Sunday morning

Misread

like diamonds from Chinatown
flooding in rivers of despair

Sunday Morning

A glimpse of light
I feel life
Heed a warning
Before moving on

Was it with merit
or foreboding
in a mythological
way?

Wise old crone
the Hermit
High Priestess
share this cup

It’s a glorious
sabbath
if marine layer’s
your thing

A day to take
stock
Pay heed to
ominous warning

Without playing
with
dire threat
Not just yet

Through the long
lens of time
ashes strewn
so much dust

Disappeared
the day you
went away
Never stay

The pain
just won’t
Go away
Give you up

Your guilt
such a snitch
Your brain
*secret weapon *

of mass
instruction
play-by-play
compunction

a way
to go on
knowing
the truth

The language is designed to be Simple, Small, Flexible and Fast.

Bretton Woods was a highly politicized system that was prone to crisis and required constant intervention and controls to continue functioning.

More importantly*, postwar monetary relations were not a salve to political tensions, as is often contended. In fact, the politicization of the global payments system allowed nations to use monetary coercion to achieve political and security ends, causing deep conflicts within the Western Alliance.

For the first time, Gavin reveals how these rifts dramatically affected U.S. political and military strategy during a dangerous period of the Cold War.”

Topics to be discussed this week

The constituents

The audience

The rest

Love never fails
Rejoice with the truth

What you give away

It occurred to me the other day that you might be lying about whether Ray Ray was a pathological liar.

Aren’t all junkies?

Creeps.

No. I was gonna say, everyone’s favorite junkie a premiere funky who gets sulky in his freewheeling scene -stealing calamide lotion staring down the street while you pop those friggled uptown

home of the brave my ass I heard her say as you walked away

But save that for another day

Sing the song of truth

No one knows your name

Bring in

calamity Jane

Citizen Kane

Nathaniel Zane

What?

Are you insane?

Some people call me loco

Mean Jean Feline

Coke machine

Powerful but

enamored

with the “wrong”

Crowd

The mind-made body

The largest trades

can be

gamed

— to no one.


while

just around the last bend,

he ripped everything up to

start over again.

a cry expressing an appeal for divine help.

This tariff on your soul

for a culpable nirvana

hosanna, a mantra,

no one repeats

anymore.

a cry expressing an appeal for divine help.

…a patient etherized upon the table

Do not ask what is it

Let us go

and make our visit


irrevocable distrust,
Coveting freedoms

Rintintin

begin

I hear your little cry when you had a nightmare

I cry so much I can’t wash away this oppressive stench of death
it comes so suddenly, so unfairly,
as if we are just some experiment
to be replaced by
artificial intelligence

The artifice of intellect,
an artifact of intellectus

understanding Intuition

awareness Perception

imaginal tulpa

adrift in a sea of forgetfulness


Emanations of manomāyakāya

l’esprit humain est câblé pour oublier

nous oublions

Nous (Greek)

the faculty of the human mind necessary for understanding what is true or real.

Nous (French)

we

man … how infinite in faculty

William Shakespeare

The mass-center is a fixed property for a given rigid body (e.g. with no slosh or articulation), whereas the center-of-gravity may, in addition, depend upon its orientation in a non-uniform gravitational field.

We have the innate proclivity

 center of gravity

the resultant torque  vanishes. 

center-of-gravity and the mass-center

the inclining experiment

determine our  stability,

On the verge of

course of action,

We freeze.

The Human Aura described thought-forms as simple ethereal objects emanating from the auras surrounding people, generating from their thoughts and feelings.

the plan all along.

If only feelings and ideas and stories and history really could be contained in a block of marble—if only there could be a gathering up of permanence—how reassuring it would be, how comforting to think that something you loved could be held in place, moored and everlasting, rather than bobbing along on the slippery sea of reminiscence, where it could always drift out of reach.
—-Susan Orlean

We believe in Infinite Intelligence.

paraparesis, 

 point moot, for 

sarahkthe oswrving,  

branded diatribe 

Forget uR duvided
Whohoo 

The artificial 

it’s now official

HEroic Poetry 

Acetaminophen screaming for attention

Off the shelf
   She was
straight out of biologically 

Contemptible 

with self-styrofoaming

 Eco-friendly 

packaging 

Eva, The blow up woman 

      by There’s Something about Earnest 
She was always a delight 

My good man,

Said Arthur of 

delta (phi) dawn 

    the blow up 

     Girlfriend 

who inadvertently got passed around 

like nobody’s business  
 

From the shores of kitschy koombaya 

to the morning after pill from Ralph’s 


          EVA bore. The emblem.

(lettered monogram to look like E-R-A )

“equal rights ass!” emblazoned across

the  made in China Badonkedonk 

 of a  plastic fantastic 

 mustang Sally 

 
In with the in-Crowd

   From Sigma Wink and a Nod

   to the Delta Phi Episolon Explosion

 

A regular 

Nobody 

at  St. Nate’s  palettes

    Covering for chaotic order 

    of secret societies 

    From the raging hormone set             


              Disturbed initiations leave indelible marks

                        No traces 

               


get a load of that broad 

She heard 

  • Don’t drink 
  • don’t smoke 
  • what do you do 

She’d been the goody-two-shoes, role played her brain transmogrified, pretended to be anyone she was NOT, behind darkness, just to survive, 

Everyone must accept one or face prison time. She had a “choice,” and after that anthrax shelter stint, she decided the Rutger Hauer lookalike would be best for her “needs” as an aging, not quite ailing, sometimes failing but rarely falling, just hurtling headlong trying to escape this dimension of nonsensical pain, needless suffering – as if there is an acceptable form, the need full suffering – oh fuck off maker, the great ether, send me your meteors!

I am but a woman 

entreating the sky 

to break open 

some mercy 

once in a while 



Abraham was a hologram. The woman’s perfect companion. 

We live in such Cyborg times what will become of love 

asked no one after awhile 

Once the last stranger had left 

the last  dreamer, dead.


But still

Beneath the skin

Resistance lives 

Beyond the caves of men 

The Bermuda triangle 

where Venus of Willendorf 

was found swirling 

in multidimensional flux 

I am the alpha 

Athe the omega 

I walk through 

The ballet 

Not dance but walk

So I can swim 

Swim 

away