Towers Outing

I wander stilted, The layers peeled
Up, off, through
The last hack here left me unsynced
Bereft of depth matching, twisted an ankle,
And the ping beacons weren't helping...

Ya, I'm on the upper v-lands, westside
Where our bridges are continual construction projects
And Clears only come once each snowfall

Here's scenic, constant edification
Surrounding ecology, wildlands with wildlife
But with that come wildfires, too

Just not a lot of people
And fewer still that can edit vrshtml
For the augment layers supported by modem
Our ONE cellular tower, privately owned.
Not a lot of use, I guess.
Not a lot of people.

But there were some layers
I downloaded what I could, anyhow
With my handme-down phone
I use to get handme-down clothes
Now I pay for those and get seconds on electronics

What might my 3rd childhood bring...
Handme-down jobs?  An UBER for yardwork?
Handme-down property?  I do not know.
But it's probably somewhere already, in a thrift store.

So ya, downloaded the layers
And walked around, but the ping beacons were dead
The cheap jobbies installed had clouded solar panels
Their batteries were dead, or just erratic,
Pinging off spurioiusly

But it was fun, went up to Towers Park
And there were all the plant names hovering
And season-cycle trailers and gifs
Most of which were missing because without a link
The download is massive for imagery and gifs
But the libraries filled in with words that gifs didn't.

One guy spent two-weeks up there camping
And spent it making an artistic layer
It's cool, most the trees in charcoal
With animal recognition AI plugin on in color
Full 3d-layers in oils for most the bugs
And the deer I saw was perfectly depth-matched
For a whole minute, till said ping-beacons anyway.

My mom and I chatted next to the creek
And I bought time for us on the NFS-wifi
And I could see which pictures she'd shuttered
As they floated past onto the upload stream.
I Oooed and awed as I uploaded audio of several stops.
She shared her twitter feed as I made sandwiches.

Then her robot ran out of juice and she couldn't connect
My eyeballs were drooping low, too,
And she was showing steel.
So I got the dolly and loaded her back up
And motored home to give her a high-five.

The Good Witch

YOU

You know

      I talk, you know what
         
                I talk, you know what you're about

But one does not know how
To say
     To say what
           To say what one knows...

How does one go about saying what they know?

Please observe,
                           Poetry!

And!?

    And what does

          And what does that take?

Please observe,
                           Practice!


But HOW!?
                   Please.... 
                           Partake!

At the bottom of every mountain of every peak
Runs a river or stream or creek
Over the hills and through the trees
To grandmother's house water flows

And though life is like a river
Merrily merrily streaming along
Many things may happen
Many sing different songs

And some songs come and go
Some bury themselves in the dead long ago
Some carry us, while others sleep
Some of sheep, some of cow

Some sing of liberty and practicing freedom
Some sing of grief and of letting go
Some sing of anger, some of trauma
While others sing of angels' glow

And low on the darkest day
We sing of presidencies
We sing of Trumps ludicrisouscity
And government plutocracy

And on and on and on we sing
On our way to grandmother's house

I Was Sitting by the Window

I glove my hands
And my eyeballs glow electric
Because, they ARE- with a hundred LEDs
Fed by bioelectric energy metabolizing in blood
Oxygen fed and glucose ATP

The gloves, I'm cheap
Haven't the clink nor capital
For the skinweave to feed, into
So with my left hand I press the contact
Thumb to pinky let's me right click stinky

AND OH BOY, there's his twitter history
And a press and swipe let's me reply...
And o.h. boy. Thumb to ring
I sing a short spell to screen-yell

I wonder, too, what skin weave might do
The amputee pelegic can have their shit shifted in
Can't move his arm, but his actions' manic
Might type a thousand words per minute, with good chrome

It's good to track tactually, though
Or it all feels like rubber
Or...

Pinky to forefinger and I log out,
The eyes dim, I put them on ocular mag-thin
And go back to sewing my pants at the laundry mat
While I wait for my laundry
With gloves off and a thimble on

what did SE. Hp say?

Magically leaping into virtual reality
My headset splits up the three layers
The ram only carries my private notation
The U.S. unloaded, the Earth forgotten

I open my wallet and fish out my artcard
To pass-image the lock on my diary
And up flips an ubuntu text editor, free to use
Getting use to the blanket blank wood case typing pad

But my que image quotes load my diary
And I type on the text program flatly
But that's ok, replaces my o.k. computer, too
As I listen to you know who

I write about peoples heads catching fire
From compact batteries having no breathing room
I write about people catching fire
From animated wall pictures on e-ink displays

The interface is totally boing
Just Linuxes I loaded and it looks virtually flat
But that's just that, but shrunk inside a helmut
With graphics layering in the main Operations

And my gloves, and my gloves, and my gloves
Gripping the shit so I can swing bizzness
It's no thing, so my brain rots wanting
A real world, a real friend, a real time

While yearning for a real clackety keyboard,
There is no back to this front end menagerie,
There is no friend hugging away despondence.
There is nothing but illusion to grapple.

And like the grape rotten and grappled
or perhaps a bee drunk on it...
Little comes..
And less is sown.

I get bored so I load the U.S. e-layer
The layer that has wifi and commercial plights
I connect and download the latest G.I.S. positions
Locally though for Montana, and Idaho, and Wyoming

Preferred, I could do with less, less ram, less load time
Even saying with 6G wireless, who wants to fill it?
And the portal is street, tags here, banksy there
But they've been creeping...  Like websites! Like Layers!

And OMG! google just been making those adverts ~free!
Don't look at the wineshopp, though you !might get a coupon!
Though, yea, one can find it on google-maps
But the audio and visual hallucinations and all...

That!  That's the nexus, the world's pscilosybin
If an echo lapping waves back slapping the feet that tread futures' path
Perhaps...
Or time travel is impossible, though information escapes a black hole...

Lapsing, I find the street has no layer
There is no public layer on the G.I.S.
Not one that allows profanity anyhow
That gets taken down soon after

But dude had root, and look at that shit
on the New Year blimp, the server no less,
On every advert stream and piss.
Seems kinda random... obey, consume, please... obey

Do we buy the winter gloves...
Or do we buy Vermont!
If you've been to a folk festival, you know
If you've DIYerself, you've thought it out.

Dude is selling raffle tickets
So I take a screenshot of the QR-code
9 tickets bought, later
I have to autofill the registration.

I mosy on, holiday shopping day...
I go into the mall, there's about 20 people
I look up the QR code for Hastings, 3rd up and on the left
Bam, lean back in the couch, and BaBy!!!

An hour later a conveyor is wrapping the travel proofs
Packaging the DVD download cards, VOD gifts, and e-book queues.
I also got the latest hazard maps, and dropshift points
And some QR codes for the latest apps!  OHH, I'm so excited

Not only are bells ringing right now!!!
But violins in heaven are playing sonatas!!!
Because as we speak, I'm walking out with THE latest
VR Headset that money can buy in a 20 foot by 20 foot room!

And it's got the satellite modem
It's got 40 gig processor cache
I've got the mobile app store
and Platform stache... for green

Bizatch this the MAC!  And it's black!
This won't tarnish back!  I'm Grand!
And with my bash, I'm going to be sending
My SOUL on up to higher levels!  To get that mushroom.

Green and black, stache and black
Education and money or... information and money...
If I might ask a quesTION... this is street
This is the beginning, this is ME!

AS i reach. to. predict. and feel.. ME.....

Inna Cup of Java

Is a parallel, to think?
Because the orange is an orange
And my apple of an idea, but a door hinge
And so I walk in

to

The virus of big money, big government, and big data
Triumvirate viruses shift
And we address but cannot defend
It shifts into something new
Triple-looped shifting through to new
Knotted configuration of chimeric invention

 too

Programming god powers while
Getting on the gun to win golf
And the heavens hold themself
Letting us keep nothing,    all said and done
In this do or die competition against

Ourself

And perhaps after we pass Jesus asks
'how was heaven, did you try the homebrew and homemade
'Did you try the homespun and homegrown?'
"you should've, it's to live for"

Reason of Real

Back in the days of blacksmiths and witches
Strange things, unexplained phenomena
Explained away by superstition
A bad smell, a sudden illness
Even murder
     was sometimes the work of the devil

Their reason worked fine giving rise
To rational minds with limited information
Their feeling were true, too, knowing right from wrong
Loving peace, hating war like me and you

There were jokers and mages, wizards and fools
Kings and lions and griffons and tall tales
What they fought daily didn't mostly exist
But dealt with harvest, and beasts, and boredom

And so the tall tales grew thicker
As they sometimes do
With witches flying through the air
And four horsemen watching you

But in all that age, And in all that spacetime
Truth is a matter of facts
That whether you believe them or not
Can bite one in the ass.

And so science came to pass
Everybody learns to read
Everybody learns to think
That we can look up in encyclopedias
And drive in automobiles

We can think and read,
And be not afraid of the dark
Though witches may fly, again
And four horsemen, reappear

Looking for Stars in the Autumnal Skies

Somedays...
Somedays I plod along like a dirt clod carrying moss
The work takes longer
    The rain feels colder
        Spacetime feels slower
And I feel older

Now the dew is dripping in the dark
off the eve in single drips
Everywhere smells wet, my feet are damp in grass


The memory of crickets chirping is somewhere
A faint chirrup, chirrup, but it's 200 feet away
And lost in the dark that I'm searching for stars in


A gardenlight glows in our dark flower bed
And finally my eyes can see some of the stars
As a raven wHoosh, wHoosh, wHooshes not so silently in the night
With their mighty wings and keen noses


I like sitting in that, especially with a friend
unfathomably close while surprisingly distant
while they're everywhere for awhile and one is here,
then somewhere in now-here they speak, and there they are...
silently smiling at how many stars they can see, now
without a flashlight or streetlight, it takes awhile
fatigue or stress theives detection like a flood obscures the river


Maybe that's my Dad


Maybe that's everybody

who wonders where time goes but like rain
Down, and then lateral... to begin again in Ocean
But all we do is run until we're tired or re-tired
Or retooled like a machine with tires... changing the oil on vacation

I'm tired
Does God only give us two sets of four for treads?
Then, why can we walk lightfoot?  And who invented the halftrack?
I don't know these answers listening to the dew drop off the roof
As I stare past the dark feeling spacetime primordial to the stars
And up there, "there's someone up there... looking up to me, too"
As our star shines down on their star shining down on ours.


Maybe this is war


Maybe this is confliction
whom wanders through houses that falls down at the same time
so nothing ends up happening the instant everything collapses
because Everything is supporting everything else during Autumnal days
and the prospect of complete annihilation leaves everyone


wishing for peace

Up Thinking Last Night Drunk on Victory's Homebrew

History is written
By the sands and the wind
By the rain and the stone
Washing, crushing, eroding away
        perhaps lies
But anything and everything it may

And we that reside in that history may find
The bones of worlds and the ashes of worms to play with
SpaceTime isn't kind, it's a thief
Stealing the letters from our lives
Taking the pictures from our dreams
Leaving us to barricade in our hearts
The love we have left after he's stolen away

And that is precisely how we inherit the world
Alone and at a loss
While history spreads all around as tree, brush, or forb
Or something to be hunted and/or spared
Or perhaps maze-like, the conceit of ancients,
While we are left without map or safety...

History spreads out SpaceTime
Like some maze or scorched place

And we run for salvation
And the answer is :
get up, Get going, Get on the gun
In reminiscing on my world war one work ethic
Or maybe:
Just do it! no fear, no tears...
In reminiscing on the world series the cubbies clutched
Or could answer as:
                  do what you need
then do what you can
and find yourself doing the impossible
In reminiscing upon the lovelands credo
Or could reply to me as:
fall down 7 times, get up 8
you are not your mistakes
seek, and you shall find
In reminiscing upon how simple people think I am

And in seven ways of remembering this
And seven ways of helping others to,
                  Do not despair!
                    You too write history with feathered pen...
                       Where there's a will there's a way

And that history surrounds us on every battlefield
And surrounds us at every dinner table
For we are survivors if nothing else
And Lords and Ladies in our own right
Whom can and will overcome travesty
And read the future as well as they.