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SøułSurvivør Apr 2015
---<¤>---

where's
the eye myopic?
where's the eye that weeps?
where is the heart that spendeth
long before it recieves?

all you see is glitter
zirconium... fool's gold
you spend your life acquiring
and soon your soul is sold

all your plans are wasted
they unravel and unwind
as the eye atop the pyramid

the golden eye is blind


soulsurvivor
4/5/2015


---<¤>---
Imperfectly,
I stand before you,
A man. If you can’t see
All the things that I am,
I’m not content to hang around
As the retirement plan.

I’ll never boss you around,
But that’s not because I’m weak.
It’s because I have the security
To let you be you,
And me, be me.

I stand on my own two feet.
And I don’t ever base my self-esteem
Off some meaningless number
Of late night creeps.

I’ve searched my own deeps, for
A healthy conception of masculinity -
And this is a long-term investment scheme;
So I ask, can you appreciate what patience means?

Without games, on an even plane,
No cliché lines or insincere sayings.
You can always find another “strong-type,”
One of those paper-thin cut outs
From the book of male stereotypes.
Still, truth untold,
We both know -
It’s unconventionality
That makes a diamond
In the rough.

I have learned that
Determining a diamond’s cut grade
Goes well beyond
Simple measurements,
Like width and depth.
To determine
A diamond’s worth,
You have to test
Its light performance.

Even if a stone seems
To have color and clarity,
You can tell a real diamond
By how it catches the light,
Disperses evenly across the rock,
While a fake becomes almost transparent
As saturated light moves through it.

In another poet’s words:
Some [folks] recognize the light
But they can’t handle the glare.

I’ve also learned that appraisal of a diamond
Is determined by its own proportions.
You have to test for symmetry.
Does it seem to be high-grade carat
While you’re around?
And karma, karma, chameleon
To cubic zirconium,
If you’re visiting
The other side of town?

The thing is,
I’m not really here
To expose other contradictions.
I just want you to listen.

I want to talk to you
About how chivalry is not dead.
Look you right in the eye,
And tell you why. Talk
About how romance
Is still very much alive.
So, no more wind-whispered cries,
About how good manners have all but died.

Some might call such confidence conceited,
But I’m not recarving any hieroglyphs.
This type of affection is ancient,
So help to embrace it. Engage we -
With extensive emotional foreplay
And intellectual tongue-kissing;
Way before incense and candles get lit.

And tonight?
Let’s try starting over
With a night out on the town.
The recipe is simple: good food and
a place that's quiet enough for conversation,
maybe a jazz spot, if you’re down.

Or maybe, we could catch
A late-night flick
That really makes us think.
And when we’ve talked ourselves dry,
Neither one of us
Would mean a goodbye,
So we’d retire homewards,
And unwind.

Because I do want you,
The right way.
I want you,
And I want you to want me, too.
I want you to want me,
Just like I want you.

Nevertheless,
No stress for you,
Or for me.
If these rivers are meant
To find their way to the sea,
It should happen, naturally.
Kara Troglin Feb 2013
Your eyes mirrored pools of black
ink and I never knew that the flask
in your pocket would keep me wide
awake into the morning.

The olivine porch outside your country
home was shaped with darker thoughts
and milkweed seed that left me
wondering how you wake in winter.

You lived as a sleeper in the valley
with a zirconium smile and when light
rained down the glass of your hanging lanterns
would break across the sky.

The smoothness of smoke that wrapped
around my lungs kept me lurking
in the corners of drowsy living
and drunken rainbow fires.

You could never offer me more
than what I already had.
So as with everything, the end came
and now the wind is blowing prismatic stars.
Johnnyqu33r Jun 2021
Swift punt to the soda pop tin
Littering the low lit path before me
Flash back to kick the can
And hopscotch jumping rope
To wittled cans from which to smoke
And losing family to knotted rope

Years pile on tense shoulders
Bearing zirconium smiling teeth
Finding diamonds in my grief
But always pacing forward

To flash back on bronze days
Glowing like bonfire embers
Finishing the last of the thirty rack
Never realizing I was drowning
Just sad and aloof and smiling
Smoking bad **** from a PBR can
K W Blenkhorn Oct 2011
Cubic zirconium eyes, and a tip toe too far
that I'm tittering on the cusp of something
that is even remotely coherent.
I've been repeating sentences in my head,
over and over again so I'm not to forget it.
This waltz with reality is getting tiring,
and my wits are too dull to cut this rug.
I believe that there is an old saying about that
but I could be confused with something other then words.
I never did like the number seven
masquerading as cylindrical. Never the less,
there is just three more steps, and
a skipped heart beat, and then, and only
then I can finally come to my conclusion.
LS Martin Oct 2016
PRISTINE CHRISTINE
Pristine Christine the girl of my dreams
Rest assure, though her eyes do not gleam
I know that she is more than what she seems
Shall I explain what it means?
To have and to hold a motionless figurine no, my artificial queen?
I cling to this fantasy, this object I desire
Nothing can deter me as I continue to describe her
Eyes faded with cubic zirconium shine that awe and inspire

Clay for hair fabricated in wire
Her lack of bones and plush filled body set my soul to fire
Revealing an unnatural love I have allowed to transpire
I invent reasons to how her synthetic skin will not perspire
Structured in a silicone beauty never to expire
Tainted in mystery for all to admire
Imitate my love! You lifeless being; it is all     that I require
Name me your ruler and I will enslave myself to your empire
Even if it means loving this *** doll that I have acquired
The unrealistic expectations of women
Corset Sep 2015
Daydreamer
Turn your head a notch
and we'll see that perfect
dot beside your nose.

Tell me,
even though
sanity may jettison
and stroll down
the lane as naked
as a jay bird.

you remember,
that I had on too many clothes
or not enough and neither one
at the appropriate time,
still,
I can't soften
the discard-
the tint of rose
from my cheeks or the
titan grip on my jugular.

Remind me still ,
with patience,
like every other
seven year old
wearing a zirconium,
Tiaras, pink taffeta
and soft as night ballet
slippers,
that it's o.k.
to sit on my spotted pony
dreaming,
that all princes
will have a heart of gold.

That promises mean
something
even to spectra
and daydreamers...

we stopped laughing
when
the song ended
with the world spinning

and I fell down
calling your name
on the back
street of my worst
nightmare coming true.

Remind me gently,
That best friends can't say
I love you
and still be best friends,
well, I already knew,
it just might be that
all the time my eyes
were wide open
they just
wouldn't stop listening
to the skipping thud of
my pulse.
Zywa Apr 2023
At night, full trains standing still
between the erigeron
The grass **** wobbles a bit

The water sighs
little waves over the railway
Geese splash around

Bye Atlantis
Bye floating gardens
Thank you, all the best

We're flying out
the earth is open
Where to, where to?

Rombom, the sun will come
Zirconium sparkles, colours
expectation everywhere

It paints our desire
promises us love and happiness
- a fabulastic home
"Fantastic voyage" and the other songs on the album "Lodger" (1979, David Bowie)

Collection "On living on [2]"
Mark Toney Oct 2019
Amphorae, beautifully crafted,
Delicate, exquisite, fire-glazed,
Heated in jumbo kilns,
Lovely molded necks,
Opaque pigments,
Quartzite residue-
Symbolic, timeless, utilitarian
Valued- with xanthic yellow zirconium
1/25/2019 - Poetry form:  ABC - In this instance, a poem in which every word begins with a successive letter of the alphabet. The first word begins with A, the second with B, the third with C, etc. - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2019
Tommy Johnson Dec 2014
Hard working father looks in the kitchen
And sees his son who he wants the best for
He wants his boy to become a man
To take everything life can give and even more
But the son has other things on his mind
Unintentionally slashes his father's dreams
To the father he's straying from the footprint path
But not everything is always as it seems

If it ain't broke how could you fix it?
Don't worry about all of your worries
One for all and all for one
Live fast die young, just have some patience

Mother loves her daughter so much
Tries to protect her from all that she can
The closer she pulls her the harder she'll push her
Both feel the other will never understand
But they know when they look deep in themselves the see each other
And after all the yelling and cursing they'll say "I love you" to one another

Somethings are easier said than done
And actions speak louder than words
When living with constant change
Get to know yourself, just take some time

We resort to name calling
When downloading and installing
Upload then uninstall
The preambles to the pitfalls
The hostile hospitality
The aromatic pheromones
But memories who've reprise their roles
And take *** shots and low blows
Overlook the unturned stones
Overgrown baby's scared
Student loans and ingrown hairs
They have an eye-witness
So they come for a search and seizure
Drastic times call for drastic measures
I mean it when I say you're really a treasure
Made of cubic zirconium and pewter
I can't confirm or deny
If it's all according to plan
And I'm inclined to decline
I just may just to your dismay
Or I plum forgot
Because I've lived my whole life with my head in a sling
I discourage the disparagement of  releasing disclose information
But speak of the devil
I almost missed it
This is my own theme song so you all better get ready to sing

The piper's come to collect
Do you wish to go farther or further?
"I will take time to restore chaos and order"
Everything will be fine in the morning, so do yourself a favor and relax
g clair Oct 2015
Jerry swears someday he's gonna marry thee
but he hesitates to take you on a date
Jerry says no movies that he wants to see
and diner food these days is not as great.

Jerry said he's saving for his future
and likes to see you saving for yourself
though daddy never said the man's Moocher
he's watching Jerry's actions for himself.

Jerry says
Jerry says
I don't care what Jerry says
Jerry is
what he does
if you listen to the buzz
Jerry has
been a spaz
though he's cute and all that jazz
let's see Honey put his money where his mouth is

Jerry said today he wants to stay with you
well you can't believe what comes out of his mouth
Jerry doesn't know which way his head is to
more than likely Jerry's head is pointing south.

Jerry said tonight he's working overtime
and won't be calling you, so go to bed
Jerry thinks that all you want are diamonds dear
expect Cubic Zirconium  instead.

Jerry says
Jerry says
I don't care what Jerry says
Jerry is
what he does
if you listen to the buzz
Jerry has
been a spaz
though he's cute and all that jazz
let's see Honey put his money where his mouth is
Amanda Stoddard Sep 2015
I really ****** myself up this time-
blood dripping into the palms of my hands
I started laughing through my tears
couldn't wipe them away
too busy trying to stop the bleeding
this broken heart has made scars again Mom-
but everyone around me is too busy to notice
or maybe I've just gotten better at hiding them-
hiding them behind this smile I like to paint
but see I never thought I was a good enough artist
the silence and the solitude like to tell a different story.
I turn the page,
watch as the silhouette of the last
makes it hard to read in between the lines-
too many pages of me have been unturned
too many chapters that go unread
there's a lot more to me than just a synopsis of this facade.
I click my tongue-
I make touch each one of my fingernails
Seems I am here, cognitive.
But from the view out of my retinas
all I see is blurred vision
a skewed understanding no glasses could fix
my far-sightedness in people has made me blind
there is no side to this story that can be unseen
expose of me, decompose with me.
I would like to waste away with you
but my views are too backwards
and it seems I am lost once again.
Reality makes me feel less real than dreaming nowadays
everything feels like such a dream
but most of the time it's just a nightmare.
I sit back and wish to drink this ***
the kind that's red and has little danny speaking tongues-
this lightbulb burnt out,
the hallways are lined with red
and nothing is shinning anymore
it's no longer a diamond
it's just all Kubrick zirconium.
watch me like your favorite novel
read me like your favorite movie-
never let me disappoint
but someday soon you'll get tired
and you'll pick something else
to fill the void of convincing yourself you like change
but nothing feels as good-
and the cycle repeats.
I would like someone to never tire of me
but these eyes have made way for more tragedy
and the bags under them make way for travel.
I will paint a smile upon my face,
tie a t-shirt around the open wound
so I can maybe stop the bleeding
and I'll pick up this part of me
place it upon my shoulder right where there's a chip-
because that's where it fits
that's where my heart is.
The Kubrick thing and the watch/read things were on purpose.
Ian Robinson Jan 2019
People look at diamonds and think they're so precious
But worth is only what someone will pay for it
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
What is strange, after all
was said,
and done,

the story seemed
forgotten
and

no one idea remained alone, as an if,
a
possibility,
never even imagined, one,
which alone made
each
hap or happenible, imaginable as an aspect of reality
appear to
happen, in your reality,
now,
and this
happened to be, one possibility,
wit' me
and you In it. it
seems
we can't

discern a granular differing christalization,
for, we know, it
looks like one of us loosed the grip on knowing,
realizability, actual-al-ity, virtually,
for sure,
at eye level.
See
qubic zirconium looks like diamond,
to naked eyes,
in certain light;
and magic seems scientif, with at least
six spin opt-in on the
referendum
passed for truth to exist in California…

Prop. 13 covered us, property tax wise,
so this reality looks
as if it worked,
see,
the effort to not die, remember?

Life goes on.

This is all we got to make the best of.
Your guess, as good as mine, I bet,
it's worth breathing
again;

but don't **** me, if I'm wrong,
joke,
no worry.
I never was,
under
those circumstances, you are crazy.
Not me. Breathe.
It was scheduled for a Tuesday in August, 1970
ME
Tarnished sequin in the Jewel shop of life.

How did I get put in with the diamonds?

I don’t pretend to even be Zirconium.

I’m not where I belong and don’t blend in.

Where’s the art and crafts department.

That’s where I hold court

And sometimes get to be the Queen.

ljm
At least I'm a PURPLE sequin !
I. son
i am my mother's boy
who knows which teflon pans
can take the abrasive green of
a scotch brite sponge
whose face was spared the
potent accutane but not
the persistent whiteheads

mamma, sage and skeptic
who tells me things like
"to bury a parent is an honor,
but to bury a child is a curse"
if such things are to believed,
mamma holds the esteem and
privilege of a queen because
she buried both parents before
she could finish her roaring 20s
but also because she planted her
roots firm and coaxed a flourishing
garden kingdom from the scorched
plains of her own fragile fig-heart

i am my father's son
who is enamored with knowing
my brain ever-hungry for knowledge
my father who phones colleagues on drives
when there is nothing to say
or listens to npr and old malayalam songs,
fuzzy and wailing, when the gap
between us feels too far to bridge

dada, whose hair-trigger temper
i am said to have inherited
only he seethes in stoic solemnity
and i decompose, curdle and sour into
bitter words i'm not sure i don't mean
dada who, if **** hit the fan and the
plane was going down, would strap
the elastics of oxygen masks behind
the ears of others before his own;
reckless selflessness in everything

dada says that in his eyes,
i am still the wrinkled, delicate
bundle of flesh he took home
on march 10th, 2005
mamma says i am the first child
she has ever held and the first child
she has ever loved

the tectonics of arguments:
convergence with dada
brings only the buckling of earth
the creation of new ridges until
we are separate continents
subsidence with mamma
where deceit leads to a sinking
and my rebellion is made into
magma once more, simmering
dormant beneath the surface

i say i love you to my parents
especially during these arguments
because god forbid their lives
are cut short and all that was
and all that will ever be was
punctuated simply, indefinitely,
with two terrible semicolons;
i want to live without regret
and celebrate them in my
remembrance

i say i love you
but it’s difficult to say
“i’m sorry”

ii. material love
i tell you that love is as material
as it is immaterial:

i tell you that love
is the sore corners of our mouths
marred and slit open by the plastic
of dime a dozen fruit-flavored freeze pops
cold and sticky on sun-ironed skin
the heat-ironed fuse bead memorial plaque
buried with dexter the dead pet fish
in the sloped backyard of my old house

foil wrapped over-toasted peanut butter
and jelly sandwiches clutched in the cold hands
of my family, seated in a dusty gold nissan minivan
at 6:30 in the morning, dressed in our sunday best
on the way to church in the bleak midwinter

i'm from
crumpled bounce dryer sheets
redolent with soapy softener
heady pine-sol wet on bathroom tiles

i'm from
knees skinned on bus stop pavement
kiss it better, dust it off
keloid trinkets of my childhood

i'm from the spice and burn of liquor
miniatures on my grandfather's breath
the scent of ഏത്തക്ക അപ്പം frying on the deck
turmeric-tinted oil clinging to paper towels

i'm from fiddling with shoelaces for an eternity
because my clumsy fingers didn't have the dexterity
to coax the bunny around the tree and into its den

i'm from mamma having us stuff loose change into
cardboard coin rolls weeks before christmas,
so that santa would have a down payment for
our presents, even when we lived paycheck to paycheck

i'm from smuggling aunt jemima syrup under the dining table
with the matte finish that raised the hairs on my arms when scratched
to sip in clandestine corn syrup paradise

i'm from mac n' cheese and hot dogs
marauchen chicken-flavored instant ramen
with ice cubes so as to not scald my
young and unseasoned tongue

i'm from learning to ride a bike in the
parking lot of the local middle school
while my parents camped out in the
trunk of our old toyota highlander
racing birds, squirrels, anything that
dared so much as to breathe with
a childish eagerness, ever-chasing
the boundless oblivion of sunset
the violent shaking of training wheels
setting the tempo to my mayhem

i'm from getting fitted for a bonded zirconium tooth
not long after flipping over the handlebars of a bike
long after taking the training wheels off
(maybe i forgot to keep my head out of the clouds
or perhaps the clouds out of my head)

i'm from sonic chili cheese anything
on thursday schoolnights,
and fistfuls of arby's curly fries clenched
between tiny fingers as we watched
planes take off from the trunk of our car,
flying,
     flying,
          flying,
yaw, pitch, roll like badminton birdies
eclipsing crayola-blue skies
like sly fireflies evading mason jar capture
zipping through sleepy nights

i am rooted with conviction
in pennsylvania piedmont
(rich, chalky with minerality)
and transient like lamplight fire
dancing on houston bayous
in a mid-spring's twilight

in the strokes of my father
tracing the കുരിശ് on my
forehead after a nightmare

i am from syllogism and shortcomings
a student of disappointment but
always a child of love
after george ella lyon, the song "jasmine" by anju, and laura jean henebry.
At rest, satisfied I've done no harm.
I'll leave these waiting in line ideas
for your turn to happen on this information corridor.

It is the shopping season, I was told, so hold that thought.

Since we last shared our Sunday feelings, slow smiles,
easy breathings, laughing down deep,
sugar in chicory,
white shirt, sun bleached stiff, Sunday
feels like coffee
to a gut once punched breathless,

so we use our considerable peace
concentrating considering conditions
consuming the attention
of all willing war, stop
competitions
wills to win
instilled
we focus us, we
wishing, wishing, war, war, war,
whoa whoa whoa

sit up straight,
in your cave, alone look out
listen
right
for common sense say why

what for, asks the precocious child
in us all, this time
of year, the gear
of mortal thought
through gelled
- down shift AWD -
gravity, pulling feeling pulled,
pushing feeling pushed
minds worths spent

wondering, if here is home,
where the core responsibility

is ours, not mine, we remain
in truth, life's automatic fundamental
mere words we understand, thought
basest mental function reconnoiter
hic-upping, holding

recognosis heresy as defined,
when such a label scarred me
- a compliment, such a scar  -
we breathe the same bubble, despite
any illusions, by time each is fine,
we fractalling tinier we points,
truer weforms reforming
facets holding worthier
bit roles valuse kept
at a true rest loss
in former face
to faces, diamonds cut diamonds
and scratch glass,
but so do Rhinestones, I tested
and cubic zirconium, yeah, too
youtubablefacheckable
edgewise twixt souls tied
in untested wills realizing how many times

we idly admitted realizing we had been beguiled,
but we were never condemned
for thinking so.

We realize

stretching
to contain the entertained pose,
suppose prepositionally magically
to make held breaths let go
be taken
in this form
as informed consent
wisdom from peace, once made
wise, used knowledge, waited
held while knowing, waiting
continues, until the end of time,
at which point,
such peace
pastless
breathing ease
be livable, a peace,
in a safe, satisfied mind,
of the kind the scriptures hold,
in formed words
of God, old surahs
and psalms and such,
inspirations enlivening
wisdom tested,
all acknowledge James,
San Diego, the peacemaker,
in this opera… the ragpicker, smile

soap opera reflections
persist, ever before
ever after, okeh

fine as any we can seem,
to me
by time told to smile

in clear text, all we recall,
we all may recall, for a while,

let the fretful fret, let the dead bury the dead.

Let your peace fill your place…

Let us say we use wisdom.
We used wisdom
to read so far.
Farther, still.

We may imagine
letting this mind already be
in us, as once, each we formed
with this idea Peace
on Earth as believed it is above,
in it init set once invariably declared
to obtuse angles
of approach, gentle, piercing point
of sublime peaceability
defined
as frictionless
fictionality,
easily entertained, for art's sake
some philosophic psy sayers see
arguing points is not warring
war makes proud falls
fester as the prouder enemy
perpetual villainy barely
perceivable
peaceable, but barely,
only in a thought bubble,
limited to your network access,

in plain text decoding
the noise, the humms, all those
basically bounce right here to make

these letters let these words answer
these qwerty witty invention info corridors,

replacing cuspidors
in the three door jokes. Preacher jokes.

{no, need, slow, do not forget the fall, three legs
  no yoke, need a cane, use a cane, but settle
where all the motion in the ocean is peace
Epimetheus anthropo peace, at last

from where this reporter sits,
on the calm
east edge
of December grey Pine Valley,

partaking
in yesterdays stored sunshine,

imagining writing effectual Christmas greetings,
empowered
to do what greetings once did,
as burning embers
in their heads
as we think
of our enemies, so are we, we
yes, we
are whom those must love,
or we all die lying
about whose math
makes useful sense, war or peace

pride or prejudice
blame or shame

debt or duty
to give back
at jubilee, joyfully.
Start with all new credit tomorrow.

Peace, nothing missing, nothing owing, sown.
By time.

Once done, the doing can be redone,
every fifty years, and knowledge
birth control and defensive
use of verbs like believe
and love and hate.
Live pre advised.

TIME AND AGAIN

like going
to the movies, but
before you knew you may disbelieve,
you did not have permission to leave, but
you could walk out and ask for your money back,
but, this time, you didn't
this Sunday, you let your peace
share imaginations common online,
mindshare through metadata sorting corridors
recognizance thorough preverb fixed beliefs on

breathing e okeh breathing, that's superfluous
unless e okeh
way
deep down settled silt
of the satisfied mind breathe-ing softly

endless scrolling bits
of nonsensed patterns
that seem funny
in the good medicine laugh, way

not the drunkensorrybacksliderdamnt'hell way, laugh

sorrysonofabitchwhowentsocrazy,
whoa, child,
laugh Tour et als
old time, it don't mean nothin' yoke
like now, it's funny,
we all collect
in corridors
of power
at points
of contention, we clog unstressed arteries,

yes, sitting sazen, said
to call
for some walking,
heel
to toe, perpendicularity regular as walking
on waves
in a puddle,
or my sister's version
of the mighty Mississippi…
she taught me
to spell, was a river,
like that, course slowing waters widen
each time the seasons change plains widen

by this point, bound
by mortal oathes
to time per se
we know knowledge never was outlawed, we do
we know, and we have always known, we did,
we used secrets, so we could have slaves, yes
- and share
- in all liar's shames, we used
- to sell our will
- to tell, we know most stories lie

and when we know why,
and when we know
we tell those stories,
as parables on choices,
by not trying the impulse
to explode
with awareness
of knowing available,
using old Kermit and Miss Piggy shows.
or vintage Dr. Seuss… indeed, the Who
we hear, to this very day, we do

so, did your parents or your grand parents
let you play with your own high speed
honest to god Optic to the wall,
speed to fact check, the least preverb will,

much the same class of possible answers
yes, neutrinos and neurons may answer
some stupid possible as well known,
odds are, if you got this far, your mind
is fine, you define the time browsing

this is my old curiosity shop, not one line
nor one precept used
to stock these corridors
of metadata corelating
at the speed
of thought came presupposed

since quite some time ago,
this is superfluity, as imagined,
by the ragpicker, as  he described the scribe…
the pen with intention to self correct,
the mind retention invention, us;
our we form in spirit as truth,
we all did,
we are the same down
to our lobster gene
joy reward we train
during spartan childhoods
towb ra' hard earned worth

of war, such social orders,

slaves pay only attention

to know how earlier,

of course they do it

for the same reason,

but. . . why do we think that same reason works
practiced in mind games made perceptual
realize the fact that pride causes contention,

we can pretend to fight friends, we cannot pretend
to pay the debts war owes war profiteers, ever.

Life is beautifully difficult, but never unreasonable…

after the original misconception
as to what dis-

connection entails, a ramification
of witless whatifs

well, that's
what has been called abstracted art using words
we all have cognates -
we all knowings using words up down right left
so close, so near, we think the very same ideas
first principal want need filled knowing
truth works, liars prosper, when truths
hidden
for power
to preposition protect liars
prosperity preserved
in ritual tradition
condition for peace, someday

another Pleasant Valley Sunday…

seconds seem so same
in ever before recollections
grand stacks
of all certain systems use
to enforce

defense
of war and hero preserved peace myths.

Blown
to hell,
by Orwell, and Shaw, et al

risen when the sorting sorted some
first mental assisting intelligence
how
to learn
with a known learning entity
with letters
to let us be neighbors
to befriend led
by a child
Tobor, but secret machine code
in a vocabulary we invent
second chances
a series of NAND gates
yes we have these now, indeed,
Feynman trinandretry why gates, we
teach our fingers qwerty keys we can see,
we could think,

newsprint, cheap,
to free, remainders
of ROP rolls, pulp paper

pulp fiction, smoke filled rooms,
daily takes
from the wire, copy boy

we get a Steno trained girl,
and a 1916 Dictaphone, sets the era.
dictation saved on a Dictaphone wire…

Then, which POV, actor or director,
on set
in scene NPC, or realized observer
influencing off stage
the free will
of every hope ******
in as you breathe infuriating butterflies.

And laugh and scratch
at what ain't cancer,
just an itch.



so, you absorbed social adjustment beta test data,
before you knew no children
before your cohort
experienced life tuning
to lightwaves we make
when we all think
in the shallow pointy ends
of the spectrum, hummm
drumm
breathe
think, sigh, clear the phlegm,

as a mind tied, internally,
to hearing ears
and seeing eyes,
in certain peaceable cogitations
presenting as slow onset disbelieving

breathe and breathe and breathe and think

we all breathed once since then,
at once
we think

for contention, as
to whose holy gnosis we say yes
we see we
breathe
in peace, because we do, right now
just breathe, and share
the enough we share
good will
to mankind
one kindness form
same we once
ex nihilo
as above, so below
only leave be true, you see,

and see if some say see, you do.

Because those who told the grown ups why,
also told them why not, why love

is not all you need, truth,
wisdom demands attention,
aware is not afraid, no need dread be taught,

unless the lie be used
to instill deep we psyche, eee we
in the very air we breathe, dispersion,
inevitable ruliad ewload suspension

we are, as  individual wills working
for love
of the life, living as satisfied
to swim
in warm waves
of gentle gravity

settling
in the silt
at the bottom
of our filter bubble,
in this flushing foam moment

since when was so important, then

I was just thinking
in qwerty mode,
and sensed I once imagined endless rolls
to read
from, as I wrote
in my mind, while

driving, millions
of miles, since 1964,

many first things occurred since 1964.

Today, first time it seem so peaceful,
not since ever,
has my peace so remained
due to my expert use
of freedom
from the press, along
with freedom to broadcast
from the drifting frequency joy
and regulatory testing demands, fear
not
this is only a test, if it were an attack…

we would be dead, by now.
If one only believed it was truth that made peace possible, we can reason together and gladly accept honest jubilee, new credit for all, new measures of what a post urban human can make joy producing given time in peace.

— The End —