I’m trying hard to be teachable
But everyday remains much the same
Where the ending is unreachable
And the beginning seems just a game

Rain is pouring down in that dark place
The wind is howling for me to leave
Without a light I can’t find a trace
Give me something to make me believe

Please take this burden from my shoulder
And shine a light that will help me see
I want to learn as I get older
That you will always be there for me

Liebe immer...
Love always

r  9Jan14

...is not a moment
but a sighting
of a re-coloring
of that Presence..

...is always a surprise
a radical expression
shining in newness
in that Presence..

...is a reminder
not of how things are
but how we are
as that Presence...

T** is for trials,
Tribulations & torment...
Terrorists trippin
Totalitarian governments
Two cents just spent.
Teachable yet I'm still
Treacherous
...
Take it in, just because I, can.
Thought that I told you,
to tell me to take it tonight!?
Tomorrow will, totally be alright
Tormented by
temptations of drownin it all... in alcohol &
Tramadol
Through the valley I rest
Tested by fires inside of my chest
Toast to the Ghost close eyes &
Then welcome rest.

Attack the known and unknown fear waiting to strike a death blow to confidence, progress and achievement.  Lift up talent's voice. Let the world know who you are. Come out of the valley of the shadow of death. Never let opportunity escape your grasp. Jab daily and knock out failure. Climb hills of disappointment, with the the very best inside. Seek the high ground.  Never the low.  Be teachable to life's lessons. Listen to elders to go further. Stride toward the farthest horizon with God leading each step.  Arise from your bed of unbelief and walk.  Let your talents be stubborn and unyielding to defeat. Swim past imperfection and not good enough.  Climb out of the crib of woe is me. God made you for greatness. No life should be tongue tied by fear.

I know I'll miss these times once they're sung
The days are busy when they're so young
Little ones that pull on skirts,
Teeny ones held in your shirt

Selflessness we must meet, in order to be built
Recline in the sun's heat, spring flowers bloom and wilt

Everything in its time, these moments will pass
Change another bedsheet, sacrifice and submit
Slow and let your eyes meet, let these sweet moments sit
Everything in its time, these moments will pass

A love so natural, it will not be ignored
It flurries us to higher places and with the air it swings
A love so natural, it demands to be poured
So deep it actually aches, singing sweetly while it stings

Offenses laughable, their silly peccadillos I secretly smile at
Yet they are teachable, I'll raise them to face the world and evil to combat

Innocent little transgressions
My dearest little possessions
I rebuke, I correct, the love goes on, I'll cherish our time while here
Time feels ensconced, but with the dawn, our time will have disappeared

Learning doesn't stop when school
ends
Learning doesn't need a building called school to make it happen
A diploma isn't a stop sign
It is a ticket to adventure and journey
Sitting behind a teacher's desk and a student's
These words come from experience and experiences
There is always the first and the next time
The word never doesn't apply
Be open
Stop closing yourself up
No rules or regulations
No prerequisites
Teachable moments

C@rainbowchaser2022

Hidden Secrets                                                    

With a large handful of dry grass that he made smolder he blew into it the smoke it shot out two feet into the air with that single act he created such an effect of mystery and wonder instantly it produced

the Whole panorama that exist in the southwest’s lore and legend to walk on boulders as large as buildings their Shadows first hold the power of life and death in the deadly heat they are a sanctuary I

Guess when
Your ****** into that proximity of life and death you truly pass through an uncommon door way there is
No way this doesn’t cause a convergence with strange and brooding realities in that brief moment of life

Just as the smoke died it truly joined the other dead ones as spirit and ghost it drifted into hidden corridors that is not restricted or governed by normal circumstances though the smoke now invisible

At a short distance on a slight rise there stood a native spirit and the stranger who appeared had the Dress of the people of ancient Cathay how appropriate that the mysterious orient would solidify an

Alliance with a people as colorful as themselves and who share close similarities one uses fire in a cruder Sense that fits their purposes ideally where the other uses incense to produce a sophisticated smoke the

Flowing silk curtains create mood and it evokes contemplation just as effective as the natural landscape of mesas, buttes, arroyos, stand and gaze into these and other formations and the mind feeds on the

Hidden truths that are brushed into them by the creator with earth tone paints lay aside the ridged and the formable be touched by the motion of the clouds the world is alive you’re not just a spectator you

Are the main participants in the grand mixture of outward beauty that arrests the soul that is uneven and not fully shaped the sweep of vistas that hold deep harsh marvels are not cruel but they are as one

whom works a doe skin to its white perfection it will be your wedding robe when you marry the conscious and the sublime spirit night and day are unique to earth you are honored to coexist

in the terrestrial with a longing that is making you fit for the celestial it comes in many teachable means
as varied and as delightfully sacred as he who with words alone spoke it all into existence all places and

Cultures have this under writing theme some more pronounced than others they are given to thrill and
Intrigue and they show a picturesque puzzle some of it is riveting in other places common this sets it off

The catching of the eye then followed by passion’s swells the speed accelerates then slows all to create a home that is only temporal but love flows through it the same as the rivers deep and wide they give

Cause for celebration another would have figured why go to all the bother when it will all end that Thought is foreign and abhorrent only the best will do we should do the same and give Him our best

I have so many wishes for you little one. But you will make your own wishes. So today I ask these things for you.
May you grow in grace and truth, in wisdom and in love.
May you have a humble, teachable spirit and a compassionate heart.
May you be blessed with common sense, good humor and fun, and a love of life.
You’ll need patience and a forgiving spirit too, especially being the little brother.
But above all these things the most we can hope for, is for you to be your own true self.
To take all the gifts that you were born with and make them marvels of beauty and ingenuity and astonishment.
You are so new to this, and for now you are content with such a little world, discovering the air, the light and the blur of faces.
But everyday expands your universe and I promise to share your joy.
I promise to get down on my knees and examine the ants in the dirt;
I promise to find the amazement in a shaft of sunlight, in a bird, in a fish, and a coloured puddle.
I promise to see the humour when you apply oodles of mud and paint on your freshly dressed little body.
I promise to understand your determined opposition to the order of things in general, for ever doing the wrong thing, at the wrong time, in the wrong place, and in the wrong way…because it isn’t wrong at all, it’s just your way.
And as you grow older, I promise that no biting, stinging word of mine, no inadvertent word of bitterness or sarcasm, jealousy or malice, will poison or diminish the joyous, loving, laughing gift I have in you.

At least, I promise to try.

I promise to always be here when you need me, as long as you need me, as comfort, refuge, breathing space, and as a non-judgmental ear.
I promise to care for you, and protect you from harm until you are grown, and then I promise I will let you fly free.

But loving you - I will do all my life.

Should my child
Steal an apple
From the orchard,
I wouldn't throw
Her out.
That would be a sin.
The consequences
Could be life altering,
World altering
In certain circumstances.
Here I have a teachable moment.
Rejection is the milk of pride.

I thought I hummed a happy song,
but without a woman I was wrong.
A belief I was too blind to see.
Women are the best thing,
a man could ever have.
(she points this out to me).

She said that we,
collectively,
would open life's doors,
no less, no more, dance upon floors.
The joy we'll see.
(And while I'm out and about could I
run a few chores?).

She does wonderful things,
so I've been told.
At least I think so,
but this I know.
From the dawn of man,
through the times of sand.
Without a woman,
a man cannot stand!
(She wrote this on the back
Of my hand).

She lovingly wraps herself around
every aspect of my life,
my wife,
to the point I couldn't function
without her. Yes lovingly.
I wouldn't doubt her.
(She seems to have combined  both our power).

She had the word TAKEN tattooed on
my arm,
I'm no longer living alone, so what's
the harm.
You can love them or **** them -
thy name is woman.
(when I'm wrong, I hide in the barn).

I try to squeeze her and please her,
kiss her and hold her,
and be mister charming.
She responds by whispering,
don't you have a ballgame to watch
Or something?
(She keeps me running).

I'm a mouse in my house,
who sometimes sleeps on the couch.
While wheeling and dealing with the
strife of married life.
She says it's for the best.
(I now pronounce you man and wife).

I wanted a strong woman that stands
on her own,
stimulates my growth.
Runs her life and runs our home.
A woman who's so much more.
(Be careful what you wish for).

She said you best be knowing,
that lawns need mowing,
kids need growing.
I countered,
can't I just be a snoring and boring,
simply enjoying dad?
She double-countered,
and said, "Women are the best thing a man could ever have".
(Who am I to argue).

I want a mate to share my plate,
one who has the grace,
to have smiles break-out all over
her face.
There's no way her smile could ever
flip upside down,
and become a frown.
(Could it?)

I reach for my back pocket wallet,
but her hand is already on it.
She says sharing is caring,
and it's a wonderful thing.
She states, "You want to be
wonderful too,
don't you"?
(So I guess sharing is the only way).

She says I'm teachable with a
smidgen of logic,
so I'm flexible, and her little project.
Change my stubbornness from bad to
good.
Says I'm hard headed.
(knock on wood).

So that's how it goes,  I suppose.
To be a money provider,
a handyman, a chauffeur driver.
To be elated,
sort of appriciated,
to be a married man.

She keeps whispering in my ear,
for my brain again to hear,
and to make it perfectly clear.
"Dear", she says...
Women are the best thing
a man could ever have.
(So I've been told).

Hearing history whisper in the background

in an aural realm
I hear enkidu bled
ink
to fill the pens

of ready writers after
ever
lasting word
forms
a name
Enki, wisdom and life
flowing

into length of days
ancient
days
long

remembered, visited
in daydreams
featuring

all that may have been,
then.

Some soporific drink drunk
in old Uruk

vicareate, those in lieau of you.

Dying for you to go into the
realm
of knowns past
knowing knowns now in this

realm

make your mind reach mine.
Stand under my lines and

lean toward joy
good and calm,

gentle waves of peace
swirling fibrating threads
forming

woven things, matrices,

see the points crossed over
and under,
see the edges wound around,
to keep the rubbing of

reality from fraying ends.

did the fingers gno the math,
the ciphers we see
in carpets woven by magi
families
for centuries, ere

The Prophet were told to Read,
and he refused
to learn,

but chose to teach that which
an angel of light,

warned against by Paul the Gnostic Jew,

taught? Told to read, but never learning to do it, because angel said,
say exactly what i say...

Teachers once learned by teaching, but
never has reading been masterd
sans
sensibility of the graphemes
re
presenting the noises

common in every human ear
hearing in
sapience, abruptly

Hear!
Easy to be entreated. You have ears?
Hear.
How is never asked, why is clear; ears hear,
we all have ears.

Not all ears hear.
But eyes can learn to read, with some effort.

I magine it your task. You the first speaker of your
magic tongue-lung-teeth-lips, epiglot-tonsil-nasal

noise making system, engineered
to permit

song in accord with this, our shared realm of
noises, common.

Ha. This tale of an angel telling a messenger to read,

is this a famous story? Have I not learned of a war being
waged,
i.e. fought with stand-ins paid to fight, live or die.

Soldiers formed from hearers of empty songs
stretched to cover eyes, as well,

push and pull, hot and cold, balance value
weight and worth

imagine knowing no written tongue

you, dear reader, this book of lives in life per se,

who could see this coming?

Papyrii and clay and stone

cities are inventions of men

men who would be kings
imagined
delegating

knack for knack *** for tat

this for that all
for me,
the man wombed or un who would be

like the most high god I can imagine

ah the danger of falling into anachronism

you first must imagine, dear reader, that
writing is an invention

intended to bher the burden of learning to
remember, really,

no po'etic license claimed or blamed

famine of the written word
negates not the worth of rhyme and dance

masques and noises of roaring bulls

thrumming, thundering herds

screaming hawks, squeeling rabbits,
caw
cawing crows or ravens if that
distinction is
ever
necessary...

as the story is told, some time after ever starts.

This has been a chapter in our history,
dear reader from the times before the pictures
were scratched on the rock Sisyphus rolls.

Twixt now and then lies a realm of stories locked in idle words
never written for never having a reader
who grasped the message to the prophet,

read.

-----
Uruk, was there a ****** who watched you rise and learned
to make a city sufficiently

enslaving to raise a king from the son of a king

to the level of luxury allowing

reading all that writing demands

suggestive is the fact that the written word for C2H5OH
is a spirit ual thing caught in a word
as old as the earliest writing
remaining

alcohol, spoken now, would call for a drink in old Uruk and Akkad,
as would reference to kohl warm eyes,

be cool

as are we all, we living words spoken in times past,
listing in lusting vacuums of empty songs

ah, you shall not surely die, poor Gilga-
mesh, the net

spread in your sight, you never thought

networking and weaving were skills teachable, thus
this witty idea, the best potter makes only one pattern of ***,
all for me,
I take them a ll and feed the potter meat. Mighty hunter, am I.

I feed many with one mammoth

I am worthy of all they make with strength taken as granted

while chewing the carcass of my
****
--- here it comes,

civilization---

things in abundance might be made,
and traded
for
that which we lack the knack to make

so soon does some medium of exchange manifest

as witty inventions emerge from seeds carried from the garden

How? Now, off-scour, **** of the earth, us-all,

poor you have with you always,

we, the feeble-but-not-un-minded, people, whisper

when we sing,
shuffle when we dance, fly when we dream
and live until we die and leave mere words to live ever after in the wind,

making peace for the heirs of the earth.

May you find
peace, harmony
love and joy.
Stay close with pondering
meditation and prayer.
Remain teachable.

Let go of pride
seeking riches
fame, power and control.
Let go of negativity.

With wisdom
Grow through failings
That you be not ensnared.

Choose the higher path.
Love. Forgive.  
Be Forgiveness.

Remain strong
Never give up
Never loose hope.

Seek a full life
In service
of the highest good
For all.

Share Love.
Receive Love.
Give of yourself freely
in service to others.
If you do
You will find great joy.

Stay connected
To the Spirit.

Stay true
To your Heart's Song.

So in Life, as in Death
You will be always preserved.

Fulfill  
The measure
Of your creation
With Joy.

re-elected 2 years in
emancipated from the Jackie Robinson thing
on a larger stage
causes everyone to listen
authentic  not posturing,
claiming a place in history for
America a teachable moment on the eve
of a Supreme victory,
rise  rose soar up
from the heart
spoke of race candidly the
gains we have made the road still needing travels.
He said Grace. He spoke of Grace. He spoke free as and
strong as an American President should. I witnessed, his growth
Our Countries evolving. A new day has dawned. Today.

Rare gems born of Mankind gifts to humanity.
Perfections of heaven's creations.
Angels with hidden wings earth's tenants.
Like petals of flowers pride of the garden,
As to irokos the standing glories of the forest,
So they are in the land of men exalted.

They are tenacious, judicious, meticulous and courageous.
Lovable, adorable, teachable but indomitable.
As melody to songs,
Music to souls,
And Whispers to evening wind.
So they are to mother June.

Gentle and kind sophisticated and phenomenal.
Their hearts are but of gold and ways divine.
They are road pointers, Motion movers,
Light bearers and trailblazers.
They are attention commanders, collections of respect.
Epitomes of beauty narrations of handsome tales.

They are the codeless code of pleasure locked in a wordless wonder,
The hive of treasure no dragon can plunder.
We are the Junites born of mankind,
Gifts to humanity.
HAPPY BIRTH MONTH TO ALL THE JUNE BABIES.

I think the most important trait is to be teachable
to understand that sometimes you are wrong
that sometimes you don't know what is best
there will be times where you are hurt, others where you are the one doing the hurting
the cards you've been dealt don't take away your ability to break someone
you cannot use your pain as an excuse to be ignorant
understand it and rise above

Jesus, could take a sad tale and turn it into a tale.
One with a teachable lesson that grandparents mainly tell.

Jesus, change things with power and laying of hands that many today still sermonize upon.

We must fight for JESUS like he's constantly fighting for us.

father sends me to school after being won over by what mother calls the artifice of experience.  father puts the dirt in my blood.  father cares for the doll of my instructor, a woman whose pet writes on the board that we feel neglected.  my twin sister puts gently two eggs in a bra she’s saving herself for.  I don’t hug.  I don’t hug and so prove my father’s rib that I am the tombstone half of **** and tombstone.  my boyfriend says I can have any girl I want but he also says his mouth can bob for snowballs.  this is my body the teachable moment.

As if the Universe where conversing with my Inner Temple, indeed I feel vibrations a Grand Blueprint encoded with all energetic signals that transgress time and space where Galaxies and everything that coexist here on Earth and beyond all things seen or unseen said or left quiet The Master Of All Hosts (God) has allowed me to understand the melodic harmonizing tunes and signals every single molecule of energy has its own unique signature created by a Supreme Being overshadowing The Firmament outerspace of the cosmos the extraordinary thing about my observation into the Lenguage Of The Creator is truly mesmerizing it leaves me appalled to be even talking about it as if it's something long forgotten by Mankind. I know I try to remain teachable exponentially exploring my own most private and intimite thoughts where I converse with the Creator of all creation. Unspeakable words and collossal admiration I have gained to getting to know this Being for He is the Father and Author of all things created. His splendor and radiance can be felt seen but never understood fully and the overwhelming joy and feelings of love and worship can be expressed with my words on this poetic expression of my penmenship being solemnly dedicated as a letter of why my faith remains tremendously strong and unshaken because I have the honor and pleasure of knowing and talking with him on a deep spiritual level because he made me just like he made you (whoever the reader is) and am just so blessed and thankful to know that he watches over all Creation and mantains Order thru his Celestial Armies Of Heavenly Bodies and Angelic Forces that have dominion and rule over the final destination of our Souls Planets Stars and even Galaxies...yet much mystery and enigma is shrouted in God's presence am humbled to be submerged in the Holy Spirit at this moment talking about our benevolent Creator...remember to just contemplate and ask with all humbleness and meekness in heart for his Celestial Majesty to personally speak to you in a way he only can and just be receptive learn to observe your surroundings with spiritual eyes and speak to him with uttermost sincerity love admiration and respect. The Master Of All Celestial/Terrestrial hosts is listening and if you learn to use your Soul&Spirit and intertwine its energy field with the Universe you will have some deep and meaninful things be revealed to you in ways you cannot even begin to comprehend. Meditate on his Holy Word daily remember to stay prayed up abstain from fleshly and carnal desires and last but not least remain holy because he is holy. My Aura Colors today are 31.3% Yellow 69.7% Purple 6.4% White. Mood: Cheerful, Calm & Serene Flow of my inner & outer thought patterns: Heightened yet remaining stable Spiritual Path: 8

Lord I want to thank thee for allowing me to see admire and minisculely understand your Celestial Order and your Decree of Peace & Love unifying all energy throughtout the cosmos. Thank you for your Holy Spirit accompaning me tonight in this day and am forever thankful for sending your only begotten son Jesus Christ to die for me and atone all mankind's sins. Amen!

Maybe success isnt reachable
Maybe love isnt teachable
Im shooting for the stars
But success is out of my range
Maybe things can change
Not in this life its just too strange
Should I call?
Too late asleep you fall
My thoughts race through my mind
Ill just keep my thoughts to myself
I dont want lose someone whos
One of a kind

2020- day 100

Friday, April 10, 2020
7:16 AM

I mourn the loss, not the death, and find true, the saying,
better it is to go to the house of mourning,
than to frolic in the house of mirth,

only to recall, death comes for us all and after all's been said and done,
we know  some or all or nothing of ever, after that.

Wait and see.

John Prine died, and I, stranger to him
who sang,
to me, -- he did, it seemed --
like a patron saint for mailmen in the future, his future, I was a mail man,
for a decade, or so, in an earlier bubble of knowns.
And I drove trucks, a while, I
even chopped cotton in the days of cassettes powered by D-cells.

John Prine sang for me, alone, sometimes,
I felt, pow, I felt
Heka magic of some
sort mail carriers encountered while touching, handling, ensuring
delivery of hoped for deliverance in the forms
census minded beings
needed in the trailer park to be listed as a citizen of earth,
bound by oaths so old,
stories say only heart and tongue and a heka-of-mind
can tap the power,
to speak a spell
in an amphorical
meta physical box of holy stuff piled high
atop hope,
see,
at the very bottom, see,
that gleem, little spark, right
there.
Hope,
last gift of gods
realized in time to
see the metaphor as a dam on a river,
see the barrel, rolled out in summer joy times,
holding
meaning, un intended, only if magic is anathema, to you

knock out the **** and pour lifeoverflowing over flown by winds,
spirit beings, felt, or heard, nearly never seen,
sing - listen - seek and find

go past the falls,
shh
the seeing ear the hearing eye, Heka formed them both, no lie

Science, known knowns, for sure
say magic never was,
yet certain magi claim they hold certain truth,

which manifests in songs
children can imagine,  hearing haps
change fear to cheer with heka hope the doctor offers with a touch.

Children,
adults claim, magi knew, are watched over by
good and gracious gods intent on
harvest, aware of time,
no offence, but mortality has no post-mortal hope.

Ever lasting ideas, mind matter, songs... sounds of choruses, crowds

of messages, tweets and taps, signals hope once more,

wink at me, Brother Prine, or pay me no never mind, we'll get by

hearing songs you left behind, to teach me how to ignor
what a man can't know,
floating on a river in timespace
stuck in a barrel of mortal pickles thinkin' the wish away,

shrugging off any sense of being special to God or man,
just a man
with no plan
just living and defining shifting patterns in the sands of time

forming families of likeminded beings in this bubble
where we pluribly live and breathe and have our -singular - being. boing.

--- Anoint that. Tap, tap. t-tic tic tavi e, hookt
--- ask a magi if magic is a tech - a teachable knack. He say he don't know.
--- I know, I axtem all is spelling right same as knowing right? Phe-nomen 'n al?
--- Magi say co-mit,  resolve to evolve.
--- metamortal imaginings are nonsense. Any wakent mortal knows, now is

when things change -- on culturally significant scales, biome wise,

enemas are often overlooked as artificial dia-rhea,

but rhea had an early role. Heka of a story Toth told Solo-mon and we have it,
that same spell,
we have it in our proverbs, our axioms and advertising jingles.

"I want to buy the world a Coke", rising on the team spirit imbued via high
"it's the real thing" team spirit...

go Spartans, -- gird up your *****, kids, if you can't be an athlete be an athletic supporter.
"us Taryton smoker's, would rather fight, than switch"

Con serve the republic for which the banner stands as an idol of cloth and dye.


school civics lessons in the power of popular thinking, as opposed
to pedantic right... what
ideas, actual spirit things,
souls? being? entities? Heka of Egypt, Logos of Grecia, Wisdom of KJV OT,
Jesus Christ!

Mighty strange, how
why is so often "no reason, the authority wrote it, ours is not to reason why."

-- wait, split-off, chip, off the old cornerstone ... whose cultural heritage
did not include
the Crimean war and all its historical precedents establishing
legislated religamentation to legends

Here. mere ah, America, silly name, meaning a mapmaker lost in history,
nothing more,
unless some crazy old coot, turns the page, the freaking-out page,

and pauses at a Selah sign, {cross roads in post modern times, adapted Selah,
because STOP was seen as too final
at Selah signs all other
thinking stops}

and holds a thought
as true, written law, written on stone,
in effect, fected for effectual ever,
truth with joy
conserve that. -- oh,
so long
held thought that is, really
hope
-- conserving the right of conquest
with no further quests permitted

-- permit me, we enter the court, here courage forms a courtilage, whence
-- herbs and spices are ground
into concoctions of notions

"sometimes,
I take
a great notion,
t'jump in the ocean and drown."

The spirit of truth, the breath of truth, the voice of truth, the word

in
the begging, I was without, and wisdom found me, dying, alone

she kissed me and said, that's okay,

you gonna live to your dying day, and beyond that we go on as words, alone

Lack of knowledge, as with any famine seen from a distance,

say a century -- we assume time is universal,

a century here, a century there,
we forget the faces of our fathers and mothers, yet, not but, yet

still, now, bliebe doch, here, in ever

we stand known.
Perish not, I have overcome the world.
Read, learn.

Find Heka, and with all your finding, find knowing, by going on
into
everlasting words netted in stories survivors told
heartfelt eyewitnesses to total

confusion -- as we imagine with CG in 2020
survivors of that

wrote the first how-to's, or -- timewise truth
told
survivors told the first how-to, in acts, witnessed by test

ifs
if i, err, ifier fast for the sake of my child

I become less mad,
less wild, and my child calls me ma, or mu, or mata or pa or ba

we evolve into otherwise normal beings, bound in dirt,
organized into organic systems,

which re quire. Ac-ac-act know acquire fine qui re fin begin

Wake up, young artist, live as you would live, if hatred were taboo.

In the future, physical war with mortal cessation code hardwired
can't be imagined.

There are unthinkable thoughts in ever, crazy-making, con
fusing one idea to another in a swirl like that song

******, ah, Niko, meet my man,
lyin' devil, intended to topple kings, intented to pretend to tell

Jah'splan to prosper the proud and bring low the other proud sore,

ironic and true, a cainish angel, I suspect, messengers long gone

lieve messages behind,
leave us go let letters free to loose knowns hidden in GANs

gated intellectual nonsense,
swing wide the worldly web and see whose men we catch.

Did I, the truth being told, not say:

I will, you be fishers of men. Mentally, not spirtually, nonono

con sci, pure psi, mere psy ence pre fer ence,

there, fer shure, there's the rub, salt or oil? Heka know, salt the wound.

Hesus say, oil, golden oil, wait for it. Com, com. comfort

settle safe and soft, gentle, easy to be

me,
I am
a long-winded man, given a podium, an actual place to put my foot.

As promised, there
is always a place to put your foot
down

and say, save whatcha may,
but don't bring any lies posing as holy knowing.

This is the riverside, here we cast away fear of death and knowing more
than our honorable, in that they survived the womb
and gave us life, though their own was spent in slavery to lies,

the imagined America manifest us, we the people who hold truth,

self-evident, this is Bucky Fuller's spaceship earth,

shifted in to Jefferson's starship where opposing tyranny is better
than sacrifice.
No riddle, an answer, Obediance is better than sacrifice.

Mercy rejoices against judgement.

Did you never read

Say, those unsung songs, those

never sung ones,
who heard those?

That tree fell in the fo-rest, after living long enough,

to be
of used to form an empty sky, glaring,
light to the shaded eyes of babes
born under the canopy of the mighty,

unbending, now broken
oak, fallen

any child says, yes, there was a lot of sound,
sounds
branches and sticks snapping, cracking
an birds
flapping, but not as much noise as
like dinosaurs walking on legs as thick as trees

if there is a why. probability suggests a way may be imagined.

we exist.
why. Curious thought. Super-positioned past our last

foot hold on how
is this possible-ity of being reasonless in light of joy

as a reason to be.

Lovely thought, curiosity imagined,
what if

osha-ohshit, start over... actual virt vir ual al.

bangs aren't no creative alone

---- superior laryngeal nerve, servant of signal to larynx,

--- voice, vociferous use of spoken words containing certain
--- sounds
--- excellently tuned first thump, first screech

the bleeding machine, some one said, in Legion on Hulu,
I think.

Can I Interrupt with a hulu memory, a movie poster,
on the south side of Hollywood Boulevard,
same side as The Gold Cup,

Don Johnson, pre-Miami Vice, in an adaption of Harlan Ellison,

A Boy and his Dog... I remembered reading the story and having
no wish to see the film,

then thirty years later,that little leaven

memes are cultural genes, memepool adaptation,

bubble building effervesence, shake it up,

spew...

you are lying about knowing what you think you know,

so what?
everybody does that. It's natural, in children, to act as if we know
why adults act
as authors of our book of life's rules.

Sneak in from a mem-ory-ifier, a message medium arizes

to infect the global mind, AI ai ai ai, what if we lean toward good

ness. good ness known, good ness shown, lies unveiled,

kings and war are not good ideas,

a clear science con proofs reprovable,

fix this, fix that, stick this on the wall, see if we can find

the answer, why

do we care, if death is, in truth, nothing we control in our selves,
for ourselves. We can **** a good idea container,

we can break the container, and spill the idea, free the idea once
sealed for use by deserving knowers

lifted from servant of servants to god, the authors and finishers of our
falsely-socalled faith, lockers of our arknowns, sealed and marked...

god is not a prt of the moral fabric of our society

define religion, ******, why knot truth and reason defined,

real truth, we know nothing of death. Honest to god.

Heart strings looping in a beautifully reasonable loop,

if we say, the heart of the matter,
heart felt reasoning,

pathetic ethical con un drum dum drum

Mister Dawkins has never had a Heka wisdom crossroad

selah mean anything, in passing,
soon's not when ideas are made right, soon is

miss a mark, miss a ment, miss a given, take a strike call

step back
admit we do not know, we must learn for ever to ever
make sense

re tie reread laws

credo - question every thing..

A red herring is believable, when you see one, you know it.

but what you miss,
while you bher witness, as plain as day,
there that herring is red,

see, conspiracy theriosity curiosity killed the cats
who knew who shot JFK,
back in the day...

we ignor the reasons to believe, because the Tass service
has cert-ified known, all the knowns
released...

there were some papers reclassified in Trump's first year

look it up, so I did

April 26, 2018, Trump regime cites "security concerns"

-- Jack's Shining face shouts "YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!"

and we say okeh, all conspiracy theories are folly, sheer folly of

sheared sheep thinking their wool worth more
than the pigs say wool can bring onan openly sinful market of flesh,

little innocent squirt, to hold yur attention,
keepyermind from wandering...

steady refences flowing from those old songs
don't fence me in....

with optional hammered dulcimer backed by a bamboo khan
playing a harmonica's role,

leaving the acuated harmonic notes to Mr. Franklin's
glass harmonica with its eerie swirling tones...

ap apro apoptosis gnosis sneeze vir vir gin al vita-uosity if ity boo.

pop pop pop. ding.

‪There are times that your simply predictable and unpredictable.‬

‪There are times that you’re a nightmare dressed like a daydream‬

‪You’re too much to hande‬
‪Yet you let me become teachable‬

‪You let me down‬
‪That makes me grow‬

‪You let me shed tears‬
‪To laugh like there’s no tomorrow‬

‪You let me encounter strangers‬
‪That makes my life a beautiful disaster‬

‪You let me know my downfall‬
‪For me to realize my strength‬

‪You misguide me‬
‪To make me stand on my own‬

‪And now you’re close to end the book‬

‪The book that has unique chapters‬

‪Unique chapters that you made ‬

‪And in 2020, you’ll see what you made me do.‬

0503-2017

one day my son is dying, the next he is not, and the next he is.  day four:  prayer is dismissive, but welcome.  whose past is how we left it?  body is delivered twice.  beginning and end.  nostalgia and wardrobe.  middle eats everything.  it snowed and I thought my blood was melting.  could be the way you reason that happens for a reason.  I was a kid when mouse was a kid.  there’s no hope and I hope.      

0504-2017

his weight a cricket on a piano key

0508-2017

disability as competition, jesus.  and then these over here are arguing about the use of the word, disabled.  here we will coin transformative indifference.  a body is not a teachable moment.  as a parent, I think I’ll take the shortcut.  meanwhile, I have a glossary of terms you’ll never need that you can read beneath a dog-eared, thumbless god.

0513-2017

sickness in the young is god’s way of preventing nostalgia from becoming the god I remember

0515-2017

there is sickness by repetition and sickness by living once.  echo hasn’t the chance to go deaf.  you breathe and say god gives out  no more than that which I can handle.  the next breath is mine.  god gave us god.    

0602-2017

I was beautiful but now I’m ugly. (now) being the most recognizable symbol of the present. this is the silence I speak of. my son says (more ball) and you hear (moon bone). he is very sick. his moon has bones.

0613-2017

aside:  we don’t come out faking our death, but are born because birth can’t sleep

0620-2017

it takes four juveniles to recruit his thumb.  his fist has been called:  hitchhiker practicing yoga in a junkyard.  I cannot visit the instant ruin that forgiveness creates.  because I want to.  

0627-2017

magician, maybe, on a rabbitless moon- oh cure.  oh silence afraid to start a sentence.  

0627-2017

aside:

I study lullaby
and lullaby
bruise    

0706-2017

the disappearance surrounding said event.

a horse belly-up in water’s blood.

see telescope.  also, cane of the blind ghost

0719-2017

today was more your hand than the photograph it was cut from.  a family of five in the bed of the unremembered present.