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Dear Fate:

I hate you in the morning
I hate you in the night
And if you find a muffin
I’ll stomp it with my might

you kicked me in the noggin
and took me to a mugging
you best be set for running
for when it’s next I see you
I’ll send you to your mourning

Sincerely Yours,



I once knew a lady who could cross her wires
She could smell the light and hear the sights

“but that is not natural” I would say and frown

“Isn’t it weird for light to smell?” I would say quite proud

She would only shake her head and wrinkle her nose
I suppose if i could hear smells I would understand
So I would go my own way till the next time round

But one day she did speak.

“You labour under this apprehension that the world is
 That there is some natural affair and a definite order
 But don’t you see how silly that is?
 It is an accident of consequence and nothing more
 that you can sense as smell some molecules
 or feel them as warmth as they bounce forth
 or hear them vibrating within a medium
 or see their vibrating without a medium.

 Your world is experienced through a tiny peephole
 And you seek to fit everything through. Though
 the better choice would be: fix your damn radius!
 Why, your Light and your radios, are one and the same
 But even though in a manner you hear light
 You fail to imagine what it would be to see heat”

“But what colour would it be?” I then asked

“The brain has it own natural wiring
 You can pick or choose the nearest firing
 But your notion of colour is limited arbitrary
 Why not assign and attune some neurons new
 to frequencies of light beyond you
 experience a new colour and many others too
 And unexperience the universe as it is true”

Why you, Hello there!
I have a question to ask

Do you think you have no destiny?
That choices you make
are of your own volition?

That your are more than
an echo in neural firings?

Or that your consciousness
is certainly more, no less

than mere stochastic fluctuations
in brain chemistry?

Ah. Then I am most sorry to inform.
that this is not true
Long before you decide
on which finger to lift
Your brain has sent a cascade large
of chemical messengers adrift
and only sometimes will
later decide to inform you
tricking you to think
the choice had been yours

Can you claim the credit
that you think as you?
Perhaps but forget not
that you were born
In accordance to the summed
dangers of lineages long past.

The blueprint of your genes set the tone
So though you may think you prefer that one
It is more a preference turned by actions taken
That led some to live and give birth
Long by far before you were born.

But genes are only a guideline you may say
A rough formless blueprint of arbitrary sway
ah, but remember you did not pick
the where  and when you would be born
Nor did your parents and so on back
Nor did you choose what things to expose
As you grew and gained to a weighted average
of things seen done and others consumed,
mere connections flimsy but tricked to consequence

So there we have it.
Your brain, genes and places all
collude to your path inhibit and your choices still.
That your destiny becomes set.
So is all you do not of yours?
That you may harm and certainly no choice
More than a moving train?

No. for sometimes though rarely so
the system does reflect
up to a point that is fixed
so that the choice made
and the choice unmade
fix to become one and the same
Sometimes. maybe twice, not much more
A decision is made that goes as you had

so do not forget when next choosing
That though not often, actions may conspire so
the guide rail is removed to an open place
The choice is yours and all too real
And then in those few times yes
the consequences are certain. less surreal.

You will set and pick a cascade to the chaos
that will set and limit the choices of one many
Far and long removed in time and space
so for that very moment you must all your life spend
practicing on choices prepackaged and unfree

That the innumerable lives the wave
that simple choice touches
are imperceptibly turned
from wretched souls
to full and kindred spirits

sally sally she would not go
tally tally she could not show
nary nary she had no grace
bleary bleary she hid her face

always always did she choose flight
even even if it lost right
this day this day would she choose might
this way this way would she gain sight

for no score no more would her place decline,
Yay. for no tool no fool would her path recline

and no door no door would her face hide
herefore therefore would her pace glide
faster faster would she now grow
master master could she now flow

would that i could, would that i would
would that i knew things that I should

Excuses you give, Excuses you leave
Why not say sumth we could believe

believe it I can’t, believe it you rant
why not say something than platitudes to chant

things that you say come into play
words have the power for unfolding a way
a word said in heart can wisdom impart
a word said in heart can all hope depart

and with this fed the self the cycle to start

Once upon a time
but not time upon a once
There was a thing of nothing
Which was not a thing
Neither was it a no thing
rather it was
an empty complete void

It is hard to describe
A thing that is not a thing
But not itself nothing
A Lack beyond nothing
Completely incomprehenible
To a Mortal mind like yours

But then one day
The thing decided
That it should exist
And so it did
And no longer was it nothing
No not at all
For you see
Now it was everything
But that was not all

Since with that spring
It cascaded a scheme
To reflect upon itself
Or at least
A part of itself
By a part of itself
And so here you are

Say, you who sits with jaw, tired & agape
Tell me the way to this place I stride
I look for the place whose way is skuake

Skuake you say but surely you jape
For many are the ones who come to stray
And many the ones whose place are gray
But fair I shall tell you, fairly I shall spell
For only a penny, a shape I shall tell

No shape is an answer to a question I ask
Nor up or down is the direction I task
So tell me the way, the place I must step

Ah tary you say but rightly I find
Not once have you told what place to divine
So I cannot say what gates to mind
Nor can I say what plates to grind
But say I tell where the froplifons glow

No I say you fool old one
Tell me the way to this place I run
Lest I fall and scrape. for all to shun

Neither you nor I know very the way
So I can tell you not, hurry or stay
But here is a path that suddenly you flay
So why not that as a wise woven play
Truly not worse than rust splattered hay

Yay now I see this path was here
But say I will to you didsty old bear
Why not say: this path was there

But the old bear could only two heads shake
For a path is there for all those awake
But not all will wake and fewer still, will take

I am someone I say that you should know
I am the one who all come here to show
I have done the things all say are great
So what is it that I constantly await

See my wall tall with trophies which inflate
See the fall hall which none may berate
Full with color though all of them hollow
See my fans countless and me they follow
so why is it then that now I wallow
why is it then that I find my heart fallow

But you–like many–are someone unknown
The things you have none care to be shown
But see your wall filled with memories none shallow
See your families and friends who your life make thorough
See the works you do, your heart full filled hallow

the point I suppose that can be said
of the things you choose yourself be wed
to fill your heart where quantity has no matter
then what you find is things only do better

Once I sat on a place adreary
I ate and thought not a once aweary
People be gone and places become
I sit and look no places they strum
Looking afar and not a one is near
I tear at once clear empty of fear


I move smoothly, faster than quickish
I move swiftly, quicker than whiplash

try to stop me but i’m gone in a dash
try to stop me but i’ve vanished in a flash

catch me, like holding water in a sift
catch me, and you’re gone, set adrift

I look and search, constantly moving
To seek harmony is constantly improving