Mom and dad there are plenty of things, that i never told you. And thats not to say i never confided in you, id say you know me more so than anyone else has or ever did but mom and dad there are a few things that over the years ive hid. Things i still to myself cant admit. There are things i have never told you. But i think its about time that i did.
Like that time when i was 15 and it was halloween and i told you i was sleeping at haleys and she told her parents that she was sleeping at ours, and her parents were out of town and we threw a wild party and the cops almost came but they didnt and we somehow managed to get away with it, yeah i never told you that.
I never told you about the times my body fell numb after digging through the pill cabinents and swallowing whatever remnants i could get my hands on, you werent wrong when you finally caught me and accussed it of not being the first time. It wasnt.
It wasnt easy for me to tell you about the times when i felt like my body belonged to someone else and i was merely a stranger leasing it out from time to time, it wasnt easy for me to tell you about my depression. To tell you what it felt like, what it still feels like sometimes to be a ghost in your own personal hell, the devil on your shoulder being your only friend. And when i stayed in bed for days on end it was always easier for me to tell you that i was sick. And i was sick.
It wasnt until the first time i had found myself holding a razor against my silk white skin that i realized this. And the realization wasnt enough for me to do anything about it. When you asked me what the marks on the back of my neck were, i told you it was eczema. That it was probably some hives that would go away if i left it alone but i lied. They were cuts. But i didnt want to tell you because i knew you would be ashamed and concerned and i didnt want that. So i told you it was a rash. And you believed that. I learned that day to stop wearing my hair up. To always cover up the parts of my body that showed every war lost with myself. I learned that day to treat my body less like an open battleground, and more like a designated warzone, parts not visible to the human eye became my scared temple where i burned the holy scriptures of my skin.
When i told you at 15 that i was no longer a ******, i wasnt kidding. But i did leave out the bits of uncertainty i had felt in the moments when i had given myself away, i left out the hesitation that i had never even had a chance to proclaim, *** came as quickly to me as anything else and i never had even had a moment to think about. I dont even know if at the time i wanted it, all i know is that when it happened i was too high to question it so i didnt. I never told you that i never knew how to say no.
No. That was the answer to whenever i begged to do things far beyond my age. But i always found a way around it. Like when i told you i was sleeping at haleys every night and i really slept over at the house of whatever boy i dated that summer, i still dont know how you never caught on. I sometimes i wonder if you did. If maybe you knew it all and respected me enough, trusted me enough to pretend you didnt, i didnt deserve all of the trust you lent me. But i learned from it. Without the freedom to **** up and grow i dont think i would have the capacity to know what i do now. Mom and dad i want to thank you for giving me the space to figure out how to get up when i fall down. I want to thank you for keeping me close enough to breathe the same air but not close enough to suffocate, mom and dad there are still things you dont know. But in order to hear most of those things youll have to wait.

When I was thirteen I overheard a conversation
The police were saying how tragic my story was
Due to the toxicity of what I had seen I would never know the difference between pain and love
Out of all the things to remember my mind chose that
I have never been accussed of loving too much
Because to me love is the most excruciating  thing a person can feel
I guess he was right

time seems to pass
in spurts.
some days take for ever,
others are infinite from the start.
Rules and reasons for commas and
periods where entire thoughts screech….
to a crash, hit the wall
and bounce
ellipsis-missed stuttering futures all flash
in a wink,
we think
better to wander among lines integral to life,
than those that tie our hearts to the lie,
the big one, thou shalt not
surely
die. A subtle metaphor for ceasing to be
all you think,
in your core, where courage faces curiosity
by way of the oddly bent nerve carrying
intention to a tongue…

say, hey
the idea of anti-locks, for slowing the selahity--
ABS- fixes that --
those locked-up brakes scenes, in dreams
where you are about to hit the wall,
these days those are
set in the genes, like falling from trees,
you notice,
you never hit the surface.
You always wake in a nearly identical reality,
as when you last passed from awake and aware,
to
sleep, maybe with dreams, as it seems
there is no total recall, after.

Today we face the future, again
we imagine we
know many common things that everybody
knows, as bodies are
by nature, complicated things. More
complex than reason allows, thus

the urge
to slow the motion imagined, scrunch
each sphincter on the chakra ladder …
jah, wu wu, come up here, bunkuum bi yall,
be a me and thee, hooked to a book
swallowed whole,
when it ought to have been chewed real,
all your life, cha cha cha;
you been thinking this is how if feels, if, yes,
to be just right.
Just fine, thank you.
Fine, technical granularity in the meta data
of life, arranged in time and chance
to dance in an idea all minds name beauty,
poetry and song,
all flow into the lowest valley
where, today, we wake and
find a slew of beautiful ideas malingering,
I say I
know
that ain't so. The pond where those old knowns
were settled has dried,
due to the dams, but we can look up river
along the meandering course all flows carve.

We can find where those bemired beautiful thoughts
sprang from the first fully myelinated frontal cortex,
capable of gramary. Enchantmental
{magic-tech intuitive spelchek}
hexes and spells that repeat the effect
in gestures and words, once known
to have made axe heads float,
and fishes to multiply,
and vast armies to die at the river,
laying down sword and shield,
shrugging off the mantle,
leaving Sisyphus to keep things rolling,
-------------------
whole armies, flags to bedraggled ******
in the rereward, muttering incanticles,
we have over come,
we have reached beyond the grasp
of all our knowers,
yet they lie, for a living, to live in the lie.
Knowers who settle
in a slew of beautiful ideas,
un beknownst to them, the misery of e
vaporization
spiritualized truth, sealed in idle words,
deemed good for nothing
until these days,
this day, perhaps your first
aware
of waking with one, only, uno, uni
verse as long as life,
per se.
---------------------

As we ramble on, branching,
ever, where the pressure within pierces
the field opposing…
what
am I worth as a word writer compared
with Coleridge' the addict,
whose story lacked the wonderings of Cain-
for
Wordsworth, lacked the knack,
of knowing Cain,
murderer in the first instance, ere degrees
had words to make sense of them.
Not knowing the story,
the idea
left these novice evil thinking boys snared
by a musement of the classical
spiritual sort, either real
or fantasy, we call it
art, intuitively being attractive
to the curiosity
living in the knowing being -- you know,
you say you
tasted the Son and knew at once,
goodness,
in a word holds truth in a way,
we feel
touching each chakra, if you stop to feel,
each valve clampt to hold the surge,
urging up up up to
fill the face with bright acknowledgement,
mental
acting as known in a whatifery sense,
tasted, felt, not seen not heard in words
roger, acknowledgment sent.
ditty dum.
Free verse is worse than what,
would you say? Given a will that is wild
by nature, as you imagine nature
being, a force in physics that goes bio,
then logical,
logos
lives on as long as any knower wishes to know.
- Crime of the mariner?
he shot the albatross for the reason…
I can, I did not know of the link
to generations in the morrow,
twixt the twisted
real real alone alone as though a spell,
seeps from the story,
held with glittering eye, strange pow'r of speech
I know the man that hears me,
yes.
You know as well.

------------------

Time loops and worm holes,
time and again
the story follows plot to points we knew were
coming soon,
end of
all that was, then
this is new, reset, next level, literal game of life.

Grown out of all the dung counted
worth the recollection.
Yea doubtless,
and I count all things
but loss
for the excellency
of the knowledge
of Christ Jesus my Lord:
for whom I have suffered the loss
of all things, and do count them but dung, that I may win Christ

Wait a minute. that was a quote. "Winning" Christ is where
I draw the line…
tell me, if I know the truth, and the affect is liberty,
that is excellent knowledge,
Paul and I agree,
but what's to win, bro? Where is winning done, once
the destroyers works were destroyed?

That is the story under the headline of the ages,
It is finished, say witnesses at the event.
The Gospel is back, set in second coming Times Roman.
We won, peace on earth, good will to all who
take the grace as granted and ask what good can now be done.
We won, said the anonymous peacemaker.
We used the knowledge of good and evil, through deep
sapient
simple conditioning, over eons,
augmenting mental effort here and there with a genius off
the charts
odd
measurable in minds that imagine infinity is impossible.

In the early 1980s, Nobel laureate Paul Dirac
told Princeton University theorist Ed Witten
that the most important challenge in physics was
“to get rid of infinity.” 

From <https://www.americanscientist.org/article/tackling-infinity>

-- Disneyifity, wishery wu, to infinity and beyond

New times, new tropes, lose  slay-the-dragon,
loose distribute-the-hoard, hope to shout,
it all works out, and Jesus
fixes every thing…
someday
soon. Soon. Many sons, wombed and un, no diff.
on earth as in heaven… always answered,
nicht wahr? Immer so, amen.

Or is ask and ye shall receive,
speaking of the signal to reset your mind.
To get past infinity as a physical problem
that mortals must solve.
But what will happen to our craft?,
hear the institution groan.
What in deed, February 2021.
That passed and you barely noticed.
Not much changed among the Promise Keepers
crop of Christian Warriors marching,
as to war, with carnal weapons at the ready.

Now, as you may see, on TV, is the time to sow,
seed faith, {prove me now, pay and pray}
Yes -
All the riches to the glory of God,
building the Kingdom Now, for a while,
as it built the fabled Oral Roberts Disciples Network
of Kenneth Hagen clones clad in Lutheran sheepskins,
hiding scapula knit from Iberian goats
whose hair, twisted to itchy yarn,
made the shirt of several martyrs,
for whom towns and universities are named.
Such secret scapula
remind the faithful, fame is worth any price,
pre-pay shorten your stay,
puke
and now functions as advertised to envoke
itching to die for a try to win Christ,
by killing the enemy we love,
for Jesus… who
sent {SYTF} the comforter, to soothe the itch,
to break the bubble shaped like a tetrahedron,
for some phosphoric oomph, spilling
the golden oil -similar to the effect Aaron felt
poured on his head, dripping from the corners of his beard.

{there is legend of a prayer:
Abba forgive those who know not what they do,
I confess there was a flaw in the nature of man,
I came to fix it, and I did. Amen}

Bless me, must I know the meaning
of every thing I ever say?
Is there no easy way?

Look up. Yes, anything you wish to know,
seek and find, weigh with care,
find the measure of this to that, eventually all
leads to ever, but not hell.
Actual consciousness faints long before hell
is realer than men have made punishment.
------------
Cancel this variable with that probable, consider-ate
conscience, desider-ate desciency in constancy
- set the standard at good -
C is something other than imagined, thus
at Feynman's suggestion we swept infinity
under the rug.

Knowing all things,
It'll blow your mind.
Unsafe at any speed, be lief is the re lief…
bileave, one source claims is a noun, not an act,
a state of mind, bounded by
"confidence reposed in a person or thing;
faith in a religion…"
{granularity of substance assumed}
We can hope.
But that's after all sorts of lies have come to life
as institutions to shelter the meek from the greedy,
who then must wear this dread atop-- your's, yes
your head, wears the dread subjecting
all you know to ******* in service
of the Authorized Truth;
remember hell is as real as any place you may imagine,
given years of proper education
in the liturgy of survival
during next.
---------- seal it.
{Same yesterday, today and ever after - forever
is so ambiguous- }

--------
Gnathite seaton, right - that means
bug lips, no I was thinking Know thyself
in Latin or something
aca-deme-ware-ish, to push a button on
the whole truth
and nothing but - beginning as  belief released
as an act of will,
accepted that in this bubble
each emotion has
cause and stands accussed,
with a touch of pride
to expand the contention confidence and convening
event
soothing the rippling surface on the ocean of opinions
'pon which we bob
up and down.

Bait-taken signal to pull back on the tug,
set the hook,
feel the yelp and then the anger, of a fish
I wish
were that magic one, I never really caught.

-- I laugh, in disbelief, relieved of lying metaphors,
miss-labeled cans of worms from experiences
not common in unalienated minds.

------------------

------------

In the realm of recommending AI,
the pro
stitutes told the institutes ***
sells and sells and sells, but smack holds
their loyalty, violence
givem hell,
makem pay seven times seventy,
each child a slayer of his ten thousands,
-watcher set-
pay attention to the empath,
watch it cringe,
at
something words fail to convey, temptation
to defy a lie locking ignorance in place,
never wishing
to know all things
to prove a prophecy, such,
is only tempting if time is a factor
in the dis
cussing of certain concepts regarding the after effect
of an anointing on a lynching,
after a drowning,
and a burning while all the people sang na na
nawnaw nananana

and when the battle's over, we had lost the edge,
- contention comes from pride, and
- winners is proud, such pride has offspring
- messin' wit'cha mind… win Christ, for dung…

Covid binging
dulled
the point, but after all,
we are here and all who opposed us
now enforce the worth of words
to the wise.
It is written. So it is.
Consider a self, rich and sorrowless.
Be that a bit.
---------
Gramary is magic, Psyche is spiritual, at best.
Ach, Scheiz, not Grammerly, no, but a segue
I just did a product placement
for one of Spelchek's kids.
Gramery is spells and hexes in letters and signs…

And on TV is Osiris and Isit… bait for next

A girl born in the month of September
Never knew she would bring joy to get Keith and kin.
She was pink as the ripe mountain strawberries,gave out a loud wail while her mother propitiated her .

She grew up to be a puerile lass,
With all her mischief and wisdom.
Young and old knew her and cherished.
For she was a unique little princess.

Later the years passed,
When the little princess entered her stripling years.
She came to know many things.
Which is good and bad.
For her mind wandered around the world,
Leaving her all lost and mystified.

She was beleaguered
With friends all her life but no one to call her own.
For everyone teased her accussed for who she was,which scared her salad days.

Yet she never lose hope.
Waiting for someone to love her best.
For she has a heart of a fragile holy grail.

She is one remarkable miss.
Who is called by the name which meant the goddess of moon.
She will bring a change everyone want to see in this orb.