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Holoworld

 

Chalk all this up as experimental in nature;

this trying to find myself is like trying to find lost keys

at a psychic event.

 

I poke the past like a body

with my mind at where I've been

for what I left behind.

 

It's an experiment.

 

Fire first seen looks interesting to touch

like a world first imagined seems

interesting enough to live in.

 

Wonder so seductive like a drug

we can stray through a fog and forget

who we are

spending days in a house built on a fault line

and blame.

 

Underneath a sky filled with

simulated light and darkness

I hear infants cry

moving though some ritualistic transformation

towards wholeness

like an ego child birthed from unwillingness...

nothing more.

 

On tape etched in magnetic body fields that record

and store pain

and replay emotional reruns on circuit paths

embedded in brain and astral body,

a karmic tape recorder plays back memory.

Psychic DNA.

A mutant gene splits and passes on it's error

and I learn to be abusive by being abused.

It's like watching a rerun on the meditative channel.

I was watching a rerun on the meditative channel.

 

But then one day I tripped on the plug

to the holoworld and

like parlor trick magic dispelled

when viewed from behind

I can see a wizard heretic

that pulls sticks and manipulates scenes from behind

the way puppeteers animate marionettes.

 

They wiggle but they're dead.

 

That's not us,

 

...stranded in a cyborg realm

where flesh and silicon fuse

and drones march like zombies

injecting coded strands of information

into auric eggs

reproducing psychic DNA

again and again, evolving

neural circuitry that feeds perception

to a flesh and alloy head

from a snaky spine

treading in fluid

in a sea of magnetic cosmic glue that

holds together sub-atomic particles and

molecular blocks of imagination

that twirl in sequence like galaxies

about virtual centers

before they split apart

back to nothing.

 

And it becomes apparent

how the world is just a holoworld

for some peculiar actor

and audience that never was,

is not

nor never will be.

Cohesion is nonexistent

like a rock solid, ethereal ghost...

 

virtually nothing matters...

 

(PEACE)

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Wayne Wiksell wrote:

> Wayne Wiksell <AAUUMMM

>

> Are you sick man?

 

Suppose I were,

I would thank you for being so spiritual and pointing that out.

 

Sir, when you look into a mirror and become disturbed at what you see

do you attempt to alter yourself by changing the reflection through the glass?

 

Sincerest Blessings,

 

David

(cough)

 

> David Bozzi wrote:

> >

> > Part 1.1 Type: Plain Text (text/plain)

> > Encoding: 7bit

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This is how perceptions are distorted in the Internet medium.

 

Wayne, David sent a poem to the list in HTML. Apparently your e-mail

program does not show messages in HTML.

 

David, Wayne did not read what you sent to the list. All he got was

> > > Part 1.1 Type: Plain Text (text/plain)

> > > Encoding: 7bit

 

Everybody breathe deeply. ;)

 

Phil.

> David Bozzi <david.bozzi

>

> Wayne Wiksell wrote:

>

> > Wayne Wiksell <AAUUMMM

> >

> > Are you sick man?

>

> Suppose I were,

> I would thank you for being so spiritual and pointing that out.

>

> Sir, when you look into a mirror and become disturbed at what you see

> do you attempt to alter yourself by changing the reflection through the

glass?

>

> Sincerest Blessings,

>

> David

> (cough)

>

>

> > David Bozzi wrote:

> > >

> > > Part 1.1 Type: Plain Text (text/plain)

> > > Encoding: 7bit

>

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Marcia:

 

I was trying to figure out what the heck Wayne got so

upset about. Then I thought maybe he was trying to be

funny. I didn't get the poem either. But then when I read

David's response especially the cough part I started

laughing. (Not that everyone or anyone is interested

in a blow by blow description of my reactions.) I was

going to share with Wayne that David called me a

horny broad my second day in the saloon. :-) I just

noticed this isn't the saloon but what the heck.

 

Phillip Burton wrote:

> "Phillip Burton" <p_burton

>

> This is how perceptions are distorted in the Internet medium.

>

> Wayne, David sent a poem to the list in HTML. Apparently your e-mail

> program does not show messages in HTML.

>

> David, Wayne did not read what you sent to the list. All he got was

> > > > Part 1.1 Type: Plain Text (text/plain)

> > > > Encoding: 7bit

>

> Everybody breathe deeply. ;)

>

> Phil.

>

> > David Bozzi <david.bozzi

> >

> > Wayne Wiksell wrote:

> >

> > > Wayne Wiksell <AAUUMMM

> > >

> > > Are you sick man?

> >

> > Suppose I were,

> > I would thank you for being so spiritual and pointing that out.

> >

> > Sir, when you look into a mirror and become disturbed at what you see

> > do you attempt to alter yourself by changing the reflection through the

> glass?

> >

> > Sincerest Blessings,

> >

> > David

> > (cough)

> >

> >

> > > David Bozzi wrote:

> > > >

> > > > Part 1.1 Type: Plain Text (text/plain)

> > > > Encoding: 7bit

> >

>

> ------

> Ideas on how we can improve ONElist?

>

> Check out the Suggestion Box feature on our new web site

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