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Mateuš Conrad Oct 2016
no, i don't need an outlet: talk to the public,
they tell you you're
either a well guised political machine,
a psychiatrist,
           or an oddity: come October time
propheteering rather than profiteering;
your choice, not mine:
   i look at poetry like
a plumber might look at a toilet:
go in and get the francophone out!
    so pardoning the French
is lost, as casual phrasing goes, woop,
  away away Superman included.

oh right, you might think i'm spelling
something Evangelical,
sure, i hope you do or d.p. as in
do please,
           what with the cool of Wall St.
sprechen d.l. (down low);
i had a few scribbled notes,
yes, Yanky, my laptop broke down
and i'm reduced to pen & paper
         like handcock & *******,
easy does the ****** of loser vill
           (can we drop the e
for the sake of autocorrect being right
when the big words matter? thanks) -
Platonism is plainly Thespian,
             Platonic thought is a Thespian
"espionage", get used to it,
you haven't matured into Aristotelian
         autism: you still want to act,
to puppeteer that shadows of people
without ever *being
the people,
don't take it as if it's supposed to be unlikely:
there's a boss around every corner:
whether you get paid or don't, which is fun,
because you state an authority but
still only play the cameo.
      reminiscent guise literature
of rewatching that t.v. phenomenon
that's billions -
             oh sure, t.v. these days overshadows
cinema, cinema is worth jack-****,
it's poverty is intrinsic in forming ideas
or reversed "Latin" grammar  idea-fermentation,
i said English loves to hyphenate
two kindred words,
    like that ego theory
             with the Germanic self-theorising,
self-enabling, self-interest, self-haemorrhaging
  gusto of the capital -
    what a way to finish, i as a prefix
toward robotic modula.

(i write pending, but ensure the enso,
            or Swahili wasabi sting of
green horseradish,
       same so, i live dangerously, or pretty
much on the sly,
           if i tell the taxpayers
  they're getting their money's worth
i'll bound to see a third runway at Heathrow:
got my nose in an Alsatians' buttocks mind you).

so...

i was going to end with it, but i'm afraid i must
begin with it, page entitled

a. a rebellion from the top?
    or right, it only comes from the bottom,
the guillotine and all,
  but never the despotic cupcake for an Antoinette,
right? wrong!
                coming from a worker's background,
i'd been happy doing the ******* roofs of
the Tate Gallery among other examples,
but i was educated as a chemist,
  and, i was told, you need toothpaste, or
am i wrong in that assumption?
     picture it thus:
a son of a roofer is real smart,
      goes to Edinburgh, gets his money's worth
in terms of tuition, over 30 hours year three
of his chemistry degree, when things were still
decent, ~£1,250 a year (one thousand two hundred
and fifty pounds): with words like that
you might sketch Dante and Donatello and
the Italian Renaissance in terms of clapping the ****
away at the gesture...
     but no, it was like that, study chemistry
and you get your money's worth in terms of tuition,
so how the **** did i descend from the "high" tier
of the sciences into the murk of poetry
and humanism?
       history of science and David Hume:
black swans to mind, also.
                          but the other kid in question
was a son of a doctor / radiologist,
and this talk of rebellion from the top?
he couldn't stomach a shifting hierarchy,
he couldn't stomach social progress,
     had i or hadn't i invested my pleasure
time in reading philosophy is no one's business,
had i made a professional wage from it,
sure, but i wasn't intending to do so:
      what's your favourite colour sort of
question and whether truant of the zeitgeist:
the ******* guillotine, mate!
            i just can't perpetuate this loaf of wording,
but it's necessary:
    of jealousy so corrosive, of jealousy so lined
with lice, only then a god is spawned -
           the person in question?
a skiving belittling camel jockey -
and that's me being polite...
       you can almost become auto-suggestive
of needing to cite: what Abel did next when
the roaring Milton God subsided and
     wanked a crucifix that later became 2000 years of
history: or in the making.

i can be a pompous and bombastic parrot
          that cites Polly this, Polly that,
but i can speak to a scaffolder and laugh: with him,
and not, at him...
                 because i know my bombastic mr. fantastic
behaviour about spending aeons in a library
   rather than sniffing bullseyes and ****
        is made to be the fo' sho' lingua rapper tinder
of something or other that doesn't require me
to foolishly date...
                         **** it, cheaper at the brothel.

...........................

                        oh­ i'm just getting started, hence
the title with (penting) in it: no, not really mr. tough-guy,
just a **** break and a smoke and all that's
necessary in terms of transparency, begging to
be revealed in all forms of literary composition...
  
let's just say: a new interpretation of the paragraph,
     for me reading books, a paragraph means Sunday,
1905... because of the constipation and what-not,
   a comma makes me feel like i need a pause to
hiccup or sneeze,
       a full-dot is never a full-dot unless it's a full-dot
and then it's a definite article of end, rather than
the intermediate an end: let's start over, once again;
       but when have you actually experienced
a Macgyver of what's otherwise a "work in progress"?
answer? never!
               you never have: you had to become
censored by publishers and editors for everything to
look the end-product squeaky-clean!
                   unless published posthumously...
and then... you might already be dead:
you never got to see a work in progress...
   and believe me, i have 8 pages worth of notes to
encode into something that's not
that fable about a boy waking up Barbarossa
from slumber and upon seeing crows
shouting: messerschmitt! messerschmitt! messerschmitt!
well, a diet of hanzel und gretyl will do that
to you, you get a fetish like Shpielberg and direct
the Indiana Jones franchise...
                       funny little me, "phony" Englishman
speaking a piquant variation of Essex banter,
8 years in Poland and of memories i speak of the fondest
in my life, and 22 years in this rotting *******...
                    i feel less organic, more inorganic,
i.e. metallic,
       it's like my insides were hollowed out
and i was faking that i am actually being -
   weird sensation, ask any displaced individual when
they have the organism of a Slavic, but a soul
of a German... feels, ******* weird...
                        i mean, Nietzsche and that complement
that the Poles are the French in the ethnic category?
what are the English in the Slav category then?
                          most likely Ukrainian.
i dare you to find a philosopher with a similar dilemma,
i dare you: in light of how this whole
gaining of fame works, not one wrote about
being displaced... well... unless you're talking about
Moses -

                (haven't even started, i need a drink).

there was no social tract anyway!
    to be forced into accepting insemination
        when the forward wording was:
       "i'm talking counter-contraceptive
measures" & 'i want you to *** in me'.
                 ditto encapsulating quote
for ambiguity, the otherwise: real life.
       is my ***** worth more than me?
have i not transcended a weak bladder / **** muscles?
       a pseudo-humanity, intrinsic in man
but not not in beast?
                    i call upon a reversal of what's
a staging of ****, or money grubbing -
                with a woman's twist of the Grimm tale:
as she said: i want this man,
              i will impose a moral grounding / battlefield,
judgement on him! entrapment!
and there's me apologising for the "****" / so-called,
in a fully-consenting intimacy:
   well, *****, why don't you? another Beethoven
is waiting? who's the whopper feminist these days?!
               me? you?! hardly you!
   i consented to a full intimacy,
        is ***** a foetus?
tissue would know,
    or a twisted fetish for ****** cream
advertisement in ****, huh?
              sure, my socks smell, but so does
your moral instinct.
                        the difference is that that i get to
say airy, while you get to say fairy.
                         it really takes a man respecting
a woman's freedom: i seriously thought you
were advocating the right to abort
as you might avert ****...
    sure: i'm sorry i inseminated you,
can you please treat it as a tear-jerker experience
of a rom-com that's actually a transvestite-rom
  and needs 50 years to ferment for the earthquakes
and heartaches and cha cha attacks?
              to me it's an apron needing a wash,
to you it a ******* moral dilemma needing
a ******'s rights to not father a child and you
needing your body to unnecessarily incubate it
so you get the Catholic nod... bonkers!
    yes, i impregnated a girl, at university:
i avoided white trash at school, sorry, but it's true,
i liked reading... let me stress that: i liked reading,
      or bold if italics and colon Gemini be antiquity...
she lacked the character judgements,
the 'why he didn't stay' method statement...
she called my friend and study buddy a troll
based on her aesthetic tastes...
          i could have had a family now, and all
the responsibilities, it just didn't fit into
a replica of Cleopatra and Anthony *******
when they honestly didn't have ******* to claim
as their own...
          jeez (replica of the hand-written transcript) -
writing this on pen + paper is like *******
a **** for reach a champagne fizz of ******
for an hour - thank you keyboard and the digital
pixel off blank: ******* is less painful
than writing with that oddity that's handwriting).
there was no social contract anyway!
     it's not like i was married, there's
no unwanted child joke in this: i do find abortion
abhorrent within a social contract, a marriage,
but outside of marriage? are you ******* kidding me?!
you an Irish priest or something?
       there was no social contract,
did i sign a social contract akin to marriage?
      am i in this for the shambles?
of course i didn't get married,
there was no +ring,
                     sure abortion is abhorrent,
but under a social contract,
  without a social contract (marriage)
i,    had,    no,         obligation.
      what, in order to practice a variation of Islam
on a woman's whim?
    *******.
                     plus i had the gross indecency
gay men have with surrogate mother prostitution;
oh wait, it isn't that? my bad.
            i always had a nicety divisiveness for
incubators... a 9 month ****, with dividends...
        really: feminism can **** itself!
because aren't we at a stage of rhetorically counter-validating
what we abhor in certain Asian communities?
oh sure, the patriarchs are gone,
forced marriages are gone too...
          but didn't i just describe a case
of forced marriage, where a western girl is given
all the powers to reign over a young man
as any despot might over a worker
so he can "think" and drink cocktails and
chuckle over his position between cocktails?
      
  i said abortion, yes, i didn't like the girl's aesthetic,
and you know what? that thing you call abortion,
apart from the fact that the foetus has no soul
the baby neither: not until the diaper is off...
to learn to strain the muscles outside the womb:
you really forgot that the implant of soul
or the later disputed notion of god
is only implantable once the memory kicks into
gear...
               only when you start to remember
is the human person born:
   beyond that it's still nature's brutalist lottery...
maybe a Beethoven might have been born,p
but who cares? we already have a Beethoven!
it's avoiding consented ****:
that's feminism and 9 months spared
the continuation of endured affair / "relationship",
i seriously thought that's what women
were campaigning for... obviously it's counter!
   i claim soul outside of a woman's body:
when the ****** thing passes the diaper gym
and learns to automate the bladder and the ****...
then i say: worthy an implant of a soul...
or chauvinistically that's counter and double-****
of 9 months and Bach with his 14 children,
and the Borgia Popes...
          but at least we have the surrogate "mothers"
and that pretty Disney scenario of two gay dads
to fictionalise into watchable Platonic cavemen
when the eyes aren't glued to the 2D.
why do you think such thoughts ferment in
the heterosexual imagining of actuality?
                your utopian counter-clockwise
has already extended into China being the only
provable state of physical activity...
    and the western zoo of mental philosophical
build-up-detachment? your mental health
scenario only suggests you created acid professions...
at least the physical "antiquity" of China
is compensated by a universal shortcoming:
death and mortality...
you created acid-baths: sport and completely mental
professions: YOU'RE SICK!
     honestly!
     people used to enjoy physical professions,
and the essence of such professions?
no immediate competitiveness!
         you replaced physical professions
with sports!
                  and compensated the need for
physical hands-on with the ****** gym!
no wonder you countered-Darwinism while
adapting the need to advertise it
            and made so many young people
mentally ill...
      because your whole mental estrangement
is the sauce or a broth that's currently on the boil!
Damian Acosta Aug 2014
... and all of Life's questions were set to be answered,  from "Why are we here?" and "Why should we care?"  to "Why don't he love me?" and "What should I wear?" and
                                                        "Wher­e is my father?"  and
                                                   ­                                                    "Can I kiss my daughter?"              and

                                    ­            "What does it matter?"
"Flannel or Mod?"                              and
                          ­                                                                 "What about God?"
                      "Meat on a stick? or Shish Kabob?"
and
                                                            ­                            "Free Will or Fate?"
                                                       and
                        "Do you think of me when you *******?"                                                   and
"Is Santa for real?"
                                                                ­                  and

                                          ­                                                    "What does love feel--"
                                                         ­                                                                 ­              "Like this or like that?"  
                                   "Do I really look fat?"            
                                                   "Do u thnk its gonna b bettr than the 1st one??"     "When Atheists go to court, do they have to swear on the bible?"               "Is it legal to travel down a road in reverse, as long as your following the direction traversed?"                        "Where do u see urselvef in 5 yrs?"
               "what's the most embarrasing thing that has happened to you?"                    "Why are the best looking things the most deadly?""What does i.e. stand for?"            "How do you know when you fall in love?"" If ghosts can float, why do they waste their time walking around?"          
"Why am I still in the bed?"                        "Why would u get pregnant by a dude that doesn't take care of the kids he already have?""Why do ppl Cheat ?"
                 "Did u really love me or u just lied???"                    " whats the point of tryin anymore if u tried so hard in the past and nuttin happened?" "why is the sky blue?"?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
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                                                               ­                                 ¿
                              ­                                                                 ­     ?
                                                          ­                                              ¿
                                                                ­                                         ?

                                                                ­                                             ¿

Age old wives' tales,



                                                       ­                                                          ?

                                                      propheci­es,

                                                            ­                                                            

jud­gement day--
                                                           ­                                                                 ­  ¿

                                      The Human Symphony


of doubt and faith,

                                      
                  ­                   with crescendos of hope now played,                              ?



as the moments of our naive darkness


                                                      ­                      Tick
                                      ­                          

                                                               ­                        Tock
                                                            ­                                         slip, slide



&

                  fade



















                     ­                                                                 ­                  




















                          ­                                                                 ­           











                                                     ­                                                            ¿















































                ­                                                            10


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                   ­                                        6




































                           ­                                                                 ­ 8


                                  


























­














                                                  ­                                                                 ­      7










                                                     ­                                                                 ­                    ¿

                                                               ­                                                                 ­           ?

                                                               ­                                                                 ­               0

                                                             ­                                                                 ­                      1
The greatest accomplishment of humankind took the stage just                      
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                   
                                             ­                                 past 11:59,  New Years Eve 2099          !
                                                 ­                                             
The first and only of its kind,
    
                                                           ­     
                                                                ­  
                                            
                   ­                                         Born from the Hope and Ingenuity



                                                    ­              of
The Great Recession Generation--
                                                    ­        Whose Change and "Deviation"  gave birth



                                                        ­           to
The Artificial Assimilation Generation--
                                                    ­          Whose Instant Omniscience created




                                                     ­               the
Automation Generation, whose lack of challenge
                                                       ­         Evolved into the Great Stimulation Generation--


                                                    dependent upon emotional simulation
for spiritual mental and human validation.



                                                  ­                    A
Civilization whose foundations were pillars
                                                         ­           





                                                            ­                  0f  



21st Century Dust..............................★★★★★★★★★★★
                   ­                  ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                     ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                     ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                     ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                     ★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★          ­ 
★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★
                                   ­  .                                                    
                                     .
                                      .
                       ­                 the perfect shambles of a custom built artificial
                                                      ­                                                                 ­                    life.
Intelligent saturation, automation, assimilitation-- the cries of *******--
                                                  ­                                      nothin' but digital elation!
                                                        ­                                                                 ­             No
                                                 ­                                                                 ­      more
                                                      ­                                                Heroes--
        ­                                                                 ­                              Tears
                                                           ­                                                                 ­of
                                                              ­                                                                 ­    Nero.

                                                                ­                                                                 .

                                                              ­                                                           .
                  
                                                                ­                                                   .

Thursday December 31,  2099                                    
                 23:59:31                                   ­                   A time of ever present
                     ☼   42°                                                              ­                      Knowledge
         Aged 25 years 12 days
           Heart Rate 154 bmp        
           Daily Caloric Intake
            1660.079/1830.15
                Calorie Buffer
                     170.071
         Personal Headlines
"First Artificial and Visceral Intelligence
        To Be Unveiled @ Midnight"


"First we were meat. After, sentient meat. Then self aware meat.
As such, manipulative meat. Adaptive meat. Rotting meat. Limbo Meat.

Then came awareness of spirit.
Freedom from the mortal meat,
Via a mastering of its meaty concepts.

We became one in the same; spirit and meat.
Held mirrors to one another, reflected our dreams.

Shared sense of Being.

Then meat met metal, plastic and graphene--
Testing the infinite ways to give birth to Life.
And we did.

We called our first child Artificial--
afraid for our mortality.
Yet called it intelligent in its ability.

A selfish denial of a miraculous act.

The question was inevitable,

'If knowledge is infinite, and
                                                   intelligence is the capacity to acquire knowledge,
Would we call such a pursuit, of intellectual Life, "Artificial"?'

'If God is infinite, and
                                       Non-visible, non-provable,
Would we call a pursuit for such a source of Life, "Artificial"? In vain?'

'Is this not Life before us existing in the shape of electrically charged plastic? Entities that observe and react to their environment, is that any more artificial than a man?'

Emotion. One word, and the intellectuals were silenced....

Emotion.

Meat knows emotion.
Our meat has been stimulated and shaped by
pain and joy.

Machine knows only causation, not visceral relation.

Visceral. One word, and the intellectuals were aroused.

Visceral.

A machine's viscera lies within its programming, its sense of being.

Meat's viscera lies within its program to survive (food, sexuality), its sense of being.

"If a program can understand environment and its relation to that environment, it may be able to approximate a sensation to a high level of accuracy based on temperature, humidity, and whether or not that environment is detrimental to its functioning hardware, and thereby make a statistical decision as to where to move next.  It may interpret sound as obtrusive or melodic based on input sensitivity. But creating hardware with central parts is counter-intuitive to information flow-- which is of paramount importance, far above form.

However, the nano-sized 'cloud'  hardware used in this new "form", will have sensors by the trillions. Examining its environment-- functioning as One, Creating a field-- a floating specter of the collective human mind. Where its understanding of history is both objective and subjective (given of course the established norm of a non-private society).

The most important factor, is its relation to us... Meat. That comes with empathy, compassion. If it can understand basic weather, terrain, and statistics, it can understand basic human survival challenges and its solutions. If it can hold all of the information past and present, circumstantial factors of old and new, would it not have a more clear perspective of our human state of being? Would it not be our most reflective mirror? Would it not have some visceral answers? Would it not be an awareness of Spirit? Spirit meaning by definition: the principle of conscious life; the specter or trace of existence."

At last the intellectuals gave themselves a centennial deadline. Blood sweat and tears of a generation upon a generation...

'We are calling her Aavi.' they said early in December.
"Artificial and Visceral Intelligence.

So, The World listened...

" A Computer Will Reveal Our Greatest Secrets" were they laymen headlines.

"Artificial and Visceral Intelligence with the Free Will to pursue anything." for the Romantic readers

Either way-- meat or metal-- it comes down
                                                            ­                                        to Choice.
Choice, based upon instinct
                                                        ­                                                          and reason--
Until now an option reserved only for Man.

What will our greatest achievement say about its creator?

                                                       ­                       (feel here for list of  sources)
                                                    ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­     *23:59:50 Countdown
2010- 2014
What if we could create an "Artificial and Visceral Intelligent" being? What would it reveal about our nature, our process? How would it express its observation of its creator?
min-i Sep 2011
the other me
the other you
so natural || parallel grazing... like soft kisses under cool sheets
never have touched, yet can tickle so much, again, again, experience the other explicable and envigorating, so much that the _ just can't be contained/pressed/expressed truly in simple written words.
goosebumps, held breath, who would have thought simple presence could see & show & feel so much
so nervous, so anxious, so amazed, so curious, yum - it builds - this tension
such T.O... even if this other us will never meet on this side of the reflection, it's okay.
there's no off-switch it seems... and i love all that it is and i love All that it is.

the things to do to say to feel, so unreal and so-su-re-al
if there is such thing as an un-provable-un-disprovable bond/natural affinities/of us;
no motive, no agenda, yet muted from any role other than to Be...  impossibly, but possibly
the other you
the other me

3:02 AM 9/23/2011
10/06/2012
I76+5quaddub ymbapom
Saint Audrey Oct 2017
Holed up in a closet with half a pint or so
Too slowly disheartening for the time it takes
And far too enigmatic for the plans I've yet to make
Yet I move with every atom drawn emancipated

Yet the context of neurons
And bitter sweet memory all a fabrication
Another thin layer of nostalgia to force feed the sleeping beast
And even as I disregard, it comes up through the latency so brazen
Another helpless mess of chemicals to feast upon

Boring

A **** shame as well
Charismatic yet moments away from being half adjusted
Using every empty vow of justice to reciprocate
He must've mustered every ounce of faith based forgery
And the internal jury applauds

All is for naught, but drowning in waste deep
Self pity is for suckers
I can drown in less than half an inch

Selfishness is only realized once
Pride stops you from making friends
Maybe the fear hits nearer to home
Reopen its wounds like the case that lay dormant but provable
Felonious though it may be once you disregard empathy
You know he did

And yet it bleeds

Still it moves

Cognition taken for granted, but by who?
Sure, the long since departed had so much to lose
But If with every passing breath they would've ****** down oxygen
With the same callousness he possessed
When cutting off their heads

Doesn't the burden fall on you as well...
Sending a man to hell is no easy task

Bask in the grace you made for yourself
Bending the page with ink that you've layerd
With blood and homage to past ruling lieges
That murdered their wives for no ******* reason

Tragedy only strikes in pairs
Taking the same heads off twice
One visible, the other not so much
Squares
Ken Pepiton Apr 2020
2020 - day 103 -- a long and winding story, fun, I re read it twice.

Wednesday, April 22, 2020
8:04 AM

Pharoah-ism is a thing.

It's in a class of words holding forms for governing,
herds of humans,
who can be fit to the form, walk this way,

like an Egyptian, indebted for all your worth

Trillions and trillions, soon enough,
the ghost of Everett Dirkson laughs at
another billion attributed to Carl Sagan,
"we ain't even thinking real money any more."

To whom does the government of, for, and by the people,
owe all the nation can invent

Some day we will learn each bit of reality, but

we, as a specie, a valued mod on the base line
must access our global brain.

China -- that is -- the military mind of China,

has egged on
the military might of the USA, offering hope

for all-out war on peace, for no reason.

War has never had a reason for which any good
could come. Never.

And I will defend to the death your right to disagree,
but not your right to fight and destroy me.

If peace and war were to meet on a distant shore,
peace might move inland, but

now, we meet here on earth as mere ideas empowered
by the codemaker; peace and war

tete a tete, cabezo y cabezo I betcha, like dos cabezos

peering ahead on I -10... on the road again...

this is a changing station stage of life...

fold down time.

monster employers, users and maintainers of
common flesh and blood eyes, ears and hands,
people of the commonest class;
some times sitting in boxes,
some times standing in lines, sometimes

watching welder robots do your dad's old job.


--- capital
= money = time.

Gotta minute?
Invest it in imagining you think, as in,

think

who holds those, no, not those,

these truths, these factions of the whole
truth
faction, not fraction,

truth
and nothing but as sworn to on tv via mirror neurons
and solidi-fied, pur-chased, caught, netted,

in plebeian pledges of allegiance from first
grade, in the sorting of useful citizens,

some may serve at the highest levels, lifted via
lessons proven learned in standard tests,

-- number two pencil, fill each box, complete-ly,

so a machine can discern your answer, and punch
through the insulating paper, to signal
each bit of evidence

coming into piles of assorted usefull knacks,

mark this one. Feed him Wattie Piper, make him
think, I can
think, I can, think, think a little think...


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

How did Einstein think?

AI ai ai, we know. Not in words. Einstein was taught to think

in whatification. What if I

--- nail the sun to the sky and feel the earth move me at
-- twenty-five, or so
-- thousands of miles
per fifteen three hundred and sixtieths of a day
-- and a night, one whole day...

but N D Tyson taught me that trick, not Einstein...
and not all things count as worthy,
relatively, of attention paid.

The worth of a thought's open door invitation to the curiosity we
enjoy


Semantics (from Ancient Greek: σημαντικός sēmantikós,
"significant") 
is the linguistic and philosophical study of meaning 
in language,
programming languages,
formal logics,
and semiotics.
It is concerned with the relationship between signifiers
—like 
words, phrases, signs, and symbols
—and what they stand for in reality, their denotation.

On the subject of secrecy in general,

ah, no, we've no secrets, for here we have no truely
believable lies,

the truth will out, we say.
Life ain't fair, death had no hope, that's just

the way it is.
Wait and see. We had ein kleiner Gedanke, once
upon a mythical histerical time,

ah, think of any first blood in a world of secrets, such as we

formed from, even in famine, some seed was sown
each season,

some seed remained from first story peoples, preserved
in sacred places, safe,
until the dawning on you, that this is true, life always wins.

brightly lighted stage of history

no weakness... save where the blade meets the soft flesh
beneath a noble head bowing to think


fringe brushes my gnostic-itch, son of a gun,

son of a blade, edge, point

pierce the air, no pop, no apoptosist apostasy, see

we use words with no definitive meanings, right?

significance is cast aside, who cares
that's just semantics, I don' quibble bout {sign-if-i can-sense}
significance
or sign.
I wonder did we double down on a word righting there,
did we give meaning to a barely breathing

wind born lie, some interruptions signify engagement of

a clutch, a tool to grip the wild spinning trans-
*******, while

we slip into something more comfortable.
A higher, cruising 12 to 1 gear

My neighbor from two hills north, is coming to sit a while,

the guy has been called Cowboy, as a name, since all his siblings
knew him.

He is a walking archetype. And my friend. We share some burrs,
from wild meadows ridden on sole leather,

leaving a steaming auto-mobile by the side of the road,

aaah, the interruptions {more, with Oliver gone}

any line in context, is a step past last, a first of all the nexts

Nexts?
Options. Who determined this? My will being to discover this
fringe connection to the persistence on the fringe

of string theory strangling struggling

genera general, whole sorts of hu-mongolian signif-if-if ier yous.

Yous guys includes girls and nobody makes me say,

wombed AND un-wombed, man. So yous, youse, y'all you all;
you,
samesame, okeh. Plain and subliminal, wait and see. Losers win,

when they stop fighting fair.
Die and see what happens,
or imagine
you
know some body who did die and before he did he said,

Hide, and watch. AND now, you see,

caution once cast to the wind, calming all the rage required

to oppose the forces

¿? quare, sistere, wait, feel the urge to know, a click calque

see, new old idea, an old idea studied to the point of a word
formed to signify a set of things

cal-que-able, in curios kurio terms derived

from Phoencian merchants, who set up benches in all the ports.

Users of money, milkers of the exchange, worth-ship of silver,

balanced on the craftily formed me-assuring thing,

eight silver tid-bits makes one golden one, tid-bits fit

fingers, excluding thumbs, for thumbs play a role

mechanically in holding any thing, even

steady -- com-pre-hensive press press sure...

you got it, knowledge

ex-spands into wow... did it work?

Did we make a handle? Or a tool? No pressure, guess.

And Dave Goodman, rides into the west, with a QVC Lid-Lock

full of fabulous pasta cheese and celery, with peas.

A culinary experiment conducted by the grandmother
of all my grand children,

a most mazing teacher of balance's pre care-ious role

on an inclined plane sure to flatten the curve

--- are we in historical moments a generation long,
--- with second generations arrows
--- never quivered, these shafts I shot by faith at unseen things,

for which I have reasons. Were now the war,

we all agree war always cost far more than its worth in death,
robbing life from mankind,

unaware if there ever were a gospel truth. I say don't study war with carnal weapons.

Words carry us into real contextual contests for human sanity as a whole,
we can make peace,
we all can breathe easy, loose the tight jibbs {jaws}, gritted molars, loosen up...

Historically, it seems riddles became de riguer in ifity, but plainly,

only surviving stories survive.

Science knows no story which was eaten up and troubled m'bowels and made me know

boom boom boom, montezuma's revenge

in the spirit kah-blewy con ef ef ef fectual fervent

prayer/sayer saying/praying in timeless harmony

if we can agree... no good we imagine can fail,

let chirality meet diversity and error meet ciliation

conciliate celebration,

conciliate (v.)
"overcome distrust or hostility of by soothing and pacifying," 1540s, from Latin conciliatus, past participle of conciliare "to bring together, unite in feelings, make friendly," from concilium "a meeting, a gathering of people," from assimilated form of com "together, together with" (see com-) + PIE *kal-yo-, suffixed form of root *kele- (2) "to shout" (the notion is of "a calling together"). Related: Conciliated; conciliating; conciliary. The earlier verb was Middle English concile "to reconcile" (late 14c.).

take away my anti-grace, de
ify my chance appearance,

dance, mirror neuronically, sitting your chair-saddle,

y'put y'left foot in behind your right and

boom
y'hit a but, but this, but that, but some other thing,

you got only so much mortal attention,

so when one door closes, whatever you need, is not there,

here we see the old wise man who saved a city and no one knows his name,
he say, redundancy of instruction is the way of life.

fectual per effing e fect, non sensicle semantical ice, Gibsonian ice,

no sweat, we are wrapped in white linen,

we broke on through and waited for you.

Yea, a sword shall pierce through thy own soul also.

words we remember were words
meant
to stand tall understanding all things


differently, re
reading, the scene from Night Scenes in the Bible,
that
was a level of knowns
effectually un provable but by
common movie-complex unbelief release, let it be

-- lower missing efs, finding more attention {behind the scenes}

ef-fectual is conjugolly confusin my prudent nature.

or higher, north or sout, plus or minus h

who cares. We made it. This is today.

Meek inheritance day or the spirits judged by the degree day,
a holi
day
in which they trouble their own house, and recall the point that
pierced their own soul,

so to speak,

survived hating your own self for other's sakes,

sakes meaning  goodness and graciousness which

constitute the happy bits in ever,
the treasures found,

where a man's heart is,
my diamond farm is yours now,

my gift to you... only words.

I inherited the wind, my job is to finish melting the ice.

God and sinner reconciled is a song,

does that make it less true?

For us, ever began before today,

so today is that day or it is not, we wait to see

or we wait and see, seeing if

this were the day, when all things go my way,

or come my way, in the course of human events,

I may be ready if readiness is some form of kurios

assurance, blessed, said *****, in a song,

I agree, blessed assurance,
Hey-sus is mine, find his words bring comfort

2020 paradigm shift is common parlance, Cowboy uses that
and logos regularly and he is

old, by mortal standards, for an archetype he's barely ligandary
to most receptive sub caudal imps.

they can feel

him biting the bullet,
gritting his teeth on the Gerber Bowie-wannabe blued steel
blade, re-imagined in reread instead, bullets bitten can go off,

I know a kid fired a deadly-for-a-mile bullet,
with a hammer and a rock, so, knifes are dangerous, too,
so
as a mime-ical biting down, per
haps this hero-in-forming bites

a wooden drumstick, beating now with one,
biting down on the other
boom
boomto doom boom
boom
boomto doom boom... and as the beat goes on,

fringes find loose ends and latch on...

Dirac was an early Cher fan, and she was something like dys
lexical survivor of the year,
if she can, anybody can
I think I can read faster than

hmmm, slippery *****,
speaking memes as old as I remember, then

by the time I wondered if she were real or
a con structure
I lose my footing

slip on something comfortable, this promises to be

that night, in the legends, just prior to a marked, edge of night,

ever after post. Will you still love me,

tomorrow.... deeedly violins lift away any hope

of redemption, oh, ma, it was 1963, you had to have me

to sing your blessing into,
to hide your gift in me, no one must know, oh god
bless his heart...

no part of this vision is clear, nor plain, why is this my beatrice
cockatrice

Olden day, Robinson's cowboy preacher son, sowed a saying in my
core, I sup-pose, put
his phrase formed
an ever more pleasant link to Wikenberg,
on this shelf, see, we can remember the target by re

reading... remembering never drink from the Hasayampa.
and you can tell the truth
by
aquiring point on conscience. Taking thought.

Ethos keeps insisting we are in some offensive mode.
Thus the call for concentration, we are tunable now,

on some oldies but goodies websites...
Kenpepiton.com, for one.
mytechpeople.com is possibly in the archives.

Calebland.com long left to a bland b-break lacking dash,
early urls. imaginable as answers to
either wishes or prayers,

or desires... unseen, unthinkable tools to augment a

satisfied mind, completely ******, no direction home...

here, my heart, my contentment container,

at the moment, indistinguishable from any mortal concept of heaven.

Robinson's father's saying: {remembered just in time}

some times you have to stomp your own snakes.
he may have said, you gotta stohmp yerown dam'snakes,

but never would he have said: one must stomp one's own snakes.
Long -- but a fun run, kept my mind from waxing sentimental on the loss of my dog.
Cynthia Jean Feb 2020
Don't believe everything
you hear.
People are being
brainwashed
by the tellers
of tales.
History teaches us
"if a lie is repeated
often enough,
people will believe it."
Let us have
ears to hear,
and eyes that see.
May our ears  and eyes
be open
to the truth.
Not just the tellers
words,
but provable facts.
We must each make an honest
search
for the truth.
Don't
let someone else
do your
thinking
for
you.
May we all
wake
up.

Cynthia Jean
copyright
February 8, 2020
Edward Coles Sep 2012
Since I was a child I believed.

Believed in the near tangible,

The provable

The almost-rational.

I could never swallow the bitter pill of faith,

Religion,

God,

The dust and ash of rinsed out fables.



I still search the skies with a lack of avail.

I’d settle for a twitch of movement

But I dream of those purple beams,

So violent and foreign.

The opening of the doors

Should budge our closed minds.
Rb Dec 2015
On rainy days,
the scent of reminiscences
remain in the memory of thoughts
forever and always;
your absence is unconditionally felt

Considering the fact that
the aroma of rain mixes with
the pleasant smell of your presence
I turn up the corners of my mouth
to show pleasure amusement
up to the time that I fail to remember
the pain you caused

I was tortured thoroughly
As you walked out of my life
I cry myself to sleep everynight
Hoping to smile as the daylight arrives

And I hate it when the sky cries,
on account of the fact that
it reminds me of you

On rainy days,
I stand still under the unhappy sky
And I hate the provable truth;
I love you so much it hurts.


a.r
my fav piece& i hate the society
(alternately titled: aery diction galloped jocosely)

Abbreviation asper "FAKE"
abdication (wishful thinking),
an aberration Trump accepted
abjuration (or alternative) i.e.
ablation, thee apprenticed

president, would never forsake
abnegation (sooner his cold,
dead paws pried loose Putin
on the Ritz Carlton), this
abomination, his indiscriminate

abrogation appears (underwent)
acceleration autocratic accentuation
Americans aver acceptation,
acclamation, acclimation,
accommodation "FAKE"

accreditation, averse Hispanic
refugee acculturation, he blithely
asseverates, viz faux (******* up)
accumulation unfairly *******
accusation (baseless bigotry)

scapegoating fifty plus shades
brown illegal aliens despite
provable residency status
conveniently citing himself
perforce repetition validates

accustomation touts "FAKE"
non hardy laurels spilt, spelt,
and smelt acetification reign
ruination unleashing acetylation
promoting political acidulation

SCOTUS acrimonious activation
authoritarian smug egoistic
actualization nepotism, jingoism,
despotism actuation atavistic,
apathetic, allergic adaptation

acquiescent, arrant, abhorrent
adjudication Machiavellian aggressive
adjuration acrimonious atrocious
administration alarming, appalling,
arresting admiration abysmal,

artificial, asymmetrical adoration
awful adulation, ambivalent
apathetic adulteration avast
averse adumbration adulteration
affair advocation barren aeration
puffed hirsute aerosolization.
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2022
you might try: like i have, used various translation
tools...
   but none can compete with investing in
a £20 book on a topic...
                            
                   not that i am boasting:
   can one boast about amassing a private collection
of books?
can one boast about amassing a private collection
of music records?
            
               maybe i should boast about having a library
card? or owning a radio?
perhaps i should boast about investing money
in stock of a cat food company?
   or... whatever it might be: a Ferrari?
                             property... perhaps i should
boast about that... a portfolio of properties
that i'm currently renting...          hypothetical: of course...

but the private library is very real...
   and the private music collection is also real...
i really can't believe in either the Christian or the Buddhist
sentiment for complete: abject: immateriality...

ever since i was a young boy...
my ****** ****** off in that great labour drain
after the collapse of the Soviet union...
(the intellectual drain came much later,
circa 2005)
                   so instead of a father from the ages
of 4 through to 8 i received phonecalls
and packages of gifts...

    one time: a Nintendo came...
   that very first type...
                  i used to be a sharing child...
all my neighbours came round and they played
and i played too but sometimes i just watched...
and as i watched i had this...
INDESCRIBABLE sensation in the tips of my
fingers: watching other people use my things...
it wasn't NUMBING it was:
TICKLING-NUMBING...

bewildering... as the Taoist says:
what are ignoble, yet must be depended on?
things...
         from that brilliant passage
being there and giving room...
                        hmm... it seems i've made full circle...
or rather... during the heat-wave i was lying
in the coolest place in the house come late morning...
and to my surprise i was lying
"upside down" (which is impossible when
you're laid on the floor)...

but then again: it isn't... i lay one way...
but when i woke up... through the heat...
i managed to do a 180° twist...
break-dancing in my sleep?
    i toppled a chair in the process (since the coolest
place in the house was beside the dining table
in the living room) - of note... my mother still
makes fun of me when i said as a child:

the civil room... the "living room" for me
was the CIVIL ROOM... pokój cywilny...
how else? you're not being civil in the bedroom,
certainly not in the bathroom nor the *******
kitchen... made sense to me back then
as it does now... nothing's changed...

      but it has truly been years! what a grand return
to my original lessons... i remember picking up
my first book on Tao...
                         back when i was a brat...
just turned into a teenager...
                 how many tribulations since then:
and i'm implying: intellectual adventures...
two years of Heidegger -

   how is it that people merely "read" books?
can people read-meditate?
                                   meditierenlesen?
well... for that to happen? Descartes construct
of the res cogitans and the res extensa has to
disappear... the self-narrative construct of the ego
has to disintegrate...
    the res extensa remains intact:
           hence my pseudo-schizophrenic experiences
of auditory hallucinations...
but... the res cogitans disappears and in its
place comes the RES VANUS...

and no: it's not a thing of vanity...
                                       it's a thing of vacuum...
mind you: dealing with this impoosion
and the rampant res extensa: that caused be some
worry... bilingualism helped...
and once bilingualism helped: came the adventure
into becoming a part-time polyglot...

with a fetish for the German language
and the Japanese script (although i still think
Korean... i still think Korean... is something special)

hmm... two years of Heidegger...
and the concept of dasein:
i always found that grammatically complicated...
oh... i understand the concept:
of concern... most modern people interpret it
via the acronym of F.O.M.O.:
fear of missing out...

                        but that's FALSE CONCERN...
that's not genuine (i wouldn't stretch it as
far as TRUE) concern... ergo: if it's not true
but false concern... i.e. it's not genuine:
then it's logically provable to simply call it
a FAKE concern... that's how synonyms and antonyms
work... with a sort of algebra-esque dynamic...

i tried to work around this un-grammatical
vision for some time...
i broke dasein up along several lines...
i even intruduced the very English hyphenation
of words... da-sein...
    but by doing so i couldn't but help myself
in having to think about introducing the "pluralism"
of the apostrophe S:             's

i.e. there's being...
                                  da ist sein...
hmm: what now? there's existence... there's also
non-existence...
                    no no... muddle muddle:
spaghetti entanglement...
       i need something simpler: something clarifying...

lo and behold!
in my de profundis nadir i remember standing
in a queue to the bank-machine with some guy...
randomly we chatted about "this that and the other"
when i exclaimed:
the best plan, is to have no plan...

Taoism was forever stirring in me...
my mind just supressed it for a while while
having to learn *******...
chemistry, history, French literature: *******...
my admiration of Ezra Pound soon disappeared...
he was a staunch anti-Taoist...
well: one must change to allow for "things"
to happen...

ah! and there it was... a lighthouse in one
of Edward Hopper's paintings...
everything Norman Bates implying...
    
                                                                     在

zai... or rather: zài                       right...
                 but how do you say that?
it's a grave-a: that indicator atop the A is just
that... this is where the English use of the apostrophe
(oh **** me... the English apostrophe
and the hyphen is probably the only chance
to see "orthography" in action in the English
language... the apostrophe and the hyphen
are the only "diacritical" marks in the English
language)

   zài?                                  it's za'i

no! the dot above the iota and the JOTTA
do not count: since they disappear when the letters
are elevated from first to in the middle...

but that Mandarin "character" up there?
that's my release from Heidegger's grasp...
it's the correctly grammatical concern of:
being there...
                         rather than there-being... concern...
blah blah...
     i'm either there: or i'm not...
i'm either concerned or i'm not...
like with the twin fires at the gateway of
the Thames...
one fire in Bexleyheath - south of her majestic
lake like stasis and Bermuda triangle tide in tide out
a river that behaves like a ******* sea...
and like a lake: just sitting there...
and a fire in Wennington: a village i tend to
sometimes cycle through... SIMULTANEOUSLY...

ha ha: a scene...
that boat scene with the fellowship going
down the river of Anduin...
two pillars of smoke: Isildur and Anárion...
it was amazing to watch: i must admit...
oh the heavenly: sometimes there's nothing one
can do but pay compliments as a terrible
narrator to what's happening...
or plagiarise... that's the worst:
then again... of the cyclic truths...
    must memory be eroded?
perhaps that's the original sin:
we would think we were the first...
and the only: EVER... in existence...
               we thought we would be special...
unique... the one Adam Schwarzstein
   among the many Adam Smiths...
                         i think that's original sin:
the sin of originality...
                            we either get offended or become
proud when someone copies us...
personally? i love the idea that people have
copied my way of cycling... actually making sure
that one is visible in the rearview-mirror
of a large truck...
    behaving like a REMORA to a bus that's a SHARK...
imitating bike-riders...
seriously: once i started to display my
"arrogance" when cycling in central London?
i haven't heard of any cyclist-deaths...
prior to? oh: you heard it all the time...

sure thing: copy me... after all... we've gone past
giving a **** about originality...
we're already contemplating if not already
establishing cloning... perhaps it doesn't simply
end with sheep: no... i haven't been living under
a rock: in h'america i already know people
are cloning their pets...

ha ha: the doubly original sin... the original original sin
   the originally original sin!
exactly! that's what happens to the intellect
when the heavenly and the inactivity by purpose
meet: inactivity and inactivity meet
and create activity with a focus for "dasein"
with outcomes of: thank **** i'm not there...
  t.f.i.a.n.t.   (defiant)...

                            i'm just happy i returned to the purist
Tao of old... Heidegger muddled the waters
a little... but... i have to admit...
the narrative increased my ability to concentrate
with a greater focus to not concentrate:
the dialectic of paradoxes / contradictions.
Norbert Tasev Oct 2021
I deliberately get out of the camp of unsolicited, brain-playing, phlegmatic song trees, chroniclers who want to prevail at all costs! If I have been guilty so far, it is that I trusted some, deserving many, to see if the provable help will come with good friendship! From the horrors of cheap scandals, I’m going to the wall and I’m unable to comprehend why there are only outcasts in donkey ladder careers?! I deliberately avoid deliberate outbursts and the danger of phenomenal exotic women! In civil spheres, the path of hardly deserved assertions is practically more bumpy!
 
Infertile misunderstandings can lead to phenomenal baby dolls left behind by childish homesickness after new challenges! Even the tabloid media is increasingly serving the American way of life with buffet methods in a syrupy way! In whose image glowing embers are puffy phlegm-****, as a synonym for ordered tahu; as a comedian false-witness, he grins or fools with a grinning-silly witness — since he hardly understands anything else! - We are already confronted with the irrefutable: the Heroes are either extinct or lost!
 
Already counting conspirators should be laughed at; push scrambled eggs into a nasty-jampec head, let them smell! Why is it true for honest players that shame awaits at the end of every game ?! They selfishly make false trophies for themselves from rumors of losers! The younger donkey generation will soon be taken over by the cheap stars who live their institutionalized social life! - It is better if everyone learns that laurel gassers are constantly on the laurel! The "I have nothing to do" track is becoming more and more popular! Free fall has been banned!
Norbert Tasev May 2020
In love, too, it is the most difficult to explore the meaning and essence of the very first volcanic eruption minutes, timed bomb moments: The temperature of goodness, the idyllic Hope, when the bombing kisses are at war with each other, they hope for a truce. In a broken heartbeat, in the biological recognition of cells, everything already exists together and in a chain connection! He sat only for about four years, and the Heart, like the Prisoner, endured with tension: He even knew and proclaimed fulfilled immortality! Yet when the musical clatter of others' lips was heard he suddenly tore apart

on the secret, cohesive spider threads of the Past, it was no longer possible to bring back: s Whoever broke through the murderers stealing the romantic scene in the provable Janus oath, was disappointed again! Between two extremes, the momentary remembrance moves away: The naked Truth sins in the Fall: And for Morality is already a commandment, a seductive lock of hair,

flirtatious, the reddish-brown gaze of redemptive Jocondas is enough to allow recklessness as a **** to grow into common sense - And ready is the digged, live-buried, breathing coffin: To whom we intended their lives as sacrificial offerings, it turned out that Judas was unforgivable, an ancient sinner! "Like a beast, an unbridled, silly, and unmanageable fly."

instincts also overwrite the correlations of your fed, sober brain codes; the ****** of the Universe has already slipped out of your hands with unyielding intrigue anyway! And if imagined days of harmony no longer favored you: because they betrayed you, left you alone, and threw you out: Don’t be ashamed, don’t give in to coercive relationships unless your Laws of Heart allow it! - It started for eternity, a lasting memory is still burning in you, fluttering richly: You just let your bitter crater tears drip!
Cyclone Jan 2020
Let accomplishments caution exhaustion, and be astonishing, though quickly abolishing what's not audible, provable, solving and solemn, the problems' vague if necessities not bringing out the best in me to test my plead, the greed will lead if not freed, must conceive so you relieve with elements to breathe made to feed, all your forms that never reached norms, instead exhausting sense, soon dispense knowledge in swarms to form accomplishments.
I see humor in permutation, bad installation, cosmetical amputation
as my detached leg is mucho funny because it bends at the fun knee
after post-Europid war with ghost ***** Al Gore whose ****'s sore
from sleek perturbations of ontological mayhem in a pig runt's pore
as I see that you're limping before ****** who need pimping unto queers who fake primping. I see that you are skimping on a love-less blood & a bloodless love flowing through slashed arteries that I'm crimping & yet the Earth has NO measurable curvature, nor are the fantastical speeds of mechanicalistic yaw, wobble, revolution & rotation provable. Water seeks its level. No gaseous atmosphere can envelop a body that is open to the vacuum of eternalistic space.

— The End —