Master, this was said to me
should I be triggered or flogged?
Think Sisyphus happy.

What year is this?

Babble, babble, all around me, no
God, not this, again.

It's all in yer head, keep rollin' the rock.
keepin time, makin rime rimey rime
frees icicles on my beard
if you could see me now,

Hell, who imagined this?
I am Sisyphus happy and Sysifus sad,
now for as long as I care to recall

I roll the rock.

It was the hell I had envisioned, since
Camus at least, probably something triggered,
seventh grade, oh
cliché, except
the details, the evil, as seen in the thirteenth
year of an unwombed man's journey, womb to tomb.

I rolled the rock.
Alone as all hell, bored as hell.
food and drink, folly to think
so I stop thinking about them

as if someone thinks I can and I think I can.
Let's doit
daydream cliché, same seventh grader asks
Diane Wescott if he can kiss her
under the water
at the deep end of the public pool

Like Tarzan and Jane and she said yes,
again and again and again
like the expert's rats that are allowed
to suicide on big pharma grade *******

Wahoo, that got the rock rollin'
like I never thought she would now

yah, Jah, know what I mean,
Billie Jean, the kid coulda been mine

But I was rockin' and rollin' all night long,
notime, noo time ah tahlllll

Some minds may imagine Sisyphus happy,
but up to not too long
ago
I fail, failed am failing to re
call member hotline
now,
Matrix Wachowskie, bact to your box,

I am haunted by that movie, in 2018
keyphrase 2018 trigger Matrix movie 1
not the movie, the idea of endless bullets.

Who imagined that,
Hell, this is easy. Right, two persona one person sort of
story, no, too, Jekyl n Heckle

I can think any thing as long
as I roll the rock. This will go on forever,
as far as I can tell.

Rock and roll will live forever, let's take that
as a given, and just ignor the steady
up and down, resistance to punching down force goes up and release,
the rock rolls as far as Luck would have it, statically, probably

pause. breathe, read

The rhythm varies, I'm in forever, not in hell.
Push.

Artificial Art or Actual Intelligence

Wednesday, July 3, 2019
3:21 PM
A Warholian screen ing com-
prized of Ben Day dots and
Eddy Bernays ways and
means co-mitt-ee messages encode
ing
ding ding
our baser nature to re
spond
sponsoring

dangerous living, the massive multi player
virtual game

permanent war module

experience the old days, release
thy unbelief and find

the final next evil opposer allotted
to make up our
quotidian bit
of evil

sufficient to keep us watching,
set
still as stone. Are we not the gargoyles?

Do not we see all we are imagined to see,
asif you saw
as we see from
the flying buttresseees?

What did you imagine gargoyles depicted?
Messengers or guardians,
or both, but imaginary,

immaterial beings framing force fields we all agree
keep us safe
safe and sound found
solid, though we know solid is

not, really, the state we imagined it was.
How can I help seeing what is before my eyes,
axed Winston Smith

he was told,
reminded, as it is wont to be, after learning a lie is true,

It is not easy to become sane, {re-sane}

have you ever believed a matter for your own sake?
Sake is an old spoke word, alte sprache
you own it, do you not?
Your own sake?

Have you not done and can recall doing all things well?
Are you not a member, in good standing, of

The National Honor Society Facebook group?
{werefriends-fiendish}
Suffer it to be so, there are lies yet.
There are lie believers in our midst.

Put up with peace where you are, if you find
In sequence

All things working work to get here,
there is where all nonworking things went.

This is where my heart is working,
and my lungs,
and nerves and bones and sinyew
tying my

being to earth,
with its salty sea and wobbly orbit
It is al
ways where you last looktook
- Holden been seen
rooks were some birds, then some
gamespiece in a game of
actual thrones,
by damnif I'danoticed

see,
it all works out, Don Draper said that
to Falstaff.

I see a man who is not happy the message being
what,
what is this team of
whatever
I see saying to me? On TV? How

long has this gone on?
This noise in words and music surrounding me constantly my brain evolved
to watch tv with no screen as if this

were radio in the flow
of things
imagined green by R.W.Shambach, radio preacher
all surfaces in his heavenly city reflect green light
soundtrektricktract

behind my mind is a melody from
some *******
TV Show aimed at me

For goodness sake,
some one questioned my saying
life's been good to me

life? with that unsaid, DOn't you mean Jesus?

dripping in the tone.
Life truth and way, i go. Wiseassish.
is it not the wombed man
who empowers the unwombed
to make
seed?

Mito chondro donchaknow
Life is but a dream
on steroids
in a redneck metaphor I oughta
known better
but the flow is worth more
than arhyme
any time so if your muse is iambic and mine is frantic
BE IT KNOWN K-CLASH-ic

there were beasts released

leasing
the idea, how long shall we
love this lending and leasing of

the best possible now
paid for by

time, time pays all the debts and we be
forgiven if we can get the gift of
given for
real
let me
free why doncha,

girl... when did the program begin,
when was the boot code
sealed
in silicon tipped in gold

was there a mark made? can
you
buy or sell. whatever the hell’yawish?
testing waters for temperature and pressure
assure me
it works this way

the hero dies or
gets old and wise

other wise – he leaves nothing
but wildass mule tales
wise in other times
as real as was any said-so historical fact,
the telling of the act
as facts, not
actual
but similar to reality on so many levels we
the acts we
all imagine, I am familiar with these
first person ideas in pluralmind
ideas, I can see the irony,
I can see the lies

I can assume the same historical act
I acted in fact
actually happened to you as it did.
silly man,
silly once was paired with
will- willingness
a will blessed blissish beyond
a wished
sill
edge of ever
windowed worlds from the core

courage, baggage of the heart

you get yoost to seeing the things
we all see all the time
used right we all
let them be
as real as real can be but
that
changes
nothing into less than we imagined

I don't think about you at all, do I?
You are
imaginedary. I imagine, dear reader, each
key
you see
strike sound in y'our mind one key ringinatime

and a time and another
timed half meant to be gin
but genius we

dis sip cip ated ante anti cipt

mist scryptic letter let us let this be true

me and you, imagine we liv in the words
we make peace as effort
an anomo nemo fingo non namable ibility
ifity boo...

that has worked several times for me I daren't say
it is in evit able vitaminwise

e-normous meaning lies in e, pluralized, unumus

easy and free are we,
the society so
named.

An I and I an I and I an Iii and eye am I
Horus was the story,
I, the eye.
Perhaps the one Odin made sacred,
the eye given for an eye, that
the stories mention;
with a wink.

Blink.
And we passed aha in a a a a a a a a
O
me
ga
damnitalt
erhell

For a moment there, I thought
this as real as it felt
at the time.
games from the old man's memory
and
nothing
is real becomes it is knowing
and we are ina olde John Lennon
stumble into ting taut tight
attention to nothing trap

farleftkey to infinity, via dirac, sorry

more thanoneshouldevah
know
first
hand. vicar-cure-ious and al

Spirits in neon
Curios, too.
Gypsy Garden
nee Coronado Court
not far from where Jungle Smoke and Vape
existed in Kingman, Arizona

fifty years later,

to the freaking Planksec muthafuggah!

Now,
where was the kachina?

You missed him. You never glimpsed the god that spat upon ye
and ye wonder why life's been s'****** crazy,

I swanee, no lie, I smell some odd smells in my time

though none smelled so off as this, in the beginning,
Rot in Denmark
Red Fog OVer America

And the lift that went down to hell, was that the same guy
'wrote the sybil circa

the times when Giles Goatboy was awaiting Godot, no?
Those days. Mon trick you you late,

too late. We the Society, have agreed.
You know. Please.
Remember.

ANDNANDnANSc I-hence can afford to say I said this freely,
It cost you something to read it, and I enjoyed the experience,
being imagined in a reader/writer we with thee.
That’s the prize, find the peace you made and cast it together
INTO OUR INHERITED WIND- is this a yoke, is it not light? Humor
say, please send me the money.  We agreed, if I heard right.
When I sold out, to plug Pär Fabian Lagerkvist.
You know, on the elevator… that went… well, now, here we are again.

My father dropped his careless seed where my mother wished she'd bleed.

You created what I breathe when your lungs began to heave.

I forgot what life unfurls when I heard your whirling purr.

I unveiled your place of birth when my gaze derailed from Earth.

In the stream above the hills, dreams the gleam your lifeblood spills.

Counting decades down your braids, I invade your rounded jades with a gaze you've made cascade.

How you drown my sunken tortures with a frown of drunken fortune.

My lies die between your thighs, in the sighs that close my eyes.

The violins of silver inns shiver hymns of our sins.

The privateers on piers of tears cheer our fear of nearing years.

You imprisoned all my seasons with a year of untold reasons.
__________           ____

We were forged where angels gorge to be carved where devils starve.

Why'd you dose your prose morose to the bard who tarred your shards?

From divisions of your lips, I've received incision's kiss.

With ardent hips of fervent current, the errant serpent grips her servant.

All I brought was thought for naught when your rot became outwrought.

From the pond where I abscond, I watched the botching of our bond.

Every breath deployed to drown when you left devoid of frowns.

For the throne of humming bones, I've condoned becoming yours.

I am sworn to mourn and scorn every thorn that had us torn.

I have claimed the maiming blame for games of shame that gave us names.

All my zest, betrayed and rotten, in a chest remains forgotten.

We transcend repentant lows to embrace resplendent woes.

In the pool that holds your tears, drools the fool who stole my years.
__________           _____

The violins of her violence weaved the bindings of my silence.

I forgave her what she lacked with the fervor of my ax.

She used to have me broken hoping till I split her forehead open.

I forgot to leave her soul where her torso's open cold.

Now she blends my lips serene with the hands I've cut off clean.

The refrains of all my poems, now engraved on bullets chrome, in her skull remain alone.

Derelict, her tongue disdains, with my lick on her remains.

I resent the way her scent invents consent to my lament.

My mouth consumes the fumes she tombs to spout the dooms that loom unwombed.

I've divorced the nasal morse forced to course from out her corpse.

Now the tree that held our names roots around her welded grave.

On the hill where we once kissed, she now sleeps beneath the mist.

Even now she laughs at me, with her shafts forever sealed.

Dark and darker, her darkened barker, marks her tomb a layer harder.
__________           ______

My bride rides the tired tide, where our breaths by death divide.

She enjoys the rhymes I ferry from our time to where she's buried.

I have drained all waters spent where her face could not reflect.

I still hide my drying cry where our prides would once collide.

I demand her lifeless hands to once again caress my tan.

I've repieced her fleeting fleece of the fleas that tease my peace.

Like a dog, I found my god, in the fog where she once trod.

I begin where grins of skin create the sins she used to sing.

I've become the barren baron
of a fortress with no forces
leading my stampeding legions
to find their feet in my defeat.

Learning difference
weighing sameness

to within the spectrum of gravity
on earth.

Balance in valence, whence
---if that is not meaningless,
maybe

colored wombed men, mit henna hair,
come well
within the confines of my fire's light,

bearing news of even'ts and odds and ends,
since we begin

new, night downloads activate

new mercy.

hmmm, not waht I expected.
new mercy, I get it.

My last raton of mercy was exhausted putting me
to sleep. So

whole new mercy, everundamnday!

And, I remember everything. This book,
these lines,
your minds and my roles, oh my,

I owe some sanity to the guy who built etymonline.com,,,
what a treasure that unwombed man has
given AI and I to build
nexts with.