Flexed Your Digiphlex

I threw time against my OEM rebranded modem
It bounced and died by an obfuscated fork bomb
And as I poked and prodded source code kernel tree
As I looked up manpages and commands for cross-compiling,
The digital see looked back, if there is an electric one
Like there is a spiritual sea of space and time
That which I source intuitively to generate force.
It seems a last resort...
           to throw time, but it's that or toss crap.
I'm horrible at selling stuff to my friends,
And have only made pennies from busier people.

I remember when I first installed SuSe, the green screen,
The yellow, green, white commands that were programs and files
Plus the hidden ones of basic functionality
In that secret snuggling night the whole world slept dreaming forgotten
That was coming back and wrapping warm arms around my dreads.
The cursor blinked and suddenly I could scroll the infinite window of desktop
The cursor blinked and suddenly, I was dumbfounded at how stupid I was.

Basic literacy was no longer mine, I was lost, coudn't mount drives.
I might have called tech support to ask how to mount a floppy!
And so Diskworld came back with a primer undaunted at having been locked up
In the tiny box that I released from homebrewed computer and companion manual.

Basic literacy must include computer code hacking, plugging and playing... networking
There's nothing like opening worlds... by being able to read and write
We mustn't forget that beauty is skin deep and shallow like a point and click or finger swipe
Might apple and microsoft then be a new slavery through ignorance?
Or maybe next week we're cruzing to the zombie apocalypse...

Quite the opening going on by internets with your digiphlex.
Point and click, command and conquer.. but that's skin deep oh click master
Much of the world wide web is because... how does one pour the sky through a tube..
                                                         ...and would you know if you did?

Perhaps it's a bit like the sage old question, "How does one feed and defend their children if one can't feed and defend themself?"
We all seem to struggle with these questions of sky and earth,
                                                                      and the answer is, "by being kind"
or to paraphrase Jesus of Nazareth....
                       ...."Don't be an Asshole"
or to paraphrase Mad Max...
                       ...."We must try to be our best selves"


for we're all a bit ignorant, we all have glass windows in our home
in a world that just loves to play games with other people for retribution and satisfaction...

Julian Victory

people are afraid of change
change is caused by chaos
and change is therefore unpredictable
so nothing changes because people are afraid

In the rats eye I see a tree sprouting
pushing this way and that, I see a bird doubting.. black
I see a rock up.  I see dust down.

In the mountain, I see it lifted up
And similar topography deepened

In politics, I see people voting
And similar gerrymeandering reinforced

In business, I see more advertising
And richer getting richer

Grieve not for the vampire, he's dust.. now.. the best part
The evil banished, the good of us remain.. vampire, or not
And this dirt.. this grime nourishes the squash the gourd
The zucchini and the cucumber for worlds around.

The tree burned leaves ash from combustion of hell
The garbage composted leaves food for worm.
Leaves food.
Leaves. grows. leafs out
Leafs out and grows more leafing for springs shroud.. springs cracking
Springs cracking of shroud of winter's death veil
Green abounds and mates with the sunlight to bring about life...

from the ashes of vampires...  from the ashes of Worlds and worms, too...

New World, wtfn order!?

Ramundo Arruda Sobrinho might say if I had a Bieber moment..
If I had a take...
They aren't worth the burnout

If I were me, I'd say wtf
Then I'd say what the fuck. No.
I'm not doing those shows, I'd crack

I'm no machine
We're mystery

you me have seen the last of the mr. bieeber
Purpose or no while everyone is frelling in a U.F.O
close to 80 shows in 8 months, no no no no no
don't

but you signed up and sold shows, so...
go home if you dare, if you can
it's not if but when
they get a piece of your soul and drag you down the well
those middlemen and middlebroker statician snakes that know
the fiction of placenta.. the fiction of conflated boxes..
The fiction of statistics and profit margins for corollary products.

Oh, look my bieber doll.

Understanding Brings Conclusions

Three stars shined through clouds last night
As I sat recording chorus of frogs in moonlit sky
They shine straight through clouds and sometimes trees
If There be, there's more than three of them, Sometimes there's five
And I sat, unafraid, knowing no one could see me
If I turned off computer screen while recording.

I didn't get the coyotes, imagined a wolf, heard some geese
And the traffic of planes and cars intermittently
Got me to thinking of the hum.  It's famous around here
The great energy hum of electrical switching stations
Can't get away from it, it's even on shortwave radio on three frequencies

I listened to my phones cause my ears aren't that good
Imagining geese far away in that hum overpowering world's play
And as the frogs mated and called and signed
The geese in valley ruffled feathers, goosed and fell silent.

Like some power modem uploading to central website, but not to relay
But to perhaps localize, or perhaps peter out and catch to drop.
Felt like the goose was goosed by geese, alerting to the drop
Of what's hot, what's good to eat, where you at, what's up, sub-ethereally

It seems an ESP, but maybe it's just brains processing
Like oh, there's frogs... wait for it... trodding through wet plot
"I don't know where I'M Going?"  ahh, "Lightstick" an on top
Setup, recording on moss.  AND THEN I GET THE MESSAGE.
spring, sex, spring sex, sprex... Is that a type of Lego?

And in all that hum-drum there is certainly messages, multiplexed.
Perhaps, what you put out typically comes back to you, probably inspired it.
Granted it might have to circle the earth, come back, and surprise your behind.
But I want you to know, things take time... thoughts, too.
And if my brain were a computer, I'd only process the Moon if I loved her.
And given it's only Wednesday, I'll have to pencil it in on next Tuesday...

Next to those three stars shining through sky clouds beside,

One of them has to be poetry, don't you think.  For if we haven't expression...
we haven't words to speak, questions to ask, imagination to dream..................
The others be Science and Philosophy,
Engineering and Math might complement the sack of skies filled to full with diamonds.
(And there's, gold!!)

Oh Land of Green

Where the unique and mundane dance
What perchance can we predict?
The unique might prance their butt
The mundane... might strutt.

And the two in twain might never meet
Unless in silence you let them be
In silence that one destroys when speaking
And let them dance to heartbeat
Merging in menagerie... with silks drawn upon skin's flight

They caress, they kiss, they copulate
Mating... they populate
And when grey and their wizened flight takes wing
The World is glad it has company
Gaia is glad she has friends,
For she, too, is unique and mundane.
She too, in twain, needs meeting

And would observe, like you, in fleeting...
Would greet and smile and take flight, too
Would destroy the silence, just like you
With moans of pleasure, And screams of delight

Popular Hot Water

If chlorinated water saved us from disease
Showers got us pregnant, they get me clean
They get our bodies to squeeking sheen
For no bad smells when licking armpits
And rubbing all those elbows together

Whether big brass bulb
Or energy saver
There's a shower head
For any consumer

There's red ones, white ones, blue ones and more
Right there at your discount hardware store
No more will you bath only once or twice
But seven times as likely in pair of dice
For all your opportunity to body flop

Statistically you know I'm right
If people are love making twice a night
More babies are brought by stork
All from showerheads bought at store.
It being, no longer... a couple's chore.

So get laid, buy a showerhead today!
You'll get more play than perfumed body spray...


-brought to you by Little Sherwood Publishing-

A Place in Time

These colors, these scents coded into the letter seal
These roses, these petals peeling give to reveal
Wherefore their history deals in attraction
A magnification of spirit, perhaps
For instance the yellow excitation of friendship
Such us lemongrass that zings quickly like conversation

Can we train this relationship to grow as vine
Up cantankerous alcove to flow with berry
A berry for press when needed
Like coveted love letter sealed with red
Or jasmine tea?  Maybe

Maybe we could train vine to grow scented hop
Or stopper up some geosmin from rainstorm mop
For heady brew to recall Earth, too
When we feel hectic through and through

Often we do with our power fobs, our perfume, our cars too
Wherein we need some pickup we apply footprint to suit our moods
Or flat out need to pass through adversity

Our perfume works to work well, Cologne for men
But when we need boost of attitude.. is used, again
And power fobs daily worn or jewelry seems vanity
But can train vines in mind to bring recollection times when all was well and cool
What suits?  What clothes?  What type of brew, perfume or hops or color garden do you?

Some colors, some aromas
Some flavors, some touch
Some sounds, some thoughts
Some warm, some cold, some hot
Perhaps spacey, perhaps grounded,
Maybe spicey, maybe cool

Wizened birds knew

Some soft, some bold
Perhaps easy, perhaps easy too could do me
I once knew the name of rain mopped up in breeze blowing through.
Maybe geosmin might be my aromatherapy and color rooting.
Maybe earth would return to healing my savage brain.
For vine to grow and fruit the trained form
And return the world to us whom skies open upon
Like pelting rain and sunshine in open air places.

Have You Got a Toolbox, Handy?

The weather is broken again today,
I saw a Robin in my front yard.
It's March 1st and it is also snowing moderately
Onto the bare and greening ground.

There's talk of spraying ocean water into the air,
Increase cloud albedo to redirect solar rays.
That's a pill.
There's talk of spraying sulfides with jet planes
To again increase albedo to redirect solar rays.
That's such a pill.
There's talk of pumping CO2 underground
Extracting the greenhouse gas, while we're burning it.
That's a pill.
There's talk of more geoengineering to help us.
Those are all pills, in a concrete world of dirty-energy.

Some would take a pill...
Some would go underground locked up for an eternity.
Some would get on ship and sail around with no port.
Some would ride the lightning to see where it leads.
Some would have medical procedures to breath again.
Some would cease all production.
BUT THINK OF THE CHILDREN

There's a whole lot more we can do than Hope for a cure...
If you're willing to listen_______to_pills_______________.
I predicate this because it's real, really here, really now for the last 20 years
In a world, Mental!... social!.. physical..! spiritual.!. and emotional.
Because this is forever, FORE_ever, frrever, ForEver beautifully broken weather
In this new era of the Anthrocene and Anthropogenic Global Weather Changing
And with my pill, We can exercise caution, because is a pill going to fix this? Hasn't!
Won't, ain't going to, already broken, we're through

"Throw your plan out the window and take your pill, Son,
And nothing matters now except what you got in your toolbox of recovery..."
Those things physical that help you through
Such as Solar, Fusion, Renewable, Redesigning, Regeneration
Those things social that help you through
Such as Schooling, Internet, Friends, Family, Work
Those things to mentally help you through
Coffee, pills, more Coffee, more pills, MILK and sometimes Beer
Those things to emotionally help you through
Climate Change Anonymous, voting for Bernie Sanders
Those things spiritually to help us survive.
Humour, Nature, Connections, Facebook, Spirits
....those things to help us survive.

Because that's who we are, we're survivors
from being locked up, from having no port to sail to
From already riding the lightning, from having surgeries.
And that ain't cured nobody of Death and Taxes, yet.
And a pill won't cure your hyper-tension neither.

Think about your toolbox, ya only got one wrench?
Ya only got one screwdriver!?!
Hell, ya probably don't even have one problem.

Banquet of Feelings

Whether we lie to ourselves or to others
To find fault or fulfill our desire
The snow drifts over the open grave
Dug by the nitpicking and passive aggresion of loving Father
Explaining, "well, he done it, now.  Couldn't finish a fucking thing."
He buries his son, but if no one was watching...
He'd probably watch T.V. and get to it, one of these days...
Like his wife certainly would, regardless if the rotting corpse lied next to her.
She lacks that much strength and initiative.

"He's right," pops probably said at some point
Without validation to the deaf ear gone cold
From the lies and the blame told moments ago
In trying to shame son for semblance of control
Like he's always done... round dinner table or therapist
In an alpha and omega twist of dagger in voodoo doll

And it's without validation the body fails without
Into grave, into dirt, unthanked for a million invisible deeds
Apparently unfinished, because they weren't recognized pleasing.
So the boy ran the shortest road out of here and off the planet
Passing Lord Charon and leaving the moon behind, traveling lands
Beyond space and time... out past the land of Nod and into the really unreal
Where secrets are the currency of trust.
Where love is real compassion, instead of a dagger.
Where people are pleasant because they knew friendship,
Where everyone is less concerned with appearances, or pride.

I have been there in the really unreal.  It is a place magical and full of life.
It speaks quieter than small boy and companionable cat,
But surrounds everyone as a matter of fact.
A place where demons and angels walk in same body.
A place that has memory of ancient lords and ladies.
A place in your mind accessible anytime, if you're worthy.
For it is a place out of space and time, rooted in reality as the very bones it's built from.
It's name? History

And it's that history the therapist deals with
All the criticism and nit-picking layered up over the years
All the blame and passive-aggression spoke in our ears
And the father says,"Yes, I did" like he'd gotten away with it.

Ain't that the cherry in cherry pie.