FOR WHAT ARE WORDS WORTH

I wandered lonely
through a crowd

lost to myself now
that I'd lost you

gathering even your footsteps
peeling your shadow from my wall

remembering that lost last kiss
did it have to end like this

"...beside the lake, beneath the trees....
...when all at once I saw a...."

host of saffroned monks
their robes " ...fluttering and dancing

in the breeze..." and behind them
bunches and bunches  of daffodils

outside a florist
chanting Hare Krishna

in all their yellow voices
delighting in their day

and for a second I
forgot my pain

dancing across a zebra crossing
with an old old woman and

a little
yapping dog.

As the sweet sweat of roses in a still,
As that which from chafed musk-cats’ pores doth trill,
As the almighty balm of th’ early East,
Such are the sweat drops of my mistress’ breast,
And on her brow her skin such lustre sets,
They seem no sweat drops, but pearl coronets.
Rank sweaty froth thy Mistress’s brow defiles,
Like spermatic issue of ripe menstruous boils,
Or like the ****, which, by need’s lawless law
Enforced, Sanserra’s starved men did draw
From parboiled shoes and boots, and all the rest
Which were with any sovereigne fatness blest,
And like vile lying stones in saffroned tin,
Or warts, or weals, they hang upon her skin.
Round as the world’s her head, on every side,
Like to the fatal ball which fell on Ide,

Or that whereof God had such jealousy,
As, for the ravishing thereof we die.
Thy head is like a rough-hewn statue of jet,
Where marks for eyes, nose, mouth, are yet scarce set;
Like the first Chaos, or flat-seeming face
Of Cynthia, when th’ earth’s shadows her embrace.
Like Proserpine’s white beauty-keeping chest,
Or Jove’s best fortunes urn, is her fair breast.
Thine’s like worm-eaten trunks, clothed in seals’ skin,
Or grave, that’s dust without, and stink within.
And like that slender stalk, at whose end stands
The woodbine quivering, are her arms and hands.
Like rough barked elm-boughs, or the russet skin
Of men late scourged for madness, or for sin,
Like sun-parched quarters on the city gate,
Such is thy tanned skin’s lamentable state.
And like a bunch of ragged carrots stand
The short swol’n fingers of thy gouty hand.
Then like the Chimic’s masculine equal fire,
Which in the Lymbecks warm womb doth inspire
Into th’ earth’s worthless dirt a soul of gold,
Such cherishing heat her best loved part doth hold.
Thine’s like the dread mouth of a fired gun,
Or like hot liquid metals newly run
Into clay moulds, or like to that Etna
Where round about the grass is burnt away.
Are not your kisses then as filthy, and more,
As a worm ******* an envenomed sore?
Doth not thy feareful hand in feeling quake,
As one which gath’ring flowers still fears a snake?
Is not your last act harsh, and violent,
As when a plough a stony ground doth rent?
So kiss good turtles, so devoutly nice
Are priests in handling reverent sacrifice,
And such in searching wounds the surgeon is
As we, when we embrace, or touch, or kiss.
Leave her, and I will leave comparing thus,
She, and comparisons are odious.

there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

… but no, not today, today, I ask
new mercies, and
I recall, that's on auto. Hapsthappeneverday kinda thing.
Time after time.
That is a miracle, time.

Really smart
people, that class that feels included in the
we, the
people, politico-intellect-ism trend sect,
they think the math is there to prove

time is
what clocks do, (Royal Institute Youtube watch it)
                                                  
that we,
that ain't me, ye see, I got

removed far enough
to see the blurry
next res
bigger picture more pixels than an eye is said able to see

So for everlasting ideas,
like hell and
heaven,  

the re act
to my act is the power
to act. Eternal motion as perpetual
as can be imagined by mortals, for sure.

Get it together or you leave a huge hole in the fabric of reality JBP

play the role your hand finds dealt,
your special way,
words count inbetween the sayer/hearer
the idle wons are wins not worth the weight, don't fight
the value system that makes life spirial,
swirl of a wand, mathematically
bowing to magi
Fibbo, go viral
with my wind.

this is your life role,
the one in eight billion role.
the star of the show as the hero of hormone wars.
it's all in your head,

how did it *** there, howditgit
this way
this is crazy. No, you never saw crazy, old dude.

Ya had yo'own knows sparkin' at the grindstone,

whet the edge,
or put to more labor..

removed
far enough from this world

my bubble
is in it not of it,
… since 1970. No ****. Outathis world…

Crazy was the melding  from the sixties to…

I was thinking, to about the mid-eighties, but
now,
you and I, we travelled to the beat of several
different drums.
Olde dude,

If you put your nose to the grind, ******
you may have missed,
in fifty years,
more
than you imagined, now, is a new day time.

Some seed never sown back when, can be sown and
grown right,
now.
That's good.
I'd say some words I've helped be heard have

made the world some better'nitwas when we stopped.

time to roll.

Sisyphus, right. 'Never missed a trick time
it takes to roll the rock up,
then in between tick time
to roll the rock up,

onus minus the roll down, the unshackled wireless
inbetween shameless blameless
imagine
happy ever after…
How?
Pretend, the end.

Push, happy as hell.
tick, time
to roll the rock up,

Incorrectness of value of value from the gitgo,
like buttoning your shirt wrong from the first button,
as soon as you fix it, it's fixed.

Nothin' you can do?
Do nothin'.

Think, Sisyphus, happy

Happy he's not in that time we are so removed from
now
slow and steady kinda wins the race, she said that,

Ben or me? Where does the thread un-ravel?

Extended time model, Rogan in the back ground,
what myth has the fear factor guy,
a little short power-lifter-kick boxer guy,
some smart, quick of wit, a hunter,

who was asked, in Thailand,
Have you seen the true beauty of the elephant?
I was asked that, in Thailand,
by a saffroned monk at a kickboxing match
in the jungle in 1968.
Synchroni-city or what?

Who could steer it's  hearing
by a clock and fail

to hear the rhythm of the rock rolling down the hill,
inbetween
the tick…

Sisyphus says time is more effective,

if-ity-ish when,
and only then, when ticks hapt to be

at the very point of return
time
the roll back
no rush, no dread no worry, imagine

time ticks at the sharpest point of the story
at the very very very tippy top
point in time

defining you.
Shame, sticks to you like tar.
Marilyn and Monica and Marla and all

Fame to blame, to shame for being  a believer that
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

to ignor my own ignorance and innocence
of ideas that possessed
fools

A murderous assault on your attention span,
musicals, those people really live near enough my bubble,
that I can find
ripples

from decades I missed, this is 2018, how can it get better?

The grand wizard cat. pop. elephants are so sweet,
dam,
rewound. Really,
cool, I know what he says next, it's funny before it's funny.

Today is a real good day to get away. Binging Rogan,
testing a mystery fruct-ification
of a single seed from
a sack 'shake.

----
As you move forward in time how do you measure

progress
lo-res thinking, 72 dpi 1984 Macintosh. Hello

now there is reality at the speed of thought, imagine

this was once the speed of thought.

===
why are you in pain? Do you know any lies you believe?
Do you
urge others to suspend their un-belief
to hear you think

listen
ridiculously (is that a good word)

listen, people become interesting, from a distance,
thank you,
I'''''''''''''''''''''''''''''

I live in a nation where the cow is worshipped,
and there is no king regnant,
but it’s funny, how the cow feast on crap,
and the farmer becomes a peasant.

I live in a nation of aye men,
who say aye to a baloney,
of media which protects the cow,
but let the peasant starve slowly.

I watch daily, the television debates,
where logic is razored by bigotry,
and no talks about the peasant,
gagged into silence by the authority.

I witness a bathtub getting sensationalized
when a mid-aged celebrity died,
the debt he’d laden of the dried crop,
no rain never did the sky cry.

He later worked as an indentured laborer,
for a landlord who drinks the cow’s ****,
as a saffroned monk says it’s healthy,
way to the eternal bliss.

A student who sloganed for freedom
from the maw of poverty.
My media says he is a traitor,
and so is the entire university.

At least, let’s agree to disagree,
that is essential to a republic,
let freedom of speech not be seldom,
and never shall it cease to exist.

The peasant must die soon,
and no more shall he crouch in dread,
may someday he incarnate as a cow,
roams free on the city streets, and feast on free bread.

there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

… but no, not today, today, I ask
new mercies, and
I recall, that's on auto.
Hapst'happeneverday kinda thing.
Time after time.
That is a miracle, time.

Really smart
people, that class that feels included
in the
we, the people,
politico-intellect-ism trend sect,
they think the math is there to prove
right to govern life's use, to insure
future wars have enough infantry.

Lead us away from value testing.
Teach life, teach consequence
with reward for second thoughts,
about why life is sacrifice,
given a random chance
to learn time is
what clocks do, (Royal Institute Youtube watch it)
                                                  
that we,
that ain't me, ye see, I got

removed far enough
to see the blurry
next res
bigger picture more pixels than an eye
is said supposed able to see

So for everlasting ideas,
like hell and
heaven,  

the re act
to my act is the power
to act. Eternal motion as perpetual
as can be imagined by mortals, for sure.

"Get it together or you leave a huge hole
in the fabric of reality" JBP once said

play the role your hand finds dealt,
your special way,
words count
inbetween the sayer/hearer
the idle wons are wins not worth the weight, don't fight
the value system that makes life spirial,
swirl of a wand, mathematically
bowing to magi
Fibbo, go viral
with my wind… nacci

this is your life role,
the one in eight billion role.
the star of the show as the hero
of hormone wars.
it's all
in your head, and gut and glands

how did it *** there, howditgit
this way
this is crazy.
No, you never saw crazy, old dude.
says future me to then me, back when…
Ya had yo'own knows sparkin' at the grindstone,

whet the edge,
or put to more labor..

removed
far enough from this world

my bubble
is in it not of it,
… since 1970. No ****. Outathis world…

Crazy was the melding  from the sixties to…

I was thinking, to about the mid-eighties, but
now,
you and I, we travelled
to the beat of several
different drums.
Olde riders
through the storms, all the make believe
historical excuses used to justify the cost
of war readiness implanted in children,

noble ways to die
for the truth we believe, true,
and those who do not, we live to ****.

If you put your nose to the grind,
******, you may have missed,
in fifty years, more
than you imagined, now,
is a new day time.
May 2024 Earth.

Some seed never sown back when,
can be sown and
grown right,
now.
That's good.
I'd say some words I've helped be heard have

made the world some better'nitwas
when we stopped.

time to roll.
Need some help?

Sisyphus, right.

'Never missed a trick time
it takes
to roll the rock up,
then in between tick time
to roll the rock up,
- as we meander down the ramp
onus minus
the stroll down, in
the unshackled wireless
inbetween shameless blameless
imagined-reified whatifery
happy ever after…
How?
Pretend, the end.

Push, happy as hell.
tick, time
to roll the rock up,

Incorrectness of value
of value
from the gitgo,
like buttoning your shirt wrong
from the first button,
as soon as you fix it,
it's fixed.

Nothin' you can do?
Do nothin'.

Think, Sisyphus, happy

Happy he's not
in that time we are so removed from
now
slow and steady kinda wins the race,
she said that, to

Ben or me? Where does the thread un-ravel?

Extended time model, Rogan
in the back ground,
what myth has the fear factor guy,
a little short power-lifter-kick boxer guy,
become some smart, quick of wit, a hunter,
hero, one of the thousand,
who was asked,
in Thailand,
Have you seen the true beauty
of the elephant?

Of course,
I was asked that, in Thailand,
by a saffroned monk
at a kickboxing match
in the jungle
in 1968.
Synchroni-city or what?

Who could steer it's  hearing
by a clock and fail

to hear the rhythm
of the rock rolling down the hill,
inbetween
the tick…

Sisyphus says time is more effective,

if-ity-ish when,
and only then,
when ticks hapt to be

at the very point of return
time
the roll back
no rush, no dread no worry, imagine

time ticks at the sharpest point of the story
at the very very very tippy top
point in time

defining you.
Shame, sticks to you like tar.
Marilyn and Monica and Marla and all

Fame to blame, to shame
for being  a believer that
there may be a time when I'm removed far enough

to ignor my own ignorance and innocence
of ideas that possessed
fools - to teach kids
at Saturday goy kivas, yes.
Like Sabbath school, for gentile kids.
Fourteen cents, for the movie, news and cartoon
dime for treats,
like two Milky Ways, or a bag of real butter popcorn,
and a penny change to toss
in a wisher well
on the way home,
if we pass the old jail,
or a Bazooka,
penny bubble gum...
-----------
A murderous assault
on your attention span,
sit tight and watch the feature
musicals, those people really live
near enough my bubble,
that I can find
ripples

from decades I missed, this is 2018,
how can it get better?

The grand wizard cat. pop.
Elephants are so sweet,
dam,
rewound. Really,
cool, I know what he says next, it's funny before it's funny.

Today is a real good day
to get away. Binging Rogan,
testing a mystery fruct-ification
of a single seed from
a sack o' shake.

----
As you move forward
in time how do you measure
progress
lo-res thinking, 72 dpi 1984 Macintosh. Hello
back a decade,
DEC VAX
holding 27 printed circuit boards,
not chips, 27 to make one CPU,
not 16 bit compatible, 32 bit
turbo fast time shared
million dollar baby,
circa 1970...

now there is reality
at the speed
of thought, imagine

this was once the speed of thought.
card read
thunk
Mimesis conserved conformity... punch
===
why are you in pain?
Do you know any lies you believe?
Do you
urge others
to suspend their un-belief
to hear you think

listen
nidiculously
(is that a good word, yes)
free form floating helpless, us,
listen, people become interesting,
from a distance,
thank you,
I'''''''''''''''''''' we may all live
in interesting times. No resupply ship
was ever coming, we share the air or die.

FOR WHAT ARE WORDS WORTH?

I wandered lonely
through a crowd

lost to myself now
that I'd lost you

gathering even your footsteps
peeling your shadow from my wall

remembering that lost last kiss
did it have to end like this

"...beside the lake, beneath the trees....
...when all at once I saw a...."

host of saffroned monks
their robes " ...fluttering and dancing

in the breeze..." and behind them
bunches and bunches  of daffodils

outside a florist
chanting Hare Krishna

in all their yellow voices
delighting in their day

and for a second I
forgot my pain

dancing across a zebra crossing
with an old old woman and

a little
yapping dog.