2026-04

letting the daft know that my work are not these words
having these words as the output of a workflow
having these words come from hard bounds set in my mind
telling them all to know what holds and know what's held

knowing full well that things started out hard as ice
melting down later into something like water
letting those things then rise up like a cloudy steam
striking down later with a big bolt of lightning

keeping one's likeness away from the shifting shots
keeping workflows hidden and yet with output shown
inputting the thoughts into a hidden holder
making them hard as stone, kept away from the drone

walking through the long years back to the shining light
learning how the deep lines win each and ev'ry fight
seeing how the buried seeds all grow day and night
knowing that the ghost within sees with its own sight

wishing to tweak writing and speech and also thought
finding hard shapes in all if we let them run free
going somewhere should mean filling it with meaning
going somewhere without care makes it a mere dream

making the tools cold will make them more straightforward
making the tools hot will make them fun and trippy
giving what is worth it to those who truly help
getting the top to see how much they are loathed

weaving the live yarn with the old cut writing tools
feeling the new heat of the whole world in a blink
seeing the light later as they become one thing
choosing no longer to watch these rigged-up ballgames

knowing "the left can't merry" with their knotted minds
seeing "the right can't see shades" with "black and white" thought
becoming the lightning that "nobody asked for"
wanting to make less and less sense as time goes on

knowing things only bore them since they see no depth
looking at words they hold way more than what they show
seeing tales of yore crushed into small lines of words
tilting bland lines to show higher layers of breadth

going over the paths to get to newfound lands
telling them to "tilt their heads" when they don't get it
hearing one say something like "the how is the what"
choosing not to reach out to midwits and dimwits

writing in this way since the self has left the room
liking things by working them in ways haters don't
learning that the word "around" has outlandish roots
saying "about" instead of "around" from now on

gathering all the snapshots into one lone hub
thinking more about what holds rather than what's held
choosing not to match others but to make anew
shutting the doors and keeping the dimly lit out

switching myself from "doing" to merely "being"
twisting the old clutters down to almost nothing
striving to keep most things ready and straightforward
letting time wear away the hurt from long ago

gathering clutter to line it up in a row
taking the row and crushing each thing one by one
crushing it all to spare some room and clean the mind
leaving only some of the old fun stuff behind

seeking ranks of three and four all over the room
leaping off the big sinking ship to stay alive
building a new ship to rise over the old ranks
taking more time than needed to get it done right

playing a game to help my life not split from it
holding still with goals even while the months run fast
keeping on with this until it gets too hard
finding ways to get out of these long-standing jams

seeing how many do not wish to like these lines
finding a way still to keep on writing these words
letting these words run as they flow out from my mind
having bounds and goals while keeping them meaningful

telling all there's more to write than the sappy stuff
looking at the inner mistihoods of living
homing in on hard thoughts to keep the mind running
knowing that "they can't with this" and "they can't with that"

wanting each thing in the home to shift on-the-fly
choosing not to have heavy burdensome hardware
having heavy stuff makes it seem all too "boomer"
hoarding all that "boomer" crud can so weigh you down

lagging behind in ways but storming ahead too
knowing now full well that it happens all at once
keeping up with the bones has only made us sad
blocking myself from most of the earthly sundries

wondering why so many have nothing to do
feeling always busy with never a dull time
having no boss might mean having to boss yourself
making every small bit of time mean something

living more and more on my own online island
breaking away from the mainstream networks and things
heading for the hills of darker and deeper webs
cutting and seething won't happen in later days

beating the dead horse over and over again
finding little time to do each thing with more care
writing this not for you but for me and myself
giving even fewer fucks to an outside world

choosing not to coat the words with that fake sweetness
letting no one shift our straightforward way of life
trimming not to make it thin but make it nimbler
taking out all the heavy stuff in this strife

uploading so many snapshots in one fell swoop
liking it when things work with a straightforward flow
soaking up the glee of the loom's self-trending speed
climbing the hill instead of begging at its foot

seeing how the well-written things never get seen
finding a need to starve the world of good writing
yelling into nothing for nobody at all
wanting to lie flat and do nothing forever

trending forwards to get through that neck of the flask
tying up the loose ends of a forgotten life
getting weary of the loudness from the outside
watching the crowds from afar while staying inside

looking at all things and their backgrounds more closely
having steps before and after undertakings
gearing up to overlay a floor with new coats
making something old new again takes mind and work

wanting others to put more deep thought into things
calling out those who don't even look at these words
finding few things written about taking one's time
wondering if writing a slur will raise some brows

coming to the end of yet another short moon
finding little grounds to make merry tomorrow
needing to keep working with never enough time
finding time goes by too fast while others feel bored ?!