St. Patrick's Daze

Notes passed unto the scientific community mustn’t
contain imaginary superfluity, yet it’s analogous
to proving a point, met by marked silence, oft
ignored.  A cry for help’s screaming ‘rabbits’ by the
fool’s yard, Bird-man flies to find someone
like a chicken at top speed.

                “Gene, man, something’s different about you, you’ve
altered, or mutated, or something, because something’s
just not right about you lately, you’ve changed.”
                “Nay, Hen, I’ve seen the light like you, and
just as I’ve calculated, the light has worked upon me
at a potential worthy of magnitude including
time initial â (a ÷ hat) up to and including time
present and probably through tomorrow, if all things
go according to formula.  Listen, Henry, I look
great, I feel great, and no shit has hit the fan
that we’re using for this light experiment,
just a light-spatter on super-imposable film that
we were using to create these measurements, and the
results are fascinating, scintillating even, if
you were to go that far.”

There are Buddhist monks who clothe themselves in torture,
their tears evaporate along with everybody else’s,
just more.  All tears float up into the ether and intermingle
there a long while, or until the next monsoon tsunami.
When disaster is predictable, you can prepare for it, but
not necessarily avoid it.  Getting hit hard is only human.  
I don’t mind getting dirty and staying that way for just a
while, because I know that nothing is ordinarily not forever.

The trismatites get the trismagist by the odelus in the noon tuxedo.

What disciple would go unto throes for his master?

Push on through…Salmonella Dub

My time in quantum heaven spent pondering a heaven-sent wonder,
my angel dissected, my cut cutty in chains, the sin generator
was a wonder not to look away from, if that’s how
you could decline the root of those waves, the prime
motivator, my substantive love for flashy screens that
give me peace mins.  Manymany peace mins. collect like
frequent flier miles to Bird-man who still runs like
a chicken, and wants to get off the ground standing.
WAA!

                Birdman’s baby, adorned in raiment, marks her
splendor in the bathtub near the light fan used for sterile
developments darkroom predictebant what had happened
pluperfectly at the point aggregate.  A light box with
no windows flickers on one wall within:  Chicken skeet,
drank it like Chubucabra, the bird rustler, the imaginary
animalcule, the carnival carnivore who sucked the suffering
teet of turpidity from a hole in the wall at the zoo.

Fade to black.
Eyelids filter.

The heat kicks on with a frequency proportional to outdoor
temp., so my awareness automatically implies tacitly.

In their own times they already supposed themselves
the gods of the history books.

Polyorthistic Aceldama

A round room with manymanymanymanymanymanymany doors
declare the relative ‘rightness’ of the room exited above
all others…

The densest nug
felt like a hug
when no one was really there.

The tallest glass
filled up my ass.
Pardon, my derriere.

The city expresses scale.
The temple and the dun (borderwall)
are belittling.

Through a machine, a young man
imagines eternal life in his time, with
electronic prosthetics
and eleemosynary medicare
with mental health hats
styled superstitcheosly
by needling bureaucrats.

Believing in freedom from compulsion, slack minds
do what they’re compelled to do in the name of freedom!

Well, now that’s technically freedom for a cause, to be allowed
to do what you would (left to ones’ own devices) be allowed to do.

Proper product placement in a trustworthy source initiates that
appropriate feedback mechanism that lumps benefits together.

What is the favored practice?  Vanity,
who wants to know?  One, A. Murkin
with a high degree of correlation, choleration,
and a discoloration.  Celebrity spreads
like a disease.  The kids want to know why
to fear.  The adults know what to fear.
The difference between superstition and a
healthy fear of the Lord, in a Godsense,
is a Godsense, and what it feels to doubt.

Awareness of mental health disorders, a high prevalence
in the infected region confesses a physiognomy
I know to avoid and know not to judge myself.
I don’t know what I’m doing now, I just know
that I have to do it because if I don’t do it, then
I won’t do it again and I want to do it forever.

Opera Unoperta: The unconcealed works

A Paul Rudd
monkey-comedy,
ape, technically.
There are 40
sad details.

One, So full, we ate.

We sat by the particle projector and were added at & to according to data plan or data plot.

I was so mad that I didn’t care to come out (and play).

There’s a needle in my eye, ouch, it hurts,
please stop, I feel that!  The probe!

Give ‘em guns.  They’ll only eliminate one
another on one way streets.

When the hammer comes down will the nail get
another say?

Insular scientists are no longer able to translate
the language of thought into the language of speech.

Via elimination, hate at limitations,
particle on a wire at wits end with
a cat trying to get him to come out of a tree.
The mirror of self-loathing hardens entrails.
The cat on the poster that encourages those
in need of encouragement to ‘Hang in There’
while separating the signifier from the signified,
the blueprint from being reinvented.  The State is
blind and the blind State is O.K. with the blind State
its in, because that’s just what the Blind State
is in the Blind State’s own collectivist mind and the
Blind State’s okay with that ‘cause it knows no better.

“What makes you a friend to yourself?” Horace
might have asked indirectly.

The art of a perfectionist is a point to be pondered.
Where did he get that (idea)? Was it a point from an
artstkicker during the tsky[hy period of constant backwash?
 Will he be remembered as a man of his period in time?
The God in man only hopes.
Hope till your last breath.
Hope until you die,
(“Abandon all hope ye who enter this place.”)
And give your God unto the sign itself
while trusting the Devil’s imperial dictum,
(a la Dante(’s allegory)).

Is God a single atom decaying?
Is God a superposition of opposing states
like a little Christian who didn’t peek before Christmas at his
own presence, presents, or presentness?

Pleasantness is something you can feel for yourself.

When you void me of my nothingness you fill me up.

I take personal responsibility for everything by projecting all my problems into the future.
Why do you want me to pay special attention to this here, now-present thing-itself?

Proper etiquette dictates:  It’s wrong to say ‘Right’ when referring to a state of correctness.
Just like it is incorrect to say ‘Like’ when referring to one state that is similar to another state of similarity.
And this is similar to the dictum that states that all men were created equally into varying states of correctness and etiquette (when put to a poll.)
All men were once born of blood and some men continue to be bloodthirsty like their fathers' father's Fathers

chili concentrate reconstitution admixture (when put to a can.)