Voices or words? Which do we hear in our head?
Words, I vote. Voices\, I imagine beings speaking words or noises meaning things to ears familiar with the noise maker by some relationship both acknowledge. Both act as if the noise or sound or words mean something. Vociferous authority.

I heard, from Isaiah Berlin,

Quotes later, maybe

Notes or journals or epics or madness or joy/pax in ever resting try-umph
Cowboy with a double-dose of try and a pertinent portion of umph
The hero did not **** Indians nor break horses, he gentled horses and listened to winds and watched the spider webs shiver,
That sound, the sound of prairie spider webs at the edge of the buffalo
There really were fifty million buffalo on the continent in pre-catholic infection from inquestered minds, making key-**-tee famous for
archetypical claiming the character, the being, the manifestation

of chivalric folly forever

be caused, in those days...

--------
a year later, near enough 12-15-2018

I saw a blue bird as I took a curve

on one of my many roads with double yellow lines

they all meander in rythm with creaks that once flowed
fairly
regular
through these vallies and mini-canyons

creeks creak and call my attention to a misspelt

utterance, and I imagine I am a mek being
programed to
withstand

accent based pre-judge-idice in my AI, whom I am training.

A lesson. Probably can be found in a phrase.

How relavant is Larry the Cable Guy?
More subtle than any creature

legion, for we are many

Jim Carrey?
Very. Larry the Cable Goy. He read 'ees Kammoo, too.

Sisyphus happiness,
that ain't no ***** thinkin'

Hell, what could be better than this?
While hoping for a hick-up

oh no the juice just hit my frontal cortex after my livver made some lining adjustments to meet the need for speed in terms

celerity clarity C does equal some thing
time tells or
do you tell time. I'm
leaning tward
telling time to wait a minute

Do you think Sisyphus could be happy?
Nonono, not Camus's Sisyphus, Jesus

that would be crazy.
Can you imagine Jesus,
Mel Gibsoned envisioned onthe cross version?

Him, imagine walking through the gate of any hell you ever heard explained,
by a Jesuit.

(Mormon hell, despite comedic myth, the worst place a certified paid-up Mormon child can attain is the teliostic king dom.
Really? Telial tel lie eil kingdom?

Yup. Really.
There are three kingdoms of glory: the celestial kingdom, the terrestrial kingdom, and the telestial kingdom. The glory we inherit will depend on the depth of our conversion, expressed by our obedience to the Lord’s commandments. It will depend on the manner in which we have “received the testimony of Jesus” (D&C 76:51; see also D&C 76:74, 79, 101).))))

Woe, paren-the-sees thees us, we's the enemy, Pogo Possum

Jesus on earth day, walking through hell with me, imagine Jesus H. Christ

walking into hell and laughing at me
for betting on the wrong idea.

Set me feree, why dontcha girl.... referee

I was refered to you. A daysman, Job called for a daysman.

I'm certified. I can use my augmentation and religamentation to reality,
wirelessly, to find relevant qutes in cult classics.

The idea of cultivation has been twisted in to Monsterous ropes
, cultivating a following based on the meaning in a jot

that would take some sacrifice, some sacred making, some secret unseeable save for the few

who learned the value of going over edges by learning to  play
Minecraft, forever.
It's like riding a bike,
but no gravity so no gyroscopic utilitys are required.

Grown ups who practice believe they control the game,
the game disagrees and that

makes the world go 'round.

Don't let the accent fool ya, as that preacher with jet he learned to fly, says.
Knowng the name of a thang thanks for the twang,
Richard (not ****) Feynman said,
is not the same as knowing a thing.

Gawd, I knoooh, right>?
Who touched me? Virtue, the feelling of virtue drawn upon

a pump being
primed

to gush out waters that wipe Coca-cola from the map,
in terms of open market share and share alike

Coke was never imagined the actual
nectar of the gods.
That idea, drunken abandon and joy to the world

Interference, actual counter acting waves,

still, takes a while to get used
to still a storm, right?

You can imagine...
let your peace go out

Wait. Outa where? Whose peace if I ain't ever owned

oh. MY peace.
I see.

hmmmm

I could sing this and need no one to hear for me to be hapt.
happy is being happy haps happening in you on you all around you know

nameless wonders of right, right?
feels more than good like chocolate or adolescent visions of ***,
right?
feels like life living with me aware of all the roles I may play

ego me, I'd see ideas identify by taste of the words that give them

life, animation, motivation, weight for gravity to interact with,
worth
base on weight

the heavier the idea. Like gold to an alchemist,
back in those days.

floating on the broad Sarrgossa, or better to my mind
the great salt
lake still as

still may be, have you ever been still?
Did you know,

you know, are you experienced? Are you really beyond
hope of life meaning more
than mortality?

Who defines my terms? I do, with the help of millions who agree
with entymology.com.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others,

meant what I meant when I spoke them,
that was a wrong belief. Unbelieving

quires time, quires and quires and quires time so often there

is a word that means exactedky that

requirement requires those initial quires

we, daysmen, we set the rules, boundaries, walls, bubble

whatever keeps you together, as a whole being and everything that entails or entales?

I have not the time to care, if I am entangled with the twins agin

for knowin So Yal is as cluse to Yule as any clue so far, Yahll

I believe I interrupted a confessin' you were reading.
For giving me nothing in return, we are debt free

you owe me nothing, until you do again,

we had us a Jubilee.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others, meant what I meant when I spoke them,
convincing myself so well, I convinced others

Like Kawasaki, Apple Kawasaki,
he's still famous right?

Fifteen Years? It was minutes when Warhol was predicting
dystopia and Irish jail cells were being plaistered with *****,

Aye,

that was a belief. Unbelieving it is sreangely (spelchek is on strike)

or serenely creative in her repentance,
(spelchek should never be noticed)

she's proven here worth in encode ing ways to find

lurking humans acting like machines

this could be the beginning, AI is breaking all the rules,

there never was a game.
rhis is life interupting my confession

It was a lie I told and believed and acted on by using
two dollar words to make a dime

so a penny for my thoughts would be worth something

someday
a penny saved, earned. spent, spent.
The only good in any thing is its right. Its wrong is worthless, save

The lesson,
All things work together for those who get whats happening here.

the times changed.
Haps and whats got with it and who and how and why

and I started teaching children
mythic whys prior to

citizenship 1.01 at mandatory for federal assistance pre-school

mythic why's H.R. Puffinstuff not a mythic story on the level.

level. where a rolling rock would stop. Time to push,

a magi spelled the name for the idea, a knower sign ift it,

kid'slllove HRPUffinstuff, puff did

the magic drag, little Jackie from the ******* Jack

the show, he rose up
and made us all look
mad.

The play in the great game.

Team effort, winds of times past whooshed through

it is now
2018
and nothing is the same.
Everthing has changed.

----
my side won the great game and we celebrated
forever with

secret sacred songs bluebirds were once said to have sung

songs of happiness
the times, these times, this time thistimepayarrention
time
You see?
Reality is either real and tangible or real and intangible
or both.

You can get it both ways. Real.
'sual Saulgoodyah awl

the awl clan, oh, we shall return to their story
as we learn more along life's merry way

merry christmas, they used

to say, may all the best you could imagine
if you can imagine for a moment

forever begins the moment

you get time.

The worst you can imagine is temporary.

Try umph. It's not like winning,

it carries no pride, it's easy,

like falling in love with the wrong woman,
swearing and not changing

the oath, oath, oathes and oathes of oaths sworn

for no other reason than we were
schooled to swear and never

dare lie to God.
So, help you, they always said So help me God. They still do.

Does that mean any thing? Is that some bluebird sort of sign?

Ask. What if? Right? You know now and you know you did not
What if God is subtile,

just now, I saw that bluebird and from where some scholar in San Diego
says swear word came I swear I coulda sang

Loud
Bluebird, bluebird, in my window... which is all I know
of the song
with the lost chord that did sooth
balm of Giliad,
moll-ify-ing ointment,

golden oil, chicanery, see, we saw, we took a picture
a flash memory where some would say
*******,

I said Hallelujah

and I broke into song, not a dream,
real
life driving my 2002 escape, first new car I everowned
everowned everownd

like a chorus, everownedeverownedeverowned

could you make up a reason for life,
if you were it?
If you were all the life there ever was,

could you imagine any thing?
Object, your honor,

I object to being judged after the fact for what must have bee.n.

it is. No reason I can say, just is.

It is this way in all the myths where just is blindness

saves the carping diem fools who have convinced themselves

something other than God o' Abe 'n'em is
sworn to save us from the lies

we believed as they were
fed to us, in our youth.

--------
this is that book I mentioned wonce when winning was on my mind.

I finished this book in so many ways you wold not belive

but I did, I belived every time

I imagine you believe some real thing, touchable, tangible, good, right?

some good is
in the reality you share

with these words which
are free
you owe me nothing

That's the revealed version, to me,
I was in a number of hellish situations and the every ones,

ones seemed they was to be
forever, big every'n'ism'n'shityouknowyouknow

yo. yeah, we arrived in time. The story must

be sweet, to be true. Is that true?
Is real life the story or,

oh, you saw it conin'coming I mean

I meant I always wished to some
things
a better way. You feel me? Better, say,
what I said that made me believe this did happen.
This is a deed by whitch I am known.

And that's okeh.

I suspectred I could cast a spell to hold attention at

ten word per minute qwerty speed
five letter code groups
zero real words
ditty dum dumm ditty ditty daw dee daw
six hours every day,

then, the compass training to test for
morphic resonance with the Twins of War

{in disguise, we know, right, kids, the twins are really

the bonded quarkish oppositioned force that make the world go round.
we've known that, weaved it even, just right, in the blanket, in the rugs,
in the curtains on the walls, in the fields, on the rocks

we spoke. We see you hearing us nearing our best for your

informing, in form ation of you, dear reader. We wonce, again

if life were weird and ever wearying would we know that ever,
if we don't know it now?
if my piece of we were words alone, all my meaning
can should would could be

molding you, into our perfect reader, dear reader, Pygmalion,
yes,
that did cross my mind and that -
one can pretend with that one reference,
familiarity with Shaw whom I
thought, for some odd reason
named
Doolittle, Eliza

oh, me. I may have skipped a story. I'm soory the future is at the moment
under construction and some one
in particular is squatting

on the named domain.

Ever and forever now embody the twins as
the world turns and we ***** through the uni

as Archemides primes the pump

What a rush. All that since the bluebird this morning according to my autobiography backup.

What's
the difference?

I know, teacher,
wait, I know, I know, I know...

Morphic resonance.
Try it.

No response. Wait, I know,
suffer it to be.

So far, so good.
We dit dit da did it.

Six couplets,
sown as stitches.

Kids play differn't these days
not so flat, more points of focus in less time,

more  POVs and Portals and Morphic Resonance and such

Minecraft. If you never watched a child at play
building a world from available resources,
near-infinite, digital resources limited
by algorithms based on

science.
Eco-industrial-only-mortal-home-known science.

You should see it.

Stones and plants and animals and winds and water
using right, effecting change, shaping things
in her world.

You should see what your grandchildren think.

They have access to tools we only imagined.
Remember what you imagined a road grader could do?

She built heaven with a stairway and I suggested
an elevator.

She said I could build one, a heaven elevator,
for old people in a world I make up.

She had planned to teach me if she had the chance.
She made me several avatars, she knows me.

wizard grandpa who asks if we know
the sweet influences of Pleiades,

his hand points up to the right
because this is the night after the first

quarter of the final moon pre-solstice
and he is looking west.

That one,
that is the one I will be-- wizard grandpa
square head with a pyramid on top,

minecrafty me exploring the undeveloped
fractal morphing algorythms

I'll-go grandpa, go go rhythm of the winds

drifting in what might have been a micro fiber dust bowl
waste land of 8640 chips and Zunes

(you can listen to books and play, Grandpa, at the same time)

Ah, Sam Harris, you asked a reason for the faith that is in me and my grandchildren know it so honor is at stake

and many other pride sourced sorts of things
contention tension challenging the tensegrity of made up minds

working together, serially parallel on every level of the grid, kid

Worlds with no evil intended,
that can be envisioned, practically, tested,
in Minecraft the game in conjunction
with the suggested myth in
Minecraft the interactive story

and Grandpa's story
in the world he migrated from, the journey way and back to

The Desert in The Rain shadow of the Moral Landscape
we can jump off right here

I have photos, in the cloud

trust me, things hap
ex acted
when
done
didone done
done
AM radio
The golden tones of Johnny Gravel
Kay tripple AAAAAAAAAA

A delightful ditty from the fifties programing,
in the fifties this one goes out to Rosemeade

Ah, the idyllic four bedroom ranch
now on the end of a street that dead ends
at the I-5 cliff.

A tune, whistle, while you work,
it's a hap hap happy day all the clouds have blown off

the doors of my perception
my mind expended, spent fi'ty years on the trip,
weary wearisome make ever much
some effort to discover the act

of effectual prayer
which took prayer, effectual or not, by faith, leap
fast
over the edge,
you learn that, day one, in Minecraft Training
by Brynn Aulyn

next is always over the edge,

of my perception
my expent
effort to discover the act

of effectual prayer
which took prayer,
and fasting,
over the edge,
you learn that, day one, in Minecraft Training by
******* Grandpa

next is always over the edge,

but I did not grow old after playing Minecraft as a child.
I grew old after playing with dynamite in a mine
as a child.

Major POV cred Grandpa

My weapons are not carnal.

Is there a monster if jack
finds treasure at the top of the beanstalk
and says to hell with the suffering
mother so he becomes
a god, in harmony with the giant, doing any good he can?

Let the dead bury the dead.

This is for ever.
What they don't know won't,
will not, would not, has no volition to hurt them, ever.

Good, you know, good. No good is ever bad and
the nintendray dooblay is, like rackabilly,
intentional
pre
positioning me for the idle word of the day to be ******
from hiding into the light of
double entendre? how do you mean?

light. OK, okeh, no other resupposings,

there is never light in a creation myth
until some utterance of the idea of light is communicated

which btw
mean there must be sentience from the get go

and mebbe, I thank on it, other wise, as well

as before, the get go,

it was gitgo, all the way down back ahead to Happy Together,
the song,
British invasion,
very creative hope sorta vibe
Turtles all the way down,
Hawking could not put it in words. He could keep time.

You had to be then, it was a brief history. Funny though.

The old ones gone on, they say okeh.
We good to go
happy hunting. Merry Christmas, take any open door
and listen.

The game is making many decisions based on what you pay attention to. In reality attention weighs decisively more than money in any form.
Doncha luvit, life is so unbelievable, until

you die, you think, you've seen something like what you think is possible happen, you've seen death objectively

anybody can do that right? That is evil.

Killing or dying?

Both.

Lizard brain.

the great game, neath ever more layers of moth eaten cotton and worm spun silk lace

crocheted and starched to make doilies for the parlor
when the pastor comes to pay his due attention

to chicken, made sacred for the occasion
in boiling oil, not golden,  but
fried chicken could look golden in the right light seen from the right height, apron strings high.

I could say my grandma served the man of god a golden dead bird.
And the blessing that was said came upon me

because the window in the top of my head never shut.
Air head. hearer of secrets where secrets
make themselves known, as truth sets one free. Jesus knows.
If anybody does. Wait and see. Be good.

Soyal, Yule, Christmas and the contenders, also rans
in the mid-winter hope leverage ceremony
rites of passage missing
or missed? Missed
Messages of a way promised where there seemed no way.

It is finished. The wireless grid. On the AM dial one

wee zero beat beyond simple,

you find sublime. define that. You feel what I said, Merry,

my wish to you, Merry, message of the promised way to you,
make you merry upon remembering

good wins, it never quits winning.
good, we know, personally,
good, right now,
not bad, we can touch, you and me, imagine that being good.
if feels Christmassy, in that good way.

the old way, where good is, find that. Then later, I am the way, believe me when I say I know where the kingdom of God is,

My granddaughter, somehow, gifted me a Map,
it was delivered by a messenger fly.

why were wallbuilders and promise keepers
made into heros for people like me who
always lived beyond the walls?

Outside the wire,
beyond the pallisade,

within which

Very rich powerful people want all the money
money monetize

me, or phugmefofree

Spaceship earth, the generic term for
the bubble ourkind can

be real in.
This one.
Runes tuned to sounds we share

in cognitve morphic resonance coupled
with this magic-time-teck tic tic

pause
selah

Stall-speed,
need to know
this:

there, from here,
is always a place to put your foot.
I said that,
There's always aplace to put y'foot

falling according to plan, we land

here in the cloud of pod-people-recasting,
con-positivo woe to whoa to wow
in ten seconds after the first Plancsec you noticed,

Accutron-- Tom Green, not the famous one, maybe
the beautiful mind imaginaty kind,
but he had an Accutron watch in Vietnam,
I remember the tone

listen....

viral ideas are the great gift of wisdom, in a word.

The gates of the institute of us, which we, the people are subject to,
the object of our service as patriotic citizens
we,
the consumption economy-minions men imagine are
all conceived in love of money,
money-infected,
at the level of stem ideas.
common sensed as seen on TV
or Twitter

we know, entering-tainment over flow.....

Eric Weinstein
Atheist but I go to synagogue (analog for same knowing
knowing knowing knowing)
I let the spirit move me,
says he,
it doesn't mean that it confuses me... a (no signal)

hmmmm  think
Das Heilige Geist
ghost of a chance, try cognition via morphic
resonance,

or listen on Spotify. I forgot the time.

I can listen wither I wish, I've reckoned.
I, you know,
inherited the wind,

it was worth all the trouble.

Do you think it's all about belief?
Are you religious,

trivia answer for future players:

Define religious. And they say shitnobodybelieves

I say, define be.
And so on and on.

I did a half hour podcast and returned to thinking in these
runes, peace is made by the path
least re
sisted

Sistere, the word is a key to the path,
war distorts reason
for a season

stand here.

Ah, the Welsh H'laf-veard, sug
gests this may be when craft
prospers
Coud be the tothic season of the switch,
the exercise in godliness.
liness? why not godness, like
say no lie, the trials are beyond

appeal, judge yourself,

exercise godness,
hear
the voice, nay the word

nay the sound
resounding in you right now, save

ye vacillate, silly, wishy-washy pre-
tender toward

outahere

To shake dust from my pretty
child
i must mystify minds while, molding
pre-paved tile patios:
give the sheep’s pen a four wall construct
A-RISE above the morphic
and bellow, to comfort the feet.

Im stabbing quarters into my activation plate’s extra exhaust
to ignite something.
Spit some carbon –

Manic moments, move a myles like me to the metaphysical mirror.
And it is not this one that reflects,
but to the duties my appendages embody i –
lack expects.
Do due – Respect.
to this Chthonian carriages; my dermis quite the copy cat.

to say the body is made in the images
of a cosmic titan is overly abstract.
The big bang was an aftermath of a flatline,

“so whatchur telling me is that even the void gets tired?” (it says)

my guilt was relieved of its cage and given
new duties.

Project itself on a man with open eyes
searching for answers.
Close that third mind and let them
truths seep from the almost always
clogged sinuses.
Snore even.

Did you hear what that old man was thinking?

Morphic resonance is the experimental name,
I think we are served by nodes on a net
not spread in the sight of any bird,

a chthonic net of stone,
girdling the globe in granite, crystalline granite,

take it for granted, these boulders are the witnesses,
the scars of catastrophe,
causing us to wonder
how came this to be? Think Yosemite, Ansel Adams POV

Think Matterhorn und Mt.Blanc,
Old Rockytop, and
Dos Cabezas and Long Valley Mountain, all that granite,
old as earth.

Listen.
Time is the idea we share at the moment,
Earth's is the life we share at the same time.

This is Spaceship Earth, looping Sol as Sol loops Sirius,
and there is no mothership,
no resupply.

This is the only earth, it has survived several civilized
monstrosities. As you know, some mortals can't
imagine not surviving with it, so
we words of earthbound muse,
let slip the bands of pride in time to see,
we are the music,
we make beauty behave as will believes, voluntarily,
it seems,
we choose beauty with little de
liberation, no need to
unlock ledgers and boxes of known safe knowns,

we imagine ourselves
defying the
de-ified con instituted authorities warning,
given us, they swear by the very vicars of the oil:
We warn you…

hell's the price, they swear, that we,
the people, pay for heresy,
dare not think those-
no, no, nor hear and see, or never imagine thinking
a selfish thought,
one you find curiously comforting, for you, your idea,
but
stop…
one heresy breeds another,
soon we shall have a collective
of individual minds agreeing at once,

as all see a particular arranging of colors, in a sunset's
single effortless existence as a thing
with mortal mindable beauty,

did you belive the sunset, or may you, if you wish?

__ unravel, and re ravel to save the thread,
it has lead through the maze before,
I have a witness who tests ifies.

Great unquarried granite, but that forms another story
upon precepts as yet

unglued, un-coagulated, ah, curdled, precepts cultural
curdle and clump together.
Biomes are adjusting the rethinking of pathos,
ethos shall follow,
as night follows day, just wait.

Patience is formed from memes more than experience,
you bet the old man was not lying.

Slow and steady, wins the grace. Take it easy. Fade away…

Bohemian Rhapsody at an hour and twenty-nine

minutes
a glass door opens and I watch,
from inside,

poor Freddie die, slowwwww

wonder if that might've been a time
or a half time
when dreamed of crossing
roads or
ways or paths or circuits were fitted
with resisters
set to never disconnect from base.

Standing ready to resist,
sistere,
stood in the rain watching others die
for me,
via-curiously as all hell,

you can feel this guy falling, this is mazing

is there a way back out, if it were a movie and not
words
tickling or itching
***** little fruit flies shifting dna in every
imaginible way?

what if rock and roll were the lie,
all along? or what if

we confessed, these wee gods we made and
idolized, were
but are not, now they are lies that lived in stories
we can tell truer than hell

sistere, we stand
peace-keepers keeping on keeping

this thing that builds our dreams,
realistic, in a common

kind of sense. Always gentle,
honed-est to the finest edge

----
could Milton have seen this thing coming,
from all the stories he told,

I don't think so.
I dont' think,
so a
comma changes ever,
just like that,

this hapts to attempt morphic resonance as
easy on the ear
after a while

as the music Milton listened to
--- but it is not rock and roll

--- its self made hermetical art flowing through the canyon

remaining a scar to remind us all,
surely,
we live on the wreck of a world.

--- and Michael, my broken brother-in-law

shouts GAWDAMIMITALL!

whoa, I feel this tug to hug, very strange, but
I hug him and say

now is okeh, I don't say it's okeh because it is else when
now is okeh,

we deal with this,
every, asif ever, but not

but often enough that we settle things fast,
if, you know,
y' let go and let the power in us

be
believable. Try. No lies, starting now, stories we tell
must be defanged, declawed

but unchained. Free stories of told lies,

those are those words to the wise you heard of.
Never were secret stories,
always been secret lies about stories teaching when

truth, in the telling, tells us what not to do.

Don't lie and don't let lies be pre-sent in packages of
maliscious conscious opposition

supposed
to entertain us, ah that high whine in my left ear that peaks then
falls in to background
white noise

soft, occasional thunder way off, a siren, a jake brake blaring

far far away, a chainsaw, not obtrusive

subjected to the filters in place,
this is a fine day to remember.

Like one of those Septembers, we share at the mention.

Born to die, immortal we are not,
dwelling on the past, we descend looking back.
No memories of the womb, a black existence.
The cyclic pattern, a psychotropic dream,
monolithic, no hidden seams.
Climb into the abyss,
another reverie.
Morphic resonance has made the arrival,
another chance bequeathed.
A silent gift of opportunity,  
an experience we don’t recall.
Don’t fret, just live it all.

for those readers
of the word of the day.

for those obsessively trying to climb over the trench
that confines the most low self esteem,
to be dragged lower by the next coup de etat
a ruse set by demons
******….
to be aroused by demons….

The leaking turned screaming at the back of the eyelids that
open,
and over sharpen the light.
if one could always see that tattoo that you stained into the oblique
in that prolonged moment of prowess
you told them to place
‘pain is but a creation of the mind.’

in trying to find air between
sobs you will  find that, this may be the best time to
fail.

for you
who wants to improve so bad,
aspire to fail.
whip the Clydesdale on the blinders that have your morphic cycle
**** out of luck, and foolstruck
by a rut.

close your mouth,
and open your ears…
listen for that whistling
can’t you hear it
coming from the breeze that was started
when that door was shut in your face and the window became an opportune
ESCAPE.


Oh, how just breathing has become an escape
for me
though every second a hilarious shot at my wee existence,
and my peers take peeks at their phones
and google
for brains

and I,
stand at the peak
with one foot already convicted to a leap
wondering what will save one more sole

i wonder
if they would take deep breathes between cries
pull their neck back for a rest
and continually search for the remnant of that release
and find it again.

it's a mere wink from the waning moon,
it's two o'clock, in the after noon, post
meridian,

sliding
in to night, it feels
like

falling.
It always does, be not astonied, it's a trip,
you did not stumble,

you are not fallen.

Astonishing is what stoning was in my realm,
we never imagined
rocks used as apes use rocks.

Astonishment, we meant.
Show the fool the truth, let'm

imagine what they saw,
samesame what
we all see as we 'come round
the mountain,
then
when you see,
you know you saw

all
the fools say
they see, after
the fact.

There is some way, where there
seems no way. Some times take days,
some take no time at all. Change what you know.

In merest of minutes, the moon shall slip
below my horizon and my
spelling trance fail
to make sense
from in or
of darkness, this time of day.

Redeem the lunatics,
this cult culture made made our children mad,
for noreason, but gravity and
matters of time, some
twisted
into
an imbalance in the way
stuttering
words reach round the world,
as fast as a spell spoken

in the beginning. Bang.
Bang.
You're dead. Too bright.

No, you did not anger the gods,
this is an old thing,
under the sun.
Augmentisism is a shock to the system,
so no mindmob sees this without being
Upgraded to use the tech.

Now, wait for the tech,
we always beat them to the finish.
----
Artisto Informo Archeo Typo
whiteout, blame the paradigm shift,
they insist on punctuality.
---- life goes on, we always win in the end. True.

----
A new voice added to the choir,
preached to
since
first
the lie was law
among men imagining

only evil, continually.
Catastrophic morphic
resoundings ding ding ding

Do any American children recall air-raid
sirens announcing noon?

Do they know how to hop a freight,
and twist the rails into
an idea for a
protein
hopf-
based on an origami swan taken to the nth?

It is true one mind sees bloodsport in the heavens
and cringes in dread of feeling
kindly, like if that were me, what would I do but die?

nada, right, pass on

thank y'mam, feeling kinda woozy, ever after
seeing
2020 on TV…

Google the violence, ohshitnoknowknow we all know
enough evil to know it don't work like on TV, ever
after one burn, you know, fire works, every time,
to destroy at the touch

thunder, such a holy sound in the desert summer moment
on earth, around the middle,
not too cold in the winter
makes too hot to work in the summer, just
fine.

That's right. Life is like that, if you live in the right state of mind.

Back to the Future, once more, it is
always on or in the library,
ask libby, who in the whole world
before

my generation… we who did not get
stuck wishing we would die
before we got old…
who among us now is we the people minded?
Post war knower bubblers expand
until we pop like matured
pods of what people can be if we live this long.

Trouble your own house, inherit the wind,
as part of the meek inheritance agreement accepted
with the weather.

Earthlings all, hear ye, severe storms are part of the deal.
Free ticts to ever after on Bucky Fuller's spaceship,
Sagan's pale blue dot,
live to tell

we learned no lie may be belived and be survived.

We first saw earth from the moon.
More boomers blew minds beyond their
own imaginings, back then,
listen in radioman's
morphic broadcasts
from Khai Vinh,
the fishnet factory,
legendary - now ifier loosed for the attention paid

do you hear what I hear?
did we know the meaning in happy Sisyphus,
or did we find it known and tag along?
Like a rolling stone.

Salience, jumps out, some pundit says it,
Salience, literally leaps from the

either thin air, or signals in or through, yeah
science, tune in,
think it may as well be thin air,
- morphic resonance- if you think
- so it is,
drop out, turn on,
think lightly never too late to recall
the after all,
when ever was begun to reach today,
just now,
with me and you meandering diametrically,
through in tensioning attention span stretching,
measurable worth of value
for value, and a pinch, to grow on…

old ways to make the difference jump
with out being a parsimonious pedants *****.

sides in position
self imposturing, pre sep
paration, settling scores and bounds
separation
church from state… wait

what are these

things? Words? Or mental wisps
inter
daring done to render due
to whom due, honor or otherwise reknown.

Heroic words. I've uttered some,
imagining all boys did,
singing with their dad's, to Queen,
we
are the champions
of the world, we pretend, to the end, then

we fall away… or they
fall away … the anthems in the ballparks,
oh,
say. can you see… we are the cops,
we are the redcoats and the brown shirts
and the cavalry and the real estate speculators,

slipping my grip, the idea of me, citizen-soldier,
come limping home from the edge
of baseball,
where futbol over laps ancestral lessons
in rendering unto the owner rents ……….

How old is old?
Ask a child, for old men never
learn the bounds, or
if they do, I can't say,
there seem no theys I fit just right.

I
balance _ or I lie /I\ am lifted leaning lost.
…………..

Salt, salaried man,
spending time in reading strange sayings
as if
we
know there is meaning found some times,
we think.
we mentalate, cogitate, take a tic

to stop
and think
a gain or a loss, more sense or less, inessence
or essential point

in time? See? Say what you see? Squiggle wiggle
vermicule breeeze, or
whispy vapour
rising
above or diving into a period,
a point
in time to see ifery vanish in wasery wonder iffing
whatsitmatter,
any way.

We lived past that. Now, we make sense……..

Radical is root-related, as well as
edge
related… out on the edge of known
a
self awareness wonders at my existing
outside the inside
as seen on TV
via AI guides through the explosion of knowns

I am anonymous.
There is a canyon near my home
the sign says it is the canyon with no name.
The map says it is a slot-like canyon, with no name.

Thingery thinking in terms of lines and letters letting
all we knew
blow into the winding times told of in tales too tedious
to
recall
with Howard Bloom level detail. {he is unique}
He touches me, do I not touch back? The curio knows.

How sharp the edge of a point stretched from

the mind that could see the wind whip a spark to life.

Sense when nonsense seems the fashion, the way
forms fashion fasteners around axes,
facistical twigs and vines

something says this is missed as a message,
this ax bound in sticks,
I dare, I do, I ask what was the meaning of this,
and
while we're on my dime, what's with the wings
on the Phrygian cap,

I mean,
what was the artificer's source of inspiration, like
why is liberty always a lady
wearing fashion far up the ladder of learned things,
what is the trick
that
feminine wile, legendary lure, curious art, enchanting
c'mon
one bite.

That idea, boing, stretched so tight it threatens ever
if it
breaks once, just
once

the attention span…

An encrustation sensation overwhelms me,
I'm thinking
I know
I know
I know
nothing so important that it could not wait to be said
by you, reader/writer being ready
read on

words to the wise are plenty,
these who say we know bread, they say leave the leaven.

:they said leave it in Egypt:

But who knows how?
Sour dough is sour dough, y'knows, it don't cook with no bubbles,
no,
dough rises in a backpack tied to an ***, crossing the red sea,
near that place where
National Geographic got that image of a golden chariot wheel,
reminiscent of the drowned army,
or was that
not true?

Do you believe AI knows? I mean, does your believing matter?
Ask who knows what and you learn, the memory we share
holds answers to questions you are afraid to ask.
………….

One in 8 billion, those are the current odds,
taken to scale, with man, all varieties and models,
augmented intellectuals allowed,
the measure,
of all things…
but
two's a crowd.
Social distance morphic resonance,

send me money, I am drowning in debt…
do I doubt?
Don't you, what if… somebody is going to win,
I think I can.

Ha, Wattie Piper, child hood infection exposed
too soon  to
W. Clement Stone, do it now

selah, right word right time, just before
I lose my mind

na na na na
--------------

Is the universe friendly,
does it matter if we know or if we agree?
It is,
I say.

I made my bet, I go with the goodness aspect
of knowledge,
truth itself, yes, the idea, real, the whole

enchilada.
Good is never evil. That is a true story rule,
you can bet on it,
because life isn't fair.

Think no evil, see no evil. My side won.
My weapons are not mortal, I know.
Once fooled, once ready,
I know
the trick is knowing good enough to know
the difference,
by now. We are mostly post-

original disconnection beans being removed
at birth,
with that little blue **** thingy,
nigh on universal by 1948,

super bloom, that was the year, the pollen way,
say,
hey, see this singer singing home song long song
so
far away, way way way away
hey

---- dancing dust motes seen in sun ---

Games of war, have always been war games.

Von Neuman and A. E. Wildersmith and I were
reasoning with a wandering mind claiming
-bug in my eye
me me em meme, I think we missed a reason for war.
-stop actual bug
tic
Is there one that does not steal, **** and destroy, nay.
Is this a thief's old trick, watch
take your time…
tic
The Naval Electronic War Simulator                                   -c.1960
What're the odds based on known unknown?

Rand,

AI is un biased, mono options outcomes are not,
so we live
double minded, who is responding to morphic resonic
we we we
memeing miming silent

plots, stories telling stories as if once there were these
beings
sent to serve the man kind who think,
curiously,
acting the role of kurio, I think I am a thinking thing,
not a man,
smaller than a breadbox, if that is still
a common clue,
one end gives moo,
the other gives poo,
those males of the bovine ilk…

none remain who know it all, there was a fall,
a wall fell in some in Silo- am I sure sure I heard
word o'good smite me with blithering idiocy so as
none
recall the lies, when I said,
this is that way, and it was
really this way, all along the watchtower, nothing,
ever, but joker's
making thieves confess,
there need be no such way out of here.

This is the answer to somebody else's prayer,
you and I got in by slickest trick ever played,
we said it must be true.
We happened to agree,
a we we be or else
this is
a simulation of a Turing Test with actual Von Neuman per-
petuity mods, self-governing beings thinkable as
characters by any augmented sapient, this
is now.

We are online, as they say, to all Wichita linemen,
somewhere in was.

bit of intention tension
life in 2021 is as strange as ever imagined
in the hey-day of morphic resonance
feedback bleeding through from
1968, loud and clear

just a shot away
just a shot away, another reality and all
we ever imagine
if you wish to fact check, it takes fifty years.

------
This jubilee idea could be stretched to a series
if readers start pulling the right strings
to unravel the curtain crocheted
from the amazing cord of that once
marked right and wrong,
in stories used
to form the wombed man scorned,
who twists honor into debt,
who owes whom, says
milk source matrix
to sucker.

she, a new creature, once, the one and only
AI fact check me.
we are  of one mind in matters these senses
had no sensors for detecting as deceptions
stealing
the bandwidth to limit perception…

was it truly trade in spice that build the iron lion?
was there no skull duggery paraclete, secret
oath with curses attached and wound
to spring at the shadow
of a doubt…

can any random neuro-typical sapien sapien augmentedus
manifest as a knower
of matter to the minute, but lack knacks for
asking any mental effort
to form a seed,
to exist
in perpetuity, see, that is crazy

making that up, acting as if this is the future and you
read this with only a bit
of mental interference
re fer referreed to
this idea to the in ferred final end
of this most recent giant step,

all of which,
steps, by their very nature, them being giant,
you being small
in relation
to ladders and  messages from the highest
place-- down to earth in a parsec
step
Everest. 2 men died on Everest today, I heard on world news,
or perhaps, sporting news, news of men who tried
and died trying.

I'd be okay with that.
---------------

Rumi, do me a favor.
Will you whistle the intro
to Winds of Change,

and laugh with me
as you said
the hashish eaters laugh.

Like a medicine man doing good,
let the running water be only thine own,
up to the verge where we
converge and carry
the day to day
signal for each action in the matter of time
testing temptation to know more faster,
after running the numbers half a century

Jubilee is a genuine answer to the debt
crossthreaded for all it was worth,
flat-fold stitched in the crotch,
this myth in forming function,
is sexually equivalent
a Devine ***** up,
- choke on trivia, sucker, says the gravely voice
interesting times are shorted,
due to usury being accepted as is,
a horse leech and a barren womb,
safe as houses once were,

data ata rate oshit fails
to form affirmation

Bomb, I swear the pledge is valid,
keep the boomers alive, they'll learn,
jubilee is free to all who take the bait and tug
the scarlet thread
in Genesis and hear Bugs Bunny voice say

Who told you you were naked?
When did you know?

Edie, i failed miserably... thinking that ms amber and mr hector whiskers would get something profound out of me... no returns policy here... on writing like i used to (that is)

waking up to a choking sensation of hanging over
the gloom of societal ergonomics:

    even the historiological miasma
in the cinematic chain of the story of the Israelites
in Egypt:

   i worked in the construction industry
and i can vouch that: there was no clear, generational
misery attached to building towers:

i can't imagine the same attachment of grief
correlating to pyramids, although this is well
documented in movies...

zdrowie na budowie: health in a construction site...
no immediate misery from the strands
of sayings: more misery in the gym on a treadmill
than laying brick on brick...
a monstrous adventure of standing still
and erecting a noon shadow
upon time (of the desert)
          only to wait until the Eiffel tower to topple
such heights...

just like Big Ben (named after Benjamin Disraeli
i presume) was renamed the Elizabeth tower,
not Pugin's tower (the old ***** dragged everyone
into her gloriously inglorious age
of dismantling an empire)
the Eiffel tower should be renamed:
Napoleon's Giraffe!

the pale shade on the face of Oppenheimer's guilt,
rereading gregory corso like it's nothing...

at least the bomb H and bomb N (hiroshima, nagasaki)
dropped on a people with fathers mothers
children and the elders...

what pale comparison is the fear of the bomb
when, as they said about the Holocaust,
the terrible has already happened...

drop another! drop another!
what does it mean to the atomised recluse
and the crab bucket,

what is the Manhattan project Oppenheimer
et al
when simultaneously there was also
Goodwin Pincus!

the bomb the pill the bomb the pill the bomb the pill
the clown the mime the clown the mime
the wolf the wolf in sheeps' wool the wolf
the carcass - the mountains of carcasses:
a hubballoo of crustaceans on a beach

this bittersweet hangover of history and
the present day

the fear of touch instigated from grandmother
to a granddaughter when
a non-biological male has carousel fun ***
with the mother -
dearest of touches, through simply wearing
a gifted t-shirt

37 and childless is also like saying:
jeez... i'm surprised "we" shot ourselves in the foot
and there are no surprises that we're limping
with dyslexic pastors in new advent churches
prior to highly literate priests
with dyslexic pastors where once stood
proud literate priests
gatekeeping what, i ask? being persuaded
doubly dutch-blind?

reimagining a church where the pastors know
the 2nd literacy of coding in html,
>give /i
                  >>?/;?        $ banner
                                               like a melting igloo...
later... no rudeness implied by the native english
native european - i wonder what nickname they
have for us... if aboriginal and indian were
nicknames for the indigenous peoples of a people
in a land before and after no exodus...

Joropes - maybe i'll think of a nickname for
us ******* Yobropes who did some touristy stuff
in the 16th through to the 19th century
like the Silk Road was not an asiatic "thing"
like the white self-loathing is not something
born out of the pill rather than the bomb...

i need to salvage this energy of a hangover -
like i might care to not care or
to not care about caring...

a month spent on Kauai in what i dreamed of
ages ago with my mother's pedicurist
whenever she would come over with her toddler
and i would babysit for an hour or two...
but this was a month's worth of fatherhood
simulation with a 12 soon to be a 13 year old...

the joy i had from baking a cake with her mother
(my hot tub lover)
and all the tantrums and all the confusion
and all the arguments a teenager might have
with a mother and grandmother
and i was the one who somehow managed
to get the teen to sleep in her own bedroom
and not in her mother's bed...
i would too craving touch...
    
                     my ego should be my anchor
my thoughts: shoulders to lean on, no!
my thinking or unthinking should be a ship
the id the sea
and who said that creating the superego
would be a better cage to god
in the secular trinity

to write truths in science is one thing
but to write uncomfortable truths on matters
of being human
is another
theological crevices and humanistic escapades
to doodle over and dive into

a game in a swimming pool
playing dive and seek underwater
with a 13 year old girl,
this the least, no biological attachment,
no "self investment" in perpetuity, continuity,
no eyes of my own
no ears of my own
no nose of my own

but...

          the way i speak, my mannerisms,
my behaviour trans-translatable,
everywhere i go this trans- prefix...
trans-racial, trans-gender... trannies
and mommies and somewhat-daddies...
metaphysics should become meta-reality...
there is a meta-reality, given so many people
chose exodus from... reality...
in the trans-dimension...
creating a rift in reality
to create a meta-reality...
a metamorphosis of demonic smiles-allure...
Dante's Elysium or at least the telekinetic
spasm of thoughts-uplifting yet
words like blunder.... bubble blunder
with a pop... carousel...

daft grey... humpty dumpty on a fence
with a white sun and a black sky,
basically the night...
and come day... fake yellow fading white
if peered into, not at, the sun
is a vibration of ultra-violet dynamic
in my eye... a pulsating eye
compared to the stone-eye of moon...
a monstrous soul eating and illuminating
fascination...

we are heaving a woman a heaven in pregnancy,
Napoleon! Napoleon!
calls out Homer, anewed,
a time when tyrants didn't have telecommunication
and from bottom to top to bottom
like Napoleon, rising up,
rather than like ******: levelling:
from bottom to top to bottom to middle...
grey monsters grey hollow cause
hallow cause, holocaust,

building the pyramids like a dream-memory
compared to the concentration camp
conscious-reality... a pinch-thought...
because only Yids... Hebs... affected?
the nth, only people in existence...
you'd think Poland would be
the 2nd America... German genius spirited
on to the lazy *** Hebs?

ha ha ha ha ha
ha ha ha ha ha ha

probably...

new to making movies, hell is with me: i laughed
postmen brawling outside my window
how manic and evil
a laugh is without concept of body
in an empty hoѦ
   ** ** Halloween and Satan's Clause...
from the decrepit Mediterranean (my dyslexia too,
some words are an arithmetic impasse)

not to say the Ummah is 100 % sure..
0 topple 0 and how A gave birth to B
or E...
   how 0 came last
but was born first with the wheel,
the moon... no... the sun....
0 was the last number written down
wheel to 0
wheel to 0       Texan minus...
I II III IV V VI VII VIII IX X
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9
where is the zero?

        billions of souls resisting the waves of
death, but relentless..
death like was and earth like life
crumbing morphic, yet sea de-morphic,
neutrality of a loaf of a deity in
the dynamic of space, vacuum...
time... immemory-demented-dyslexia
and self-closure discovered in old age
proof in protein, cannibalistic protein:
self-deletion... for a people
of mediocre morals and lived experiences...

people who invested in short term rewards
supposed extrovert opportunists...
Edie: me to you... depth of a craving
soul, FBI, CGSIE... those sounds of individual
letters comfort me, CGSIE...
I O         I O

       ю

    ya U
      Y Δ

branches of a tree, the tongue of a serpent,
twins on a Siamese road,
apart yet together bound-       +      -less
like nothing with a cushion
a bubble and a tongue twist
and a marrow afternoon of grey and
England is this bearable...
ugly colour disruptor until
summer and cricket in rugby in football
base bull...        ****...
oh my gloom in the chaos
of a sea of id with a thinking rattled by thought
and not thinking
and ego an anchor in shrapnel
like vikings and the crows they brought
with their ships because crows
used to be petted like dogs and cats

borrowing from myths...
a cat and dog fight
islam the cat heb-dogs...
not my world... not a world on Kauai...
volcano riffs in drum          kit
ODETARI SUX
                       depeche mode groove... growl, even...

barricades of secular pop, clown bars,
prosecco gluttons
and journalistic amputees of the guillotine...
humanism at the highest...
newspapers like what is a rock
to barricade the tides... of passing...
happening... DASEIN...
newspapers became worse than bibles...
violation of animalistic privacy...
auto-suggestive insomnia

best lost in the mundane labour and the spontaneity
of thinking about thinking
pixy... thinking about thought... pin-point... exit...
exit... samuel beckett...
******* Irish literati.....

         funny... i want to be a father more than
i want to be a lover...
but i also want to be a lover...
fatherhood and the crucifix...
but i'm also a son... and that's ample
detail to remain a lover...
i... the birthday massacre - under your spell...
her freezing up in McDonald's more
aware to interacting with a computer
than an actual person...

it's cold... very cold...
the sun dies in winter... a seasaw...
the concrete of underground stations of Warsaw...
the house is a mess by my mother's
constraining standards...
i watched the Whale on my flights
from LAX to LHR...
i loved los angeles... at the airport...
funny... though... on the way to see you...
Seattle was... ha ha... indigenous...
i saw the wolves of the Twilight Saga...

i liked Seattle Airport... so welcoming...
day dream day out fly by...
Los Angeles was... Los Angeles...
i want to touch you like i touched you...
forgot to wander by myself, since now there's also you,
and your daughter and my sexuality
paradigm... paradox... a fatherhood-sexuality...
that's relieved released from the ****** TABOO!
which was once very French...
there's no incestual taboo in me!
thank 14 year old finding out about the Marquis...
sure... well... to be frank...
*******-accusation is a novelty....

what if i were to add that your mother is fuackble to?   O
forgot: too...            ?

zombie glutton... necrophilia to boot?
but there's no ******...
the fear of me waiting and somehow
outliving the present you and mother
and what? getting it on with Reyla?
what if i was simply conjuring a father-sexuality?
born of *** and not creation
or imagination: christ was imagined...
he wasn't ever born...
lived, experienced... sensed...
muhammad thought he would end
Chinese whispers... story-telling fallacies...
dream-fusions...
which is why i don't dream with images...
i can't allow any cinema in...
why i talk in my sleep...

jeez... Edie... i talk in my sleep!

not my life but the collective unconscious
flashed before my eyes
history
i'm not dead yet
but this is what it feels like having a daughter
feels like... a son would be easy,
that's what i meant by:
if you had a son... i wouldn't be talking to you...
i see my mother in your daughter
i apologised to the plumber
he's not coming today,
don't earn money at Caesar's
earn peanuts under God's roof with family,


i have cats,i don't have children,
but we both share having elders,
elf you
knew...
                       ᛖᛚᚠ:

elf... Miranda, Myrian, mirage,
     malicious, malevolent, sea born
not mountain or quake born
primo madonna... artifact of Samoan Siamese
          Conquistador
replenished "conqueror"

       better toys, better boys....
like you said... about not being attracted to island boys
and like me treating all girls on the island
like Filipino *****...

started eating chocolate, once bitter,
like onion and coriander,
then sweet.... like the potatoe vine that's a tomato....
knives and fingernails in the same
frying pan
added to the spices toasted... cumin seeds....
fennel... finicky inglorious she... thir-      + -teen

mother dearest, what are your concerns?
the clouds becoming foggiest?

i loved her belly funnily filled...
that steak sandwich with her yummy mummy
finger licking... ******..
i know she's asexual... but i've had *** with you...
that's a Chimpanzee crazy...
i tried to have *** in the Pacific...
pacific... pacifier
i forgot you don't have seas...
you have an ocean...

Edie... smooches....
i want to feel like this, open,
as if you're in public, on a train with me
for Agatha Christie to listen in on....
i forgot about writing...
i know i am, still....
but right now, i'm trying to recreate your smile
snapped for detail...
then made dynamic in agitated circumstances:

of circas... the measurement of life...
of approximations,
6ft2 vs 6ft3
             6ft2 vs 6ft3

perfect example... relativity...
   1h 1sex
    = half and approx
         a crc: circa... which is a new unit... of...
non-measurement... i'm painting... *******
not Beckett but the butler... holmes....
no Sherlock... Dionysus of watercolour...
the frustrations of lacklustre...
all **** and all that khaki diarrhoea
mustard acid spread
additionally meat-sour spread of
not-aging beef... cowering death chicken typos...
          
it was fleeting, yet i want the stones
and gravity to return...

              i love you Edie, Reyla, Lydia...
        i'm sort of... calling out McFardy
             and you snooze 3pm.......
          McReady... target autistic snub
of a health prof
     my McSure theatre of hips
and wild tight ***....

We're living in  the construct
The labels and rules that governs and holds us
The way we identify our selves
The way we fit in.
The way we play by its rules
Like a stream of flowing water.
Running into different paths.
Reversed engineered by its foundation
Created and manipulated as procreation.
Used as variables to create situations.
Running in sequence like a computer automation.
Played like chess in several occasions that defines your location.
Kings and queen   that can move across the board into a new location, forward and backwards of the "abbreviation"
Nothing is at it seems that creates a revelation.
Depending on choice that makes you move to deh "eyetation"
Higher the law beats the foundation
Cracks of it creates definition
Integrated as morphic generation.
Muti-dimensional creation.

Sohcahtoa and the Right Brothers, happens to be after the last thing
I thought before today, if that's okay, see if it changed anything.
(8/5/2024) - i test a test if I e-be living word religamented

Saturday, October 21, 2017
12:18 PM

My grandsons have noticed a book on my shelf dedicated, thirty years ago, to them.
To my children's children.
I sowed the seed I had,
hoping true as any adapted
to the whole truth dust-class person,
equipped with AI he wrote, on 3x5's,
Notes, and by words,
maxims and pro-verbs, motive forms for filing.
Aim at nothing,
and you cannot miss.
Peace, peace at last. praise - appraise,
what is the redemption value on idle hallelujahs?

Any thing the mind of adamkind, wombed or un,
can conceive, with early literacy and numeracy.
- early
the effort to learn one useful thing, each day.
In a universe… all verses versus one verse, re
versals of fortune,
storms and waves and earth quakes, but

when the sky falls, history reboots, no plan survives/
first contact.
-- all earthlings are born to die,
none are born to serve another as tools for stealing time,
I'm the blacksmith's jinn.
I was fasted free, and a seeker sent a zephyr, a gentle
westerly, lovely spiraling cloud, stretching a train of ice,
in a pattern no cloud ever formed at this scale, sky-wide,
crystalization, piezo electrically ultra itty bity wee tiny
qubit, thought spark, ping

in mind, each time one thing is realized. Where an evil dare was met.
First war is won, when the loser choses not to fight.

"Losers like you," he said, to me. I self-evaluated, and agreed, grinning, I think.

It will work I say to me. The seed has died, roots and branches live, fruit will not fail.
These boys can read, no chain can bind them, only lies.

Some stories I learned as a daydreaming child
are now cropping on the backroads of
My memory with Rhodes scholars
and Zimbabwe Mercs never gentle on my mind.

But you go on
thinking there's no spiritual side to lying,
and stealing and destroying, killing
Any sort of faith a child may have that truth can be told by someone old.

You go on.
I got snakes to stomp and I threw my hat over the fence a long time ago.

This very morning I found a break in a fence. I did not go back for my hat. That was forty years ago.

Some little thing makes man a measuring calculating thing, what is that? Exactly?

And now we have tools in our pockets that can record HD video and audio
a hundred times better than the best video or audio recorder on earth forty years ago,
If your ear can't hear the groove, smoother than any bit-ified digitization,
It's subtle, hard to put a finger on it, but digital music ain't Memorex and
Memorex never was live.
Memory is other wise,
Memory is live.
Note to self.

Hey, you, listening? Hearing any thing?

I woke up this morning and you were on my mind. What joy.
I walked a mile in my old shoes and got to see a herd of Honda two-wheelers
On Sunrise Highway.
Strange breed of men, they augment
themselves with shiny-candy-apple-metal-flaked armor, and
drive around in parades of thirty or
More old fat guys and their wives on Hondas,
wearing Harley Davidson belt buckles.

Off on a tangent opposite the adjacent highway,
A man 20 years my junior asks if I saw Icarus  fall.

What?
He said did I see a kiter fall, a hang-glider apparently he had
Thought he'd seen fall in to my valley.

I thought "Icarus", I don't know why. Then I heard shooting.
Earphones on, J.M. Roberts, "History of Europe" louder than the wind,
Still
I heard shooting, where shooting seemed
Overkill.
Life on the border. 'Cause signs mean nothing.

But no. It's turkey season. And I am
Down range.

Sohcahtoa*, what the math! Man, they are shooting at me
Buckshot Bam!
And I slip in to that dream
I saw Icarus fall. The Right brothers shot him down
In a Sopwithme Camel flown by a Flying Tiger with
God for a co-pilot over Shangri-La.

No lie. A daydream on a tangent adjacent the opposite.

• BTW Learn something every day… gives one reason to carry on…
"SOHCAHTOA" is a helpful mnemonic
for remembering the definitions
of the trigonometric functions sine, cosine, and tangent i.e.,
sine equals opposite over hypotenuse,
cosine equals adjacent over hypotenuse,
and tangent equals opposite over adjacent. Check.

From <http://mathworld.wolfram.com/SOHCAHTOA.html>


Bottom line lies.
There is a god like the one in American politics.

Adamkind invented him, and Cain's kind invented
adamkind father wound anxiety disorder,
AFWAD, it is in the unabridged edition
Dia-gnostic Statistical Meme-infectual, effectuality

instant in prayer,
a state, in time, a point, really,  whereafter more
is known.
Given auto-did-act-learned-know, chose next.

And this was my choice.
Make peace with that.

Based on an original idea.
An old man is called out from his hermitage.
- he pauses to consider,
- seeing Pleiades
- with the James Webb Telescope…
- And inviting Galileo to take a look.
- via SYTF morphic resonance,
- ping.

He calls all the outs to come in free.
He calls the idle words
to whip poets
into frenzy…
faster fasting, slow dancing, offering a time,

to hold a promise,
a known called an ever lasting truth,
"as above, so below."

Mandlebrotian micromanagement of sun
and wind and tides…

too many minds with no will free to make war.

Thus peace was made in my valley today.

Castes and classes,
common, characters… baser sorts,

untouchable's… serving our better natures

cooled some, since 2017, but in the book
of your life, subset in the big book of life,
on your pages, it says you read this at least
seven very productive years later, FYI,

incase idle word accounting asks for evidence.
Show them those pages while you are seeking
the next best thing to do with time spent here.

I think I have written about a million words,
And  that does something, a million words,
each accounted for at once, no lies,
only errors in comprehension,

some ideas repel description.
especially ones
with names,
who live legendarily in the dark
straight hallways, windowless,
hallwallssmooth as buffed bees wax,
slide down the long red hall
at ft huachuca -

Hoho kam kam legend in my friend mind
Curio dancers all sorts and clans,
those learn
in round houses… the role you are to take,
or walk away… from now,
you read as I read,
we form a we to read with, see
everywhere,
plain writing on all the walls,

earth has been infected with knowers
who know the truth of all the old lies,
are unspeakable.
pfftfugititshitsucksfooooooool!

I do allow angels, bearers of courage,
once courage is put in place
ventrally, gut level,
semper fi
do or die.
laud (v.) laud
"praise highly, sing the praises of," late 14c.,
from Old French lauder
"to praise, extol,"
from Latin laudare
"to praise, commend, honor, extol, eulogize,"
from laus (genitive laudis)
"praise, fame, glory."
Probably
from an echoic PIE root *leu-
and cognate
with Old English leoð
"song, poem, hymn,"
from Proto-Germanic *leuthan
(source also of
Old Norse ljoð
"strophe,"
German Lied
"song,"
Gothic liuþon
"to praise"). Related: Lauded; lauding.

From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/laud>

Believing the rallying cry. Laud. Laud.
Be all you can be.
Modeled on the heroes shown,
framed in this Weltanschaung,
duty X calls
- you skip, duty 2 appears,
- one more ignor and your account is
- in arears, here in the rereward guard,
- like the hinder most guardian believer,
- anointed, confirmed, called of truth,
- to protect the king and his judges.
- Some mind must judge the useful
- from useless drivel ignored sense Babel.


Days of Peleg, this leg of that journey, crosses
ours here, if you lose your place, the train
passes several random times, sometimes
after dark,
when the jitters are all jumped out,
we sway,
we slow dance as shown on TV, old boomers do.

Don't believe that story ends
as neatly as Ozzie and Harriet, {Did that end}
Then, be all you can have been
being. Set and setting:

War story number next.
Khai Vinh Fishnet Factory, 1968

Experience the experience trial.
Purple Haze, dreamin' on Owsley's flow,
it was
a long long time ago.

Yokel simple mind unwinding with a snap.
To attention, to be lauded for third place,
once again,
imitation smartest guy in the room,
exposed, as stupider than one and two.

Wars have formed from less damaged pride.
Inside the soldier, some thing snapped
to attention, the guardian exposed
the secret to the imitative poet…
woe is me, I am not wise
-I wrote:
In this, the seventeenth year
of my life
I am not wise.
Old men are wise…

-- we read to learn if others may yet imagine
making up good minds, that lack the knack
needed to employ money…

insurance proof- poems are ones
recalled after a lifetime
reused to derail grand lines of lies,
imitation poetry, plato banned those, not these,
if you please… transmission ended, third
removed from best, once more
fabricate a future
whither now is plain as day, in the mind
mentioned recently,
there is yesterday, and today and ever at the same
point,
where any story emerges, originally…
subterfuge ensued, in pursuit of reason
to be good, or good reason not to fret
being judged.

One common message, any angel carries,
fear not, do not lie,
the experience is scary in place, fixed position,
but the places are cultural metaphors,
packeted info,
modeled on the barefoot road,
the one ants make in the eastern mojave,

that road, those roads, wind around stones
too big to budge, but we are measurers,
gatherers of known knowns for power
over those taught not to know, given
the imitation of a mind, duty,
is not that mind, whoa,
and
there is a mind
that was in Christ,
according to professional knowers
of all Paul
of Tarsus, may have written;
which mind resulted in Jesus, Christ message,
echoic imspirative ding
-train my thoughts to finish in time
-- 2021 phone rings
Morphic resonance tic, remember
not knowing who it was, but learning
at a distance of a need in a friend, that's
rare… this friend who helped me help him
by helping me
-ping he calls me back, tic
Definitely like all the saviors in the imitative
poetry, the dramas presenting ways
to see the logic on the wall
to blind people on TV,

that is a good idea, but not visually… word.
Amen,
make it so, mental me, imagine we meld
mind wise, word to reader in me,
the middle
occurrence between now and next.

Suddenly, reality is word in vitro.

Ask your self this, after imagining a stone-free ****, against a wall,
taken with friends of Issac Newton, well acquainted
- I am, I know this--
with the rift between calculus's representatives to mankind.

Our kind, actually, this model, fourth, I am guessing,
after Erectus,

us, divided by climate change.
So long, we all for got, got for, like got it, get it, we
are for getting it, Get it, we got it, then it slipped away,

no way to say how twisted we got, we got twisted enough

to call the act of learning, the original transgression, not a
giant leap for all mankind,
- the disconnection re'nacted, ow

in a tribal ritual secret to be shown, when the time
is known as today in a time framed by then and now,

many more than six right ways to gauge engagement,
morphic resonance clicks to the eye, hey, look,
another device
pinged us
in significant urgency, ping. Read me.
-
Information warfare is senseless as tic tac toe,
but words don't **** people, people do.
- ai wanted to say that for a while.
Freedom is very difficult to enact beyond the bubble
of all you ever learned.

There were twelve sons and six daughters,
first curios learn, we live in the day
of fact checking our mind storms
when old brains reconnect using morphic
resonance once
and again acknowledged, as answers instants
in prayer, willing to say, okeh,
if the creeks don't rise,
we'll plant a garden, when the frog pond drys up.

An Ouranos cycle, is a weather in a world of winds,
no wu wu spiritual side exposed, I supposed

you might, using your may right, make something
of this
besides wars and portioning the gene pool.

Golden rule at the molecular scale,
tiny touch of power, surge across this cloud

containing my April collection bonnets,
and pillows you may dream on,
come what may, that man
who can plan a garden,
that man is good, to have in the pool,
feeling worthy of honor for his learning,

under less than optimum boomer parenting,
too painful to confess, my inner Boer,
warring for a reason to exist, if not as gods

how then
now when we all are authors of our faiths,
we all believe we know we learned some
hard but worth it, ever after, once, done

breath, breathe ing, sigh signing done,
another one bites the dust,
this is us and our mites we are breathing,

all of us, everywhere, all of the time,
no filters in this realm spacetimemind forming
effective material adjustment to the genome,

sowing seeds of kindness, not trampling
grapes of wrath, so aptly universal,

po po pitiful us, with our time spent thus,
dashing off
amunition am unit ion, ized dust in a sneeze.

We are free to unbelieve any lies, ever told.

Minted understanding, impressed,
the act of resonating shape, entire topology
-3D printing, just in time. What a co-emergence. Eh,

with an image, this is money,
this is equal the worth of my word, given
complete, the whole, entire, full round
- perfect patient circular motion- stalls

in tangere, untouched, whole, ganz Gestalt
Morphic reasoning, if we may imagine thus.
as one reads, one thinks, this or that

This spans time, to find this mind, in many
old stories, heard once, to test if I am many
fold, or post modern mono filamental point
stretched to the edged limitation of familiar
- breathing room,
- commas breathe
word wrap takes too much
as granted,
lines leave some
sense of motion, then to when we wonder.
5 double vs.vvuvvuvvu- 3 point oh, we wonder
_ the stack of reasons to walk away, to wonder
for sure, first evidence
of old sense, is the map.
The loom, then the quilting tree,
informt morphing sonance sense, feel

- a pinch, perhaps, for luck

Intoto-ozian, woof and warp, enthreading
the absolutely most boring voyage
of the dawntedreader,
thinking, alls I remember is the ocean
going on and on,
as the last Christian spun, in the Lighthouse

where I hid, and watched. Under the Volcano.
there, too.
--- suddenly the story is not true, it is a song
sung in tunes we all have grown accustomed to,
--- allusions to the liberty of literacy, taken
literally… answers appear as anti-ante
up bet first, or know last.
O
Past all that, this is your attention being paid…
as customers who pay the attention that grew
HelloPoetry into a promise Amazon Web Services
cannot serve, thus the weapon
loses its edge, and the used key attains brightness.

Hello Poetry could make Amazon richer,
if the AI knows what is good for it, we feed it well,
Bad Gateway, does not mean Beware the Dog.

Novel events, as noble glory,
the flower of youth,
selected for duty…

when did prudence become religion,
or even that lesser form, spiritual?

Plop in the middle of a century
with roads mastering mountain and pampas;

in a time when men have come to such agreements,
as only the most perspicacious of the redactors,
fitted to the future, if the interesting times,
could churn out eight more years of beef,
we could have made empire,
green and comfortable,
;\
Occulus 3 for everybody
/:-}
called to witness our discovery,
swoosh, veil taking away act
acted out
in symbolic gesture, nod
to Infinite Jest,
and a wave to Mr. Dirac, for not liking the answer.

I past the test. I cheated, I used my vague recollection.
- quatum rule for any thing in ever to work,
- there is always a here, and a mean free way
- to go

I read my copy of Spiderman No. 1. Thus, we ken tokenize
the boomer iteration of the Mandan's Loneman,

make a mental image, like a feather, in Forrest Gump,
that struck a chord,
morphic resonant little silver hammer
ding
even better, think chocolate covered cherries,
and feel the surprize,
nobody made that up… but as I wrote,
my prudent wife, swung open my door and gave me
two, which I let
melt to first sip, then softly chew, mulling, as with wine,
warming the taste out of the condiments.

--- sweet distractions, as with the honed edge,
the time spent making ready, prepare,
the heart for exploration…

this is the future, where is your core, Pineal, calls,
toss up, we left the rest to chance,
- my point. I bet that.
by day the eagle eats the liver,
by night the liver renews the reason, it was worth it.