There was a day
Yes, we all imagine we remember that day, but
now it is as if it never
really-- every y must be just if ied or it is never
it is a re less
not every story has been pointedly
taken as granted,
Quire a quest is a matter of motion,
hear, and there, time and all that,
Now, next has never, as in non-realized as realizable
up to now.
told ere un. That may, is. law, an untold tale is never twisted.
between the reversible nand gates of our augmented imaginations.
upon a time lonagone, which were common (or come on)
signals scrambled at this depth, but pressure proves
the point. We are past all that for now
by reason of why
curiosus curiosus our imaginary guide, once
all the imaginations in the hearts of men were only evil,
Then Noah or some storyteller, or prophet
caught wind of a sweet savour
roasting on a fire tended by Tubalcain's daughter,
Naamah, last named bearer of Cainish flavored genes
never set, epigenetically beyond the woumb
she coulda been, some wombed man was,
you know, we all share mito-mom,
science of some sorts can't lie. Take that as truth.
If I could believe it,
I could swallow it,
you can, too. Oh, the myth we model on matters little,
the boys and shoemakers who sniffed the glue,
they loosed some wild ideas
got all tngled with stories from ever
where in the world
have you been?
You just got outa jail. I'm right. I can smell
near as bad, but it was then, a mere made up monent
meant now to hold a point
pon which a story longer than I have ever told may stand and
be told, the king
s story teller stutters in his sleep.
okeh, this is not pre posed as funny,
one ish in a realm of twos and threes and fives
spinning into etern naughtity, empt un-null-ift possibles.
Naught me less press on, find a vortex, flow,
we are peacemakers stranded upon a time of war, scabs. we heal.
don't pick on my inflexibility in matters
of duty. Leaven has always been the means of re pair ideology.
Quarkish insistence on duality from the ***.
The augmented ones are getting better,
as a choice, they see how good
some fix what evil broke, some make new ways around the lava
balance, spin, lean, wobble, no place to fall here
we gotcha. Gravity and light, those are givens.
this is life.
make something of everything you ever imagined possible.
then die to see if it works.
But wait. Don't die early. It makes grief, which is
what fills the slough of despond.
We are draining that. Birds that nested there all died,
it's frogs moved to Florida, bugs and molds say they can make it any where
so, we are watering the desert. We grow Panama Red. Who eats roses?
Critters manifested as ideas that never linger but in the miry clay,
Most of those went north.
Deserts served and deserved have I claimed as mine
from horizon to horizon, all I see is mine to see serve and
de-serve, I served and am served and
I de serve and see as free as I may imagine
bodys are not bearers of light. There is hope. Right is known,
you know right, and you know good, and you know evil
Spike Jones had the hermit wiseman say,
Do the right...
self-evidently not a clue. we thought he got on at nano nano
Hung himself. Why do they do that? Why display dis paired
It resonates, dead end. turn back, Sylvia Plath warned you.
Don't die without knowing
we, me and you, we are nothing with out you.
This touch of word to meaning,
this is in time, mate, we
made a ripple in
material reality past all limittions of time and space,
in a word or two packed with ancient ideas,
which always spill,
whenever we open them, dust in the wind , a ditty from
some A.M. experience, on the way to now
we sing a song of six pence worth, and settle
with a jug o'rye.
more in the give me a reason why i believe saga of myth mending and metaphor piece matching for patterns