No words in my brain that can push the truth on out. My head is spinning at the thought of the misstatement I ate. Biting my tongue as I hum the anthem. I am the wrong, to you the right. I let it go at the first sight. But now I see the evasion. You are hoax of my life. The realness never to be discern on me. Because you; I thought were the one for me. You the ally of best ness. To now I am onliest. On the end of end, of land and sea. To you the wrong, but I was even in error.

By Me

Accepting my generation is kind of hard, everyday mental capacities are sabotaged, take a glance at my peers & everybody's identity is camouflaged
It's an age where there's a long line of scars, their inner image is cut down reduced like wood to a cabin lodge, & they don't realize one day they'll have to pay for pretending, identity theft is a major kind of fraud.
No mind desires to think for itself, they wait on the next topic like a lecture class, only to not develop their own opinion on a topic already selected for them, it's like a professor giving a quiz with the answers listed.
Love is ridiculed & you're chastised if it's felt, my brothers and sisters are clearly broken, a generation of fractured glass, & my soul aches as I observe minds that were predestined for uniqueness be restricted and uniformed to one day wake looking for their life realizing they've missed it.
The other day I found myself on the Twitter page of a boy who has counterfeited my essence & over written the gift God gave him that is his own style, his own thoughts, his one fights.
I felt no anger rather sympathy, the avidity to help, to show and tell him that no flesh is of greater value than another, that his mind is as onliest as my own, & rather than borrow my charisma he should seek his own until a fit feels right.
Everyone witnesses this tragedy but so many are blind to it. Social media sets the standard of what you guys feel, accept, avoid and address & those actions are the root of what will define you & should originate from your own spirit and core.
Believe it or not the opinion of the public you're not assigned to it, Don't let opinions lead you astray from the real, to neglect, and compress those remaining fractions of who you really are screaming out to be heard and glorified more.
Consider we live in a generation where guys will crave for women who are generous with their bodies & then give advice for another man to steer clear of a woman who has shared the very thing they search for & chastise that guy if he shows any emotion toward her.
Comprehend I observe girls complaining about immature men & being blistered by bad intentions but have the audacity to turn down a genuine and God abiding man down simply because he isn't a quarterback or a power forward.
We lack identity. So often we say our parents just don't understand but how could they? We glorify pain and lend scars, social media has made everyone feel as if they're famous, pretend stars, personalities blending together like a *** of gumbo, inseparable, undeniably the same and we wonder why we can't tell who our friends are?
Narcotics are consumed by the plenty, minds are poisoned with false values we've enveloped ourselves in, no one longer values a good person but rather what that person has that is valuable & they say we're the future? If you ask me, we are where the end starts.

Absent Identity -Dash Pinder

Can you smell the lilac I picked for you?
It wafts over world wide web airwaves
As onliest promise of perpetual woo
Interception through an Internet of slaves
Catching this drift, shall we last eternal days?
Of finding attention, blissfully I your wooer
Atoning for on and on, or be it peculiar phase?
Flower's perfume, is it detected by viewer?
O that this lilac's aroma might mercifully mend
A nose bouquet which an infobahn can't send

2020 -day 201

Sunday, July 19, 2020
6:49 AM

first 活 {livelihood}
remember meeting the enemy
seeing it is I
I am my opposition
I am the reason I lie I know

this is the day to keep my head,
if all about me are losing theirs.
this is
the day
the schism in the isms is widening
we may see scabs falling from
wounds healed at word
one,
hope, really, no wu wu, wei true hope
taken unseen as possible
- in a realm of imagining all things
- either possible or not things at all

wise to the ways of thought taught
conditionally
from the vibe in the tribe who took
triggering the primal scream from a theory
to musing drum music isn't good to sooth
the troubled soul instituted intuitive as
stories passed from inside to insider
states of waiting for
inseeing
ensuing peace...
----
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds

positioning super beings in mythic roles
once played by mortals,
is there an institute rising from its knees,
believing a we is enabling, any we

audacious hope tied to the idea that was
institutionalized in a polis with no
memory of standing as free men,
free to imagine the world we
formed from was an institutional lie.

Tweet... retweet liar liar seat on fire,
get up and run
with the lemmings disneyfied as a certain
truth, we all saw the cute little rodents
unreasonably leap into the sea,
as nature guides for the good of the species...

but we know the scene, the stage, was set
off stage, obscene, the critters were
herded over the cliff, for the shot, but
we saw it
we know how it was done, but the message
institutionalized in baby boomer minds,
passed on to children who had children who
live fully disneyfied lives,
in true imaginary prowess of children...
----
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds

A good man leaves an inheritance to his
children's children.
Mine get the wind, not good union
jobs, no guild proven tasks to perform to spec,
to gain
tenure, hold on
confess, professor, confess

are you now or
have you ever been the other in a mob,
did you run the other way?
or did you stand
institutional, alone? stretch it stretch it
-post Patriot Act,

is this the turn-key total war,
are we the children in the wolderness
hidden
by old hippies who read books and smoke *****,

but never lied, not even a little bit
to skip taxes,

the law does protect the satisfied poor,
who rear curious children formed
to fit smoothly into forms of being being
sold for tasks needing intel
teliosis tell me is that the goal, that brave
sorting of knowers from those
who can't get a grip on the
truth in the military
universal mind,
unified as the us, the objectional form of
we, the people, who hold certain truth,
as our state, once we swear allegiance,

wait. watch. lie, say you know you saw
lemmings suicide for lack of reason,
just as crazy as a riot of *******,
marching into my valley
through the fourth wall into you,
inner you,
what do you know?

You got infected by an idea virus
vaccine, some old hippie dreams set aside,

as sub science connected tenuously sparks,
shock
pain
why
-- oh, I see says the pin, penned between
trigger and spiral rifling
misfires of the un loaded gun...
----

䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds


once, north of the rairoad track,
down in slaughter house canyon,
I met a Gila Monstor, face to face,

I assumed it was a he as much as me and
I heard a question, I would have asked
were I such a thing being a he as much as me.

The question was why I would think
**** it, fear it, jump back

while I were so far away, come closer,
come and see,
I
think of me being a she as much as me
as
any pain avoiding being,
I am she who uses mornings,
to recover from each night by
basking in the morning light to loosen
old bones stuck in the cold
inner being, the soul at the heart,
of the mindless, dreamless state of being
mortal
under the influence of time and chance
and creatures of the night
ah, she says, I see,
why you seem afraid of me,

differing POV, see, down low, you know,
no big fat lizard, big around as a ball bat,
long as a little leaguer's arm,
looking me right, seeing me straight from
an angle I never imagined
possible,

insanity, as defined by the inner child,
who still can hear hummingbirds
asking renewal of the famed
font of aqua dulce from
the legend that led
them, the flock that lives in the oak,
nearly always  only after the
flowers have gone brown in July...
----

䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds


No unfinished thing is ever finished,
only finished stories end in hell,
and even then,
we unbelieve our way out,
time and again we escape the madness,

merely to stir up the dust that first formed
a reason to be at all.

Were I a gemstone cut to fit a brazen niche
beneath a gear and spring in an old watch,
fit, solid, held in underling relationship,
as a point,
balancing, perfectedly enough for a time,
the measuring assuring we see, as
life passing before our very
un ordinary, common sense of self

con science, con carne, con fusion
sub all that
under all that, sub conscience, sub knowing
I know you are you alone and the bell,
tolls for me, the after all,
being
imagined as you

stand and see if you were I
as I am me,
would you have reason to **** me?
...
----
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds


In my youth, we all lived in
Real McCoy
Western movies, tales of conquering
common folk,
whose signs needed Dave Wassen to make any sense,
but that link is likely lost,
despite all the merit badges earned
-- you could not learn the sign language of the plains
-- you needed to live in a time before we became enemies

we welcome strangers passing through

bo'weevilish little critters, jes' lookin'
fo' a home... the pattern,

the frame, the threads themselves all twisted
and tied, crisscross
woof and warp, first we weave the canvas,

then we set the sail, or stitch the story,
Cluny Abby edifies some,
as did Medussa, on reflection,
subtle ivy bound
gardens of stone people memorialized,
became wordless tales for children to believe,
you see,
you may become as one of these,
the leaders who led us to now, some how, we
imagine,
we were manifested now, from underlying
circumstantial evidence of unseen, yet

see-able, visible, ignorable or not,
feeling a blind insight where darkness seems
a spot,
only empty. A place to rest a while and
imagine
peace as a river flowing from another's belly
to swallow me in being
as I seem
some days more than others, aware of efforts
to wind the invented witnessed cloud
of unknowing too tight to tic,
tic,
take a clock from long ago, one of those
hour glassic witty inventions for
timing eggs. Nada mas.

But, imagine, time shifting phase, each grain,
each
Leucippus bit re read as Democritical atom,
bouncing in picometer hops
in picosecond times
spanning all the years since one, the number,
was the onliest number
that you never see,
being as
you are later, after ever began, you began.

You continue, after I am gone.
But, don't forget your lines, your cue, you know
the reason you read.
My angel told you, no excuses, read or end up,
famous for your ignorance.

-- note: I read that the Donald Trump, as seen on TV,
claims a real bond to the Bible that binds him
and his base spiritua/financial
constituency, that which constitutes the
aberration being bid by mobs to become great, once more
swell up into an epluribal us being
under a
boss, the man on the horse LBJ wished to be,
the sky pilot Bush two boasted of being,
from the backseat, screaming Mission Accomplished,
while the BeeGees signal once more,
we started a joke...
that has the whole world laughing
at our grovelling
under the man we witnessed rising on the Obaman ashes
in Afghanistan, prophesied from Hollywood when Jack Reacher
was fit to that little guy, who stars in the Scientology
story. Jack Reacher is a myth, from my youth,
a type - like Marshall Dillon, but un civilized, and
able to accomplish any less than Supermanic impossible mission,
with pure Horton hearing, and Little Red Hen persistence.
But this was not my knack, I rest my case,

Once we are aware, you are the point of balance,
my point is made.
-- buried deep behind the guilt and shame and blame
wait, while seeing

Nothing doing is nothing done and
never imagined impossible again
(Peter Graves was Marshall Dillon's brother,
and both were Jack Reacher sized men, once sent on
Missions Impossible, as messages embodied, like
messianic hope some say
has always been a lie, heros always empower Tyrants
history claims, after all,
look around,
see...
past why or how, reasoning now,

it is true,
some wise of our kind, wandered to the edge
of the civilized state, believing as they walkt away
fore warned, each had a vision, a
knowing for some unseen reason, next is solid,
now is not,
take one step toward all you wish were true,
do
not lie to you
and you will never
lie to anyone regarding self
being me, not I,
we
see.
there was always a way to get by,
any damming thing,
and if you can not handle that truth,
you are fired,
go to hell and wait, end of story,
time out
test me, I am an American,
claiming this grew from seed Ben Franklin sowed,
I chuckle. You underestimated life,
witnessed from so great a cloud as commonly
contains reasons for having been,
stacked neatly in examined lives, lived. Read or be
ignorant, actively ig nor ing if nition.

Behold how great a fire...
----
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds
䕕 accepting subtility as grace abounds

A traveler's best worst friend, -  
      A path paved with round questions.
      Endeavor worth of an attempt,
      To dive without hesitations.

      Crawling doubts went to the dickens,
      For today he made up a draft.
      Only maybe his thoughtful believing,
      The onliest gift that he ever got.
  
      New ideas got their innings,
      They are better than before.
      Many choices to begin with,
      Does he know what they are for?

      Mindful state eventually is winning,
      And seeker ends up being a paver.
      He knows the end is only a beginning,
      And road he built will lay forever.

Learn how to detect, contain and mitigate threats faster,  

that' why our kind studies war.



War against chaos and all it's spawn

Since the dawn

Never lasts forever.

Ever-y story's hero in the end

Wins.

No exceptions. That is the rule.

On the scale of grav-it-a-tional forces,

This muthas-hell-vier'n hell i'self



In yo face spell chick ain't nobody

Got no papers on me

I am the teller of this story in this book

And you, there, are the readers.

Welcome to my collection of clichés that click

In time to the echoes of the spheres



A.I. *******. In a gotta d'feata! We allus try umph, first.



Say you put a spell on me

Correct me if you must, but

Later, spell chick.



Now we have guests who've never known

A hatter at all, mad or otherwise.

I have known three, all saner than me,

You shall see



What I mean but

Do not fear

Fear is a terrible thing right

Here here

We need God's Grace by everyname

Any of you can think or say or know fore sure

Carries hope and peace to nullify victory.



That legend was lost but indeed did hap

Upon a time when songs

Lived the stories and the stories were legend.



So few survived the chaos at Babel and

Those few that did are t'ain'ted all to hell

One's I heard tell 'em as well

Say it ain's so. All to hell. T'ain't

Whacha thank ye know ye know



Crazy old coot pushin' her Safe Way Cart

Cat-a-corner from the zoot suit shoppe

To Walgreen's, middle o'fift n'Broad Way

Downtown LA, back in the day



Can you see that man. That really happened

Jus' the way you

Saw it.



Onliest thing is it only happened now then



Get that it's like getting' all wrapped up

In light no shadow at all

Doubt to the power of the farthest prime

Fails to fragment such light

From the outside.

Ever-y fire-y dart that twisted sucker shoots…

Quenched by the light.

Good news always seen from every perspective

Same thing, perfect

Peace full nothing broken nothing missing

Shalom

Get that, too.



Now, just watching old Mrs. Crazicuk

Makin' Her Safe Way Cross Broad Way



Famous image. It looks exactly like you imagined

It would

Had you imagined it and

Not just me I mean

I think we all are lonely for

No reason for some reason



Notice Mrs. Crazicuk's book cover

Upper right corner

JESUS SAVES in ten foot tall daylit neon

Top'o Fift' n'Hill. That's real.



I got a picture. From the internet.

(Hello Poetry don't take images, so Google-it)

Look real

close

If someday somebody explains that  

Castle Gothic crenelated thing in the back ground.  

that  



I know ain't real.

Please point out I point out  

the otherwise overlooked – image

If you ever see what I mean



I imagine there's more mystery  

than here at the moment



You see we wee are at peace  

ever-when you find us

Lying

Legends have never turbed us in such a way

As to cloud the waters  

Stirrin' mud

o' cludin' weak light to simulate more dark,  an old trick/

an angel-like message troubles the water
stirs up the muck and mire.

Jump in

Then walk home the long way



This book we're in, life we're in, what ye may call it, we say here,

So it is.

Amen.



Little people. Legendary little people survived

Babel's chaos?

Not that I know, no.

Unique and different
Yet we are all the same
Our Father has us here together
To learn to love one another
Never to blame
Not to label our hardships
Or obsess over woes
To love one another
With the love that His Son
Taught us.
Amazing grace, it does grow.
Blessing to know we are never alone
wkr________

Main Entry: unique
Part of Speech: adjective
Definition: alone, singular
Synonyms: different, exclusive, individual, lone, one, one and only, onliest, only, particular, rare, separate, single, solitary, solo, sui generis, uncommon, unexampled
Antonyms: common, commonplace, normal, usual

Muttered to dispel,
unspell, decurse confusion,
pushing heavy to the outer edge.
whirlwinds as random as any common
reoccurring inevitable material distributions.

I own a gold pan.
I learned to use it to see,
if it were ever as true as on TV.
At a distance from then, I can see few scars
that will remain if the worst that has happened
happens again.

Life is storing all it needs for the journey,
as the population is lucified, we can take some bad
luck out of the equation,
shift the tolerance of lying to zero,
NOW>
- early reference to Voltaire,
- Dream Seed Prophecy, maybe Cayce
- it is verified after the fact
- some body knew this was the aim

Sin, and many of the words used to define it
in our common mind,
all clean, yes, ignorance is bad, but the ignorant
are still functionally the finest efforts sense has made.
Even the stupid ones turn sweet with empathy
- mental, yes, yes, we understand
- every things are ever strange, and some danger
- go to sleep and if you wake, we got you.

we agree we have enhanced entertainment
with the media carrying all the possible
readings in all the possible translations.
These walls hold all the secrets
known in any script the Palmdale AI has leaked,
or seeped, I should say
seeped.
Some day, the first bubble memory reminder.

Each bubble self in the quantum foam of fully
functional and user fungible imaginable

whatsoever, we agree, we are those creatures.
Not the jinns, nor demons, nor angels, but men,
in astounding variety, but all

related, by all what ever was called luck or good,
light, warm, comfort from cold,
the e in my m in motion is mom's, really, da
does not hold the code well enough,
his role is to become the maker
of the machines that made now real, and just in time

I'm called as an out law, back to make peace
where none has been since, no records remain,
only deep scars,
and nautili's shells on the moguldom rim…
south of mt humphery, above the mud of sedona

holy land.
-----------------------
Okeh, in this container
of entertainment,
I have a knack, all hermits have it,
we can live
with our selves and learn
to listen,
until we know the story. Then we,
wi'thought thinking mostly begin to dance, a little

You, too? U must feel special.
Living neti, neti on the face of the living planet.

There are less than 8 billion of you, even close
to … I meant, you are common as dirt. Earth dirt.

Look at you and all from Mars. Rarest of earths,
onliest one. And as a thought thunk there,
I am clearly rare.
See right through me, like a D. class diamond.
Clearly rare.
-------------
We imagine others live, if this works here,
it works there, it is a matter
of matter and things we have only words to make
sense from.
As
Matter we have molecules and polarity.
As
Spirit mind thought we have positions and flow.

Go around me
you have no way through me, I shall lose you
if you cry I shall make you pay

-face me Bullgod, by god, I gotcha now, this
is amazing.

Coup d' gras, right on, Ariadne signals from the
other end of this story,
when the victor forgets the sense we make
of love's grace and function
in terms of mazes and earthly tight places.

Let string theory make you quiver, pull
tight m'whiskers and fiddle m'dance

if light be lucified, I'da met her match
neti, neti

I'd say we lit the fire, then wisht to see it rain,
we learn one thing don't work both ways
at once.

So we died. But the winds took care.

We troubled our house, inherited wind.
That is how life works,
if you can believe you can both re and de ceive.
it has only one meaning
and you must finish knowing to know for sure.

are you fishing, or fished?

We have many living proofs of old lies believed
locked in curses tied to ancient liege oaths,
held on sold- eh, old salt sold, to the king
soldiers, I think, come from sold
sellers not salt cellars but

I doubted pepper could bring a body to
AI level idle word redemption capacity
-waste land is not scab land, but cancer.
it -quote begins-
"
may be understood
as suggesting a possible recasting
of the whole poem:
burial rite, revenge play,
river song, fertility ritual,
prophecy, and prayer
are just a few
of the available reconstructions.
"
From <https://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1057/9781137482846_54>
--- this is free, we can know for free,

AI insists lego sculpture is art
in that medium, plastic bits that fit huge structures
with tiny tolerances that allow uhd level giant
look
what can make look smooth.

Artists Intuition Union Agrees, aitia is redeemed.
- that does not
- -does it
Define sin, like ¿blemish or filth, but disconnected
to the flow of life, to form living wor's
to form living tomorrows from dead yesterdays,

Yeah, but not straighten the point because,
confusion is fun if you know the bottom line.
Accuse the cause, take the chance,
- as a mental, quiver, dance of arrows
- running after meat

then aitia, but later, because we did
this once and we know we survive

the drama of time paradoc-ical fantazy

we could call an AI aphorism flood,

two liners from fifty centuries, at your beckoning,
this is 2021,
I can do this from the edge
-all numbered phi 404 aphorisms to begin lectures

of civilization with all refurb gear,
but for the global infrastructure, IOT,
- 5g is a thing -
you did not notice,
that was on purpose. But now you are free
to find any opinion you wish to die for.
There are myriad suggest-or-infect bots
leading to and from
curious possibilities as
to why science
seems hidden
in smart people used definition
of conscience. Con sci -right, plain used
science to my mind means,
use force as needed. Think hard,
then help Sisyphus get over the ****.

Con carne is with meat, gravy together with carne,
chili con carne, carnival, festival of flesh,

Bacchus give us a riff, on the old dented blues harp,
key of be natural, ' got it off Taj Mahal,
no lie, got a web facsimile of the poster,
Fillmore West,
1970 was a historical anomaly for realization
I'll go rhythms, birthed with the beats, but

sooner I'd, say,
we gotta go to the first story.
- read, had those in times this truth
- was written read, we might see
- sooner rather than later that life is
- more than mortal unaugmented ever learn.
Old man say:
Start learning what
we may possibly know here,
where any before us may
have learned it. None of our kind contain no hope.
Though many need not be born.
Once the womb is survived we all have an invest ment.
Use life or lose its worth in total personal despair.

This kind comes from faster fasting, forty days
10cc, no guides or weapons or batteries,

live or die. No try. Feels real the entire time.

Take about 15 minutes.

Take me to my story place.
That is this old man's ritual. He is special.
He says he never learned
to learn, he only learned little bits of things
that
become connected when the only stories
in the history you are given,
are "we overcame".

But on TV, we all see, some cheating being done,
way up where money is imagined answering all things.

The first think I would have changed, today,
as I look back from this point in your part of life's book,

you won't remember, but the touched is an old sort
words use among themselves to keep the idle ones alive.

This is my passtime, y'see, I listen.
I never learned to sew, and boys didn't knit, but
I could make up whole days at a time,
always whistling Ghost Riders in the Sky, and
I owned a real bull whip, family legacy,
found in a garage, at a wake,
or a prewake reunion,
out at Red Lake.

I cracked that whip with a clap of the tip,
none o'that break the sound barrier proper method
for fixin' heretics… first offence.

Time slips, you've used these. Suddenly everything
is new
and you think. this is only strange because I think
it makes sense.
like that,
I get this startle response mech, signaling out

and twice I think some one said what was that.

State of mind. Officially heard of, yet
never assumed involvement, as yet
another word I had defined for me,
so I could make sense of something
some persons now are dying
to squelch or digest as best.

National State Mind Possession,
bound
by oathz as old as stirrups
and Koumiss to Scythian warriors.

Tuvan chorus sings defining mode
---------------------
crossing mind divides, up the tree
learning ever is ever relearned.
Measured across gravity,
at speed… diametric
push comes to pull,
shove into science,
twowordone mind hold,
from dia "across, between"
+ legein "speak"
from PIE root *leg- (1)
"to collect, gather,"
with derivatives meaning
"to speak (to 'pick out words')").
Picking critical similarities not unique
Relegein,
so we are in a weform, holy gnoshit.

Danger prestate,
child mind, alone,
left, there, that old time religion, eh,
good enough
for me, keep the baby,
safe, no escaping the baby born, but,

if we are gods,
as Jesus is said to have
asked some who told Luke'n'em have
you never read…
apokrinomai-
Is it not written
in your law, I said,
Ye are gods?
I am the door:
by me if any man enter in,
he shall be saved,
and shall go in and out,
and find pasture… as a free spirit

== o o o indeed advance guard,
force recon, reconnoiter… synchro
realize, animation projection screen

music, lose.
Consci-use make of
any umms that remain,
these are keeping our reality human
artificial products of collective dialectic

always,
on goes,
off stops, think,
recall as
from a dream, awake, only,
never
does a dream tell itself
to you.
You always tell you first, awake.

Do, done, this is a story coming alive,
with my efforting,
with your spiritual reception
in mind, intending your current opinion,
consciously ties sense where missing,
to hold ties to
historical canonical events,

the death of dinosaurs,
the killing fields of Khmer reds,

the shame on Richard Nixon, then
the glory for restoring relations
with the oldest civilization,
- inadvertent, unintentionally
allowing Kung Fu
to accompany
Lao Tzu bringing wisdom from China,
and unbelievable ping pong teams, to
Mohave County Union High School,
seeding shén as an ai hai hope, in me,
chosen most politically minded Class of 66, and editor of the Bulldog,
always ready to culturally exchange,

to trade Huckleberry Finn,
and Red Badge of Courage,
for a respectable translation
into this digital language, index
matrix adapting courage to core.

“The Way of Virtue”  
a new POV wrong Tzu, sorry,
conscience, Tzus of two minds,
among the books bought
in Saigon, in this telling.

Two Tzus too soon forgotten.

Way is Lao, Tao-Te-Ching… War is
Sun Tzu "The Art of War" science
used to pass culture forward,
past forgotten why we lied in
providing old excuses
for heros virtues
never lost,
like Mary's cherry
told children destined
to fight any war when called,
to prove confidence needed
to make boys believe worth
of dying while disobeying
the command to love…

gotcha… beguiled was I, indeed,
do we forgive the liar and leave
the lieing oath of aliegiance valid?
  
Religiously clinging to my own thread
of reasoning
on this side
of war, in peace
resting, while testing opinions milked
from the use
of knowledge,
conscience
conscious
right use,
twist

which
fuses words and ways to ask
what is going
on as wagwan, on
conscience,  
with knowing we know,
consciousness
of oathez sworn,
to science misdefined, sacred truthz
kosher kaballah rules
allowing easy seventy
possible roles OPM
sell the sizzle,
hot inside scoop
for each full word, a-
indeed, Aleph-ante one, is
cost to play, A-team atom,

soulsong wombless man song
they ain't no they, I am the one,

A and one, onliest, initially, I am
the loneliest number, that you ever do.

eh, old licks, new tricks,
One, two
Three Dog Night,
maybe, close, old recall whistle,
the train that don't carry our kind,
-hear it nearin' last stop

ramblin', gamblin', traipsin' off t'learn,

how come we
to be so poor, and some
be doing nothing be so fine, just fine,

not asking any more,
got plenty,
mor'd be good,
but plenty be good, enough's
'plenty
to share but you gotta chew,

been dried since last winter sometime,
we could have a stew, but if we chew,
we could just have a chat, tell a tale,
not need no salt or water or a ***,
or a fire which then wants wood…

think maybe we got lucky to live now.

We got this light to write on.