contented.

this is what your mother does not want you to see,
that your ancestors rattled the cages so hard they broke
and learned to tame the lioness that stepped out from the aftermath.
you can find your linage in the dirt beneath your grandmothers fingernails,
here is the fight that they poured into your soul,
the mountains that they climbed,
the battles that they conquered.
your mothers grandmother laughs like wicken,
carries something valuable in the deep creases of her skin,
tells you not to waste your time with love and lust,
but to chase the wind while your feet are strong enough to carry you.
this is what your mother does not want you to see,
that you come from a long line of women nothing close to tame.
that you carry the blood of those who molded the world,
instead of letting it mold them.

ABBY King& Queen of hearts  

Royal eyes of bowed benevolence with passion and love two mortals stood on Scotland’s sovereign soil
And a portion of it they prayed and commanded by their souls would be held in esteem and forever it

Would be sacred and by many stones there arose a holy monolith so dedicated to God from the
Truest and purist heart that Scotland could provide as its Holy Father and mother with ruling powers

That rested in gifts and flowering of royal linage to bestow this towering principle from quarried stone
In all times in sunshine or clouds of pewter gray or the cool airy mist would all proclaim a faith that

Knows no bounds and is always a surety of this peoples love and respect for all that is Holy the inner
Sanctuary always open to rich and poor and it works it curative powers on the blighted soul whatever

Sins might torment but to stand in this great light from stained glass widow’s heights the small would
Feel enlarged the large and great would be made to feel there true size in this gaze of awe none are big

But they are the perfect size that sons and daughters make when they are on their knees in Holy prayer
None are as great as when they humble themselves and give ardent expression to their need of being

Made Holy no greater riches can be found in any country that outweighs a praying people and who
Show they seek guidance and mercy from its never ending source from He who sets upon A Holy throne

That puts all kingdoms in their proper place as they lift holy hands in praise

Daughter of Promise
They speak of the waters in the strait of Gibraltar how the space shuttle photographs look near sunset how the waves glint by the sun revealing two sets of waves one can be read like rings from a tree and how as diurnal tide they pulse over the shallows in Camarinal sill at Gibraltar. Then flowing eastward they refract around coastal features. A child and father stand arm and arm together in the wider wonders of our world. Power and strength the great body of water the littlest wave in concentric circles ever enlarge from its source and anchor his hand and love gave the pulse and life for this newly birthed blessing to flow. The first years the father her harbor no ill wind the heart could disturb he the rock she the wave crashing showing her exuberance she washed as sea waves against his mighty arms that held her gave her peace and confidence without alarm. He took her from the moorings she knew so well introduced her to the grander diversity beyond the common ordinary life of home. In an ancient land her innocence would be honed to grasp greater truths and realities showing by distillation deep tides that flow from creation’s fount the linage of man shown in the shifting sand of the Sahara. See the dune of sand how it slowly rises in the silver moonlight toward the distant moon a glow it seems that you could walk the sand to its very door. The bonds there strengthened into cables of steel how rich they feel they hold against the Gail all is not calm and nurturing seas the wind will pick up its howl announces the typhoon has reared its ugly head it unleashes its anger pent up in the warm calm now destruction will be its end. The father measured the depths of days he tried to prepare the heart so tender warning giving such richness of himself trying to protect to secure the heart when absence would be the cost for the love they shared. No matter how hard you build the fortress wall all must listen to the invading call. Such treasures these circles once small holding your hand to prevent a fall. Then arms around your neck tightly squeezed oh how it did please . Bitter release tomorrow in shaded sunset sweetest peace until then you the flower he left to bloom you show his grace his blessed face.

This was written before the death of Bin Laden it is an indictment against brazen Godless conduct it
deserves to be reread at the end I take up what I saw in the spirit when I looked on the Jordanian pilot

The Flame of Blessing

America’s warriors face dangers untold in a country unlike our own where violent war is a way of life
In evils caldron that burns with natural order hate, teaching laced with poison and ****** is honorable
This can only thrive in a society that kills truth and then in falsehood their black robes invite all strife
Chaos butchery all manner of anarchy is used to try to subdue a people’s God given right to be free
Our troops in one way or another are set to burning Miss Liberty is in their hearts although latent
All that is needed to cause liberty’s flame to blaze is put these blessed ones in contact with tyranny
Every insult and criticism is leveled at the U.S. we need improvement but let evil show and be blatant
Ordinary kids from American streets will rise the last thing you will see is freedom blazing in their eyes
Black hearts are tuff pushing the weak and there fanaticism pretends at being brave every bully’s trait
These cannot be reasoned with madness has one cure annihilation this fight not for the faint hearted
The enemy needs a history lesson Tara, Iwo Jima; Omaha beach a brother hood reborn gun barrel strait
You posses by ideology penned by hell’s most convincing liar we come bearing truth then arms
God’s shadow first then Miss Liberty looms then the unquenchable prayers of a nation they pray for you
Peace, tranquility is worth our sacrifice you are left with a tattered rag a soiled flag marred by carnage
To bleed, true honor the making of a house of arms it will succeed in all war and conflict peace to accrue
We take God given might temper it with mercy and justice for all we are not timid in freedom’s fight
This is the my candle burning


but when I looked upon the
Jordanian pilot I saw the epitome of innocence a softness that melted the bars he was already free
before they set the flame it was to be an act that would shame him the flames were consumed by
glory a soul reaching the zenith of freedom he joined a very rare and select group martyred
instantly he grew in stature to embody all of his people forever he is part of their hearts and
minds as long as they are a people he will be at the forefront beyond life but ever close when
principal and ideals are spoken you need not to look any farther than this hero this man of dignity
and honor that put truth before personnel safety to state the importance that can never be extolled
enough all that I hold dear is confined in the border of my country it holds my God my family
the one cause that cannot be trifled with it is too dangerous and crucial to all public life

Hands of infinite filth closed the cage door in doing so they chained themselves to dishonor and
eternal damnable flames but for this soul now condemned a transformation took place the distant  
pure waters of Jordan were splashing down his head and face with refreshing on the inside his
country sent fresh breezes filled with thanks and prayers of love for their native son who he was
before was changed in this hour of trial any and all errors of thought and action fell away being
replaced by resplendent glory I have over a life time seen innumerable sights in nature and in
people but this lovely man rose above them all it was telling he possessed an admirable
countenance he stepped over his previous linage into the royal house he beamed a silent
resoluteness it was pure vibrancy they didn’t take his soul when he climbed into that cockpit he
gave it to all that was dear and just but what of them this best describes their sick malevolent
existence Voltaire was a rampant Godless atheist he loved the role his whole life how he spoke
and wrote  with such joy but at death he jumped from his death bed he looked across the room
and with terror almost inaudible he said I hear chains and they are for me the Devil brings them
to bind me forever these men turned to mongrel mad dogs will soon have the same end what
fools and what a man of untold courage forever he will be extolled as a man for peace and
justice

They say, the dying are greeted, by their mothers
She comes for them at the end
Her love reaching further than bookends
Loving before, when you’re but an idea
A single cluster of cells,
Pregnantly waiting,
For birth

You came into the world quickly,
Precariously, the way you moved in life
Your pace blazing—light speed  
A glow that burned from the beginning

You were likely, the first person I ever held,
Me being too little to hold onto anything much bigger
But of course I adored you right away,
Right from when I first held you,
You made more than a daughter

You left the world quickly too,
during the month the sun burns the hottest,
August sweeping you into the air.
So I wonder, who came for you?

What I like to imagine,
and most desperately hope,
Is that you were greeted by a softness
A loving net cast by our grandmothers
Rocking you slowly
Pulling you back into our linage

Cliche beginnings, eye catching glances, images layed over heart, ****** lust. Touching civilization. Constant linage over time. Felt and now posed in forever. Flamed passions, wild hearts, glaring from the eyes.
Heaven smiles. Earth blushes.
No longer to argue with society, protesting against, never. Inclined to give in. Forgetting about the normality of life, where others suffer. Love left to experience as something happens to others is sill and thought dripping poetry, is now one’s own hands. A souls liberty. Dream fulfilling. Intimate moments. Mimicking poems. Glowing engagement between two.
If it’s told in theatre, proposals for immortality.
Shocked and accidental.
No sense of possibly returning.
For they are not who I had expected. Neo. How saving hee, never. Oh how love deems and falls, melting over one, like gold over marble. For I never asked, dreamt of, or even yearned for. Though they are there and I cannot turn away.  
Normal in love.
Different outside the normality of where we both come from.
Whimpering without, like a child
and I roar when she’s around.
Feeling utterly untouchable, brave to be thyself as we experience contentment.
Poetry follows but will never emulate.
(knowledge variable)

In my deep state of awareness
an apparition strikingly similar
in form to me in many ways appears,
"What are you looking behind me still?
I am an ancestor of ancient, in your linage,
countless generations before"I hear the words
"But I see myself far behind you too
we are all one, so no confusion in multitudes
my quest for noumenon has only begun,
isn't it what you tell? Time to break loose,
from all the illusory identities, bindings.Adieu"

Structures of Ancient Egyptians that allowed them to use the Pyramids as a conduit to create renewable electricity. The Pharaohs of the Ancient Days where man who made many remarkable discoveries to Mathematics, Science, Politics, Agriculture, Dogma & the Cosmos. Many believe that the Pharaohs have long died but the Linage Of Pharaohs is indeed still around till this Era...and perhaps I am one of the last living Pharaohs existing I believe this to be true due to the fact that I had a dream about 1 year and 7 months ago...where I woke up in a Sarcophagus in a Tomb in a remote place somewhere in Egypt  (Or so I thought It was Egypt) and there I was dressed in Pharaoh like attire. A man with strong physical attributes removed the top of the Sarcophagus where I was having a slumber and when I opened my eyes I saw a Huge Blue and Orange looking Sun with 2 smaller orbs that looked like other suns around the big one in a flash inside my minds eye. The Man spoke a strange language and he had 4 wings and had Ancient Egyptian looking clothing but yet different. When finally I made it out of the Mystical Egyptian looking Tomb (we were outside and it was unbelieable man) the place was a beautiful looking enormous field full of trees odd in shape the grass looked blue and air was warm and fresh at the same time all around in the way far distance where mountains and volcanoes and in this place where I was truly was one of a kind because it was not day or night it was something in between both but when I looked up to the sky there where NO MORE STARS or CONSTELLATIONS it was as if I was in the final resting place of the end of the Multi-verse where things are created and everything else follows... strange feeling and overwhelming feeling indeed.  Furthermore this took about 2 hours of walking thru humongous corridors and labyrinth like passages that without this man showing me a way out of that place I would of gotten lost and had never found the exit. I knew I was not in Planet Earth this was a whole different planet maybe even a different Galaxy because I saw rare structures around me and a large amount of people outside where I came out of the Egyptian (but not of course since I explained what I saw and felt, but something about this place reminds me of Egypt but cannot place my finger on it, perhaps their symbology) yet most of all the symbols there did not resemble Egyptian Language at all it was some other different symbols and cryptographic symbolism they used in their culture and their colorful art. This creatures since they apparently were NOT human beings they where something similar to humans but quite different hence they are able to fly and also communicate thru telekinesis. Then they showed me a Metallic Oval Shaped Rock thing that they held in their hands. The Man with Wings handed it to me without speaking a word to me just smiling and pointing at the object. I grabbed it ... once I touched it ...the object was very light about 1 lb no more than that but looked heavier to the eye...then it turned to a square in a matter of seconds but something in my mind told me that it was about to change shape to be put...and I was and there it let me see my own reflection hence it turned to a mirror like object something similar to the ones we have here on Earth. I saw myself and yes I was still indeed young about 25 years of age and nothing about me had changed except the color of my skin was ultra radiant the color a vibrant star and my face had tattoos I had never seen in my life on Earth similar to the Angel like Human like creatures smiling and following me around... Then One of them was about to tell me ...something important ....all I heard was "You are .....In the English Language ....THEN THE DREAM ENDED!!!

Linage of pride as she howled towards birds
that curtsied in the presence of she unspoken in words.
All knew of her, this steed she rode upon, one
of a pride of brothers and sisters. Unseen none
left her side, when she motioned all would run.

The staff was her voice, with but effortless elegance
showing those who tainting the forest with inelegance
of self, ruining the balance for the deeds of ones own lack
of morality. Pollen seeded the air, hands did reach back
pulling forth a wand of bones perched in palm each did crack.

Not of the reflection she did gaze upon something was
older, more cursed than the shadows underneath, she pause.
The wolves did howl upon the air, each one a different tone.
Clawing the earth as if something were being harmonically sewn.
the illusion fragmented, the wand but apart of something unknown.

It was an abomination of times when shades walked unaided
but she knew the motions to bury its darkness till it faded.
Her staff whispered to the breeze as blossom like snow descended.
Like a storm of light cutting into this abomination now suspended
collapsing inward till only one onyx petal fell before it began it ended.

The night fell as stars wove the illumination on the figures below,
and shimmering around her tiny form was a necklace of shadow
petals, this wasn't her first or last shadow to fall like blossom alone
on the ground. The wolfs howled at the moon as she smiled, tone
of melodies greeted her ears as she rested her weary head on a stone.

"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…

In a womb of depravity I am nourishment
gravitating between the succubus of
both the linage of lambert and vagueness
that stems from the breeches of my creation.

Consciousness  of what is wielding its gravity
upon my weak state, if I just let them weave
between my creativity and formation of what
is a visualization of my creation...

I'm not the centre of this reality, but I'm the
formation of bonds that predate my existence.
Yet I'm disembodied with paranoia, of those
whispers that have a rotation upon my being.

Mother can you yield to the struggle that formulates
with this interval that comes within the gravity of
my existence. I have extremities that wield upon my
presence and they make me feel a need to be aborted.

It is not my fault.
Not in my linage,
not in my blood,
how to make things
disappear as I pass close
to other peoples things
or items not mine
or cherished possessions,
not even in their absence,
things not my own,
not belonging to me,
for I am not a magician.
Was not born a
kleptomaniac.
I guess I'm good at
leaving things behind,
instead of stealing them.
They disappoint me,
hurt my feelings.
What can I say,
of those elite ones
in public office
embezzling public funds
or rather stealing it.
What a humiliation  
for the family,
or the embarrassment
to the friends of such a one.
I cover my face in shame
because of people like that.
It's not in my blood,
I cannot condone such people.
A thief is not a thief
because he stole,
a thief is a thief because he steals.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

I experienced the pain you
caused the last time you
forced yourself into my life,
I'm still recovering
from that nightmare,
I see the scars
of the old wounds
and I still feel the pain
you left in my heart
and now you want to take
away that balm of Gilead
meant for my healing,
this time I won't let you.
I vehemently oppose you.
May the Lord rebuke you.
I come against you
by the Word of God.
I called the heavens to
bare witness against you.
I am the righteousness
of God in Christ Jesus.
You have no power over me.
I am more than a conqueror.
Born of the seed of
the Royal Priesthood
and of the linage of
the triumphant one.
Given to live a glorious life.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.

Tug your forelocks and back away
you peasants from Simpleton upon Strife
I smell you well from your penury and hovels
get up  and go till my grounds and grind my corn
my pleasure today to grind your wives and wenches
Commoners all with small pokey staffs and stunted daggers
your women cry ya'all cannot keepup in the setting light or at dawn
I need strong able saplings like me  to man the fields and tend acres
run, go tell your wives and wenches time to lay down and pay taxes
I put a linage in serfdom to cleanse out the dense uncouth gene pool

Mostly birth by wine or two pints of lager
by two lie fed unknowings
conceived in mendacity beer goggles aplenty
it only takes seconds and the linage continues
milked in pasteurized myths
grows in houses of cards on foundations of chips
schooled and trained to hear never to think
photo shopped pictures and altered images implanted
their facade of being, semblance without substance
the armies of doers in basement barracks
readily supplied cannon fodders
at their Masters pleasure

No word of what is really real is known
no original truths grace their side by side
we speak for you so please do not bother your little heads
just do as you are told and when's all done
there's plenty of fun awaiting for your stipends
whole heap of packages tailored specially for you
packages for packaged minds in packaged bodies
tell them no truths, feed them freedom of ignorance
child-adults making babies for the conveyor belts
eating daily made-ups to fill empty minds
the do-as-I do's with numbered registered minds
hey! they have power, they have the votes and Democracy