Clearing Actually Atlantis

I’m still feeling a bit overly poetic. However, it’s good to check in every now and again with what has been referred to as consensus reality. That hard line this is the way things are view of reality. The domain of already been done. The abode of the end of the road. Yea, poetic. But the rest of me …

It was my mom’s birthday yesterday. I gave her the present of a hot meal and a few hours sleep in a warm bed. So I get poetic because to get anything else… requires heavy lifting of my yogi diaper and I misplaced that thing five eons ago. Well, five cycles but no one knows what a cycle is so…

We’re so connected yet still so far apart. Ephemeral connections. Illusion of togetherness. How do you work together? How do you communicate? How do you effect and affect one another?

Someone wrote something that said we’re more connected but also more lonely than ever. Everyone is talking, and also, seeing that no one is around to listen. You want to be listened to? That’ll cost you. Tangible moments moving too swiftly through currents that are not aware though you believe them to be. The current isn’t any more aware of what you give and hope to receive than a rain barrel is aware that it is piss rather than rain entering it. This is why people use the phrase wake up and writer’s use’ta drink.

The other day I thought I’d test the algorithm on that old playground. Nada. Na. Da. And that isn’t the interesting part. Censorship isn’t interesting. Excluding those in lower economic brackets. Yawn. What is interesting is how I felt. Because I think it speaks to this elusive quality that people are trying to understand. Normally, if someone bares their soul, shares a little piece of their heart, social norms dictate acknowledgement. It is part of our social lubrication. Attention. Love. Time.

You put your two cents up, ah, social media, finally someone will see how brilliant I are, how thoughtful, how dynamic, how cute, how….how… thinking, waiting, correcting and adjusting and when you don’t get the response you anticipated, or you get no response…

They’ve fractured our social mirror. You don’t realize how firmly they got ya by the balls until they don’t even wait for you to cum to milk ya.

Mh hmh.

It hurts that my mom is homeless. It hurts that I can tell people. That people can see images of humans living with rusty water, getting shot for no reason, evacuated from any semblance of dignity and no response. Nothing remote of natural. If your neighbor set their lawn on fire every morning would you even bother to find out why?

I know there is humanity. I know there is connection. But there is also… invisible people. And you should never ever ever ever let someone else tell you what kinda humans have a right to live and participate and what kind of humans don’t. And right now… that is exactly what is happening.

The universe is folding in on itself so quickly now. Like pancake batter. Not lumpy like when you’re making a good muffin.

Here’s another poem I wrote, gonna put it in a story and submit some writing again so I can know my words are in print even if I can’t afford to buy a copy. It fits here though and I don’t know if I’m going to get that damn thing written in time. So…

Lan: local area network

IS: information system

At: @

Atlantis future selves

Exist outside of spacetime

Because when the

Writing was on the wall

They scattered their knowledge

& memories

So far across

The sea of mind

No one -singular- generation would

Have all the pieces

Oh treasure hunt

That could never yield

Completion

Butterfly effect

Wheel of false perception

Unless or until collapsed

All back unto itself

To be spun even farther

Into the reaches

Beware of the leeches

 

If you don’t have a natural capacity, a drive towards love because it genuinely feels better but instead require and demand a logical employment of empathy and compassionate outreach, an equation to dictate the pros and cons of applying love…

You are the weakest link

And ask our higher selves for whom the evolutionary bell still tolls

We aint gonna miss ya one bit

And here’s an even better one:

psalm 234

 

Many many years ago a man that loved me more than I can stand to know… Greek God and Roman cowboy…played this song for me.

 

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