II: Halos Spit Shocked

Electroplasmic smoke rings we slowly shed by twirling our heads
and relaxing drift away and evaporate with an electric crackle
sounding faintly beneath layers of fleshy tissue like a bug zapper,
something once referred to in various  different sets of terminologies,
from yoga to zen meditation, as a practice where you shift gears
and get to the drift of the sake of the center of nonbeing itself,
what a relief from sensation, is that our ultimate destination and
how long will it wait?  I have other things to contemplate.
Like how to stay alive for as many generations as possible
helping my kid's generation get through to the next level
of human progress, shedding coils of psycho electric internal
lightning has purified any voltage I may have left behind from
immersion.  Of course the Other Side is incomparably and
indecipherably nontransmutagenic, that is to say incapable
of remaining in any way sustainable according to our mortal
scale of comprehension.

There happen to exist psychic depths past which any undiscovered
deep dwelling species may venture, presumably elder survivors
from pre archaic aeons yet to venture forth from their hidden
sleep deep underneath the blankets of cold waters we hold with
our somewhat febrile awe as those of the pacific and atlantic
and indeed, all such oceans in between together interlacing
to form our great planet's salt rich water supply coruscating
from the deepest oceanic trenches yet to be fully explored
by an unsuspecting humanity have harbored that evolved
intelligence awaiting beneath and so very much more advanced
than we could possibly have anticipated, is a matter of much
amusement for future generations of onlookers surpassing
in every way that most ancient and ever lasting luck of the
forgotten gods the primavera nocturna, that is the nocturnal
spring, which is to suggest the ever continuing revolution
we who dwell on solid land have taken for granted as merely
day and night, and by which yet remains almost dissipated
entirely but for several evaporating droplets containing within
themselves a teeming utopia of sub-molecular organisms inter-
dependent of one another trapped in their limited vacuole of
cramped atmospheric regulation generated by automatonic
responses long ago programmed into each and every one of
us involved in the process of handing down for the next carrier
the written expression of documenting our mutual feelings as to
how this transmutational orthodoxy maintained evolutionary
dominance in a rapidly expanding world of interleaved national
conflicts pressing collateral issues to trigger new and unexpected
reactions becoming gelled into the super-static electronic layout
of our commodity exchanged virtual reality real estate bonds
certification documenting and insuring our citizenship by
establishing a mutually declared Actualization cross-authorized
by higher level administrative personnel and up, and who have
somehow set it so that if you or anyone you know is reading this
far auto-magically it triggers consent and personal authorization
into the permanent digital hard driven record filed in unalterable
lock down to be used against you in a future court of law
to be determined randomly by computer when time has run
out it's preprogrammed due course (established in 'Nineteen
from Googlobe associates, Inc.) all due repercussions as well
as insufferable slightest suggestions otherwise to the pre-
Established condition of effortless living become banded by
committee until we unprofesorially agree to dictate a response
written on behalf of educators everywhere, expressly forbidding
having endured the alteration of a past which never begot
a single dew drop of one invisible human soldier replicated
by millions in a down pour of humanitarian storming the
likes we have never possibly seen since our inceptions here?
You do realize this is something we have together found serious,
and yes it should go without recording reading this far, auto-win.

I: Sapien Exolution

Just over two hunnerd an seventeen by a crooked shenanigined
mile I'd reckon were the vespers of the winterbreds I've come
across throughout my journeys over and about these Northlands
minding ye that ye wished I weren't there to prove it but I was.

And the stars that called out and pushed us all are still here to
reckon it, I'm a-feared. But they won't talk, nor whisper, not so's
you'd unnerstand 'em, see. Not here, not in graveyards; that's not
their business today nor in this particular quadrant of the globe.

I've done read and been told they've matters elsewhere foremost
along their shores of interpenetration, let me assure all of ye right
now.  But hithermost netherwas the backleast of a matter to me
when just the hide of it was always at stake and in the running.

And what would you know of the wind's goings and comings,
much less the stars'-? Next to nary a nothing, I'd wager in a
heartbeat and even the most primitive back lot.  Do ye really
care for a world lit up in orange flame shadows flickering from
discarded fifty-five gallon barrels of crude? Because that's rude.

Now the wick in a fallout's shelter hooded and crucibled for the
surviving excommunicant slave drone tribes of the fallen generations
from X and beyond (otherwise known as that period and cluster
burgeoning from the post-generational excess of the nineties)

and from heretowither withall anon and among us today a frenzy of
however whichway you'd care to re-member it for yourselves
appears not to be the matter at hand in this ongoing narrative woven
from the moment encircled by furrowed whorls in a relevant series
of fingering gestures passing over parchment like a player piano's
digital articulations cloaked in tautly pulled skin.

Understand a few things of this ongoing story, first there has never
been a proof undertaken on the wings of chance that balanced out
into the equation necessary to provide evidence in our world that
such a relation ship even exists in the first place, what does this do
for the fatalist today locked horns with science over the battlefield
of a holy war on terror (to say even less of the dreamer)?

Here we are the frozen elite cadre of dragons, manipulated not by
any  mysterious telekinetic force (unless you wish to consider fear
itself such) so begin to capitulate this:  the very sight of its enraptured
noticing of such a unique individual as you is enough to pinpoint
its narrowest pupils into slits through which their demons may step
through, a matter of hyperthermal dynamics too complex to really
get into here, suffice it to say a dragon doesn't breathe lightning
for nothing.  Humans are sentient vestigial organisms stranded out
in the open today and left behind in the dragon's wake.