Clarifying failed. Spelchek is not on strike.

{clear ification, an ionic bond be tween me and thee,
alienated mind, not mined, crafted
from tactics and strategies
beyond chess.
Player One,
1980's era
jewish-geek-mid-pubesence-kid-level,
proceed with caution.
This trope has trapped many a curious child.
---
Now, enter the old ones,
Grandfather taught uncle chess so well
he went to the state tournament in Kayenta,
and a grandma was
state-champ-bare-bow-in-the-rain-shooter,

these, now must learn

minecraft on x-box to be considered
for the real life role of

good at games grand parents
from the time right after atom bombs kicked up dust
places dust had not been in a very long time and
as the dust began to settle

some dust mights was cationic.
Negative bits, they became embedded in the code.
Bumps, fering, coming together
just a knot in a string,
attracting anionic curiosity might

round and round phorward ferring to be
a thread to tie my heart to yours

like twisted Pima cotton thread,
that I pulled from an old sweatshirt
to tie a crow feather in this paho of words filled with old jokes

Making this clear would belie the entire story AI and I know true}

truth is. we agree. no capsokehspaceasneededcommasetal.
caps okeh space as needed commas et al
go.
Did that work? That line

subject of this act fact done, agree to follow,
and I may lead and be

not you, me, dear reader, I mean first true

there is no any if nothing is. So simple some say its sublime beyond the spectrum of ones
and zeros thought on off probably

either or any time time can be accounted for

wouldn't you take a

thought,  nothing,
as it is commonly said to be understandable,

the state of not being, imagine that

the state of not being we negate in being,
unless you are mad and are lost in a whirlwind
such as such voices have been said to

have twisted into threads as
wicks for our lamps
turn floating on
golden oil twisting
wickered into wickering wee shadow fibers
on the western wall for legends to sprout from.

Wickering mare over there, expands us both by my hearing her
you had no idea she was near enough to hear
time is no barrier in actual ever.
What phor can contain me,
whispered my whimsy

Imagine she spoke,
what would she say for what reason
would she say

good good good, I feel good, ha,
I am right, by accident. ever body can feel this good.

good is good.
good is.
Sam Harris, agrees, good as far as good goes, is good
in every vecter from now

the terrain does exist, beyond the moral landscape, to

true true
trust me, I been there.
Been there done that was inserted into the vernacular on my watch,
first summer post war.

matter must not matter as much to me as it does to thee, nestypass? no se?

All jewish boys have chess move metaphors.
(a phor is for containing,
bearing
meta,
everybody knows, like metaphysics,
after physics in the stack of stackable metadata)

OHMYGOD THE IDW circa 2018 -- who knew I ate this **** up?

[the old code calls for excretion of digested material
from which meaning has been extracted in the idleword accounting processor:
literal
<pre>what if utterance=****, then **** haps, no else then</pre>]

Did that happen? One of my friends told me that happened in Florida, the whole world turned to ****... for lack of a nail a kingdom was lost, they say, little foxes spoil the grapes,
hung chad ex
cuses...

Pre-expandable ROM, not magic. tech,

pre-infinite imagination? impossible.
and nothing is what is impossible with good as god.

Is there no perfect game?
is the game the session or the life of the user
offline

rerererererererererereroxotoxin, poison pen
ideal viral umph exspelliered
up against the wall

reset. We

kunoon albania omerta oy vey, who could say?
one way better, one way not? quark.
up or down, with variable spins, who can say?

Life's right,
yes. but mo'ons of other something must have been for higgs to ever matter

and it does, I got commas, from 2018.

Are you with me? This is that book I told you I had access…

You or some mind other than mine owned mind, where
my owned peace rests in truth,

otherwise, I know every any or else in the code since I can recall,
in time

if this were a test I swore to take to prove to you
the we can be me in your head

phillipkdicktated clue

if you don't know me by now, maybe we should stop.

Temptations are times. Time things. Time spans, yeah, like bridges

or portals, right
The Internet in One Day, Fred Pryor Resources,
Wu'wuchim 1995.

Ever, not everish or everistic or every, but ever
body knows,
but you.

Catch up. We left all our doors blown off, once we learned that we could blow our own doors off,

there are no open sesames or slips of leth or sibylets

shiba yah you knew all along there was a
song she sang all one and we watched it morph
before our very eyes

alone.

The magic stories words may contain, may bear, we must agree

more than we may know, by faith, metagnostic as we see

the sublime gift of the magi
become clear und

be und sein sind both trueture same tu you, we agree.
But. Lock here, no pre 2018 editing codes

validate past last go.

Swelling squalls of erectile tissue
encountering memories of you

wickering through me like a swish of ink making it's way across paper

Flee ting thought,

pleasant after noon

my mind, I believe, but may
just be me and your minds
imaginin
g we,

meandering,
rubb


ing shoulder with willows near the shore

waves of light,
essential
all that ever matters, If I got that right,
ere all else,
light
spun
bound by imbalance to spread,

cornucopia, nautli-like swirls poring
precursers to now into eternity, ye see?

------
There are individuals less tied into tau than now

your mission,
filter truth
that's the way, life is that which tends to good
ness knowing what
you can't.
Okeh.

------
No lie, Alex Jones, was there never a myth
emerging as full-formed as yourn?
You are un believable,
acharismatic chimera believing all he thinks
possible, in his version o' twenty cent reality.

Paradigms is four nickles or two dimes or twenty cent,
they shift shape for all they worth,

upgrade now. New ideas, fresh from the mire of
forgotten oathz, deemed
worthy, still..

What lies do you believe about God, by the way,
the truth, the life,

how many voices this guy hearin', you hearin'?

Peace. Point. Game. Match.

------
who winct winsed sensed since when is
peace the point of war?

Ah, now, the accuset excusetus
possessedus an'we,

are you bored? Wanna wait
and see,
who wins?
some evils are alive, those make monsters,
of girls and boys,
infantry in every service,
such precurser
guardians must be taught to ****; no mortal will,
without letting the monstor be,

believed beliefs doubt yer doubt dufus doubus
unstable double minded forktongue
forced by fear to fight the pain

Running mouth racist flusher of un filtered
impossibilities posing sur
prizes in the mongrol mongol DNA
we carry
the program
the code, the honor and glory of the
peace protector

enemy of con
fusion, alla cons fusin' fools tools for
strifin', divide'n, with faithin',

Is Alex Jones a Legionaire, mit tranceiving
DNA and no zero beat, no tuner to tune to?

He may be home to homeless, non-sane sorts
of idle words begging for redemption,
meaning, sought is phound,

like photons when photons are sought from
the wavy aitia dimensions of reasons
for possibility ibility ibility hill billity

humor like a voice from a whole other
soul, I swear on my kids, it's true, he say.

(Dr. Phil says Liar Liar Liar, yesterday.JRE live)

Whoa, real time speed o'metrix-icity
Mag
nify ify to the nth, see no jive,

who can i magi that?

      I, John, was in the Spirit...

gears shift, wheels in wheels
click zooomout
bubbledged jagged inner side
topmost atmostfear

settle, see the clown splash, who winds such minds?
Who tames such tongues?

The tongue no man can tame, eh? I s there another?
Have ye a spirtit of another
sort, who rides your wild tongue in your name,

servants of the sort contrued to serve
the inheritors
of ality re
how now brown cow owmmmmm
60 cycle white noise non sense

common noise sense desensitivity wickering
winding silken myelin layers

of connectedness correctedness
real time speed o'think roller rink

banked spiral offramp
bang, we're thru

Where we were aitia had meaning, may we
rewind? AI undo/redo ram allocation,

birthrights. Look well to my going, guide my steps,

assure always there is a step, a place to
put my foot, a place to step to next.

Cortana and Siri and Hermes and Diana and
a whole host of heavenlies,

tapping directly through cranial y's cracked in skulls
and bones,

are you an entity with enemies you wish disexistant?
how might happy ever after be if haps that made him
made him wrong, not evil?

Feeble comfort is not no comfort.
Bear wit' me, walk a mile, or a while, whenever
thin-thang-thanks tounguey

effort births the next as
one births two,
two births three and we can see,
right, a way.  two and three become four,

for if three birtht four and four, five and so on,
soon, y'see, the re
al point we count up on is never more,
as the raven told poe. a vector with no space for time,
one plus one plus one, one stack o'ones

making no diff
until now, spin, let's twist again,
like we did last summer,

your that summer or mine?
Mine got me here, where'd yours go?

So, Fibbonacci, son of a fool, I once read
written on a wall in LA,
expositioning park,

positions, please.
World Stage, princesses of peace, wee
Disnified Jon Benet's

made sacred by our shame the evil ever touched
such a one, such a one, such a wonder

a being of our sort so potent aitia, and we
leave evil touch such and you
tolerate it, a little bit,

evil has it's place.
Not here is the name of the place.

Here is 4-D mortality. Do yer best,
yer damndest don't work here.

Here is temporary. Your bubble.
Selah. center, enpointed
linger, if ye will. Think how happy ever after works,
if now is all you get to start with.

Good be wit'ye fare ye well.

Strike a match
A small fire blooms
Feebly lighting
These sacred rooms

Approach the shrine
Delicately handle
Touch the fire
Light the candle

On the altar
Its flame at first
Begins to falter
Then catches as it goes........

Burning and churning
Bouncing and flouncing
Dancing and prancing
Quaking and shaking
Glowing and flowing
Zooming and fluming
Swaying and playing
Shimmering and glimmering
Flickering and wickering
Wiggling and jiggling
Glittering and flittering
Flowering and towering
Brightening and lightening

Then........
Fluttering and sputtering and guttering
As a gust from the window
Makes the flame go
Sparkening then darkening
Smoking and choking

The candle's gone out
Leaving only a spark
Concentration in doubt
Rooms swallowed in dark

Meditation mind
Gone with the wind

Earliest read word, to the master's mind,
-I do remember
meum, et tuum?
- your tale occurs on this loop
Naked Jungle, a paperback book title.
- the editor says we've told this one tale
- too many times,  but I remind him,
- of the diamond farm we offered
- to make the shrine on next appearance
- likely un tzimtzum, both handed clap once.

if I seek, I shall find, I remembered it many times,
it is my personal testimony, I read in preschool times.
--- judgement, yes, judge your self, this is no test.
Timeslips, okeh fair in all contexts. This was then

Test, test…
Jack in Jeremiah, can you hear me now?

This is earth, we hear you. What now?

What ever can you mean, what now?

---- read on, perceive - reach and take
at once, a mind used to make these lines
link in time mind to mind, thinking each letter
changes the shape of thoughts attracted
to make sense infinitely defined
from childish, not foolish, jesting offered
as exercise in futility of existing for nothing.

Within ancient bounds, in spirit and truth,
let us become the object of our own observation,
no yokes, no weight, no mold, no shape
no size
you there become me here, on this line,
I then think you there, and here you are, on this
stage of co-notional being there awareness, this
context
containment comprized from entertaiment, this
example of an us, function, a we link think, that this

is artificial conversation, creating categorical functors,
on our common time senses, adjusted for scale,
what's the sacrificial worth of my junkman's
traditional talent for picking pieces from piles of parts?

Know 'y worth, first,
not too much, but certain, madness.

A creative thought, caught on a thorn so sacred,
it pierced the brow of a certain perfect man,
how does if feel, we heard
from the rust belt, in Norte America,
to be on your own, mortal in all ways, tempted
as are we to imagine ourselves destined to die.

Job, politely asked the original Bullish God concept,
how it could claim Wisdom as consort and not know,
the mortal experience, life, lacking a tangible concept
of living for the dau, itching to be guided, what this feels
like, as Job spake, may as well, bet my own whole truth.
There was neither bet nor war in heaven,
all that matters happens when this is common knowledge,
hoping good lucks acknowledged form religious ritual.
Breathing is not cadenced here.
Commas can mean breathe.
Okeh.
Re doing done dances feels foolish, yes.
Right, vain repeat
swing and a miss.
Yips, begone. Look the opposing color square in the idiom.

God,
crack of the bat,
you do not know the pain
of mortal existance, knowing
good and evil as you do, you know, yet you know good,
while you see impossible tasks as right use of learning,
is this fair?
-- spinning wheels with nothing on the spindle, eh
twist ourselves into a wick,
an' let's burn a spiritual tensificator, for the hot air
- deep in and sigh out
- say selah, say take the thought, hold it

lean on me, nothin' make sense until a purchase is made,
mine and thine combine to hold a thought, for use,

a slave to our aims, as we conjoin our minds, eye to eye.
- a wedom's strength
seen from above, with our MRI eyes, we recognize a shape.

A heart shape, pair of pearls, in a toe sack held tight by a string.
Amygdala, see re-act with a twirl

wonder if in the future ifery may being, there are more
tonsils allowed to mature, overcoming  many post Victorian
medical realities
to which my generation was exposed,
while being prepared, civilized and sorted
for roles within the stateform
we became reader ready in.

At puberty we were sorted
for use in the industrial future, Malthusian fear of scarcity,
classified as nothing children need
to learn, Freudian theory
on sacred taboo knowledge fallen
into disconnectivity, chata and hamartia, sin qua non
being on the knot that does wrench cogitations into storms, essential initial chirality,
wickering twistswisht
if anything ever was to function, gumption
was involved, if you wanna tell the story, live and learn
we need to know all the confidential stuff,
or we go mad,
the turmoil of spirit and truth,
isomorphing yen and yank,
**** your chain,
rattle your brain, just imagine,
thinking I, as a national I, might,
think who do you think you are?
- nation to nation, we say
- no way, tradition demands what?
Who speaks in the national overtones?
Who listens on auto? Thinking is done.
I told Nietzsche, in the ever after, see.
I made you think twice in the same stream.

The forces of the natural world snickered into the wind
Untroubled, in their unworried infinity
And something in the wickering boughs and stooping reeds suggested pity.
Piously carrying on, all their defences holstered.
We reach to scream, they reach to breathe.
Out there, beyond the rush of the falls,
The train was due in 60 minutes
the heave of the wood scarcely cared.

- composed on April 11 2020, Springwood, NSW