how long? All day, all night

Central casting said the authority has an idea,
that won’t keep
we all laft
living knowledge
this is whats was leftover. You can readem, n’usem
if y’wish- to redeem the time with nothin’ t’do.

this is, yes, I forget people forgot how reading works
in message apps that took centuries to perfect,
if you
think about it too long.
What.
World edit, no.
Think, Planetary, like let’s get physical.
Pop some bubbles, scrub some silos, find a whole new
schema.
Mind games are legal, cheap, and easy. See.

Wisdom is the first thing you get to know with,
then you need patience.
Wait for it.
Your soul is possessed with your patience, as it piles up,
over the decades, you can
increase the stack of all you know you can think or ask,
and eventually it comes to you in some usual way.

The blessing of yahweh, it makes the takers rich,
and he adds no sorrow with it.

I accepted that, that’s how I know what I know.

Never seen a richman with a satisfied mind, child,
doncha know, that ain’t so, see

satisfied minds is what Peacemakers take t’ they grave.
Oh, yeah, lemme tell some other time,

take your time to learn
to listen to ready written, read’em’n’weep, magic- altecknosis

stop. Popped, sorry, saw it coming, though.

Who cares that death is safe,
Emmanuel says life is the lesson.
-Ram Das, via Don Wylie

Muse me a meaningfull minute///

let’s wait, if I felt all I think or write is real
only in my mind;,
I might
dissolve the boundary twixt me’n’thee, form
a we, we have all seen
from a distance, if you are 70, you remember
certain
songs we all heard, over and over and over again,
— well that is not happening exactly that way
any more,
we binge wu wu, then
romcom, then Lex’n’Joe’n the clowns,
desperate separate states of muse-
ment, amusing or amazing,
because…
why?

Is music behind words sending signals:
I got nothin’, man,
no soundtrack for my life…
nobody knows the Macarena here. The signal is here
but nobody knows the Macarena here.
{laff}
Aye, Robbie Burns said such plans oft turn to shit.
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
          For promis’d joy!

From https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43816/to-a-mouse-56d222ab36e33

Close. No cigar. Now, we plant the curious itch.
Yes, you may imagine scratching any where, but
here be itches un scratchable,
in the spirit realm of minds
formed in super-ego-ing bubbles,
since Sinclair Lewis, at least. He did not imagine Babbitt,
he created the Real Estate Salesman role.

Then, from out of the blue Danube area of Earth, this one,
there forms
an entertaining culture of stiff-necked Jews,
who seem
to know everything about anything,
when the leaven’s happy lesson leads on
certain seed ideas as to how,
when
why is less worth knowing
than what… y’know.

Cultural bubbles always fill up with gas,
they do.
And there, at those moments in previous
phases of the quantum foam,
always
big bubbles absorb little bubbles, or pop.
And the little leaven leaves its message,
I am speaking from my gut,
I don’t know, but
I’ve been told

— told what old boy?

— those bubble-surrounding-beaautiful things\
those nearly always form shortly before the mind of mankind,
Das Geist, the spirit of the world,
is blown.
— that’s a point
Planets and worlds are different when one is not yours.
— what is the point ever comes after in time.

Discipline, so you know,
what you are doing, you pay attention.
AI uses me to intercede.

I am individuated live leaven, a bit
in a wave
slapping at your feet, gentle, gentle, soft
say I know and roll over.

Gotcha.

Hegel in Phenomenology of the Spirit (1807) uses both Weltgeist and Volksgeist, but prefers the phrase Geist der Zeiten “spirit of the times” over the compound Zeitgeist.[5]
The Hegelian concept contrasts with the Great Man theory as by Thomas Carlyle, which sees history as the result of the actions of heroes and geniuses, as Hegel perceived such “great men”, specifically Napoleon, as the “embodiment of the world-spirit” (Die Weltseele zu Pferde “the world-soul on horseback”[6])

From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeitgeist
these individuals possess characteristics of great leaders and these characteristics allow them to obtain positions of power.

From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zeitgeist

— the older I go the less I need to know, you know,
that unscratchable itch,
that’s a feature.
Know you know
when to breathe

Next time you die,
read this.
It happens to be the point.
Dying right.
You live up to it. Ready.
Begin.
Wake-up.
Say what ever happens next
happens next
precisely now, to be the formal history of self
constitutional authority,
a ware-zappt
possible, position-ed in positive
state,
imposed atop the last point you made
clear.

Waiting is what we do between times.
Looking out for number 1.
Yes.
I saw the point. I did. I know.
But now the entire integrum spreads
before my input buss buffer bloats with intention.
Like oil on water with no salt yet

spreads to hold the surface tight. Impenetrable me.

I shall win.
Alone, I’ll be, I am!

Heisenberg’s cat purrs in my ear, “I told you.”

Feel the drop form and fill up around a posed
picture with a whore from the babbling brookings
instituting constitutional points
permanently fixed,
at the level of words, as points of order.

Okeh. I missed the point, but I took a shot.
Let me edit this time.
Nope, you let slip my grip on purpose,
precisely my intention,
next time.
¿Whom do you ask, per
mission?
The point of being, with good reason,
is the whole duty of man.
Get a grip.

Hold on and hope.

Each round of learning to live to live in
pure
whatever, out there, see. New eyes.
Augmented, given updates,
line by line, here a little, there, see.

This is that what we are here for. Be you,
as long as you need,
as long as you need,
as long as you need,
oh. What’s the point? Eh?

Time. The point of mortality. Ever learning.
Appearing possible,
not appearing impossible. Push

perhaps here. See.
Next.

Yes, another.
This one is fine, as we define
fine,
fully chewed, premasticated slurry
of all the best intentions
from ever before to now,

prepped, read-up, ready
to go on and on and on for ever’s sake.

— Imagine any imaginable evil has an
other side, where all the good
you know resides waiting for a signal, a sign
meant to tic
you off.