Taken, gotten, or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything…
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
it is not a test.
Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?
or the light brigade,
thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,
Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait. Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.
Know why? They forgot it. In the war.
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?
Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
War, as a game, has a reason.
Battle, hitting, slapping
stop touch, stop now slap
oh no no ma
waddayahsay? A theist or atheist
who started this war?
space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Weil's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1
Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth
1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days
There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
as new as
a novel-state of water, H two Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…
like a poem
at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,
but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,
is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
wait for the sign….?
By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.
Press your point,
slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
tangle wood and catclaw and mesquite,
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.
A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.
I got lost here, bucked up…
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
D'thet mean some sign to phet ic take?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
what a war is for?
Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared ****.
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,
shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.
But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.
An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying
powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,
his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
rites of passage, as it were,
as a fashion
to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
the holy place
Here we are…
On Vacation, leave a message.
See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need
to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that
don't scratch, listen
60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,
one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...
can you feel that?
hummmms, all around us, since the ****.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,
We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.
We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
minds of Adamkind,
is that a secret or a sacred?
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?
Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?
Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,
haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...
haps happen, I'm not sure how,
Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.
Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way, 'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh
someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son
Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed
hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,
but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund
wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones
begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock
We made it.
I know where this is.
This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,
Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.
How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?
"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.
You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.
Get back on,
see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?
Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait
Pay attention, watch, you shall see
imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream
in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner
the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was
Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots
dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?
Did that happen the the real?
Battlefield Earth, oh ****
scientology ology ology ology
allaye allaye outs in free
WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we
We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,
Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.
Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.
We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.
Shall we imagine
more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)
or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.
A continuing examination of opposing forces when good is the goal, who could be against that? The old word war is festering, inflaming evil to start a try, therefore, I whet the edge and swing wide