Let it rest.
Let us see better, saying
some say we have dues to pay,

duties to the whole human race,
race being loaded with royal faith.

Any propagation of holy order, go,

take the land that lacks any kings,
make men modeled on Donald Trump,
from boys modeled on the anti-hero,
and ---

Accept the offer of a satisfied mind, for a minute.

Poverty of being me, not obliged to any
powers of orders from God, general use,
under which, in America, pledged children stand.

Stepping beyond the ordered classes,
my generation, born into natural TV, Eureka!,
I personally watched Archimedes say it, on TV,
I was seven, and used …
-------------
Information gathering, intelligence collecting,
ever learning never knowing everything about,
ever, as a state.
Eureka!
Communists, say the word,
instant hate,
****, say it, sayit Niggerniggerniger ghuck yew.
Potential traitors, aliegiance pledge violators,
called to vote, under the laws God authorized.

Vote for fear,
vote for hope, vote for leaving me alone.

------------------ governing a self, letting any mind
be in you, being found in the gaseous we state, ever
after all's been said and done, a dozen times, or more.

The entertainment value of life.
Judging one's own experience, later than most.
Age tested…
ex agere, eh, gitgo, let it roll… therapy, in session.

Listen, Doktor, I am a good liar,
I just wish I were otherwise. That's everyman's truth.

It is written, all men are liars, not only Cretans.
Therefore, right,
knowing that, accepting that, we all naturally lie,
and if we are rewarded for the art of mimicry,

we lie until we die.

Think yourself to the source, when did the mind
on offer to the elite who hired spirited tutors,
change
to allow the untouchables
to read?
------- Freedom from unknowing why I disagree.

Over the last century, however,
Freud’s ideas have since been met
with criticism,
in part because
of his singular focus
on sexuality as the main driver
of human personality development.

https://www.quora.com/Do-you-agree-with-Freuds-theories

My AI, intuitional artistry, assisting informant, informs me,
- ego chooses to, a bit vehemently, dis-herd my hide.
Be not conformed to this world…

be not conformed
to the mileau projected as reality, you and me
being formed in, positioned
as carriers, or as carried messages, proof
of all naked mankind may bear up under imagining.

Stand and ask the chronicles. Bow and ask the spirits,
sit Zazen lotus on a goldfish pond, stride across surface tension,
examine
animated orderly symphony of
how big a show we can put on.

Splash.
Recall the age weapon, wielded unrighteously.
-- I can out time waste any young mind.
-- time acknowledged passing. So,
what
am I to do well enough to influence turbulence positively.
Make a point.

Think a cause, make up your mind, our whole mortal mechanics,
levers and weights and balances and tension holders and releasers.

Prods produce anger, and
any we we thought we were kicks it self to death, when…

- Cadmus, it is- and this then that stone thrown at
dragon's teeth, taken from Ares,
by  our selected hero,
fed early Book of Knowledge, and Britannica,
and Aesop, and Poor Richard, and all the Nursery Rhimes…
- just so right, if the least heat zone is cool.
Goldilocks.
Rapunzel, coming of age, rites of passage, understand.
Peter, the pumpkin eater, had a true Freudean problem.

Not some thing nursery children can parse.

Knowledge of the story,
holistic impression on the cultural psyche, do tell,
says the Id to the Super I.

"Peter, Peter pumpkin eater,
Had a wife but couldn’t keep her;
He put her in a pumpkin shell
And there he kept her very well.
Peter, Peter pumpkin eater,
Had another and didn’t love her;
Peter learned to read and spell,
And then he loved her very well."

I'd better think myself a fine boy, for this plumb,
line upon line, steady sense of balance and
timing since, aim, edumacated
will to tell, provocative force, tensile strength stretch
of the imagination,
the imagining machinery, pull
…
Target audience, the attraction in us all, to hit it
the key first thing,
the corner stone.
Masonic
cultural syncretism, lying idle, conjoined heads and tales,
inspiring

preconscious, conscious, unconscious, subconscious
science - use, measure, from seventeen POVs, at once.
collect a consciousness,
form a we, me and thee.
We are perhaps the briefest form of mind,
the passing fancy, fantasy titular idea, the works

opera, machinations deploying ropes and wheels,
and crashing cymbals, Zildjians, no doubt, old ideas,

tinkling bells, and jingling bells, sounds of whips,
sounds of sails snapping, tacking,

ambitions lead us around the obstacles, land us on the sand.
------------
knowledge, expressed with confident proof,
poet's license taken as granted, this is all I offer life.
Any ant-like urge to gather for the colony, I offer this.

I disagree with Sigmund Freud, and Bishop Sheen…
and doubt we ever could have been friends, like me and

the few names I have power to recall, with a thought, like
a charged ion on a quest,

to prove the best use,
of any knack.

This is all I brought with me from my past,
I speak English and
I have a linked history through five generations.

Being amusing, and being a user of muses, are not same
in balance of Natural vs Artformed,
Art's own sake, they say, causa sui
the use of knowledge, knowing and doing, showing growing,
formations of cultural biomes,

rust dust, color of Mars, Ares, same idea,
a good god of war…

"Turn the other cheek."
Love make simple - imagine Romance Novels, all day, all night,
News as it would appear, after the generational curses
propagated at the K through 12 stage,
bear fruit on grafted limbs.

The poor you have always
with you, ye poor in heart.

Fitting war's reality, 2023
--fit, not fight
Pieces of my mind, hoping mostly not to lie, unconsciously.

Lines, floating on singularities too tiny to feel.
Forming
From our conjoined mind's past,
to our oath tied you and me agreement, I admit, I pray,

in much the way I prayed as a child,
hoping to win the lottery,
believing my mercy on the universe plea,
worked.
I can imagine news from the Daily Planet,
I can imagine pogroms looking like a zippo'd village.

Can't we all?
Is not the power of the message art offers seeing eyes,
worth the promise of redeeming shame, cash in the secrets.

The work of a prophet, use the best gift, fabricate a valid reason.
T'is today, Monday, once.

So sophomoric have we become, tomorrow never comes, we know.

Live for today, eh, seize the light, stretch it, stretch it, to the night.

Blessed. Favored above the cursed, happy having things to do, right.
Cursed. Tied to the fear of death, due to childhood trauma, Victorian
moral standards,
five moral generations ago, height of the mission to hide the theft.

History and new thought. Novelty constantly, let me,
entertain you,
let my words be the glue,

listen with a will to know,
and grow your own shelter from the storm,

become a passive unibomber, seek and destroy the glory,
iconoclasm chasm leap

of merest faith, spirit verbing lief as well, mine or thine,
whatever.

Where this is, in a construct believed in as direct objective
The Cloud of all collected knowns and their known uses.

I, ego of the entity I play, outwardly aware you are there,
thinking we think at once,
this time,
this instant, and some men of faith can sell that.
Some sit in the buzz of electrified retiremental bliss,
content. Sowing seeds of kindalikeness.

The prize of the satisfied mind… seek that first.
See what it turns into.

I know I've compared your body
To the ocean and tall mountains
So rigid and structured
And I have compared your hands
To many others beings of the earth
But let's talk about your name
It starts with "J"
And no
You are not a Jeff
I clap twice at your name
Two syllables
But not many know your true name
Not many at all
Your name is something  I can not forget
It rolls off my tongue
When I am least expecting it
And I suppose my preconscious
Liked to think of you
I accidentally say your name daily now, I do.
I clap twice
Your name is something whispered in sleep
Your name is something I screamed on the bathroom floor
A blood curdling scream
Your name is trying to leave my mouth
But it fits so comfortable there
Your name does not want to leave
Your name made a home out the gaping hole in my face
Two syllables or one
You could go either way
I find myself slipping
I wonder
Have you called her the wrong name yet?
I always knew you were being serious when you called me by own
And so I am just wondering,
Has my name cursed the tip of your tongue with a bitter taste?
I think you were used to being good at the name game
I mean, look at all of the women standing in your front yard
They never knew which direction the sky was
And I am one of the few that'd been saved
I clap twice
I'm wondering how long it will take.
When will I finally give up trying to make a home out of the bone white afternoon
Your name causes trouble
Leads me to slapped wrists and cuts along the frayed edges of my skirt
Rulers dripping with a red textured tint
And no it was never paint from my art set
Your name is poison
Your name is alcohol
I'm gulping your name down
To keep myself from becoming love sick
It used to taste so sweet
Radiated smiles
But every time I bring up your name
I get sympathetic looks
I receive
"Oh, sweetheart. He's not worth it.."
But you were.
I guess comparing your body to the planets and constellations was never enough
And it had always been your name leaving me..

The instructor stands at the front of the class,
next to an apple.
For a demonstration, he leans down
very close,
and takes a deep breath through his nose.
Then he asks,
"Did I do anything?"
A very vague question.
A simple student answers, his call rising about the crowd's whispers,
"You didn't do anything!"
The instructor chuckles.
"Anyone else?"
Apparently not, as no one broke the silence.
"Well," the instructor continues, "Although it seems to you that i have done nothing, changed nothing, altered nothing, I have in fact done an infinite number of things."

"You chose to take my question as, 'Did I do anything to the apple?' but in that case, you would still have been wrong."

"Let's think of this at a molecular level; my nose did indeed move air, correct? Well if my nose moved the air, it must have disturbed at the very least, some of the molecules on the apple. And on a larger scale, I smelled the apple, yes? Well if i smelled the apple, some of it's particles entered my nose. If some of it's particles entered my nose, then, in fact, my brain reacted to them. My brain felt an activation of sensory nerve cells when axon after axon was activated. My body carried the electric charges to my brain, and activated their sensory neurons, in turn."

"And on an even larger scale than that, when I smelt the apple, some of the students inside this class, missing breakfast I presume, felt a rumble in their stomachs, or even just thought about the idea of food. Even if you were not hungry, you thought on a preconscious level about the food you had already eaten."

"Furthermore, your brain worked to identify this object sitting in front of me, identify me, and identify the action I performed."

"Do not take this for granted."

"Because some people in this world, cannot identify objects or remember faces.
Some people in this world, cannot smell.
Some people in this world, cannot feel hunger.
Some people in this world do not understand the concept of molecules.
But some people in this world, are not you."

"You have the ability to do..anything."
"What I am trying to teach at this moment, is that everything you do, changes something."
"Whether that something is big or small, or nothing at all, is up for you to decide."

How difficult it is to quit being
God in this dangerous swirling world
Called life which arises from the ego
State with conscious and preconscious thought
Realms that rapidly flow from moment to brief
Moment presenting a false linear
Image of perception perceiver and
Perceived as three distinct intermingling
Entities where in truth only a oneness
Does exist here and now but quit i must
To loose the hold of bone deep taloned fears
Which are a cause and caused resultant in
This present mind of dreamer and the dream

"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend XXXII "

I heard on the radio a killing
Frenzy by humans      malignant contagion
Of heart circling the planet on thought winds
We cannot help it it is our conditioning
To death in this times pain momentum we
Don't have to smoke shoot-up pop drink yell hit
But oh the urge moves us beyond our strength
Threshold we fall down to animus heart
Part of this age might as well admit it
To see it perhaps to stop creating
It preconscious survival curse my blood
Better than your blood more deserving of
Life illusion core sentient paradigm
Moving hands to **** the lesser others

g) Reflection Temporality

In cavern series, the lava was converted into cations of hydronium, in subterranean sinkholes that softened in the timelessness of Tsambika when the homily was officiated.  Some pieces and calcareous boulders, rotated ramdonic  by the humid and dark narrowness of the anthropic reflection having lived in the heavenly paradise that formed them by the volcanic tube and its syngenetics, by the erosion of the subsoil of Rhodes. The mental rock icons expired of the symptoms, with albuminous cliffs in the genetics of the Theoskepasti chapel, Etréstles carried under her arm the contract of expiration of the Universe, to deliver it with her signature, for the will of dimensional transfer. Everything Bloomed with attractive mineralization systematizations, under an astral dosage, with trace elements from distant galaxies converted into particles of an end of evolution, condemned to gravitational spilling origins of Hera and her lactations in compound stellar analogues, towards the disdain and backlight of her own emission of the spiral, uniting the irregularity of its transit in revolutions and bars of filings, making the entire face of the earth undaunted but delivered to a temporality, with much sovereignty from a terrestrial planet ..., but not from a universe to another in fusion!

In the cognitive, Kanti memorized his wanderings in Crete, imagining his physical body united with his mind on the paths of the shoulder of his ascendancy, with batches of clockwork that went and passed through his physiognomics, bathing with the piece wind, but also with They yielded with epistemological globes, but levitating in excesses of the shoulder and the unknowns, for states of temporality that became mentalized in pursuit of a supra desire ..., ailment or long-standing typologies that used the supposed ontological formalization, diffusing the property of the body with advanced memory towards a new duality. The officialization of Ars Choralis, solemnize for processes of emotional property; In this way the cave of Being and its Temporality is lofty, isolating itself for intra-cave investigations, as corollaries of agility in those who yearn for identity, being able to attach themselves to deities in tens to epicene, which would be from tens to ten, thus being seventy tens and a half, which would be seventy-five of the seven tens and of the unconscious of the phrase that Etrestles carried away, separating the syntactic of the Vas Auric hypothesis, in order that they coexist ..., although the pestilential decants before the syntactic of Kanti's enrobed head. Untreated and conscious-unconscious to his instinct, resorting to and harassing the prodicedemental bars of the Ergo Sum parameter. The temporality of reflection, In momentum ac Diadem, shone from the third trumpets of the Seventh Seal to the potential of the twilight corrodes and its regions that made the hard shoulder the awareness of a temporality reflected in the required and dismayed collectivities, to transcribe exhorts to the behavioral pattern of temporality and love faust. Little remains immobile, little drive when two masses of consciousness withdraw to the warehouses of the Universe already advantageous from their exhaustion, but inheriting them in active emotions towards the preconscious factors, on the heights of the mountains of Crete and Kímolos.

Kanti the steed says: “Deus Nostri Pontificatus annis et ad eum, God is my pontificate and my way to Him…, Adonis in relative absence of credit, before Ephebe with absolute deafness, being surprised here in the Diospyros and his escape from neuro archetype. I ride farther than my physical-emotional, contributing in the micro-fusions of the tubules, in quantum and interacting with the fineness of the miniscule substance, within themselves. Almost injuring the storms that vibrate in mine from the risk prop of a steed, in pursuit of a trance that only ends up being the architect and augur of knowledge ..., of when and where I die more than once, but within the limit of the crushed Duoverse At his own risk, evaluating himself steadily from the transfer of a whole genetic force in solid steel hooves, but of ornamental and Reflected Temporality. I am a witness to the signing of the contract that everyone who did not look convinced and unanimous, but Hellenika awaits us ...”