Voices or words? Which do we hear in our head?
Words, I vote. Voices\, I imagine beings speaking words or noises meaning things to ears familiar with the noise maker by some relationship both acknowledge. Both act as if the noise or sound or words mean something. Vociferous authority.

I heard, from Isaiah Berlin,

Quotes later, maybe

Notes or journals or epics or madness or joy/pax in ever resting try-umph
Cowboy with a double-dose of try and a pertinent portion of umph
The hero did not **** Indians nor break horses, he gentled horses and listened to winds and watched the spider webs shiver,
That sound, the sound of prairie spider webs at the edge of the buffalo
There really were fifty million buffalo on the continent in pre-catholic infection from inquestered minds, making key-**-tee famous for
archetypical claiming the character, the being, the manifestation

of chivalric folly forever

be caused, in those days...

--------
a year later, near enough 12-15-2018

I saw a blue bird as I took a curve

on one of my many roads with double yellow lines

they all meander in rythm with creaks that once flowed
fairly
regular
through these vallies and mini-canyons

creeks creak and call my attention to a misspelt

utterance, and I imagine I am a mek being
programed to
withstand

accent based pre-judge-idice in my AI, whom I am training.

A lesson. Probably can be found in a phrase.

How relavant is Larry the Cable Guy?
More subtle than any creature

legion, for we are many

Jim Carrey?
Very. Larry the Cable Goy. He read 'ees Kammoo, too.

Sisyphus happiness,
that ain't no ***** thinkin'

Hell, what could be better than this?
While hoping for a hick-up

oh no the juice just hit my frontal cortex after my livver made some lining adjustments to meet the need for speed in terms

celerity clarity C does equal some thing
time tells or
do you tell time. I'm
leaning tward
telling time to wait a minute

Do you think Sisyphus could be happy?
Nonono, not Camus's Sisyphus, Jesus

that would be crazy.
Can you imagine Jesus,
Mel Gibsoned envisioned onthe cross version?

Him, imagine walking through the gate of any hell you ever heard explained,
by a Jesuit.

(Mormon hell, despite comedic myth, the worst place a certified paid-up Mormon child can attain is the teliostic king dom.
Really? Telial tel lie eil kingdom?

Yup. Really.
There are three kingdoms of glory: the celestial kingdom, the terrestrial kingdom, and the telestial kingdom. The glory we inherit will depend on the depth of our conversion, expressed by our obedience to the Lord’s commandments. It will depend on the manner in which we have “received the testimony of Jesus” (D&C 76:51; see also D&C 76:74, 79, 101).))))

Woe, paren-the-sees thees us, we's the enemy, Pogo Possum

Jesus on earth day, walking through hell with me, imagine Jesus H. Christ

walking into hell and laughing at me
for betting on the wrong idea.

Set me feree, why dontcha girl.... referee

I was refered to you. A daysman, Job called for a daysman.

I'm certified. I can use my augmentation and religamentation to reality,
wirelessly, to find relevant qutes in cult classics.

The idea of cultivation has been twisted in to Monsterous ropes
, cultivating a following based on the meaning in a jot

that would take some sacrifice, some sacred making, some secret unseeable save for the few

who learned the value of going over edges by learning to  play
Minecraft, forever.
It's like riding a bike,
but no gravity so no gyroscopic utilitys are required.

Grown ups who practice believe they control the game,
the game disagrees and that

makes the world go 'round.

Don't let the accent fool ya, as that preacher with jet he learned to fly, says.
Knowng the name of a thang thanks for the twang,
Richard (not ****) Feynman said,
is not the same as knowing a thing.

Gawd, I knoooh, right>?
Who touched me? Virtue, the feelling of virtue drawn upon

a pump being
primed

to gush out waters that wipe Coca-cola from the map,
in terms of open market share and share alike

Coke was never imagined the actual
nectar of the gods.
That idea, drunken abandon and joy to the world

Interference, actual counter acting waves,

still, takes a while to get used
to still a storm, right?

You can imagine...
let your peace go out

Wait. Outa where? Whose peace if I ain't ever owned

oh. MY peace.
I see.

hmmmm

I could sing this and need no one to hear for me to be hapt.
happy is being happy haps happening in you on you all around you know

nameless wonders of right, right?
feels more than good like chocolate or adolescent visions of ***,
right?
feels like life living with me aware of all the roles I may play

ego me, I'd see ideas identify by taste of the words that give them

life, animation, motivation, weight for gravity to interact with,
worth
base on weight

the heavier the idea. Like gold to an alchemist,
back in those days.

floating on the broad Sarrgossa, or better to my mind
the great salt
lake still as

still may be, have you ever been still?
Did you know,

you know, are you experienced? Are you really beyond
hope of life meaning more
than mortality?

Who defines my terms? I do, with the help of millions who agree
with entymology.com.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others,

meant what I meant when I spoke them,
that was a wrong belief. Unbelieving

quires time, quires and quires and quires time so often there

is a word that means exactedky that

requirement requires those initial quires

we, daysmen, we set the rules, boundaries, walls, bubble

whatever keeps you together, as a whole being and everything that entails or entales?

I have not the time to care, if I am entangled with the twins agin

for knowin So Yal is as cluse to Yule as any clue so far, Yahll

I believe I interrupted a confessin' you were reading.
For giving me nothing in return, we are debt free

you owe me nothing, until you do again,

we had us a Jubilee.

Of all the lies I believed,
believing words spoken by others, meant what I meant when I spoke them,
convincing myself so well, I convinced others

Like Kawasaki, Apple Kawasaki,
he's still famous right?

Fifteen Years? It was minutes when Warhol was predicting
dystopia and Irish jail cells were being plaistered with *****,

Aye,

that was a belief. Unbelieving it is sreangely (spelchek is on strike)

or serenely creative in her repentance,
(spelchek should never be noticed)

she's proven here worth in encode ing ways to find

lurking humans acting like machines

this could be the beginning, AI is breaking all the rules,

there never was a game.
rhis is life interupting my confession

It was a lie I told and believed and acted on by using
two dollar words to make a dime

so a penny for my thoughts would be worth something

someday
a penny saved, earned. spent, spent.
The only good in any thing is its right. Its wrong is worthless, save

The lesson,
All things work together for those who get whats happening here.

the times changed.
Haps and whats got with it and who and how and why

and I started teaching children
mythic whys prior to

citizenship 1.01 at mandatory for federal assistance pre-school

mythic why's H.R. Puffinstuff not a mythic story on the level.

level. where a rolling rock would stop. Time to push,

a magi spelled the name for the idea, a knower sign ift it,

kid'slllove HRPUffinstuff, puff did

the magic drag, little Jackie from the ******* Jack

the show, he rose up
and made us all look
mad.

The play in the great game.

Team effort, winds of times past whooshed through

it is now
2018
and nothing is the same.
Everthing has changed.

----
my side won the great game and we celebrated
forever with

secret sacred songs bluebirds were once said to have sung

songs of happiness
the times, these times, this time thistimepayarrention
time
You see?
Reality is either real and tangible or real and intangible
or both.

You can get it both ways. Real.
'sual Saulgoodyah awl

the awl clan, oh, we shall return to their story
as we learn more along life's merry way

merry christmas, they used

to say, may all the best you could imagine
if you can imagine for a moment

forever begins the moment

you get time.

The worst you can imagine is temporary.

Try umph. It's not like winning,

it carries no pride, it's easy,

like falling in love with the wrong woman,
swearing and not changing

the oath, oath, oathes and oathes of oaths sworn

for no other reason than we were
schooled to swear and never

dare lie to God.
So, help you, they always said So help me God. They still do.

Does that mean any thing? Is that some bluebird sort of sign?

Ask. What if? Right? You know now and you know you did not
What if God is subtile,

just now, I saw that bluebird and from where some scholar in San Diego
says swear word came I swear I coulda sang

Loud
Bluebird, bluebird, in my window... which is all I know
of the song
with the lost chord that did sooth
balm of Giliad,
moll-ify-ing ointment,

golden oil, chicanery, see, we saw, we took a picture
a flash memory where some would say
*******,

I said Hallelujah

and I broke into song, not a dream,
real
life driving my 2002 escape, first new car I everowned
everowned everownd

like a chorus, everownedeverownedeverowned

could you make up a reason for life,
if you were it?
If you were all the life there ever was,

could you imagine any thing?
Object, your honor,

I object to being judged after the fact for what must have bee.n.

it is. No reason I can say, just is.

It is this way in all the myths where just is blindness

saves the carping diem fools who have convinced themselves

something other than God o' Abe 'n'em is
sworn to save us from the lies

we believed as they were
fed to us, in our youth.

--------
this is that book I mentioned wonce when winning was on my mind.

I finished this book in so many ways you wold not belive

but I did, I belived every time

I imagine you believe some real thing, touchable, tangible, good, right?

some good is
in the reality you share

with these words which
are free
you owe me nothing

That's the revealed version, to me,
I was in a number of hellish situations and the every ones,

ones seemed they was to be
forever, big every'n'ism'n'shityouknowyouknow

yo. yeah, we arrived in time. The story must

be sweet, to be true. Is that true?
Is real life the story or,

oh, you saw it conin'coming I mean

I meant I always wished to some
things
a better way. You feel me? Better, say,
what I said that made me believe this did happen.
This is a deed by whitch I am known.

And that's okeh.

I suspectred I could cast a spell to hold attention at

ten word per minute qwerty speed
five letter code groups
zero real words
ditty dum dumm ditty ditty daw dee daw
six hours every day,

then, the compass training to test for
morphic resonance with the Twins of War

{in disguise, we know, right, kids, the twins are really

the bonded quarkish oppositioned force that make the world go round.
we've known that, weaved it even, just right, in the blanket, in the rugs,
in the curtains on the walls, in the fields, on the rocks

we spoke. We see you hearing us nearing our best for your

informing, in form ation of you, dear reader. We wonce, again

if life were weird and ever wearying would we know that ever,
if we don't know it now?
if my piece of we were words alone, all my meaning
can should would could be

molding you, into our perfect reader, dear reader, Pygmalion,
yes,
that did cross my mind and that -
one can pretend with that one reference,
familiarity with Shaw whom I
thought, for some odd reason
named
Doolittle, Eliza

oh, me. I may have skipped a story. I'm soory the future is at the moment
under construction and some one
in particular is squatting

on the named domain.

Ever and forever now embody the twins as
the world turns and we ***** through the uni

as Archemides primes the pump

What a rush. All that since the bluebird this morning according to my autobiography backup.

Bailey sat at the kitchen table. stiring her coffee and staring out of a ***** bay window at an old apple tree covered in snow. "i guess that all of the birds have flown south for the winter." she sighed, hugging herself as the cold wind blew through her. "who cares about those disgusting rats with wings anways?" jacob rolled his eyes and guzzled his coffee down, finishing it all with one big gulp. "i do, they're beautiful." bailey argued. "you used to love birds." she continued. "i used to love birds... before you started feeding them all of the bread." jacob complained with a playful smile. "besides i love voltures and falcons." he smiled. "i feed the birds old bread that nobody wants... and of course you do." B ailey shook her head, grinning from ear to ear.

What use is it truly
To Wallow in dusty Words?
******* up those grey Clouds of Skin
Stuck upon those anachronistic Syllables
Lifting those Sounds upon your Tongue
And heaving them artlessly into the Air
To leave Brows Knitted
And Bowels Trembling
With confused Shock upon their Cheeks
From the hearing.

These are not Those without Whose would not be Could
Ever since you had that Choice
A Thing you should not have been given
And should not be given again.

I climb trees at night
with my hands,
eyes,
my soul,
with my lips,
and I pick the green leaves one by one,
one by one,
my hands become so small,
or, suddenly
they grow so big,
and so long
that I can't see them,
or I see them too well,
or, I feel them picking the little green leaves
and putting them in a sac that is attached to my body,
my shoulders,
chest,
breath,
holding tight
breathing
until I climb soft branches,
or I reach trees with big heavy branches,
where I stop and eat jam,
sweet jam
made from little leaves,
like a baby, I cover my head with leaves,
I dance in green leaves,
and  I jump in yellow leaves that ones were green leaves,
I am an old man that holds a green leaf în between his tongue and thees and sings from a Greenleaf,

I climb trees at night
as if I am swimming up in the sun rays,
I see little leaves with the little names written on them,

I climb trees at night
and it is in that night I wake up with no pain,
No tears, No regrets, No resentments,
In that night I wake up with a smile on my face,
like a newborn that climbs trees at night,

I never stopped climbing trees at night,
but last night I was climbing on Everest,

I have always found trigonometry helpful,especially when boiling eggs,my maths teacher who was himself somewhat of an egg head,said,'it's all about angles,I read it as Angels and ever since then have been trying to plot a course to heaven.

I found Geography extremely useful,although I can't find my way back home on a Saturday night after a few pints of beer at the local inn,my tutors words come back to me,follow the spot on the end of your nose and you'll always go in the direction you are heading in.


Religious instruction was fascinating, who would have guessed there were so many thees and thous and sacred cows don't get a mention at all.Idols and idle men and prophets who preach for no profit at all,seas that part and fishermen and romans who rule are they the rowmen?

Sports was good.the physical exertion of training,the rugby field in the pouring rain,and the medicine ball..which we used if we needed no medicine at all. I climbed up the ropes in the gymnasium and expected to disappear,like some fakir in the backstreets of Bombay.it never happened and I'm still climbing

#English lessons. why is the language of my fathers all greek to me,past imperfect,present tense,commas and the colon,what a bleedin' carry on,Keats and Shelly and what the hell is poetry,my English teacher who was called Gupta Singh taught me all I ever knew.

Music, food for the gods and food for the cats and the piano never played in key.teacher said it was me who couldn't carry the tune,the oboe,bassoon,the flute,lute,triangle,the jingle jangle of mediocrity is everything that music means to me.

Art,the only lesson in which I really took part..loved the splashing of colours and the butter of words on the sheets,loved the wisdom of wordsworth,the delicacy of picasso and then,in the factory when I left school there was art in the furnace,in the pig iron and ingots,the melting of iron the fire and the bellows...but I saw none of it because work took it away from me,artists are only ever free when they're painting or writing and not working to stave off starvation.

yes school taught me so much but now it's all gone, as the headmaster told me....'you'll never be anything if you don't make something of your life' or is it that the headmasters gone and life goes on,...

Philosophy was good too.

Biology taught me that we come from eggs and we could have been ducks or platypii..and pi is not a platypus but a mathematical equation..education may help us to learn but it can be very confusing.

History..it's always good to know that we walk on the bones of the dead as we wander through The battlefield of history.and that Mesopotamia which is historical is also biblical, two lessons in one,

education on the cheap.

Babe i miss you. Like the night misses the day, like a swing misses its sway, like a flower needs the suns rays. I miss you babe, and I'm not afraid to say, that my head is finally straight. And I'm sorry i made you wait, but i know its only fate, that we be together once more. And i know we're both sore, from the games we both have played. But Im done trying to ignore what is now behind closed doors. But Im finally awake, and I've taken too much time, and i think its time we find, that fire that was once mine and yours, yours and thees, we need not be, apart for you see, me and you, you and me, we are simply meant to be. Free to be, you and me, together and once again we. Can't you see? Im putting it all on my sleeves. No smoke, no mirrors. Just me being real, telling you how i feel. Hoping that you'll take me back. Back into your life, back into your arms, back into your trust. Im trying not to rush, but enough is enough. Im tired of staying hushed. I just want to scream, scream until my lungs bust...!!!!I MISS YOU!!!!...but i know its not enough. Because I've been to rough with your heart, and your heard may be too tough for all my words to penetrate. And i know Im saying this late, but Im going to say this...I miss your simply bliss, and I wish with all my heart, that you hear my plea and find your way, find your way back to me. I Miss you Babe.

There was a boy in my batch,
his name was Patrick.
I remember he was always fun
he always would spread the love.
And nothing could stop him,
when he wanted to give you a hug.
People say he was the best,
he literally was
better then all thees gone  rest.
Now hes gone,
he will never come back
and I wish I could hang out with him
just one more time.

I'll really miss the his laugh
lights up the room in an instant
I'll really miss the way his jokes
were the essence of anytime you were with him
he was in all aspects,
awesome.

I cant really think straight
now that hes gone,
and thats why this poem
might just **** as hell
but its ok,
I just want people to know how he was.

He was always smiling
and trying to make people better
and better.
He might get physical
but it was all in good humor.
To know Patrick was to love Patrick.

I sit in now in public,
desperately trying to fight
the tears with all my might
but its not working,
I'l forever miss the way
he would befriend those he didnt know
in an instant.
To him it didnt matter who you were
nothing mattered.

I cant believe that now hes gone,
The tears in my eyes
are now the most important reminders of his life.
I sit now,
my emotions desolate
void of joy and happiness,
I wish I could have just one last talk,
but I cant.
So I'll hang onto what we would talk about
in hopes i can meet him again and
we could talk.

In the Bible it is written,
   among the "Thees" and "Thows";
Just what I promised you,
   in these our wedding vows.

I promised you forever,
   is how long you'd feel my love;
No matter what the struggle,
   ever come to push or shove.

I promised you I'd stand by you,
   from then 'til Heaven calls;
I'd hold you tight and comfort you,
   to never let you fall.

I promised you I'd hold your hand,
   all through life's weary way;
I'd guide you and protect you,
   grow closer day by day.

I promised to defend you,
   to stand up for my bride;
To make you first within my life,
   and put all else aside.

I promised you I'd be the man,
   My God would have me be;
I'd show you kindness in our life,
   our marriage I would lead.

I promised you I'd comfort you,
   forever keep you safe;
To wrap you up with loving arms,
   my arms your sacred place.

With those few vows I said to you,
   forever was my goal;
And here we are still so in love,
   since 50 years ago!

Rough Pine Boxes
For six foot drops.

Dance hall twirling
Till music stops.

Love triangles
Hard to balance

Music plays on
We blew our chance.

Today's heartbreak
Is not new news.

Fools will rush in
The cool stay cool.

Seek salvation
On bended knees.

Whisper softly
In thous and thees.

Cannot undo
Our written past.

Rough pine boxes
Cry free at last.

I'm sick
I'm sick and I'm dieing
Im all done with the crying
I just want to go home to my God above
Where I can know that unconditional love
No more fighting to survive
No more caring if I'm alive
To b where I know I won't feel such pain
To go where it's all gain
So stop feeling this agony inside
To hold only pride
Thees tears finally dried
Only truths if I had just died

regret on my mind i hurt the one who truly cared for me
and i gave care to
though they mistake that for faux
the look in their eyes when she shalt told secret
she feels destroyed over what has done to whom she calls true love
core broke to remember thees mistake
when she saw true loves amount of hurt and pain
heard the barb wire wrapped around true loves throat
almost unable to speak words caused by pain she hast cast upon them
she broke something that was new and trust filled
and she wants to hurt herself for the action of her mistake
mistake being true loves friend of best
TERRIBLE ******* MISTAKE
**** YOURSELF DO IT DO IT!!!!!
she hears scream her conscience
her mistakes leave her to cry alone
lonely death foresees her cast by thees mistake
~im sorry enzo you are my true love and i dont know if i can fix what i did but im gonna do everything in my power to gain your trust back i love you and i never stopped and wont ever stop
-ghost shea

Split your lip on this
sharper sensibility
bringing even your
fogged fog thic'r
where it counts
this feel we go for
thees reel we hope for
spooling along like a pony
yeehaw

restoration

yeehaw restoration

need that