III: Vox Dracos Ex Utero

Despite being merely vestigial forms of the original Tall Slit Eye

human beings such as ourselves have enjoyed the most massive

and successful hypnosis campaign as to have ever been wielded

upon any sentient species, this is such a fact because the legend

lasered into the brass plaque says so, right there along the twisted

hallway of the Museum of Freaks on this inter-cosmic web tread
mill operating incessantly due to the mindless fingering of one
hundred billion robotic slaves misunderstood universally as drones,
ladies and gentle extensions of a permanent plague on the face
of the deep itself, seers and cryers and thinkers and drinkers
believers and spyers, naysayers and critics and those would offer
apologetics, escapist fantatics of historical fictions woven by
dreamers possessed of the Serpent's intertwining tongues
woven into a hissing narrative spitting upon the pages of history
an alternate take of a possible reality now you tell me which
is the one you'd rather believe, what already happened ugly
scarred ready to be forgotten or a simple straightforward story
that captures the draught of sorrow and healing, joy and pain
Never to be remembered by the rest of them again? Think on it.
The reason these lines translate into a voice so to speak may be
explained easily enough.  When a human being visualizes text
upon the page or pixillated screen, whichever the case may be,
their brain processes the language and clarifies it into a sort of
voxualization, if you will, that is, we readers literally hear in our
mind's ear the sentences we see with our eyes.  This is how I
may speak to you in complete silence.  Herewith may be
achieved the feat of deeper resonance, as the silence of mind
we keep equals the distance into eternity we sleep, and the
depths we may reach during rapid eye movements explore
the parameters (and establish the boundaries of) that which
we are even capable of discovering in terms of satisfying
our nomadic need to pioneer new territories of the realm.

Re:alm.   Here is a key term requiring redefinition in the sense
which we normally have come to understand the meaning.

In essence we are the substance of the trinity, which is to say
this very sentence itself is the snake so to speak comprised
of twenty-two scales some of which have fallen off and others
being added on throughout the course of humanity's career
careening on a trajectory wholly out of control for as long
as any being alive today could possibly remember.

We live in a realm of pity and mercy because it has been spared
for us to dwell upon, until further notice.  This should by all
means necessary be construed by the current global inhabitants
as that which we all should remain grateful for above all other
priorities we have come to establish as the spiritual rituals
of our lives, in other words we should worship fear itself only
if we come to completely understand it.   Showing once again
how our mutual ignorance and not just individually continues
to assuage our nervous systems chemically with sedatives.
We can no longer begin to imagine ourselves.   We emerged
from the surface of water as if from a mirror.  Just take a look
at our mutual Rorschach Stare.  What do you see in there?

[Nothing but a manifestation of a flowering that has been
constantly undergoing developmental changes since the
primordial prototype "so to speak"which is rendered best
by the positively charged series of characters originally
captured for the posterity of our mutual comprehension
known today as the 22 letters of the Hebrew alphabet,
from which our language was derived yet by virtue of
utilizing these digits of scripture we were able to reach out
and appropriate phraseology from as many foreign languages
as we cared, all of this due to the inescapable admission
that it's not languages that are different from each other per se,
but rather it is we the flesh and blood articulation of the word
which ultimately stand out (so to speak) on this isolated
peripheral outpost to have our voice echo into deteriorated
silence vacuumed into oblivion between the cold distances
amid our gone lost host of spoken stars silenced long ago.]

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.