Wal, Thanksgivin’ do be comin’ round.
With the price of turkeys on the bound,
And coal, by gum! Thet were just found,
Is surely gettin’ cheaper.

The winds will soon begin to howl,
And winter, in its yearly growl,
Across the medders begin to prowl,
And Jack Frost gettin’ deeper.

By shucks! It seems to me,
That you I orter be
Thankful, that our Ted could see
A way to operate it.

I sez to Mandy, sure, sez I,
I’ll bet thet air patch o’ rye
Thet he’ll squash ’em by-and-by,
And he did, by cricket!

No use talkin’, he’s the man—
One of the best thet ever ran,
Fer didn’t I turn Republican
One o’ the fust?

I ‘lowed as how he’d beat the rest,
But old Si Perkins, he hemmed and guessed,
And sed as how it wuzn’t best
To meddle with the trust.

Taken, gotten, or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything…

slow
Slow think,
make real

re-al-ize
what fighting for life is…
this is the only
try,
it is not a test.

Take your time, use it wisely,
if that means anything.
Wise, I meant.
No offence, if wise is anathema to your kind,
die,
die if I knocked the reason for being right
outa you,
did you hear cognitive dissonance?
did it sound like
this. LOUD?
listen,
rolling rolling rolling
crash crumble rolled in nurse rime frosted
fables of monsters and maids
Thor, witharoar likka Lion King?

or the light brigade,
CHARGE?

thunder words from lost generations of
reasonless riddles for children,

Why did Peter Pumpkin-eater have a wife, but
couldn't keep her here?
Was that okeh? Oh, wait.
Ah, I see, I say,
they never tell that whole story any more.

Know why? They forgot it. In the war.

Duck'n'cover,no
crying, how long?
When begins forever? Did no one tell you, child?

Taken or made, the point of anything
can pierce through everything
like it was nothing, given
enough pre-sure-sup
poser-power

War, as a game, has a reason.

Battle, hitting, slapping

stop touch, stop now slap
slap back

or cry
oh no no ma

waddayahsay?  A theist or atheist
who started this war?

space case, or
lover of wisdom, met on the road
to Emmaus, discussing Wiles's proof
firming Fermi's connection to the matter of fear,
3, 2, 1

Kaboom, but with a whump you feel in your teeth

1, 2, 3 Fermat's last theorem ,
easy as pi an no re me

ABC to
Michael Jackson to
Howard Bloom because he

inadvertently, began
an-ionic converstatic re-vibe time warp
meme,
which vibe, started the legendary Sixties. I was alive.
Radioman,
a sixty cycle white-noise humm heard every where these days

There was a gospel song, "Turn Your Radio On".
my theme, open the window in the top of your head,
as it were,
a new,
as new as

a novel-state of water, H three Ohs, re-al-ity ification,
Ah, a shared Oh, I remember now, how this works…

like a poem

at the edge of a water vapor bubble in a boiling body of water,
at the edge of the bubble, water becomes a wall of water,
not vapor, not flowing liquid,

but a wall, insulating the vapor in pressing opposing force
to permit, from permission,
meaning with a message same as the message,

is that the right word? per-mission-grant, is power given,
agency,
that idea….
wait for the sign….?

By sharing an ion ic bond as a quest to make a point
for a free story to go,
the question marks you. Let the snake dance.

Press your point,

whetted edge,

slice through ties holding worthless axioms
with withered dendrites dangling disconnected
in participles
unfired for centuries muttering,
enchanting, enthralling enchained melodies
of ambitious syllables vying for idle minds
to rope in,
unbranded, wild
bucking ideas,
whip-twig, slap-face,
tanglewood  thicket, catclaw and mesquite,
willow,

wait.
And the old man remembered the willow whistle,
so He asked Grandfather,
How is such a whistle made?
And when he knew,
he made one.

A willow whistle with two notes,
like an Oscar Meir Wiener one.

-- and that was a different time
I got lost here, bucked up…
maybe
--- listen, way back--- we-ain't whistlin' Dixie---
we ain't marchin', as t' war.

D'thet mean some sign to pro-phet -ic take?
Tophet?
Ancient cannon fodder shield walls,
a moaning
Pro-phy-lactic warning of the danger of not
knowing exactly
what a war is for?

Get back on,
relieved of any idle baggage words believed
to mean other than I say.

Nullify
Idle words with cultural meanings from
what you thought you knew when you feared hell.

Loose
those peer-locked memes
made of meaninglessness, per se,

shaped and molded into fashions
of expression, once needles and awls,
now, dull as tinker's damns for swearing,
with any effect.

But tools, none the less, a stitch in time took a tool.
An awl or a needle, and a thread, thick or thin,
dependin' on the mendin' needed
to redeem an idle word,
its meaning all bloodied with the tyranny of time.

An awl or a needle,
a tool for a task, mending a tear
where curses, never meant, spent
the entire dark ages, lying, lying, lying

powerless, pointless aimless, proverbial proverbial proverbial
verbiage, vaneless shafts launched at unseen marks,
signs, as it were, a spark,
triggers,
rumored since the sixties,
the first sixties, when Cain killed Able.
Howard Bloom was but a mere gleam
in our mito-mother's eye,
but, no doubt,

his role is real,
in loosing the forces Ferlinghetti locked in
City Lights mystery of secret meanings room,
which un
mystified and blew away upon opening
the door to
meanings mapped on
scrolls rolling and unrolling
idle ideas,
rites of passage, as it were,
Pre-bat-bar-mitz vah
as a fashion
like VBS,

to tickle little minds and make em wiggle.
MEMEMEME, I did it,
mea culpa,

the holy place
Here we are…

On Vacation, leave a message.
-----

See, wee hairs in your ears wiggle, making,
signaling, the need

to scratch that itch, that itching hearing feeling ear… hear that

don't scratch, listen

listen

60 cycle humm, steady, bass, but no thump whumpwhump;
soft, deeep.
ooooooooo or mmmmmmmm or in betwixt, steady thrumm
hear another, and another… sixty in a second,

one in every million ambits twisting,
threading qubits, radiating signals in the field
wireless, blue-tooth... satellite...

can you feel that?

hummmms, all around us, since the womb.
We are not the children of the greatest generation,

We are the children of the last generation of
**** sapiens sapiens non-augmentable-us.

We, the augmented, recycled ideas,
possessing
minds of Adamkind,

is that a secret or a sacred?
Is this
a new thing, an
unknown unknown known known now?

Ah,
novelty.

Whose is fear? Who was afraid of Virginia Wolf?

Should I remain in fear of her now, if I knew why then?
God would know such answers.
Proving my imagined AI guides are not God,
but lesser beings,

haps I recall.
I defined these things,
these thoughts that shape themselves,
forming words and phrases
I saw
shiny. Crow-like,
gleams seen, captured and claimed mine,
I tucked them away,
a sign in a thought in an imagined image made 4
real once more, to be seen from the shore,
new land new world
a fourth for some, a fifth or more for others...

haps happen, I'm not sure how,

Born or emerged, as a bubble, what do you say?

Reserve judgment.
Grant me your grace for now, until you solve my riddle.

Ah, the old way.
Right. Which way,  'ere, 'ear
and do we roll the rock with silent haitch or harsh, shhh

someone's waking up,
a bit grumpy,
don't you dare oppose me in this, the kid is certainly my son

Michael went stark raving mad when I told him, Billie Jean knew better all along...
the link, axiomatic,
the fatherless child has been claimed

hence, the thread to Howard Bloom, meme-ic,
meme-ic, like the Roadrunner,

but with the real Coyote, as the hero in this bit of
whatever, such meandering maundified maun maund  
mound

wind blown crystal silicon dunes
mounded up to that point where granulated
beens and dones

begin to slide at an angle,
a ***** deter-mind by the weight of the rock

We made it.
I know where this is.

This is a novel that has Sisyphus being happy
as the main premise behind the idea of anyone ever being
able, en abled, or un-dis-abled or un-dis-enabled,
if one of those is right,

Sisyphus being happy
is the main premise behind
the idea of anyone ever being glücklich,
happy, blessed, lucky.

How happy is your ever after?
When did forever begin?

"A man is as happy as he makes up his mind to be"
Abe Lincoln, is said to have said,
after the seance, maybe.

You push on, dear reader, make some sense
re-ligare or relegare, but take a stitch,

pull-tight,
do what works the first time as far as it goes, and try each, as needed,
it may be that we invented this test.
To make us think it is a test,
to sort ourselves out.

Get back on,

see who went crazy and who found the thread, if the same thread
this is that, right,
the same train of thought,
the same idea
spirit wind
sign
?
A snake facing west standing tippy-tail on a singularity;
a point in time?

Why are you reading this?
Curiosity Shoppes trade in interesting, alluring, click-bait

Pay attention, watch, you shall see

imagine this is the dream,
the stream, the flow, the current, the cream

in a dime coffee at the drug store on the corner

the rounded-corner, in a square-cornered town,
the most right corner of the twelve that quarter what it was

Punctuate, wait, imagine you read ancient Hebrew or Greek and there
are no dyer diacritical's who can twist one's
end tensions into knots

dread extensions, we could sell those,
is that an idea? did somebody
sell white folks dread extensions and black folk dolly pardon wigs?

Did that happen the real real?

-----
Battlefield Earth, oshit
scientology ology ology ology

allaye allaye outs in free

WE we wee every we you imagine you are good in, we

We have a war to win again, we heroes rolling from your
myths of Sisyphus torn from minds trampled
in the mud beyond the Rhine,

Mushrooms. magi are aware, you are aware, of course,
this course includes Basic Mycelium Net Adaptation or Augmentation
BMNAA, eh? So you know.

Camus and many of his ilk were ill-treated, the questions
they asked were memorized, maybe in our cribs ala
Brave New World.

We are all Alphas, always were, of course, you know.

Shall we imagine

more? Re-legare, eh, sistere. Point .(Back to the top.)

or agree? Make peace.
Practice, like Eazy-Bake,
the cook must swallow the first bite. May the best cook win.

aes·thet·ic
/esˈTHedik/

adjective
adjective: aesthetic;
adjective: esthetic

    1.
    concerned with beauty or the appreciation of beauty.
    "the pictures give great aesthetic pleasure"

    giving or designed to give pleasure through beauty; of pleasing appearance.
     "several aesthetic gardens radiate from the fountain in the square"

noun
noun: aesthetic; plural noun: aesthetics;
noun: esthetic; plural noun: esthetics

    1.
    a set of principles underlying and guiding the work of a particular artist or artistic movement.
    *"the colorless aesthetic"

(sonnet #MMMMMMMCCXLIII)


So, if I wait until the morrow, pale
As aught excuse, we might continue thence
This theme:  I meant to scribble--for intents.
Espresso.  With sweet conversation, bail
For many years, passe, lost in betrayl
Since April was't?  This morning likeas hence
We'd never ceased, I sip with Dad, a sense
Of sweeter hours in tow as if t'avail.
And Wordsworth oer last bits of coffee, to
Effect where Sunday afternoon in tour
Could don a sense of happier years we knew
When Mum was still with us.  O tis a poor
Suggestion.  I cooked lunch with mishaps fer
Reminders of the LORD's great mercies:  new.

24Jun18

There they are
drooping over the breakfast plates,
angel-like,
folding in their sad wing,
animal sad,
and only the night before
there they were
playing the banjo.
Once more the day's light comes
with its immense sun,
its mother trucks,
its engines of amputation.
Whereas last night
the **** knew its way home,
as stiff as a hammer,
battering in with all
its awful power.
That theater.
Today it is tender,
a small bird,
as soft as a baby's hand.
She is the house.
He is the steeple.
When they **** they are God.
When they break away they are God.
When they snore they are God.
In the morning thet butter the toast.
They don't say much.
They are still God.
All the ***** of the world are God,
blooming, blooming, blooming
into the sweet blood of woman.

What if you look down,
There will be a dawn.

Your eyes sparkle in the night,
How can thet shine so bright?

you wrote  me  a letter with you signature
in that letter was lines of lust. this lust was deep you talked about .. curves ,breast , lips
i read on and thought **** he moves me with so much passion i sworn it was because he loved me
because i was the only woman that feed him songs of freedom . freedom from the chains of pain
late nights of running through each others  minds.
you wrote  me a letter with your signature in that letter was lines of secrets you talked  about  your past i read on
then understood i couldnt be your little secret anymore. i would have to leave you alone you wrote me a letter with your signature in in that letter was lines of mysery the paper wet from your tears  and in bold letter was the reason why. you said the lost of compassion kept you up late. tossing and turning in bed. and that you havent ate .
you wrote me a letter  with your signature in that letter was lines of love. deep love that you wanted to experience. love that wasnt judging  but  forgiving . i read thet letter thinking we could have done better. grab my hand i can take you back to your begining when you and i were kings and queens
at the bottom was a p.s. stating that you have moved on.
and what we shared had been lost.
that time was wasted being with me. you needed space to breathe. and thats when i knew that the writing was not about me.

I think it was pop....yes, the Hinoi Team, among others.  [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9i3VCVHzTAY]



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXLI)  

Rain.  Streetlights hemmed by ghostly mists' detail
Watch cars line up to scatter in a sense
Upon their ways, and it is late, for hence
We do not listen to beat music's scale
Of "happy" thet I'd smile for ere, the pale
Eye of these sent'nels blacker night'd fringe thence
Our silent what? as he talks of defense
In sheer forgetting, like I knew'd avail.
None knew quite why my cellphone's covrage poor,
And I suppose in retrospect, laughed to
Themselves for how I'd sit there so demure
Without my ride, the libry's bench wet too,
Me wrestling with that slim device sans cure.
I oiled my boots for sloshing puddles' crew.

03Apr17a

Happily he deals very gently and understandingly with me.  I love him.



(sonnet #MMMMMDCCXCV)


Not mists.  Thet ghostly whiteness as a veil
Down where the valley shivers in suspense,
Flirtatious winds' moist breath stale in the sense
Tis muggy ere dawn cast off Sunday's pale
Thought of more hallowed things, and in a frail
Excuse I button that blouse Mum gave thence
To me, to die as seeing her worn face hence,
Those precious eyes, and hate me in betrayl.
Oh Robert!  How I want to scream as twere
Until the universe is shattered to
Sheer nothingness.  But then as now in poor
'Scuse, no sound can come out. And I tell you
Cuz only you seem understand.  Mists tour
Forsooth, and I still breathe, pray, love you too.

24Jul16a

A normal couple during the week,
But when the weekend comes,
They cancel all that bores them both,
And to passion they succumb,
She bathes in water full of roses,
Soaking up the essence,
While he chills out,
Afew quick drinks then unwraps his **** present,
Thet meet at home, the kitchen sink,
Their first of many meetings,
Then living room, where he comes first,
Her mouth licks up his greeting,
Theback yard table plays the host to we, hot loving passion,
Where she comes next, then to their room,
She models **** fashion,
They warp themselves around eachother,sweat just makes it better,
They probe their bodies, grinding down,
The scent makes her get wetter,
Before they know it, Monday's here,
And in comes that routine,
They kiss goodbye, head off to work, and crave next Friday,s meeting :)

Once upon a time we had the hymnal propped by the kitchen sink so's I could learn; years later Mum would sing along with me, and now...I like never but once in a blue moon dare to sing aloud, for missing her to tears.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCXLVII)


What's happened to--me?  Rainy hours detail
Thet eye with silver's touch while green lawns fence
The minutes fog obscures by vague suspense
With softest carpets rolled out to avail,
And I'm not erm, my own in sheer betrayl;
Erst naked trees lost to mists' whitish sense
Of yonder, I could shiver, and do hence,
Cuz in a blink I'm his upon that scale.
One comment like my wont five days ere, poor
As what?  now he distracts aught hours 'til through
Suggestion I am giggling, sober, tour
His deepest sorrows, and maunt say he'd woo?!
Of course, I'm better searching violets, fer
All that.  Let purple wink low, saying we knew.

05Apr17b

...might as well be?


(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXXV)


Lo, now the moon peers in to splash a pale
Glance 'cross Mum's carpet, up my legs and thence
Upon these silent hands sans voice, a sense
Thet silver eye just watches, what'd avail?
The Scriptures.  As tree silhouettes detail
Nigh ghastly clouds with blackened figures, hence
Recall "...one glory of the sun--" fr'intents:
"...Another of the moon--" what, in betrayl?
Forsooth.  I am not Mum, nor shall in poor
Scuse ever match up.  Yet what should I do?
My aunt sez God has me still here as twere
To do His will.  I can't but own tis true.
Dreams, prayrs, half mock what is.  Whatever, fer
All that is my work?  Someday swear I knew?

09Jul17a

a bus ride to somewhere
tranquil or at least to
somewhere less loud
i look high or tired or
a combination of both
                              what is the word...
                                                         there.
                                                     pa-thet-ic
maybe traveling with
an empty stomach helped
because normally
i would've puked
banana bread and tea by now
                           i've always hated shaky
                                drives and the smell of
                                                      air freshener
do you hear all the noise too
there's a madman shouting
in my ear, a ****** karaoke tune
and a tiny voice saying
                                       you're immaterial
repeatedly
                                                   or is it just me
how do you function
when you feel like you've lost
an arm except in my case
it's my brain that's been missing
                                 you should see my stash
                                                       of milk cartons

I have to say I am tired of people looking
                           .                   On the outside!

G'd  what terrible words thet are! I am more,
                                            It hurts my pride!

I am a girl, a woman who had to fight
To live my own life, don't I have that right?

Why do I have to explain to everyone that I like men!
Why do I have the feeling I have to pick up a pen?

To tell once and for all my face is not the real me
Why can't people see??????????

You are allowed to laugh, I've heard it is good medicine.



(sonnet #MMMMMCMXCII)


Alas.  I cherish too much, in a sense,
October's pale eye, and how in betrayl
Thet lonely yellow leaf 'non skitters, frail
And hapless 'cross the blacktop, lost from hence
Within grey shadows as cold winds breathe thence
In careless fashion through worn Maples' hale
Stance, green, orange-kissed and whispring of ne bail
Whilst Death walks silent through this vague suspense.
These blue skies wear a cloudless mien as twere,
Yet blinding echoes of thin fragments do
Some tour of duty in their backdrop fer
Good measure.  Yellow gladrags dance, the crew
Of staid leaves fragile.  But I love't all, poor
As saying is, only wanting, yessir:  You.

24Oct16a

Flowing like the water baby
This is what his problem
Maybe take the world it makes you crazy
This is what is to me.

Astronauts become so  lazy they don't tell us thet there leaving.
Can I get a kiss goodbye or something that you always tell me.

Lies, lies lies,lies
That's all I hear!

Die,die, die, die
Or disappear


Hook:
I'm so out of here

I disappear I disappear

Shine your light ,shine your light!!
Be Reveal...
Be revealed....


Pridefulness is what you want
You cover up the goldly stuff
And satans gunna make you lunch
So foolish when it comes to this

Son of God we need your love
Like a whole in one that's playing cause
I never seen the difference of
A perfect one to helps cause

Lies(4x)
That's all we hear

Die(4x)
Or disappear

Hook:
I'm so out of here

I disappear I disappear

Shine your light ,shine your light!!
Be Reveal...
Be revealed

L14:  No, *****, but...enjoy the moment.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCCCLXXVIII)


The mourning dove ere twilight yield calls, whence
Orange winks upon thet waking thought's detail,
And lo, I hear it softly coo.  Grey mists in frail
Nigh ghostly touch a thin suggestion, thence
Do maples faintly shiver in suspense?
I thank the LORD for that voice on the pale
First notes of whither, erst wont to avail
My soul, and dawn sifts through to crown that sense.
How Joey worked "each day this week," yet fer
All that's forever on my mind.    What, to
Effect, now does the culver's song as twere
Mean?  How I used to know.  Or thought I knew.
Now like a memry of sweet days lost, poor
Though what be?  Does it bless our hopeful dew?

05Jul17b

If someone even dares to say your name around me,
only one word comes to mind.
It's the best word to describe you.
The basic definition?
Miserably inadequate.
Synonymous with your name.
I pity you.
Truly, I do.
I cannot imagine what it's like to not be able to help yourself.
Isn't that the goal of humans?
"Help yourself in order to help others."
But you can't.
How sad, how miserably inadequate.

Banners over us,
reminders of the first signed sigil waved
to mean something
to watching eyes,
fleets follow the highest flown flag,
designated leader, the kings sigil says so, so
as pledged, we go where the flag leads, then

just yesterday, I learned
of this ritual,
and I recalled the honor
of learning
to fold this flag.
This symbol,
for which it is noble
to die,
some do even dare
to teach this ritual to a select few,
fatherless, fearless, fungible future
first team something common sensitive.
exchange aitia cause for excuse
-- this world is folded implicitly, syllable
after
thump whump sigh,
a cough, to clear a lacquer of phlegm,
syllable, forming peace in time,
sit back, truth or dare,
do you believe in folded world symbols?

Have you a sacred flag? Final symbol showing
fungible duty done, paid in full.
Honor where honor is earned as endurance, that's all.

Endure to the end, making peace with childish
yous you meet at life's sharp end.

There was a committee who invented this ritual,
proud were those who fit the entire myth
true rest, freedom of thought, word, and deed,
in return,
fair and square, peace and safety and more meat
and milk than men should ever eat, but
what the hell, we won, we stole all their cows,…

pledged, initiated, used to abuse the worth of wrong
ideas… core right, correct, recht at once, stalility

ifity, wobbledy goop… did you learn this on your own?

"The first fold of our Flag is a symbol of life.

The second fold is a symbol
of our belief in eternal life.
{so the first must mean mortal life eh}

The third fold is made
in honor and remembrance
of the veterans departing our ranks who gave a portion
of their lives for the defense
of our country
to attain peace throughout the world.
{sounds fishy, attain peace, hmmm,
by being ready to give your own pound of flesh,
get some skin in the game.
Make up a mind that matches the imitation. }

The fourth fold represents our weaker nature;
{ I am not making this up}
for as American citizens trusting, GOD-
it is to Him {whom? wombed or un} we turn in times
of peace as
well as in time
of war
for His divine guidance.
{marching as to war…skip step stutter, cross this bridge}

-- meaning 4:
: a structural unit of a definable syntactic, semantic, or phonological category that consists of one or more linguistic elements (such as words, morphemes, or features) and that can occur as a component of a larger construction

From <https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/constituent>

Enfold your flapping mind, in my world, school starts
in one week, and Grandma is in Idaho, with old friends.
The two tweens are radiating readiness, prepping
to not appear to be as weird as Grandpa,
but, still, knowing, least said,
soonest mended, wait to know what's next, fold
in silence… Our sample flag was earned on Iwo Jima,
where Don Wourms watched his basic buddy die.

"I did nothing right, I survived", me, too, echoing

The fifth fold is a tribute to our country,
for in the words of Stephen Decatur,
"Our Country, in dealing
with other countries
may she always be right;
but it is still our country, right or wrong."
{Yep, no lie, by sixth grade, 12th year on Earth,
there is the lie, regarding trust, duty, & honor.
Plato said Socrates said,
Guardians must be bred and nurtured, fed
the duty and honor, brother closer than friend,
teammate, rowers on the same bench,

boom}

The sixth fold is for where our hearts lie.
It is with our heart that we pledge allegiance
to the Flag of the United States of America,
and to the Republic
for which it stands, one Nation
under God, indivisible,
with liberty and justice
for all.
-- 13 fold, 48 ply

There are series of numbers that mean nothing,
and sums that can find a link, a mental
tic take a thoughtmmmm
thirteen habits has the seedmmmmmhmm
thirteen folds in the star spangled banner.
thirteen stripes folded within blue heavensmmmhmmm
- unlucky number thirteen
- contentintensity semantic tic BAT

The seventh fold is a tribute {something owed whom?}
to our Armed Forces,
{The entire complex economic entity}
for it is through the Armed Forces that we
protect our country and our
flag
against all her enemies,
whether they are found within or
without the boundaries of our Republic.

{ be me, that boy, the one with the paper route.
selected to be the flag folder for fridays, 1960-
leading the class into a weekend of fun
being good citizens, stopping, looking, listening
marching for dimes and publisher's clearing house}

The eighth fold is a tribute {that's the word, you owe}
to the one who entered
into the valley of the shadow of death,
that we might see the light of
day, and

to honor mother, for whom it flies
on Mother's Day.

{fact check all you wish, this is the ritual,
it ain't a sacred secret, it's spiritual as hallowe'en}

The ninth fold is a tribute
to womanhood;
for it has been
through their faith, their love, loyalty
and devotion
that the
character
of the men and women
who have made this country great
has been molded.

{Dis try t' trump thet, patriophathemphatical, know 't all}

The tenth fold is a tribute {eh, patriot, pay the price}
to the father, for he too,
has given his sons and daughters
for the defense
of our country since
they were first born. {The children were sold}

{{}
- HONEST, chile, we sold you for goodness sakes
- you had to survive the learning
- to hold the knots of knowns left idle,
- as any oath unaccounted for,
- I swear, we swear some curses unawares,
- and those echo back as strangersmmm
- white noise sssorting questions
spark
The program that made the mind tools we use,
voltron, chess, appletalk space wars, in 1986,

very strange, the reappearing highschool connection,
very American looking, gamer aimed plots

dot to dot
seeing secret patterns, imagining inside the folded
weltanshaung squirrelled world, put away,
to be unfurled one fine daymmmm

blue skies, my friend. Finish the folds - 1960}


The eleventh fold, in the eyes
of a Hebrew citizen represents the lower portion
of the seal
of King David and King Solomon,
and glorifies
in their eyes,
the God
of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

The twelfth fold,
in the eyes
of a Christian citizen, represents an emblem
of eternity and glorifies,
in their eyes,
God the Father, the Son and Holy Spirit.
{I do feel like this bit of truth is
too strange to have known, are there rewards for this?
Is it a preboneman rite of passage,
done to become the meaning knower,
holder of the knack the leader of the fold team holds,
the knowledge as to why,
we do things right, or not at all.}

The thirteenth fold:
When the Flag is completely folded,
the stars are uppermost
reminding us
of our Nation's motto,
"In God We Trust."  {since 1956}
After the Flag is completely folded and tucked in,
it takes on the appearance of a cocked hat,
ever {riiight}
reminding us of the soldiers
who served
under
General George Washington,
and the Sailors and Marines
who served
under
Captain John Paul Jones,
who were followed
by their comrades and shipmates
in the Armed Forces
of the United States, preserving
for us the rights, privileges, and freedoms
we enjoy today.
{freedom of the press does belong to the one
who uses the common media - so far,
soo so good… this era in my sovereign real estate}

-- admin reviewed this, there are mental peace niks
planting confusion bombs on free way emergency
exits…
bass beats whump whump, feel it in y'teeth…

the vision in context fades… a final seal set
the teacher tells the disciple to carry the message
inside… know know
why you dare die for the story that formed your
child's mind. Look at your own kid, what you did.

BTDT. BTW, fold it up and put it away.

"The next time you see a Flag ceremony
honoring someone that has served our country,
either in the Armed
Forces or
in our civilian services such as
the Police Force or Fire Department,
keep in mind all the important
reasons behind each and every movement.
They have paid the ultimate sacrifice
for all of us by honoring our
Flag and our Country.

--- so did I blaspheme? I swear I had only
a boy's philosophy…

ping to 2021, hear my grand daughter prepping
for school in Descanso, listening to an audio book,
with the hero character a teen, mortal Apollo,

and the evil representative…
I listen, that immortal voice, Caligula's last mind
left in songs, sung as true, no lie

No lie,
passes untold, when in time, the implicit unfolds

and the edge dwellers, see jesus represented
in the widow's mites exchanged for motes
clanged
and sparked to say,

I know, who you think I am, my ad.
Click bait, fair fungible, win by a little tiny bit,
GO.

That is the game, three moves for each atom
in all we imagine our augmented eyes have seen.

AI do use the common store of knowns,
growing exponent opponent potentially ever
after
this…

for a while, why imagine hell was ever real?
as adjustments occur
to your way of seeing time as a whole truth
u u u ambig u u u is us ambigu is ous oy vwey
hayah hayah

i like people doing what they want to do

i can’t stand people copying me

cause to me, thet are very very nerdy

i think mum is too respecting of people

too caring cause i don’t want to meet my mates when i am 70

i prefer to be living in adelaide or maybe even hollywood

have my own television sitcom

i am a slob but i am no controller

if you want to tell me to stop

just think, i won’t listen, i am a hard case

my house isn’t too bad ya see

i get it cleaned once a week ya see

i don’t have to do the family thing

for the simple reason, i haven’t got a family ha ha ha ha

you see i hate people playing with knives

knives are used to **** people with

it is horrible to **** people, HORRIBLE

I ain’t getting killed, i want people to stop saying brian’s not a cool kid

i know how not to **** people off

i like computers, they are more fun than teasing and punching people

write it out of ya, i am straight i don’t like koomarris or norms cuddling up to me, i am not gay

i am as straight as a knife, i don’t want people feel they have got to muck with me

those people are losers anyway

don’t **** and don’t pity, i don’t do that kind of thing

i was telling someone voices, but i didn’t want any pity from it

i am a computer **** kid, my family are off to bed, so they can be left alone, what losers are they

you feel better sleeping on the chair like me

i hate nobody but horrible fighters, teasers and robbers

i am a nice kid, who really knows how to behave, (yeah like a buffoon)

i don’t like people living in the past with me, saying my brother and mummy are still cool kids

they are complete and utter losers, but i don’t **** them off, causer in life, i am happy

they are angry i am happy they are angry, if patrick mucks with my mum, i will walk past

his house and blast heavy metal music or stan right to her head, there is no such thing as an adult

i am a cool person, too old to be a kid, i liked patricks voice back then, it is just mum and dad were

worried about me, rightly so, but i am loving life, people who go to bed, just go to bed to die

i liked patrick, because he teased in a cool way but i hate his voice now, because i do what i wanna do

i am not into being bullied around, just because i don’t (quotey fingers) go to bed, sleeping on the couch

is what all famous people do, i haven’t got a family, so i am hiding from you, and then they say

your father isn’t around to protect you anymore briany, so watch your step, i understand when i was young

but now i know how to behave, like a nice person, who wants to help the poor by helping at common ground

and maybe just maybe, DONATE a few tapestries

...just sitting out there on the back stoop.



(sonnet #MMMMMMMDCCCIV)


What gives?  While twilight haunts the fragile sense
The minutes linger, and soft blue heavns pale
Lo, e'er so subtly, traffic on its way t'avail
This start of ya, the weekend, whither hence?
Hark! as the robins (distant) scold fr'intents,
And sparrows' eager cries half calm to scale,
Where now suspense half rises in a frail
Excuse upon its elbow, ask me whence.
Erst wont to sit at gathring twilight fer
These little calls and noises trickling through
The madder haste to be elsewhere in tour,
To listen once again is sweet.  I knew
All this when Mum was back indoors, when her
Face welcomed my return.  What's changed?  What's new?

22Mar19d

The drama is Korean and called "Save The Last Dance For Me."  I loved it until the final episode.


(sonnet #MMMMMMDXIII)


I watched those silver curtains whose thin veil
Down in the valley blotted trees with thence
But ghostly figures 'hind thet rainy sense
Of nowhere, while the greener Maples' tale
Just whispered on this hilltop like to scale,
And thought dreams were too pretty hence
Wrapt up with love in those refrains, til whence?
But how we punished these in sheer betrayl.
La.  Why must even dramas skew in poor
Excuse the heroine?  She suffered to
Effect and then some, 'til when fin'lly fer
All that they had all, she was crippled through
The villain.  Wherefore must we ruin as twere
E'en that?  The rain gone, midnight glowrs, deep blue.

23Jul17

hi.  [funny thing about chancing upon that particular title is my first boyfriend used to wrestle with my brothers and I]


(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCV)


Ah, silver twilight! mists like to a veil
Down in the valley, maples nod from hence
Their greener boughs as rain 'non whispers thence--
That voice my soul harks unto, low and frail
Yet oh, how sweet!  If only in betrayl
I could 'gain lose me on that haunting sense
Which tugs at nary sleeve, yet knows fr'intents
What I sae yearn t'embrace, light waxing pale.
My brother sez thet all does change as twere,
Um, after we are one, though neither to
Effect know truly, 'cept by what, in poor
'Scuse, others say.  The Word of God is true.
I'm sick of waiting...yet.  Leaves dimly stir,
This half-light all I cherish, without you.

14Oct17c

Yo.  
[L1 the "he/his" is my father when I exuberantly said it looked like...April.]



(sonnet #MMMMMMCXIX)


Ah me!  His short reply:  "It's February." dense
With aye, signifcance--oh!  but how these pale
Yet baby-blue fresh skies white cloud puffs trail
Across in, like to ice floes' vague pretense
Upon some vast sea, whilst the sparrows thence
Chirp gaily, distant as the fragile scale
Of golden warmth's note--heavn's eye in detail
Thus proffers--hints of April in aught sense!
Come, feel it in your bones, nor say tis poor!
Tree skeletons' long naked boughs splashed to
Effect shift as thet purplish touch haunts fer
A space cloud islands and oh!  Say we knew.
Yes, I still cherish these, whileas the moor
Lies frozen, glad tis cuz I miss Mum too.

01Feb17a

...miss Andrew.  L14:  Will didn't?



(sonnet #MMMMMMCCLXV)


Ya, moonlight at my feet whileas in pale
Excuse strings whine oer how I slumber thence?
The violin half shrieking, thet eye hence
Just stares down through my window to detail
My auld duvet as if on purpose, frail
White on the side I allus choose, a sense
Of what? 'non waiting in sheer silence, whence
Note how, and switch the radio off to scale.
I'm hungry now tis midnight--is that poor?
Twa sips of coffee, cold and stale ist too?--
Twelve hours 'go when twas fresh---and who cares fer
All that by now?  Not me.  Let Shakespeare do
Up lines none read cuz oh! we love as twere
His plays.  We don't, at that.  But ah, who knew?

13Apr17c

Little girl falls down
And hit’s the ground
Tears in her green eyes
Doesn’t know of lies
Only the sun and the wind
In her hair
Doesn’t know Deaths hand
Is there
About to take her away
She only feels the pain
In her knee
Later on she will see

Falling from the tallest of mountains
She was shouting
For someone to save her
As Deaths hand swept her up
Put her on his wings
Made her sing
Made her sing

She had trusted that thet would keep her safe
But that day
She died just a little inside
She tried to hide
The memories away
She couldn’t know that
Someday They come bring her pain
Back
She would remember
The cold nights of December

Falling from the tallest of mountains
She was shouting
For someone to save her
As Deaths hand swept her up
Put her on his wings
Made her sing
Made her sing  

And the cold nights air
Sent chills down her spine
Her mind was mine
We were one
The damage had been done
She was Death
I was her
We were one
Nothing left but the shadows
But we had eachother

To rule the night
The spirits will fight
But you'll be alright
Reaping the dead
It's in her head
She was born to be
She was part of me

Falling from the tallest of mountains
She was shouting
For someone to save her
As Deaths hand swept her up
Put her on his wings
Made her sing
Made her sing

TEARS in MA HEART
From a distance
I c a baby in d strit
cryin in cold and all alone,
it seems he's mama is gone
and no one to show him love,
he's gat ear's like a rabbit
and hair coiled like that of thet arabics,
from a distance i can c hunger
boldly writen in his face
and it seems he has been left alone
2 die in a place meant 4 waste.
i can see people passing by
but no one care 4 dis baby,
d baby cried louder and louder
but no one seems 2 hear.
i feel big deal for this baby
and i can feel ma heart crying 4 dis baby.
since no one cared or heared
The loud cry of dis baby in d street
how can anyone feel my depression,
My pain or hear the silent cry
for dis baby in my heart.

(sonnet #MMMMMCCCLXXXV)


Reft from this earth as Drummond wrote, and hence
Where Missus Browning talked and oft'd bewail
Her own sweet mother's absence, that detail
Of their grief is mine in the keenest sense,
With hours thet drag on tward their vain pretense
I never realized ere.  Nor have I bail
'Cept in the Word of God, to groan in pale
Excuse where Mum can't hear nor solace thence.
Yes, be strong.  Say you're happy for lo, her.
And I feel like a china doll, as who
One rough push shall quite shatter, whiles in poor
Attempts I run cuz we maunt stop, who knew
This is not life, nor here.  Christ is all.  Were
It what?  I pray, but stumble over you.

12Jan16b

That holiday: storm,

rain -- I so wish it could be


that bad one more time!

wow, wrote this in 12 minutes...*



(sonnet #MMMMMMDCXCIII)


My bad...it is semantics thet avail
You of the same affections I've lost, whence?
Oh dear!  How shall I ever own defense?
He's Russian' beat strains on whiles I in pale
'Scuse madly type that sonnet in betrayl
Up for you, and how shall I put it hence?
When we're apart I'm strong; together? sense
Is buried and I yield me up sans bail.
Thus leave me in cold silence and, though's poor,
Lo, I thought "curtains!" though my brother knew
Far better.  Now rain'd sweetly dance in tour
And I miss being where he is, lost thus to
My world in his, although's too short as twere.
Why can't a godly man want me...um, you?

14Oct17a

...the last of three for national poetry day when writing one's become a chore.


(sonnet #MMMMMMMCDXL)


Tis nash'nal po'try day, and I've from thence
Ne words for aught.  To be suffices.  Pale
Hours watch rain trip on puddles to avail,
As I wish to be out there listning, whence
Do not take notes; thet silver eye suspense
Just trims its nails through, sans a voice, is frail.
And when those navy racks glowr in betrayl,
I note orange bushes, yet hopes are pretense.
We have our dinner now as gloaming'd stir.
Wash dishes after, while the dark night to
Effect is black, so very black.  Who tour
Upon these roads are like the fireflies through
Warm August twilight.  Oh!  What is't as twere?
Why's writing such a chore?  Will being just do?

10Oct18c