Past the last of the acidity, augmented by the fire two valleys west…
woke to wonder where am I to aim
my self
My being me being made of all roles I ever play
Today, is marked a day in a week in a month and year
on a spreadsheet maintained
by several orders of attitude HR magnitude, cults of clerks, used
minds and bodies, stacked in edified
piles…
as quanta of thought, bits of ever left in now as hints,
things to come are made of ever lasting stuff,
word of truth, my self is sworn to tell,
test me if I lie.
But {but, but} in thy mercy, not thy wrath lest I perish
and only id, or another ******-enomen for evers what was, remains
a role, an act, remaining after the ocean of opinions I was on evaporates,
after I am evilized as egoically selfish,
I,
my self, too highly thought of,
for far too long a time.
Yes, {yes, yes} that, too, has passed, re
do the re,
there we were awakened, with a Jolt Cola realization,
life is a game,
we make up, as children can, if you recall
the child you were when thinking as a child may, at play.
This is the day we form a man in the realm of self I am
and, if you take my word as truth,
you take the ability to sponder, eh? First, you ask, re
is the author authorized to utter truths hid
since the foundation of realit-ifity, as we
imagine
in preparation, for the game, Life,
but not the Milton- Bradley version, this
2020 Life on Earth.
The game. Made plain, a board game.
The self, aware of teachers standing silent, but prepared.
Ask, and, truly, as if true, answers appear.
Choose. Do. {winning loss of confusion points, line by line}
Rules and Regulations,
Scepter and Orb,
Rod and Staff,
Crook and Flail, same-same seen signs of higher power…
long ago, far away, prior to these tools we use, you read
I wrote,
we imagined, in our minds visual mode, we see as if true,
a we we may be if we agree,
and
follow the hold of the symbols of power,
respect the symbols, look once more re-see the revealed,
veiled since God knows when, but {yes, yes}
more knowable now than ever,
that which fell to the earth,
sowed light. That's right… here come d' judge.
If I find a little light, and in my mind, I let - let it go - let,
until the letters be taken out of the way
and meaning forms from informative
matters of fact, impossible.
Ah, Jah, ya *** old and feeble, after a while.
So it seems, says the weigher of any word's worth,
accounted for idolized words, holy, sacred, secret troothz…
abound, Bounce bounce tic
to Rube Goldberg goes the metaphoric prize, proof.
Plan the action, pre-form the plan, practical failure, of course,
is unthinkable after careful thought,
critical thinking and un-come-on skepticism of sophist teknhe.
****, up in smoke.
All the attention ever paid to any single thought,
shhhh shushing in the cold, absence of heat,
too cool to live, longer.
Pop.
Turn the page, scroll the screen, ignore the parts of reality
behind your focus forward receptor circuitry
winding round and round,
past at most fears sold at half the attention cost.
Pay hell for your wish, or accept the fuel to fire up one
thought candle in the flicking arena,
I think I am visible,
I feel lucified.
I can kick the ball, I know, this time…
Ah, Charlie Brown, your social significance is history.
Echos, formed from yes-t'day, blended with an OKGO binge followed by boyos dis--cursing Zatrathustra.
