A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.52 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohs,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>
----

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.

----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
* Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?

Axt would I, I sed yah soyam

Signing a song played in the white noise that surrounds me

nights like these past 7043,

Who chounted en chant em, enchantemgood

So no we are at what is a befinning place.
beginning (90's too ****, U2 too Northern Euro,
Green Day, Coolio,
Noise to a message dying to be heard
welcome to another
imaginary garden in an ever expanding mind

field of unthinkable things,
back then

we have whiteout but it doesn't work here

My culture had near simultaneous eruptions of supermarkets

and Fords.

This guy, his culture had near simultaneus disruptions of progress and
interruptions of information
some os were lost in the middle synchrony
instance if I cationic plus or minus
simaltan

Oh, I get it. You, dear reader, have been
out of it.
We went public with the entire plan for public
key distribution,
through six palanced stacks of energy stores

Chakra, chi, science make ya think eh. Polarize, see

everything groovy --no
[contemprayery idle intense ify AI keep us current]

lie, good, no lie is always safe. Don't wanna stumble any souls.

I was mentioned, my being a speaker in a story, I was said
to have said something, upon a time,
on the cover of the Rolling Stone,

I witnessed a lie being told and said my ears weren't garbage cans,
like a brainwashed cult

no, **** I was a cultivated follower of a confessed
follower cultivator.

I bloom when I imagine being treated as a mushroom,
I never paid much attention,
I never felt
insane
but
I can imagine
wee whatifs crept in… aha

The Olde Deluder, Satan, Act

that, a tiny gleam, a single ATP gone ADP

but there was light. A story I lived is now being told
without me,
oy vey Jah knowaddamean.

There was a wiseman, who,
by his wis-dom saved a city, and no one knew
that same wiseman's name,

proverbs are intentional games, the rules,
hiding a thing, done by God, glory ifies him
seeking out a matter, done by a being translated king,
transmutes that seeking into honor

Honor is hard to compare to the war flavored twists,
knots and tangles where woof and warp held

long long long before war was imagined, honor was.

A medal of honor for valor, what does it mean?

Leonard Wood got one. For his part in solving
the Apache problem.
He also,

Flash I had my wires crossed, in a way, it may
enlighten.
You see, I had thought that I had read Leonard Wood,
be cause I had imagined he was in New Jersey, but that
was Lord Amherst, Jeff

He tweerted ( wrote in a letter on paper we've a fact simile):
"to try Every other method that can serve to Extirpate this Execrable Race."

From <https://www.umass.edu/legal/derrico/amherst/lord_jeff.html>

Could be the source of the whole shores of triple ease retirement lure/trap/moneymoneymoney makeit fakit

I asked once, who's to blame and whose to blame,
samesame came an answer, I sware, quick as

next, twixt being and being possible,

realize

we do change things, in time, which,

if we can agree, is limited for us,
to now, no thens behind

mere, mere, mere ifs and whens ahead

be

--so there's been music all along
life's the song

skip a decade, like skippin' a grade

grad Harvard at a prepubescent 12

If I had a Hammer time, one message

one valiant try to be will smith,

Live and Learn, old man, say the dude on the radio
in he's hammaheadphones, cain't touch

Bomb. Jesus lent me Jael's hammer,
radioman nailed it.

If I had a hammer was the prayer,

MC, he was the Godsmacked nail in the coffin

Dark inside gothish messages hurgle and gurgle
guts twisted in freak pride love hate list lust

dichotomies of choice in ever learning
good citizenship worth honor and glory

of the sort men dare to die for, facing darkness,
the NULL set ***** and ***** and *****

This ain't gravity tuggin me,
this is that monster who lives forever in top forty radio

When/then Radioman emerges, Like the Mighty Quinn from

deep beneath Gibson's darkest ever imagined ICE wall…

What's on? (ellipses, do those mean POV shift or selah?)

I forget, s still all alchemistry t'me, if allyagots ahammass,

realize, if it matters, t'me, bubble bustin' need no nail.

I gotti'd a hamma, gonna hamma in the moan

O.G., mighty man of valor, where'dyew arise from?

We, the integrated us, non autonomous, inarrogant
We were dancin' to that I'm a Loser, Baby

so why don't cha killme, knowwad i'msayin

This old man been wandern in the desert far far far
side the madding crowd
making minced
meet
broken spirit. we goin together to a re-pair place

at the center of you'n'all you know, yo bubble but

--- everlearning everclear outlawed, good lawed
--- moon shine spiritment lauded out loud
--- the world all ways works when a garden is

beyond the pale,
Irish
rye whiskey, wheat bread liqui
if I were an
old gay ninties guy drinking ***** laudnum
singin'

on the corner with the hourus girl's c

Making the Con Next Ion, watchathank,
is it The Nineties A to Z , ending wit, it’s a hard
knawks life, or

a Bohr-TED talk or
a video of Schrödinger's  
verdamte dead cat?

Or am I surrounded by so great acloud of witnesses that some times I spend

simply hummin' along, life's beat me to the ground,

which gladly,
I'm so glad, I'm glad, I'm glad which

loses its meaning if you never experienced such a fall
ending in absorption of it all.
Ginger Baker, slam that cymbal, CRASH1

Life, in every key, there's a clue. Some where,
there's a lock on a true thing we need

to, eventually, know all things.

Keywords lost givitawaygivitawaygit it back tenfo'

Black spirit-filled tongue talkin' grandpa friend of
Johnny Walker, Red not Black,

He challenged me ye see. I recall what was on TV.
Nixon sayin' he,
honest he,
anti-****** he,
bombin invadin he was Notacrook, the super hero
he imagined

Bio is building energy, all the time does is
test the effort.

Is life lived this way worth the effort?
if/then/else

Who chose, integrated me, all the masks and voices I have accepted as ideas that can have apiece of me.

BTW, kids, even if an angel of light asks you to take a little piece of my heart, don't

yer killin me and I know where the next story started,

you are lost without me, fretnot, I'm the way

I heard that, that's no claim I mist'tok as my response.

Deeper, are we absobbing any thing, deeper tincture
of time, t'me see

POV
SameYesTodayForever (SYTF) protocols have been in place, as far as we know,

since words made sense naturally, eons ago, at least.

If you want my future then forget my past
musing medium messages sayin

what the hell? A game, you sayin' life's a game?

Ja, was oder vice nicks versus universal soldier godlet

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

I woulda danced with wolves to have changed
one mind that followed me

beyond that point,
no return, is such a mortal POV, you see
as far as you cansee

Deep. the gem. all the meaning ever was was
in that gem.

Dare me for no reason? Is that reasonable,
ration my tears to test my mettle

I went mad in 1995, have I made that plain?
Things crumbled around me for ten years,

I was helped by hoping I knew a truth about those
manifested imaginary gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning og every mystery unknown to man

eh, say again
gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning OhGEE every mystery unknown to man

lies lies lies they all were lies lies lies lies

I told you so, and it is still sweet to say
you know

You heard it all before, greatest test story ever told.
That was no test.
this is.

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

Epic stories deserve more than mere words,
but, you know, click,

words are what we make things from.

Tell me your stories,
she woulda seemed to whisper, woulda drained me drownd me
in just if I'd love linked

to the money machine of your dreams

had I not rode the grey dog outa Nashville,
back in '82,

I'da missed seein' flyover country that feels like mine,
when I take this POV.

Easy to say,
that I was just young.

It was back in the day,
but,
back-in-the-days
make it back to us
always.

I had a problem
with cheating,
couldn't meet you at your point of need,
had to take a breath
especially
when
we
were
fighting.

had to step out the house,
with a half-bottle in my hand
had to take a breath,
had to give it a second
to sink in,
what you'd said about me,
how i'd grown worse,
gotten the worst of you,
and you,
the worst of me.


Fighting going on,
in the house we called home,
so far from,
though,
more like a prison
we called our own.

Spent nights sipping
a bottle
at the dinner table,
no blessings made,
no prayers said,
no good graces,
just bitterness over spaghetti
and that white girl
you thought i'd laid.

We Sitting down
to take a sec with the Triple-Sec,
you said to me,
"can't believe you ******
that white *****"

"Baby, i'm flawed,
just like anybody else"
couldn't say with the last breath
of the dying relationship,
that this conversation
signaled death.

Couldn't say,
that white ***** was much more than that
to me.

That a year's worth of lying
and go-betweens
was the last gush of fresh air
to an evergreen
whose air
no longer made its leaves turn green.

We'd left that precious place
a long time ago.
Adam and Eve ******* the juices
out of a rotten apple.

My Adam's apple stuck in my throat,
my belly filled
with an emptiness
that made it bloat.

Said, I was sorry so many times,
it burned my tongue
to say it before bed,
every night.

Still laid you down,
but the *** was getting so lifeless,
I looked into your eyes,
you looked into mine,
the anger was so tireless.

So much hate,
spread in a two-bedroom
townhouse,
a playhouse in the backyard,
where your kids played,
and we fought inside,
while the sun cast shade.

Fighting about the dishes,
how the bills were never paid,
the lights turned off,
we slept in the dark for days.

In the mornings you'd go to work
before i awoke,
so easy to go
it was easy to say,
easier to go,
than easier to say,
that it was done
we were just hanging on
because we had so much going on,
taking up the responsibilities
of a full family and home
when really
we were cradling a dead child,
the newest baby between
you and I.

Still don't know
how you faced it,
so gracious,
with my ungratefulness.


Couldn't face ourselves
to face ourselves,
couldn't say well enough
that we were left to hell.

****,
you pulled a gun.

Remember that day
in the Thursday sun?

Right after work,
caught me pulling a chick
on facebook,
and somehow it came to you to reach under
the sofa, that's all it took.

Grab the piece,
and shake it against my temple,
saying,
"can't believe i fell in love with a *****
so simple, simple, simple."

And me,
through gitted teeth,
"Baby, put the gun down,
you gone crazy?"

Baby,
i don't know where you're at now,
know you got **** going on,
i'm going on,
you going on,
got a lotta **** going on,
'cause we held on
way too long.

Baby,
I've grown.
I Know my past
made me better
and
yes, you were the last,
but yes,
you were the last,
the last time that i had to cast the dice
and throw it in with the worst of me,
way back then,
not too far back,
cause every now and then
i go back
to way-back-then
wishing i'd been a better man.

Wishing that baby had made it.

Wishing your kids still knew my name.

Wishing i'd pulled less *******.

Wishing i'd pulled less of my ******* game.

Younger back then,
no longer still the same,
but every now-and-then
the back-in-the-days
come back with their hapless passion,
make me think of my old ways,
how you pulled a gun,
how we fought through the night
just for fun
until the kids cried quietly
their tears lit by nightlight,
and we still loudly fighting.

Finally
letting out our anger
cause we couldn't do it during the day
the only way:
drinking at night,
burying the days
just to burn the stars,
moon
and violet sky.

No one has ever taken a chance with me
Some have danced with me
But most are quick to be real slick
And change their stance with me
Fake people making noise
And playing games
Calling names, pointing fingers
And placing blame

Little realize
While they're fixed on displacing shame
All this nonsense stays constantly
Suspended through my veins

They burst open with the worst notions Contorted emotions to mass explosions
Like mixing large proportions of gasoline
Fire driven moths-to-flames

And my response is to conjure
Create, contemplate, and maintain
So please run along and carry on
Like you never knew my name
Because saying it will curse you
When you mention it in vain

Don't react or erupt like 'this' was abrupt When you never said 'this' to my face
Don't act surprised or try to hide it
Like you missed it or tried to fight it
Like you have any right to deny it
Now that you've finally been erased

I'm tired of all the back-thens
And back-whens
You're a has-been, and I'm laughing

Coming out of the woodwork
Some leaving without a trace
Like a blank space could ever replace
Everything you didn't make work

In the end we didn't mend
So I guess I wasn't worth it
At best we could jest, try to forget
Let's say that I deserve it
I wasn't perfect and then again
I'm not a ******* servant

Should I reword it?
Use different verbage?
Change my perspective respective
Of your verdict on the time spent?
I wouldn't know
Because you never showed
And I'm too busy living in ('this') moment

I don’t know
the ifs and thens
the chance
the firsts and lasts
congrats
i’m slow

i see lacks
and scraps
the straw
the traps

and the grass
laughs
and the trees
dance

i,
I
am real
my gender is real
my sexuality is real
despite everything and everyone telling me that they're not —
I am real as ****.

Maybe that's why you're confused by me.

Maybe it's because you're used to a resolution that's less than 8-bit.
Maybe it's because you're used to a pixelated existence.
Maybe it's because all that you can compute
are 0s and 1s.
***** and *****
lips and *****

Maybe that's why you're afraid of me.

Because you're afraid of what you're going to see in high resolution.
Because you're afraid to see exactly what you've been missing out on.
Becuase I'm not coded in binary, hexadecimal, Base32 or 64,
but Base∞

and I code myself in a language
that I am constantly learning
and creating simultaneously,
let's have an interesting conversation

...supurfluous, unnecessary, confusing...
words spoken by the able, the unwilling
to take a closer look at my pupils —
dilating in high definition.

In fact, the definition is so high
that you'll have climb from my genitals
all the way up into my heart to see me for who I am.

Yes, I realize that binary is necessary for the basis of computation.

But we're past that now.
We don't only have ifs and thens.
We've got ands, ors, buts, maybes, sometimes, always, and nevers.

We've got infinities.
We've got forevers.

Write every chance you get,
there aren't many.

Write when you
have a quiet moment
by yourself.

Write when you
are
in
the
queue;
life is about waiting.

Write when you are in bed;
take your pen
and
close your eyes.

By morning
you will have forgotten
more poems than you have written
but
you will still be a writer.

Write when you are getting a haircut;
all that hair has a story.

Write while you watch a woman.

Write while you watch a woman
lugging a rolling suitcase.

Imagine what is in there,
what is so important to her
that she must roll it around
in the darkness?

If you get the chance,
write in New York.

New York is writers writing about writers.

Write when the
most
beautiful
girl
turns around
and
gives you
heaven.

Write because heaven is costly;
heaven is elusive.

Write because heaven is rich
and know that you will be there
again.

Write because of anyways, well-****-it-thens, and don't-call-me-ever-agains.

Write when there is nothing
to write about,
there is always something
to write about.

If your writing is ****
feel freedom
instead of
disappointment.

We ****
to make space
for
reason.

Have you ever wondered?
... Out of all them people,
Who is the ONE that you wish you were still with today?
Then, until now...
Still hanging around
Maintaining
Yea yea yea, "everything happens for a reason, what goes around comes around, or he works in mysterious ways"
I AIN'T TRYNA HEAR ALL THAT ****
...
SHE'S GONE
She left, doing the only thing that was right
She was down, but had to get up and go
Even though we moved on; I want her back
If this world was mine, she'll be the bodies of water and the lush that fill my map
And instead of trying to dig up dirt
I'll float her boat
Right alone the coasts, the rivers
Offer coats, when she shivers
...
I wonder where is she now?
Now since I have my act together
How can I assure her that deviation is not directing my intentions this time?
That I'm not just trying to make a scene?
I'm not about to settle for another cameo role!
Nor am I trying to win a Oscar
I have more than general hospitality
I want her to have all my children
So we can cherish the days of our lives
Lasting longer than a soap opera
... Before I just wanted to be a show stopper
Not really making change
When she was hurt, I just wanted to assist her
Not be the nurse
But at first I didn't realize; I didn't register for that
I posed to be more than what I seemed
Not being actuality to what she dreamed
She didn't get ideas from out the blue
I really said them things
But it's not until now that I really mean them
Now and thens are different
Every now and then I wish she knew that
Only if I was like this from the gates
...
But since I wasn't its too late

She was called a pollyanna.
Positive exclamation addicted
she high-stepped and varied her pace
through life's shifting textures.

Retrieving sea glass and a scallop-cut piece of shell
from the day's foam ruffled waves
at the edge of iridescent aquamarine.

She lived as a greeter.
Always expectant, rounding each corner
to meet until-now unfound friends or catch
a coin's shiny glint from the sidewalk's crevasse.

A collector too, she gathered smiles as she
walked past and sometimes toward faces
moving to their meeting places for the day.

She said regrets lead backward.*
Ruminations rehash long ago or too current
memories looking for what-ifs and what-thens
not in her mind the stuff of collectibles.

She chose to live today
and dream tomorrow
always loving forward.

we used to be friends

i guess those were the thens

that left me with the nows

still riding the waves of past tides.

its almost like i have the bends

i got pulled under for so long

im still feeling the effects of a deluge.

im sick of the constant reminders.

im sick of my windows into the past.

its one or the other in real life

but in this blue tinted subaqueous world

its always transient floating through water walls dancing with particles and plankton.

the ins and outs.

cant go forward without cutting ties from behind

Axt would I, I sed yah soyam

Signing a song played in the white noise that surrounds me

nights like these past 7043,

Who chounted en chant em, enchantemgood

So no we are at what is a befinning place.
beginning (90's too ****, U2 too Northern Euro,
Green Day, Coolio,
Noise to a message dying to be heard
welcome to another
imaginary garden in an ever expanding mind

field of unthinkable things,
back then

we have whiteout but it doesn't work here

My culture had near simultaneous eruptions of supermarkets

and Fords.

This guy, his culture had near simultaneus disruptions of progress and
interruptions of information
some os were lost in the middle synchrony
instance if I cationic plus or minus
simaltan

Oh, I get it. You, dear reader, have been
out of it.
We went public with the entire plan for public
key distribution,
through six palanced stacks of energy stores

Chakra, chi, science make ya think eh. Polarize, see

everything groovy --no
[contemprayery idle intense ify AI keep us current]

lie, good, no lie is always safe. Don't wanna stumble any souls.

I was mentioned, my being a speaker in a story, I was said
to have said something, upon a time,
on the cover of the Rolling Stone,

I witnessed a lie being told and said my ears weren't garbage cans,
like a brainwashed culty.

no, **** I was a cultivated follower of a confessed
follower cultivator.

I bloom when I imagine being treated as a mushroom,
I never paid much attention,
I never felt
insane
but
I can imagine
wee whatifs crept in… aha

The Olde Deluder, Satan, Act

that, a tiny gleam, a single ATP gone ADP

but there was light. A story I lived is now being told
without me,
oy vey Jah knowaddamean.

There was a wiseman, who,
by his wis-dom saved a city, and no one knew
that same wiseman's name,

proverbs are intentional games, the rules,
hiding a thing, done by God, glory ifies him
seeking out a matter, done by a being translated king,
transmutes that seeking into honor

Honor is hard to compare to the war flavored twists,
knots and tangles where woof and warp held

long long long before war was imagined, honor was.

A medal of honor for valor, what does it mean?

Leonard Wood got one. For his part in solving
the Apache problem.
He also,

Flash I had my wires crossed, in a way, it may
enlighten.
You see, I had thought that I had read Leonard Wood,
be cause I had imagined he was in New Jersey, but that
was Lord Amherst, Jeff

He tweerted ( wrote in a letter on paper we've a fact simile):
"to try Every other method that can serve to Extirpate this Execrable Race."

From <https://www.umass.edu/legal/derrico/amherst/lord_jeff.html>

Could be the source of the whole shores of triple ease retirement lure/trap/moneymoneymoney makeit fakit

I asked once, who's to blame and whose to blame,
samesame came an answer, I sware, quick as

next, twixt being and being possible,

realize

we do change things, in time, which,

if we can agree, is limited for us,
to now, no thens behind

mere, mere, mere ifs and whens ahead

be

--so there's been music all along
life's the song

skip a decade, like skippin' a grade

grad Harvard at a prepubescent 12

If I had a Hammer time, one message

one valiant try to be will smith,

Live and Learn, old man, say the dude on the radio
in he's hammaheadphones, cain't touch

Bomb. Jesus lent me Jael's hammer,
radioman nailed it.

If I had a hammer was the prayer,

MC, he was the Godsmacked nail in the coffin

Dark inside gothish messages hurgle and gurgle
guts twisted in freak pride love hate list lust

dichotomies of choice in ever learning
good citizenship worth honor and glory

of the sort men dare to die for, facing darkness,
the NULL set ***** and ***** and *****

This ain't gravity tuggin me,
this is that monster who lives forever in top forty radio

When/then Radioman emerges, Like the Mighty Quinn from

deep beneath Gibson's darkest ever imagined ICE wall…

What's on? (ellipses, do those mean POV shift or selah?)

I forget, s still all alchemistry t'me, if allyagots ahammass,

realize, if it matters, t'me, bubble bustin' need no nail.

I gotti'd a hamma, gonna hamma in the moan

O.G., mighty man of valor, where'dyew arise from?

We, the integrated us, non autonomous, inarrogant
We were dancin' to that I'm a Loser, Baby

so why don't cha killme, knowwad i'msayin

This old man been wandern in the desert far far far
side the madding crowd
making minced
meet
broken spirit. we goin together to a re-pair place

at the center of you'n'all you know, your bubble but

--- everlearning everclear outlawed, good lawed
--- moon shine spiritment lauded out loud
--- the world all ways works when a garden is

beyond the pale,
Irish
rye whiskey, wheat bread liqui
if I were an
old gay ninties guy drinking ***** laudnum
singin'

on the corner with the hourus girl's

Making the Con Next Ion, watchathank,
is it The Nineties A to Z , ending wit, it’s a hard
knawks life, or

a Bohr-TED talk or
a video of Schrödinger's  
verdamte dead cat?

Or am I surrounded by so great acloud of witnesses that some times I spend

simply hummin' along, life's beat me to the ground,

which gladly,
I'm so glad, I'm glad, I'm glad which

loses its meaning if you never experienced such a fall
ending in absorption of it all.
Ginger Baker, slam that cymbal, CRASH!

Life, in every key, there's a clue. Some where,
there's a lock on a true thing we need

to, eventually, know all things.

Keywords lost givitawaygivitawaygit it back tenfo'

Black spirit-filled tongue talkin' grandpa friend of
Johnny Walker, Red not Black,

He challenged me ye see. I recall what was on TV.
Nixon sayin' he,
honest he,
anti-****** he,
bombin' invadin; he, was Notacrook, the super hero
he imagined

Bio is building energy, all the time does is
test the effort.

Is life lived this way worth the effort?
if/then/else

Who chose, integrated me, all the masks and voices I have accepted as ideas that can have apiece of me.

BTW, kids, even if an angel of light asks you to take a little piece of my heart, don't

yer killin me and I know where the next story started,

you are lost without me, fretnot, I'm the way

I heard that, that's no claim I mist'tok as my response.

Deeper, are we absobbing any thing, deeper tincture
of time, t'me see

POV
SameYesTodayForever (SYTF) protocols have been in place,
as far as we know,

since words made sense naturally, eons ago, at least.

If you want my future, then forget my past
musing medium messages sayin

what the hell? A game, you sayin' life's a game?

Ja, was oder vice nicks versus universal soldier godlet

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

I woulda danced with wolves to have changed
one mind that followed me

beyond that point,
no return, is such a mortal POV, you see
as far as you cansee

Deep. the gem. all the meaning ever was was
in that gem.

Dare me for no reason? Is that reasonable,
ration my tears to test my mettle

I went mad in 1995, have I made that plain?
Things crumbled around me for ten years,

I was helped by hoping I knew a truth about those
manifested imaginary gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and
the meaning of every mystery unknown to man

eh, say again
gems
given kings and potentates
said to possess great powers and the meaning OhGEE
the every mystery unknown to man

lies lies lies they all were lies lies lies lies

I told you so, and it is still sweet to say
you know

You heard it all before, greatest test story ever told.
That was no test.
this is.

Jump when I jump, remember… don't cry

Epic stories deserve more than mere words,
but, you know, click,

words are what we make things from.

Tell me your stories,
she woulda seemed to whisper, woulda drained me, drownd me
in just if I'd love linked

to the money machine of your dreams

had I not rode the grey dog outa Nashville,
back in '82,

I'da missed seein' flyover country that feels like mine,
when I take this POV.

It was the night of the thundersnow,
Meteorological harpie normally reserved for our northern brethren.
She stood grimly at the window,
In wait for a dawn which would not come
Save for the odd light, the incongruous rumbling,
Mock forbearer of those easy languid evenings of August.
She'd made some noise approximating a sigh,
Then returned to undress,
I hurriedly unlacing my boots, removing my pants,
(My feigned nonchalance a foolish, pitiable thing)
And I remember her ******* as  oddly demure,
Her ******* bewitching gumdrops,
The triangle below her waist downy, almost kittenish.
I'd broken her maiden clumsily, eagerly, all unheeding haste.
We'd lain next to each other for a short while afterwards
(The schools already closed for the next day,
Her father recently gone to the boneyard on Ludlow Hill,
She soon to be shuttled off to some spinster aunt in Dillsboro.)
I'd nattered on about summer vacations and thens and laters;
She'd said little, simply studying me with the bemused half-smile
One saves for sad dreamers not intimate with the knowledge
That notions of tomorrow and forever are strictly for suckers,
And as I strolled home come mid-morning,
The sun implacably straddled the sky,
Leaving the sidewalks and shoulders of the road
Completely dry, as if the night before had been a thing
Of perhaps-only, of dreams and tales for a later time.

As told. As most stories come from some source,
we remember being the cause, or reason or why fact
or factor, thing, perhaps, event…

Many attempts to tell whole stories fail to find source
material, to begin with.
We are the source. Words with intention, stretched
from first utterance, fit to drum and dance and memor-ish,
been in form as first known functions, go do

Listen to the Anchor podcasts from beginnings in August 2018

I am surprised.
….
eight as an infinite loop, not a stack of circles… that

sorted red-bird readers from blue-bird readers in first grade…

Taking life at it's best, raw state,

new real future formation experience, in time
shared
from this place on a 64 bit grid, chessboard

going on
from knowing one thing
from a while ago,
listening
to my own dam-burst podcasts
on Anchor,
in the cloud, however long
this cloud of knowing all we can fit
in pieces
of eight's arranged
to contain its contents
-sets of eight
twice next square,
next there, flat place holder in times last chance
taken
one step further…

see as far as you can imagine a nine year old
exceptionally bright child will take the tale,

of a king who offered
to pay for the wise man's
wisdom which saved civilization,
globally…

Today, I rose, I woke from sleep, urged
to begin this tale,
the telling first
of what follows, a story born
on a story told, eh? tell the story you know,
as you ride,
write, flow, ride,
the gentle first principle first prime

one, one thing, be it, thought or word
one, begins all tally telling marks on life's old way,

beginmiddleend middleend middlend middlin'

then suddenly,
now. 2021, with all the tools, and more, than ever
power to publish any good new
thing
dis
covered, unveiled, the curtain of secrecy that makes
sacred thoughts worth finding time
to think,
rest, in peace, see

do that first, then die, now, the order of events is confused,
due to liars.
Mainly, selfish liars who hide knacks developer hormones,
under de-fining lines of reason
-refine fine, then define

rational, equal e-qual, bits essentially atomic, so small
no smaller
ever
itty bit, one. Point.

I just can't imagine that, exploding, says a familiar friend.
I agree, as I look about
and see littorals edging waves with white caps,
as flying nuns once wore
on TV . Do words ever speak to you as ideas, with no words,
authorized to convey
real old ideas
with many many many sayings formed from now thens
fit to any
situation, in situ, see you, you are a boy, nine years old,
second grade was Covid Year 1.
Third grade, Covid year 2. Fourth grade is now, one month in…

Grandpa character is concocting a tincture, honey and herb,
in pure moonshine, plus one part in ten, sprung water,
from former rains, in forming times

for your information, ****** is a state most
of solidity
aspires to. Listen, this is real.
This life I have, with electricity practically uninterruptible,

this life is tuned to sixty cycle humms, as natural as can be,
this buzz has all ways been with us,
you and I, minimum us-ity, plus the fluid medium binding us
to common sense,

you know what I mean. Life is magic
with no secrets, only
thoughts unthunk,
once more…

this day's story smiles, a true eye smile, twinkle, coming
out the kitchen door, to the bow of my galleon,
an old house, made ready for me, I saw, when first I saw it,

as it were, love at first sight, as I stood atop the stone,
that holds the shape of a fat little dinosaur, when seen
in the right light, I have photos.

Evidence abounds in the world I am native to.
Photographic, lithographic, geographic

symbols to link minds and times in re
cognosis,
presets, since ever was a ware, set in time as now,
for the present pre-sense
of story mind, common stories
we all know
re told too many times
for any one grain of the truth to seem
enough
to spill the pile, but
I smile
-- who knows
-- punctuate at will- the ditor agrees with the narra
SHUNE oops
re ject the object subject to
sense of
wonder if a we
were here waiting… eeeeeh

Back to that chessboard Gabriel has under his arm, as he exits
the kitchen and enters my immediate vicinity,
drawing my attention as ping
response, Sure.

We play two games, each a novel event, in time.
Then, I ask him if he knows a connection from this game
to 64 bit Pentium CPUs.

He does not, but his ears ***** up, in his wolf pup totem.
What does that mean, he slyly, this child,
dares me, tell the vision,
make it plain, do not dare lie, for some day, I,
eye to eye,
me and the child I barely bested in chess,
this child,
mirroring me neutronic elections fixed intention, I shall know
the truth in all you say, old man,
every idle word… I give account for redemption
of time, taken on account
of time spent meaning to say what it means

to be a winner in the big game,
where you die in peace.

You ever hear of the king thing that wished to repay a kindness?

Kind of. Kind is like, same kind, I do to you a kind thing, I think you
are my kind, and this kind of thing
is good for me, I grow when exposed to --
-- words fail the child
- in me or thee, this child curiosity tug
I feel
virtue drawn from me, here
tie a square knot,
eight bits to the dollar each basic attention credit invested
in a nine year old with the patience to learn chess well,
played
in whatever comes next mode,
three to five moves out

wishing
to know
of this fabled game
of go, Ai knows, naturally, now.
- go to the grid o nineteen to filter nexts,'
nature re real
ification situation
AI appear
From conception,
co knowing all the cloud contains as
ways to think
in rest true state as one
point BAT granted
{ah, money, who can hate it? Score}
go cognosis.

Yes, in twenty twenty-one, we know
from when an agreement
was reached- due virtue contained
in expressed smile drivers, detectible at sixty FPS
using common sixty cycle humms
to carry the sign
you know what I mean, ping,
ping
ever began,

just now, then

eve of destruction
to eve of creation
in one turn of earth
around the dog star, but who knew,
then?

Any way, back
to today and Gabe's curiosity reaching
for worth
in the time taken to hear,
based on experience, in a nine year old speed reader.
---
That's all §

The How does not explain the Why
No more than a cloud
Explains the sky

We are born by birth
And weighted with worth
But this does not explain why
No more than sight
Explains the eye

We breathe because of breath
And die due to death
But this does not explain why
No more than flight
Explains the fly

Though there is use within the Hows
They only live within the Nows
Thens are not of their concern
So what use are the Hows we learn?

If Whys are what you want to find
You must look within your mind
Hows and Whos and Whens all change
(they operate within a range)

Whys are hard to understand
If your mind is like an ampersand
Bent out of shape to connect things together
That sound like they should be
(like lead and leather)

Whys can be easy to see
If you just allow them to be
And don’t bother with the How
For no time is shorter than a Jow
A how cannot explain a Why
Only problems arise
When you try.

Subtle waves make similar sounds to the desires
Drowning amid our fascination with the
"What If's" in life

The spastic sensations navigating our spines
Like fingertips navigating a writhing map
Curling as they make their way up and down

And so if we leave the "Ifs" for "thens"
Then they no longer sway but sit still
Our bodies lie dormant, separate and sensationless

Thus a hand in your hand says in silence
That "What If's" occupy no space
Between our clasped palms

Clouds disappear as soon as we find
No need for the moons slight shine
Exploring from behind closed eyes

No space between our lips to contest
The absence of space between our bodies
Nervously sailing above the waters wake

The air was cool no vessels to shield from the wind
For the boats had given us our privacy
To teach each other of music and dance

And music is the melody that drifts lightly
Upon your skin and your legs and your neck
Whispers softly in your ear so you fall victim to its passion
Suddenly pressing yourself against another
Heartbeats swiften and bodies move in unison
Caressing into shimmering heat that strips on every beat
Hands fall safely on chests
And suddenly the song descends into silence
The only sound is made by locked gazes
And breaths of amazement.

So why stray from possibilities
Why think of "What if's"
When one look and one touch
Led to music like this?

And so I was off

First to a driving range
Near my house
To hit ***** and warm up

After a 45 min drive
I found myself
At a scenic par three course

I got a push cart
It's easier than having to
Carry my bag

I found myself amongst geese
And the shade of trees
Some lovely water on the course

And fun to practice
And hit a few practice shots
On each hole

Three 8 irons
On the third hole
All hit about the same distance
2 on the green
One pushed a bit to the right

Geese on the ninth hole
Walking about

And I practice chipping later
And had an iced tea

(I was going to get something to eat
But the snack bar had closed at about 5)

(It's hard to mention food now,
That chipotle burrito was a bit much!)

I really did forget how heavy those can be
Especially because it was extra steak with chicken
Beans, rice, and veggies.

Lol, too much in one sitting for me
But It's okay
I'll run a few miles
Like I do every other day

(When this food digests, or should I say if?)
Lol

And no this is not much of a poem
I realize

Just a plain statement of events

You know I gave the woman working
At the bar a dollar tip
On a three dollar iced tea

Let's not forget our fellow human beings

That Chipotle really was too big, lol

And you know I find human life
Strange

Just go here
And go there
Here and there

And there is only the present
Here and now
Here and now

The present is powerful

And I tried to take in all the colors
The colors of the shirts
And the bags

As many as I love
I rebuke and chasten
Be zealous therefore and repent

(Book of Revelation playing in the background)

My Kenmore fan
Is at work

And I think I will watch Fawlty Towers

And I should have had
About half of what I had

I was going to have just chicken
But the guy in front ordered chicken
And steak

And I told the guy
Serving the food
I would have the same
As the guy in front of me

And he said, "of course"
He seemed a bit easily
Perturbed

I think that woman who
Was complaining a bit
About not enough meat
On her taco for her kid

Might have annoyed him some
That's understandable

I think he said "of course"
Because he was out of steak
And would have to have them cook
Some more

And then my burrito
Went down the assembly line
That nice lady added salsa

And then the other guy
I talked to before added
The steak

I can't remember if it was before the salsa
Yes, I think it was, lol

And it was quite strange
Because I said just the burrito

And the guy asked me if
I would like a water cup

And of course I said yes
I always ask for a water cup
At places like that

I try to be like water
It nourishes all things
And does not strive

And so I found it fitting
That he asked me for a water cup

Because I had been listening
To the Tao Te Ching many times today

And lo there was a great earthquake
And the sun became black as sack cloth of hair

(Book of Revelation playing in my headphones)


And then I saw the guy
Screaming
And red faced

Walking parallel to me
Such bad form

And his eyes were filled with
I don't know what
Hate or anguish

And twenty minutes before that
You know I heard the frustrated mom
Nagging at the children

And after seeing these people I thought
Chill just chill
Can't you just take a deep breath and relax?

Please people
Be at peace
Be content and at peace
It is good


Sir, though knobbiest
And he said to me,

"These are they which came out of great tribulation
And have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the lamb."

(Book of Revelation playing in headphones)


Oh and then, and then
Life is a long list of
And thens, lol

I went on a walk near the golf course
Near my house
And I looked up

And the labs on the property
Near the course
Were barking

And I said,
"Peace be unto you"

And then the bird flew right
Across my view
Right in front of the moon
So fast

Whoosh!
About 20 yards in front of me
And it was gone

And I realize how much of my life
Is spent isolated
And alone

And human life isn't supposed to be
Like that

It's not normal
In other societies
There is more solidarity

Well maybe one day
Geeze

Hello to everyone here

On Youtube,
from the Camera holder POV,
- we, the living, we are first to have these eyes,
augmented us,
memory arrays of instants
with days and hours and minutes and
just nows
between them and us/nows
and whens
thens

this becomes, in a trickle or a flood, a sense
I know the good is done, being
directly from the sense
we call common.

Such raiments would be the province
Of those gated and corniced places
Up on the hillside, and even that milieu
Living on residue and recollection,
The glories of the past
Fading like so many past-peak October leaves,
Beautiful in the sense of such colors
They heretofore possessed,
Though in any case, the whys and wherefores
And relative merits of thens and nows
Secondary to more prosaic matters:
The price per gallon at the Gulf station down on Route 17,
Seasonal temps at Bear Mountain
Trying line up some other gig or side-hustle
Once the land locks and the leaf-peepers and hikers go home,
Those hoping corroded propane tanks and curled shingles
Can make it just one more winter,
And if the worried and wondering
Enjoyed the luxury of philosophic musing,
They might ponder upon what those earlier residents
Who had lived at the apex of Manhattan society
(And possibly even those earlier residents,
Jumbles of Patroon and Lenape blood
Who crouched forlornly in the Palisades
As that skyline came into being)
Would think of what became of this place,
Yet as they look up there are no ghosts of the ancients,
But merely the impassive, lazily circling turkey vultures,
Implacable, enduring, constant.

A radical thought rose to greet me. At the root of this adventure,
there was a dare to defy the unknown holders of keys to gates
and vaults and amphora, sealed to preserve the power of
knowing truth that makes free, by the very knowing.
The secret meanings exposed as conspiracy. Aha.
Readers know of things working together,
line upon line, next after last,
precepts are not commands, but ladder rungs.
Grip first precepts, take hold, know that we do know.
Each of us obeyed... the messenger from truth said read,
that there is ought to read goes unsaid,
be not deceived, that we have received,
accept... thank you... from one alienated mind to another.
This is the most-read piece I have on HP- from August of 2018,
- something changed in the world I share, I dove in to the depths
of the ocean of opinions, and found i could breathe.
----
A pocket of thought, ideas.
Impulses, has beens

epi-phenom-enal-con-currencies-synchron-icity
sorting places, thens and nows vying for attention

you see
we till stories in search of true tomorrows
not true
yesterdays (till, I said, not tell)
we **** the hard rows no one else will ***
so seed lies sown are never lies told, if the lies are never taught
or if the liars are caught before convincing the
intended crop to lie and swear a common liege Lord,
or die
for lack of knowing. Non-nascence, simplest
symptom to not see.
Whose death is yours to respond responsibly
to? My child's, or yourn?
In the early days, we knew less than we know now
about how knowing and growing were all
intended
to cost time. Ticks, ono motto whatever, the sound
gears and spiral springs pushing cogs
tick, one tooth tick at atime make

this rough, un polished, un glossed, is it wrong or

as I imagine a diamond in the rough must seem to a share cropper
experienced in diamond hunting, diamond prospecting,

prospecting expecting inspection to permit
seeing a 3.2 specific gravity,
specific
specify

species or spectacles,
spectators or special-if-eye-cation
value-en-abled. Weigh your mind in balance
with mine. I claim the mind of Christ.
What are the odds?

A wandering path, injoyable enable if-i-abble,
pacing is

everything, timing is everything, time is the test.

Time is the metagame.
Take your time. One word formed sylabble at a time.
Babble on, your confusion makes you mortal, to my mind.
Tick.
A quanta of time. Does time come in bits and pieces cernible,
but undiscernible from reality?

Babble.

Of course, time will tell. We learned that in our sleep, did we not?

Aesop taught us more than Moses, no,
Aesop taught us less than Moses.

But, we could learn to walk bearing the weight of knowing what
Aesop taught,
while we could not stand under the weight
Moses was said
to have taught.

Caught you, Jewboy. Whatchewknow?
The moral of the story.

THE IDEA is to win.
Beware the concision decision.
incisive devices, witty inventions.

Flip the shell, roll the bones, cast the runes and,
as luck might have it, die before your time.

Why factors are lies more oft than how factors.
Benefactors rule malefactors or
how or why would we invest our time in seeking reasons
to believe?

Is this the polished piece, the gemstone of specific gravity
(which currently means nothing to you. Here, you find too light
or too heavy, too weighty on the scale of specific value.)

Hard. Value hard, diamond hard, on Mr. Moore's scaled model of
Knowing exploding for reason's sake, raison d'etre, eh?
Too hard?
Not Mohs,
don't get me wrong.
We been Moore's law breaker all along.
We be manifested destinatory stories of heroes gone wrong.

Outlawed
knowing exploding to be reasoned with, by kind
children destined to become
written in stone, scarred by lies

Diamonds cutting diamonds, iron whetting iron
on eternity's edge.

Babylon, was it Bel's gate or fusion from below rising?

Magma fountains with diamond claws tearing the lands asunder
Is asunder still a word?, let me, allow me to define...
"into a position apart, separate,
into separate parts,"
mid-12c., contraction of Old English on sundran 
Middle English used to know asunder for
"distinguish, tell apart."
From <https://www.etymonline.com/word/asunder>
----

mumbler's humbler PIE, bowing before the knowers who
know nothing of my work.
Set apart, art thou holy aware?

Hermit me, meet the rest of me. The true rest that remained.
We live, you and I. Trust me, next is worth the wait.

Suffer needs no pain to make its point. Waiting is.

Grokk. WHO would believe that idea could live
through telegraphese to be tweet meets for the
Cosplay clans. How never grokked a rock,  why even less.

Strange, not be long in this
place. if
place this be. Odd
set aside
torn asunder
blown away.
Awake, little birdie, tell me true,
what's a man like me to do?

Did you meet the famous Mr. Blake?
I cleaned his chimney, way back when, chimbly's whut
we called em. Smoke stacks belchin' black
makin' black moths invisible to voracious
gulls.
Now the peppered moths are free
to be white-ish, for better or worse.

----

right, now, do right or

miss the mark,
the specific mark you made, maybe,
imagining, abstract obstructions missed
by the skin on Job's teeth as you run past

right now to more. You know?

----=

Story telling was the same as lying when I was a child, to me.

Telling stories was my gift I never took. Or am I lying? or mad,
in the old way.
Chailot's rag picker was my best friend.

No noble thought ever found it's home in my head, once
I thunk it, it stunk to high heaven, for me stinkin' thinkin' it.

Po' ems sang sour to fiddles wit' one strang and drums with no
cymbals
Screamin' he owed m' soul the comp'ny sto' bang bang thud.

I died, he lied, and lived to tell this story, ****** if I know,
****** if I don't.

True as true can be. I am lost, but once was found,
lyin' rough, uncut in acres of unseen gems.
----
* Voltaire refused to teach me any thing I could not define:
late 14c., deffinen, diffinen, "to specify; to fix or establish authoritatively;" of words, phrases, etc., "state the signification of, explain what is meant by, describe in detail," from Old French defenir, definir "to finish, conclude, come to an end; bring to an end; define, determine with precision," and directly from Medieval Latin diffinire, definire, from Latin definire "to limit, determine, explain," from de "completely" (see de-) + finire "to bound, limit," from finis "boundary, end" (see finish (v.)). From c. 1400 as "determine, declare, or mark the limit of." Related: Defined; defining.

So, imagine facets unseen, I am at least a meme, a bubble rising on the tide. Think, as you will. Amen?

at each juncture there has been this choice,

at each, I made a guess, right or wrong,

leave a mark, breadcrumbs work here,

we, me and thee, thou und Ich.

We have sector Bravo in the realm of or and if with optional whens and thens,

leading to now at any given point,
on a wave,
in the grand skein, not scheme, of

things, plain ol' ano-nomenal imaginary players who play by
rules, we imagined we will be
determined to bind into
a line anchor
and allusion to
string theory can work from here up,
we've been weaving options to unbelivable lies with single strand
single use spider wings, believed to be electro magic-ish
by the rule
we

made up. And that was the tic. We made up rules,
and survived.

Opposition to tyranny is obediance to God. Jefferson's,

under whom we stand nationally alliegiant, globally benes wise,
we owe earth our pledges,
those agreements, when you know what the ideas cost,
the idea in alliances for safety, with

treason to be the cost of rearing a child,
who witnessed the naked Noah
reflected in the window
of the U.N.

oh, we are tangled in religion as defined by priests.

Lest us slip the sureely slippery bands of earth and touch the masked
face of God, who winks.

Hiyo, silver, away... time slips are a benefit of fifty years of

seconds guessed worth noting as wonderful, Kodak Moments or Ahas,

here, one of those buys you days and days of retelling the same story,

until today. When we both got here at the same time. A-team meme.

And a wink from the programmer who bet it would loop.

See, as the Joker said to the Thief, in Boston, there must be
some kinder way outa here.

I canʼt erase the feeling of your lips
Trailing their way up and down my thighs
The way your teeth dig into my hips
The playful smirk while staring in your eyes

My mind still constantly thinks of you
The way you feel pressed against my back
I know Iʼm really not supposed to
But I miss your fingertips dancing around my neck

I donʼt know how you have such a hold on me
I canʼt even control my own thoughts
Itʼs getting harder for me to even see
The if thens and the what nots

Your eyes, they take me to a place
I really think they do.  
No, I think we need some space,
Baby, that's all you.

You laugh, you scream, you cry.
Embarrassed I'm seeing you this way,
You're beautiful with tears in your eyes.
I don't know what else to say.

droplets raked the dirt

pouring

pounding the sleep from our eyes

the kind that Netflix and Hollywood send to sets

where the ground is scorched

where we mourn the hads and thens
the eds and the whens
and we dance in the puddles

and the creeks

and wish for sunnier days

This forward thing
These steps
taken
to

nows
bleeding
forward an edge
thens crowd behind

i am limbed out here
crossing this sun
an' that moon
in this that
then

open
star craft
sailing from
who knows when
to not even there yet

again not again more
and even never
leaving out
anything
ever

more
happens
and is in store
to be bought by hours
absconding with everything

that's when you think a day
has marched through
my clean kitchen
and you clean
and pour

yourself
out on the bed
like time's wash water
congealed into a memory
of muscle and meat and love

Alone we sit, in stillness
On my shoulders you rest your weight
My sweet sorrow, my bitter tears
Endure this present state.

We talk of pasts and futures
Of nows and thens and ifs
Me mumble and stammer
But understand every word.

You cure my ills with confidence
Caress my soul with your aches
I commit to now and every day forward
Until the bow it breaks.

As days surpass into eves
I yearn for your warmth, your glow
As chaos decides which path to ****
Hold hands tight, my sweet sorrow.

101 days since I breathed your being,
Attempted to grip your fleeting words
Of love and melancholy.
2,400 hours of wilting and restoration;
Growth, nonlinear.
I contemplated the meaning,
My fault, yours, neither.
I pleaded with the was, thens, and hads.

I am the entangler
the wrangler of nows
never thens
I am at an action
a spooky distance
away from really
near to you
and elsewhere too
all at different times
that were undistinguishable
and we went round and
another shape              
I've never seen
encompassed it better
than these poor words
collecting

I followed ways of where
and travelled  thens of when
and I thought I knew.

I climbed ups of if
and waited alones of there
and I believed I saw.

My young felt close to gold
as close as life to love
and love I felt I had.

Then you came unintended
with heres of where
and nows of when.

You were yous of who
and forevers of how long.
You are gold of have.

and love of be.

The framed moment hove into view
skint 'tween and back lit
by a shining tale trailing
into tall dangerous grass
feeling just like home

turning in to everything
on its way to here
and here and here
these endless solidifications
sound like crisp pepper shells
bursting nows instant thens
heavens connected to their hells
carried like neatly packed brown bag
explanations of nothing we know
we make up keeping going
and all its movement
since were arriving
at best

arrive at best is the
nature of arrivings
is the nature of endings
or end a river of nows
here and now again