#bizzid

[savagesneversleepnyc]

THE HEAD OF THE STAFF INFECTION

As we cross paths

And laughed so easy

The drips of drops that time unwinds to us so kind is in infinite array as we display our colors too as BIRDS OF PARADISE

ARE WISE TOO shake a bit of plumage and groove to the BE BOP and JIVE as we SHUFFLE and RUFFLE feathers more clever from DEVINE PIGEON

KINGS AND QUEENS

WHITE PASS OVER HEAD

SUBLIME GREY AND CLEVER

Hungry for a bite of PIZZA as we on the block ALL ARE TOO

DEE TWO RAMONE

BLITZKRIG BOP

DONT STOP

THE BODY ROCK

UPTOP on the block COMMANDER SPOCK has got NEPTUNES VENUS DE MILO GOES TO COLLAGE

ON LOCK DOWN

AS WE CRAWL UP THE WALLS

WITH A SAWS ALL

AND FACE AN INJUSTICE

SYSTEM OF A DOWN THROBBLING

GRIZZLE and a TOOL of

FAITH NO MORE…

7:24am MH KNICKERBOCKER BK NYC….

OGE IZU 314

[magicxlimagines]

Starting backwards // Neville x Reader // SMUT

Request: Hello could you please do an Neville Longbottom X Slytherin!Reader? So, (Y/N) is seducing Neville but he thinks she's just kidding because someone HOT AS HELL as the reader wouldn't like someone like him. Cute ending and smut (dominant reader please) please. Your works are amazing!

----

Thanks for requesting! + Thanks for the compliment <3 This is gonna be a fun piece! Reader and Neville are both in their seventh year. Reader is also Slytherin as requested here. Most of the other characters are my oc’s, other than who you’d recognize, like Ginny or Luna. *** indicates smut starting.

Warnings: Swearing, smut

Word count: 2,667

“Neville- she’s looking at you again,” Ginny whispered, nudging the oblivious boy. No one could honestly call it ‘looking’- you were practically eye-screwing him. Ginny had only said it that way so Neville wouldn’t choke on his dinner and make a fool of himself.

He turned to look at your intense eyes and felt his face go hot. “N-no, she was probably just staring at how I just ate my piece of pie weirdly.” He shook his head as he turned from your burning stare and back to the Gryffindor table.

Ginny made a face at Neville, who was using his fork to play with his food. Neville cleared his throat, feeling Ginny’s annoyed and exasperated stare burning into his soul. “So- err- do you think Harry, Hermione, and Ron are all right? It hasn’t been too long, it’s just the start of the year, but I do hope they haven’t given up on trying to basically save humanity…”

Ginny then gave Luna a pointed stare, urging her to say something, as Neville probably wouldn’t listen to her at the moment. Luna caught her stare and spoke up. “Neville, I am sure the three are doing just fine. Although I’d like to inform you about some Fangwig Bizzid’s- a brand new find on new creatures based on my father's observations, I think you need to talk to Y/N. You know, the pretty, clever and ‘hot’ Slytherin you always talk about?”

If it was possible, Neville flushed even more than before as he shook his head. “What? I never talk about her…” He muttered.

Ginny rolled her eyes and continued to eat her breakfast, as well as Luna who watched Neville with a concerned look in her eyes.

When Charms rolled around midday, the Gryffindors and the Slytherins started showing up in Flitwick’s class. You were one of the first ones in, getting your books, parchment, and quills ready for the class. When more fellow classmates started to arrive, you waited for your friend to come in and sit by you.

As soon as she did- her being the last one in, Professor Flitwick spoke up from his desk. “Alright, class. Although I have nothing against any of the houses, mind you, it seems that your two houses right now- Gryffindor and Slytherin- seem to… quarrel more often than other houses. You may think it silly or strange of me but as of now and today, you will have new seats. Permanent seats for this whole year. One Gryffindor next to one Slytherin.

“You will see your names glow, hovering above the new seat you will be at for the next number of weeks you will be here at Hogwarts- until you graduate and leave. Please try to find your name and take your new seat.”

Most of the class groaned, but you didn’t mind. All the houses were great, but because you were just a tiny bit biased, you knew Slytherin was the best of the best.

When you saw one new name appear hovering above your desk; John Welborne, you stood up, gathered your items and went to the side of the classroom to try spot your new seat.

Your best friend (from Slytherin) Olivia frowned sadly at you as she watched you move away. A Gryffindor- whom you learned to be John, took the seat beside her and gave her a small smile, introducing himself.

At least Olivia wasn’t going to be stuck with someone that didn’t seem horrid, yet.

When you spotted your name, you saw that it was next to the boy who caught your attention; Neville Longbottom. Although you were extremely giddy on the inside, you walked coolly and calmly towards the boy who diverted his attention elsewhere when you sat by him.

“Hi, Neville,” you started. He nodded in acknowledgment. You huffed, knowing this was probably all the interaction you’d get with him if you couldn’t help it. As the teacher started, you decided to try show Neville that you really liked him (in more ways than one). Whilst the professor was facing the blackboard, you ‘subconsciously’ pushed your quill off your desk.

Muttering a very quiet ‘oops��, you slid off your chair, stood up and bent down instead of squatting, hoping that not many other guys are watching you- that Neville had his full attention on you. You heard someone clear their throat from in front of you, it was Olivia. She watched the whole spectacle and smirked. She mouthed at you when no one else was really paying attention.

“You minx!” She grinned. You smirked back at her and turned around quickly, catching a few guys snap their heads towards the professor. You smile knowingly to yourself. What disappointed you was that you didn’t see Neville staring at your behind.

He was still facing the blackboard, taking some notes casually as if nothing happened. You frowned, not knowing that Neville was having an incredibly hard time controlling himself, not to pin you to the wall and take you right there.

Neville was struggling, mentally and physically. He couldn’t help his heightened sexual male hormones when you bent down, but at the same time, he was thinking if you did that for him, or for the other boys behind him.

Surely it was for the other boys… right? She’d never like a guy like me. He thought disappointedly. You, on the other hand, were still thinking of ways to drop even bigger hints.

During the times that Flitwick was talking to the class about the subject, you made little moves, like brushing his hand when you got something from your bag, biting your lip while you were writing, thinking or listening, bringing the tip of the quill to your lips and so on.

When Flitwick went to talk to a group of students far in front of you and Neville, you mentally smirked. Leaning towards Neville, you begin to whisper. “Hey Neville, do you think you could help me with something tonight? I need a little extra help on… something.”

He flushed profusely, glancing at you, your face bowed down a tiny bit to accentuate the intense atmosphere surrounding the two of you. Neville gulped before replying, hoping that his voice wouldn’t crack.

“Uh- sure? W-what do you need help on?”

“Just wait outside my common room tonight, midnight.”

He nodded, turning back to the front, still dazed about your proposal on him helping you with something. He was confused on why you didn't clarify, but nonetheless wanted to see you at such a late time.

When Flitwick returned to the board to talk to the class, Neville took a quick glance at you- something he regretted.

You were staring at him, mouth twitched into a smirk. And then, you winked.

Neville was flabbergasted- packing up slowly when the Professor looked at his watch and dismissed the class. You had packed up and left as quickly as you had winked, leaving Neville sitting by himself.

When the time came to go to your dorms and get some rest, you were taking a shower in the bathroom. Stepping out and getting dressed into a silky and thin nightdress with a fluffy robe over top and some fluffy slippers, you wandered into the common room to stay up and chat with some friends. When half-past nine rolled around, you headed up to your dorm to quickly freshen up.

You lay on your bed, pretending to rest and get ready to sleep when you felt your eyes starting to actually droop. “Shit!” You muttered. You shook your head as hard as you could in your slightly sleepy state.

“Lumos,” you whispered, wand alighting slightly at the tip. You felt for your watch by your dresser and looked at the time. It was 11:57 pm, Neville was hopefully at the Slytherin entrance in a few minutes.

You crept out of your bed and into the common room, frowning at the fact that you were below the lake. “This is ridiculous… The best house is under the damn lake…” You quietly talked to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief as you made your way to the entrance.

You quietly said the password and from the other side, you saw a shocked looking and sexily disheveled looking Neville.

“Y-Y/N? You said you needed some help, from me?”

You nodded shyly, a tad too sleepy to try too hard. “Come in, please.”

“Y-you look sleepy, perhaps I should help you with it tomorrow?”

You shook your head vigorously, suddenly becoming wide awake. The look on his face, him so flustered, looking a bit tired, still ready for whatever you were getting him to do… It overwhelmed you in more than just a sexual way.

***

You bit your lip, pulling his sleeve. “Y/N? W-what are you doing?”

You said nothing, silently enchanting the common room for no disturbances from anyone or anything. You went to sit comfortably on a big couch, staring at him invitingly.

Unsurely, he sat down beside you, looking as confused as ever. You smiled encouragingly as he took a seat near you. Keeping eye contact, you disrobed and sat slightly shivering in your thin, silky nightdress.

You saw him take an obvious gulp, adam's apple bobbing, turning you on even more.

“W-what are y-you doing?”

“This.”

You pulled him by his collar, making the first move. You pressed your lips against his, passionate and needy. He froze in shock, moving his large hands to your waist.

One of your hands moved to his nape and started to gently tug on his hair. He moaned into the kiss, you smirking. Your other hand moved down to his lower region, palming him through his boxers.

He stopped kissing you to groan and noticed you whine at the loss of contact. He pressed his lips to your neck, placing sloppy kisses everywhere. You moaned in satisfaction, body getting hot all over despite the slight chilly nip to the air.

You guided him and pushed him lightly till his back hit the couch. His hands moved upwards towards you, trying to get a grip on your hips. You tutted, shaking your head. “It’s not your turn yet.”

You leaned downwards and held his hands above his head, teasingly kissing his face and neck; everywhere but his lips.

He pouted slightly, clearly impatient. You slowly leaned down, getting closer to his lips. As your lips were just about to touch his, you rolled your hips, right on top of his rather large boner.

He let out a throaty groan, bucking his hips lightly to grind into yours. You silenced him by pressing a kiss to his lips. “If you stop moving your hips… I just might give you something better than just grinding…” You whispered near his ear.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

You smirked, using your wand to turn the couch into a wide bed with four posters. You felt extremely dirty doing this in your house’s common room, but at the same time, it excited you so very much.

You muttered an incantation to tie his wrists to the bedpost and worked your way downwards. You kept your eyes on his hooded ones as he watched you go down. You pulled off his boxers, his previously restrained cock now free.

Licking your lips, you took the base in one hand and used the other to massage the head. “Who’s gonna be a good boy for me?” You whispered.

“Fuck, m-me,” he replied, clearly struggling not to just rip the ribbon and push your head down.

You smiled sweetly, causing his heart to flutter at the sight.

You licked from the bottom of his shaft to the very tip, swirling your tongue. “Fuck!” Neville hissed, the ribbon tickling at his wrist.

You pressed light kisses all over his cock, his head being thrown back each time you got closer to the tip.

Out of the blue, you took him in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down, hollowing your cheeks.

After a while of sucking and teasing, you could tell he was close. Releasing your lips from his cock with a slight ‘pop’, you hear him whimper at the loss of touch.

“Patience, baby boy.”

You slipped off your nightdress and watched as his eyes roamed around your naked figure, you feeling a bit self-conscious but not showing it.

You moved towards him more and hovered above him, pressing a lingering kiss on his lips.

“Are you ready?” You softly ask. Gulping, he nodded. Using your hand to guide his dick to your entrance, you slowly lowered yourself on him.

Throwing your head back, you moaned, feeling the bliss of his cock finally inside you.

"Fuck, you're huge! H-holy sh-shit Neville!"

You started to bounce up and down, rotating your hips every now and then.

He bucked his hips upwards in time with you to reach deeper angles and soon, you were a whimpering mess above him.

Neville wanted so badly to reach up and grab at your breasts, but the ribbons prevented him from doing so. He felt so restrained, so annoyed that he couldn't touch you.

You leaned forward and kissed him. You then untied the ribbons, seeing the way his fists clenched at not being able to touch your body.

His hands immediately went up to your waist, him pulling you closer and thrusting harder.

"Fuck! Neville!"

You scratched at his back, letting him take a bit of control. He groaned at the feeling of your walls clench around him, slowly teetering more towards the beginning of his orgasm.

"Neville!" You screamed, him hitting your g-spot. You climaxed around him, panting hard, body covered in a thin layer of sweat.

"Fuck! You're so tight, Y/N!"

You felt his dick twitch in you and felt his hot seed spill. After a few last sloppy thrusts, he pulled you into a tight embrace, face buried in the crook of your neck.

You were still a bit unsure of whether he genuinely liked you or not, so you stayed still in his arms, not turning to face him but not escaping his embrace either.

He might just be sleepy... You thought sadly to yourself. You shut your eyes, enjoying the feel of his arms around you.

You were still wide awake but you pretended to be resting.

He reached for his wand and soon you hear heard him mutter something, and out of nowhere, he pulled a thick blanket over the two of you.

Then, he whispered your name.

"Y/N? You still awake?"

You nodded, gulping, and turned to face him. "Yes?"

"Would now be an okay time to tell you that I love you?"

At that statement, you were extremely puzzled. "Y-you love me?" You whispered back, unsure if this was a dream or not.

"Yes, and I know it might seem weird, hell, it is weird, you probably don't even really like me back, although you did just screw me, you probably don't like me because why would anyone as gorgeous, kind, clever and witty like me back-"

You interrupted his incorrect rambling, kissing him hard.

"This relationship may be starting backward, but yes, I actually love you. And don't ever believe no one would like you, you're the most likable guy in my eyes. You're amazing in so many ways, especially bed-" you winked at him quickly, seeing him smile sheepishly and flush- "and you're extremely sweet and caring. Now, come closer and cuddle me, boyfriend."

His heart exploded at the last word, saying no more as he instantly wrapped you in his arms again, kissing your forehead as you both drifted off to a peaceful sleep, tangled together and officially in love.

[maansijain]

Yesterday, we came upon this store called The Second Time Around at 300 Knickerbocker Avenue. We were walking around the neighborhood when the storefront beckoned us inside. The first photo you see here shows off the window display. The works of art that caught my eyes most of all were all done by Bizzid who owns the store with his brother. Brooklyn natives, the two have been running the store for a few years now. Look out for a little video featuring the store and his work. 

[savagesneversleepnyc]

CATACOMBS OF FOLK

Electric folk know a hope that atoms beam from towers and satellites of love in orbits we pray don’t collide with each other

Much like each other as BEEz BUZZ Inna HIVE to ZIPP OFF so quick for a sip of nectar that will be cast into the QUEEN’s cauldron in SPITzzz

Line and honeycomb gather WAX and STRUCTURE so sturdy the pollen and breeze all hum a HURDY GURDY MANz tune and wait in cold snaps for BULBS to BLOOM

RATS both flat and very much chasing the banks of curb cuts and can with PAPA JOHN z PIZZA, CHICKEN WINGS and old cans

JUNKIES catch winks of slumber down under a shady rest that they love best as the EVIL DOPE the BANG lifts bones from gutters that their eyes called a pillow

Pigeons in shoals roll up blocks in flocks that flap flippantly giving guano grottoZZ that OTTO brought a whole pig on a stake and smashed up some palates for his fat piggy the bake

Bird is the word is bond under tones of subs and hero’s who HOGIE the ROLL off

CHOP CHEESE KISSES WHISPERS LIKE GAUNTLETS WORN TO CAST CHIVALRY IN THE FACE OF COWARDS SO DOUR TO SPEAK TAKE AND BREAK A WILL UNDER A WHEEL WE CAST OFF TO LOX THROUGH ISTHMUS MOST PERILOUS

Trains and crews smashing hammers and buttons on third rails in darkness from DUST to DAWN

AS DARK DAYS PASS and the lines crash in and out of every artery over the polished cold rolled steel with a clack and spark that ARC over COVENANT folk who live in the shadow of these very old catacombs beneath our feet always

KING FRIDAY would wave as the bandits sped off at full tilt up the WEST SIDE HIGHWAY and chuck heaters at meat packers on the filthy curbs that monsters observe a BALL and CHAIN and SLICER a frustrated DELI MAN could punch in RAGE and face the pounding of his

ANGEL HEART that BLOOD like the BLACK KNIGHTS Amputated limbs are CHOP WE QUE and BARE THEE WELL IN OUR ARMS BIDING FAREWELLS TO ALL

WE SEE BEFORE TAKE THE WHEEL TO DIVE SHIP TO THE BOTTOM…

INTO THE MIDDLE OF THE KRAAKENzzz EYE …

9:18am NYU NYC SKOOL OV TEEFz 10.23.24.00003 OGE

[savagesneversleepnyc]

TO TOMAS.. then to note…

“Sitting in front of the old YELLOW CAB BROKERAGE... the city was founded on a BUBBLE of commerce between people seeking tremendous PELTS and FURS.. and the profound over VALUATION of TULLIPS in HOLLAND... it's just one sliver to see out of a many sided hydra of stuff... but OUR value... what we offer to give or sell in time of effort... is never something to DEVALUE.. as we are intrinsically INVALUABLE as we can generate the things or most scant mass that are of the highest possible value.. simply helping an old lady to feel safe and not wander... as we remember the OLD WAY THAT FORBADE the discarding of our ELDERS… as we will be them soon enough and can only hope and pray we meet better versions of ourselves we Foster’s in their YOUTH…

The medallion of the YELLOW CAB was a thing of phenomenal value when I came here still.. An immigrant could come work a lifetime for 16 hours a day and PAY OFF the 500-750$ K LOAN, buy a HOME and raise a family to be born to better walls then those which we came…

The bulbs that DYKES held safe from the sea so brines and cruel would turn to ashen compost and spoil like the promises that TRADERS, TRAPPERS and LEADERS would make before GOD and MEN… only to BREAK THEM ONCE COMMODITY OVER ALLIANCE breaks the DEAL… but in BREAKING and TAKING a thing that isn’t correct we step into the ether of EVIL and FORGET… THE EXCUSES AND PROMISES and FAITH that those who chose the name of the ROSE to be spelled out in LATIN…

But as flowers bloom and wilt and AMED dreams of the TIGRUS and EUPHRATES to wash away the guilt… for choices and too many voices guide the stumble down the prime rose gang way to face white Cliff and proclaim our intent to stay or jump head first into the BAY… But silence only rolls as waves crash upon GULL’s chirps and LEMMINGS who do not plunge to rocks as the DODO’s and FROTO’s will be saddened to BILL and BOW to all the GOLD kept safe behind catacombs… BY FIRE BREATHING DRAGONS… for the speak the fire and hold the coin that burns in the same breathe is a LIE… QUID PRO. THIS FIR THAT. ALL IN TOGETHER… before we FADE TO BLACK.., or turn FLOWERS or MEDALLIONS that never held their WORTH…

10:21am 43-24 JACKSON AVE LIC, YELLOW CAB BROKAGE CO, NYC 10.19.24.00003

OGE IZU 314

ogeizu #uziego #drzen45 #nycartist #nycwriter #nycproducer #nycmentor #nycartthugglife #artthugovgotham #artthug #EXCELCIOR

[savagesneversleepnyc]

1399

Like ODD numbers tumbling endlessly inward in absurd coalescence of obtuse

Shoes the cobbler hobbled from HARMAN to scar the soles and face the music to his ears and chase another set of souls less boundless then the PIGEONS on the stoop

Spitting WOO in subtle dribbles of out of sync COOS

Calling back the 1 3 9 9

Eloise eclipsed the fruit stand and dismissed her vicious clogs to harbor her weight up the block with no socks and denim so venomous the cloud grin interest in rain drop on her palisades GEOGE WASHINGTON chopped a tree to lick a fruit and SMACK the BIG APPLE back to JONNY to seed. Untouched places erase the evidence and shoes heavy like sign posts. Alternate side sweeping and the legs up on the KNICKERBOCKER platform swarming with tiny BEES off to lessons and chocolate milk served up fresh by Devine sweet smiling lunch ladies… ALL WHO SERVE TO EARN LESSONS LEARN A LOVE THAT KNOWS NO THANKS ONLY ANOTHER SET OF HANDS TO FILL THEN SPILL INTO THE NEXT AS OUR TEACHERS TEACH THEMSELVES TO BUILD A FIRE

DESPITE THE TINDER BEING WET

8:17 am HIMROD y MYRTLE bench

[savagesneversleepnyc]

NEW APOLLO

The lady would ask her son so distinctly if he wanted cheese cake after lunch. My mother would make a note of her thick BROOKLYN BROGOE.

The NEW APOLLO would be a temple of memory until I faced it many years later. I’d spent many years wandering downtown hoping to find it organically.

The OLYMPIAN known as APOLLO is an ancient form of BEAUTY. Music, poetry, light, vanity and ART, would all be things of their dominion. The NEW AGE that would be born of the sacking of this beautiful and pragmatic culture world assimilated into unified forms of new faith.

Much like the sages of old chose HEMLOCK over blades of hate, the old gods would choose to fold inward as well. The new sages would be told of a singular GOD of LOVE and LIGHT. A ONE WHO would eclipse the images and topple the pillars erected in their name. A great flood of blood and fire washed over forms of all shapes and cultures as the major forms of the NEW WORLD moved in unison to command a hand over all that it could supposedly save and take their land.

Many Pilar’s stood but the tenants of APOLLO never changed no matter what language or form that were taken. In pure paradox to a love supreme the forces of kings rode out and sought more land and glory the return heavy handed with. The brutes of change rain down words and arrows that threaten a hand that waits as another extends open in demands.

This LIE of FEAR is not FAITH. Greedy kings need moats and castles to keep them safe and dry from the world they enjoy the fruits of as the ones who labor endlessly in toil and harvest are left high and dry… with bellies full of empty ROYAL JELLY WORDS not FOOD.. On high taxes for crops their mouths are not allow to chew, for the boot on the nape of the neck of the crowns desires are the SALT LICK provided.

Once the fields grow sick from LIME and invaders fires scorched earthen march forward the small folk know to take a knee. As they are simple and wish only to be free. To this hand or that, it makes very little sense whose name is spoken of most high.

As kings and queens dreams require many things they are privileged to know and grow ambivalent to the needs of any other than the ROYAL WE… but the SOUR GRAPES they taste make BITTER WINE they KEEP and sip as the KHAN’S HORDE bang down the door.

4:06 am Hod YARDIE 9.6.24.003 OGE

PART ONE

DUEX

AS we grow old and slow it’s a thing of beauty to BEHOLD our NEW FLESH FOR OLD timers eyes…

But, the NEW APOLLO of our old form looms like a hand we seek gloved tasks. Our hands grow too fickle and brittle to play second fiddle to any and all who fall in our laps from STEAM ENGINE sleeper cars to CONCORDE jet ambitions, our fruition of state is greatly diminished as we finish the plate of LIFE we are invariably served..

But in our last supper of great consequence we eat humbly in a CONCORDE place of PARAMOUNT relevance, we wince in haste to taste the institutional gruel we fool ourselves into calling an elevated form.

As APOLLO HEIGHTS and flights of stairs in MOSCOW hostels we traded DEAD KENNEDY tapes for PSYCHEDELIC KREMLINS on the ARBAT street of dreams as the fading eye of the IRON CURTAIN drew sleepy…

PHANTOMS chase the living giving them bad dreams and supreme experiences. DOGS on short leashes with bleached teeth chew BONES of dried HYDEand JEKYLL, transformed into BASKERVILLE hounds who strut up avenues in CHELSEA.

Cold veins pump cold iron of cold plasma that boils in our toil to warm our keap. PEAT from the old bog is fragrant and dense as we collect our scrapes to throw in the pot and give thanks again. As tiny mouths sing the song of the family out of tune and squeaky, a tiny dust mite, mighty healthy sips from our pores more eager then a BEAVER to patch up a DAM.

As TALES of APOLLO and all cascade as shadows of points of light that we suppose them to be far away but touching our eyes with shards of DREAM GLASS that our DEMI cast off to the SEA.

As water to wine and coin to bread, we wake and labor but hunger for sleep and to be fed. A truth that fills our belly with stout fuel for the long road we must SLAG… for the DAWN we BREAK in NEW APOLLO’s name is a thing to behold be it a bebe’s first cry or the final gasp of air receive before returning into the LIGHT… 5:08am Wyckoff y TROUTMAN as the BIRRIA TACO truck closes for the night at last

9.6.24.0003 OGE

[savagesneversleepnyc]

DROPPING INTO CHELSEA

TURNING PRO ERA

To place any task we seek to complete on the map we must first have eyes to ever plot the course. Understanding the context and timing are imperative.

As the perilous decent from the crest of the copping drips, it’s abundantly clear what a void of concrete truly is… a bowl or round shape containing liquid, solid, gas or nothingness is defined by many attributes that we may overlook.

In allowing our mind to see the DIXIE CUP sitting next to a toothbrush, certain constants are assumed. Mostly regarding the volume and simple morose parameters these objects we discard populate.

However, a BRUSH is a TOOL that is not of function when not in motion. It’s exists in stasis without PURPOSE. We discard the TOOL once it becomes WORN and ANTIQUATED into DYSFUNCTION and DEATH. However, despite discarding what seems so small and of so little consequence was a huge matter to the many minds, hands and hearts involved in its BEING, EXISTING or MADE.. REAL as a thing of VOLUME in SPACE TIME…

Designers, directors, fabrication, mechanics, labor, shipping, trucking, transit, retail, exchange of CURRENCY.. to your mouth.. a GREEN bristle tooth brush with a YELLOW handle is a choice we seem to pull from our heart as we gaze options a person presents in a store or context we engage and choose to use… but that BRUSH is an infinity of things we never see or even stop to consider the complexity of…

INVERSELY the DIXIE CUP is a mass produced form that is made of repurposed living TREE FIBER that once stood watch for millennia over a quiet and loud expanse of TIME and SPACE. Rain, animals, wind and lighting called over the very smallest of fibers that reached ever SKYWARD toward blind LIGHT WATER and GAS to pass time in RINGS of more fibers into infinite expansion.. UNTIL the RIGHT moment when the RIGHT HAND took the TOOL and CUT a living thing down and TRANSFORMED it in SLAGGING, HAULING, SAWING, KILN, MILL, YARD, SKIDDER, FACTORY, BOX, TRANSIT, RETAIL… EXCHANGE of our currency at the TIME when the PRICE IS RIGHT to BUY and allow that BOX of BITS of TREES, BEES and BREEZE to sit next to our BRUSH…

The CUP all alone is like a TREE still in many ways… be it flat as a page or thick as CORRUGATED matter the TREE lives in fortitude as a fibrous thing of many RINGS and CIRCLES that seem to NEVER CLOSE…

As we see the CUP EMPTY, a certain choice exists… THE CUP, is very much a functional object even when it is empty as it can posses the VOID or NOTHINGNESS that its inner perimeters populate… however the volume that extends beyond the RIM, LIP or EDGES of the cup extends into INFINITY… if we fill the CUP with all the water in the universe the universe simply spills out around the CUP….

BUT… if we in INVERSE fill the CUP with SOMETHING of VOLUME like LIQUID into the cup it will spill out INFINITELY until the volume has become a ZERO, VOID or NOTHINGNESS…

THE CUP AND THE LIQUID

THAT SPILL OVER IT ARE STILL

IN SPACE TIME DESPITE

NOT LONGER SHARING OR

POPULATING THE SAME SPACE

AS A CUP FULL OF LIQUID

BUT THE LIQUID WILL EXPAND

INTO INFINITY AND EVAPORATE

THE VOID or ZERO or NOTHINGNESS that replaces the LIQUID or VOLUME in TIME and SPACE… BOTH HOLD EACH OTHER IN PERFECT BALANCE.

The entirety of this exercise is to make simple examples of objects we know and understand. It is also simple to see liquid spilling and GAS air and VOID like SPACE where one thing is not populating the same SPOT…

If we see the CUP as OURSELVES and the LIQUID as all the entirety of the UNIVERSE that we cannot ever know or see the complexity of it is possible to see one point… US … I ME WE THINKING creating an image of US as a cup in our mind… the image in our mind is REAL in that we in ST are creating it… if we cast it of clay and cure it correctly, it will be a thing to hold and consume other things of VOLUME.

The things of VOLUME that we consume are REAL and much like LIQUID and ZERO that populates its absence nothing is created or destroyed… We can only image things in a very FLAT positive and negative form at this point… THE VOLUME of the MATTER we put IN and OUT of our CUP all has INFINITE values much like parameters of the CUP or BRUSH themselves…

However, much like the dimensions of these objects, the VOLUME or LIQUID or ANYTHING REAL IN SPACE TIME HAS INFINITE VALUES AS WELL…

I assert that when humans consume positive and negative volumes of matter in SPACE and TIME this will create an ATOMIC VALUE to a person’s existence.

This volume would be impossible to assert completely as the infinity of ways to perceive or PROVE, DEFINE anything are INFINITE as well… BUT… it is simple to pour two color liquids in a cup and see one become more dominant or the two colors blend in synthesis…

ALL THINGS BEING ONE, US, THE CUP, UNIVERSE and BRUSH…. As well as the ROOM, APARTMENT, BUILDING, CITY, PLANET and INFITE EXPANSE OF THE UNIVERSE as far as our mind can STRETCH…. When humans consume POSITIVE and NEGATIVE ideas, these things that do not take up actual VOLUME in SPACE and TIME can have a very profound effect on our perception of WHAT IS REAL…

If we choose to see major events that are commonly agreed upon as the result of something else or perhaps nothing at all, it is needed for these components to EXSIST in a very simple CONTEXT in TIME and SPACE… one does not build a FIRE in a RUBBER DIGNY to stay warm in the rain… this would be a simple example of the obviously INCORRECT and UNBELIEVABLE two things being REAL in TIME and SPACE…

As a young man I recalling stating that:

“ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE, IF YOU CAN CONTROL THE CONTEXT OF HOW SOMETHING EXISTS IN TIME AND SPACE”

This is the DREAM WE are TOLD as children in whatever place we are from hopefully. WE are shown a mirror by a hand who made US at just the RIGHT moment in ST and LEFT us LOOKING AT US in a MIRROR we can see our OUTLINE, PERIMETERS and the entirety of the UNIVERSE beyond our image and the boundless SPACE beyond the MIRROR’S EDGE…

We can be anyone that we choose to be. Look at yourself and be free to chase boys and girl and tots and dogs on wheels and bikes and cars and LIFE… but we need TOOLS like words and clothes and shoes to protect our SOULS…

That is all for today…

We have a place where we put our SOULS and the feet we stand on will only see things with the shoes that we choose to put on. So please select a pair of kicks that licks the pair they smells of cheese in the breezeway….

5:14am HOD YARDIE OGE IZU 314

Attempt HANA OGE THEORY OF ATOMIC TRUTH IN PROOF SIMPLE FORM

KONX OM PAX ORDO AB CHAO GLORIA EST MAXIMA REGINIA ET ETERNIA INFINTI

[savagesneversleepnyc]

8.15.24.0003

INTUITION

When insects swarm around the flame and the many eyes we know spy upon the blaze face our hearts we start to know how to MOVE

Into a question and perilous tumble forward exploring the boring and valid points that are presented.

Much as the flame breaks light into darkness as sounds clamor like cymbals of the emperor’s court crash … the steps of tender audacity slid into each other as book ends determined to contain many volumes…

Discourse and more absurd banter would summon LOCUST and LANTERN FLIES and COCKROACHES on boats carrying SPICE, RICE, OPIUM and RUM… a vessel of bone and blood that seeks the stomach not so empty to thud and pump from VENTRICLES and AORTA that explore the highest and driest peaks or the SPELUNK under dank rocks to touch STALAGMITES that GNOMES DOMES CALL HOMES

The precious precipice or perilous paraphrase or pursuit of happiness we wave goodbye to and kiss on the lips to keep warm when a Flint to spark embers is wet from rain. Or the BIG BAD thing becomes two and we sit stuck as GLUE in the crease to feast upon our FEARS that are slow roasted and CHEERFUL… Or the hand that reaches back to assist rather than snatching and grabbing and having more than it hands can lift…

PROMETHEUS greeted CONSTANTINE

ANGER greeted AU BON PAIN

MAVERICKS break on HAMMER HEADS

in KELP BEDS hiding fat SEALS and ELLS who’s current is 93 times more shocking then JAWS dangling from the TWIN TOWERS by his STEEL TRAP cold snapped upon a WELDING LINE that the worker abandoned in ON without ample time.

GRAVEL and travel lead to CRUSADES and blades of IRON that forged upon ANVILS that ring true as our hearts beating pulse real in our tiny ears… SO

INTO THE NIGHT

WE DIVE TO THE BOTTOM

SEARCHING FOR LIGHT

DESPITE KNOWING WE MAY

NOT NEED TO BE BACK HERE AGAIN

OR TOUCH THE ROCK

THE SWORD WAS DRAWN FROM WITHIN

EXCELSIOR EXCALIBUR ETERNIA 314

3:15am HOD OGE 314

[savagesneversleepnyc]

THE EPIC MIRROR

As trucks thunder under the windows sill

I awake in a cross eyed moon beam slip through the blinds and cast a shadow my feet don’t care for… so up and at them to begin a new as once a moat was full up in the very same room.

The LION plays with the ball

As the darkness wraps and claps traps shuttered from explaining why smoking COCAINE is OK, while being a devout derelict is a SIN… winter’s breathe recoils in far off clouds echoing thunder and hail that peppers the ground below like heretic who are STONED.

The rubble had been quiet for all but a fort night and try as they might hope for a murmur to sneak from the crevices of choices and pain that employ pushermen to take ever penny then try to explain directions back to the CRACK SPOT. To pawn shoes under a snowy staircase to a bum for a FIX like the worst I man knew did…

Avoiding the ELEPHANT FART

in the room as the

BASOON TRUMPETS TIMPANI CYMBALS

CRASH AMEG STRADIVARIUS

EXPLODE obvious craters that all

Too quickly become our EYE HOLES

That ROLL BACK into noggins and pretend to smile and CARE, but instead look past and keep it moving… as choosing to engage the CAGED ANIMAL makes anyone go toe to toe with the version we hold up so proudly but live in profound TERROR of being actually SEEN AS…

The hands of the master are old and brittle

The hands of the clock with a point in the middle

The point at which we see the numbers and entirety of all infinity

Collapse into a hole next to a

SPARROW perched upon the

GRAND FATHER CLOCK’S NOSE

INTO the eyelit that pulled a crew on sails that were tattered and torn from the gale

INTO SALVATION from the stasis of pain

INTO lifeboats we construct with JUNK we scavenge on rocky points

INTO the way back to our place and safe keepers who KRAKEN at DAWN with

TENTACLES OF LOVE reaching SKYWARD to caress the mighty fish and frigate so delicately to become a LEVIATHAN

THE HEART OF DARKNESS POUNDS LIKE THE DRUM UPON THE PHAROH’S YACT

The EVIL thing that has besieged an epic mirror I see reflecting back at me

Pinging shards of precious illumination down long deadly shafts to peel back the meaning of HIEROGLYPHS of SPHIX breaking bread

With CATS BATS and LITTLE GREEN MEN

YOU tattoo a green man or two on your head so I find it not off or odd or any sort of coincidence that it was on your NUT when I awoke. To find. You furious GEORGE that a UZI of LOVE sprays shells that put HOLES in excuses use to justify taking

ONE MORE HIT

JUST ONE MORE

BEFORE WE DIE

or

DEAD EACH OTHER RATHER THEN SAY HI…

2:30am YARDIE HOD OGE IZU 314

(Upon awaking to argue with a mate struggling with many forces and substances)

[savagesneversleepnyc]

THE ANTS OF HAMMER HEADS

THE wee folk know only small boroughs

That are islands floating amongst sewage in a NEW AGE erected atop the OLD

THE bones are ground and pounded into the blacktop with the cries call at dawn and the mighty steel wheels squeeze over bridges and through shafts crafted in TOIL

MIGHTY structures and audacious statements of form rise all fall but the humble strong hands of the men having a sandwich upon a HIGH STEEL GURTER while being condemned to live and die in a GUTTER

TO believe in the pearl at the end of a line or atop a skyscraper we dove into the current or climbed the turret.. to reach perilously for the RING or thing in the darkness we find that sets us FREE

FOR as birds take wing and we sing the song of the family in the gentle hum of the hum drum life and labor we savor each and every step allowed the power and wisdom to be PROUD as the those who KNOW will ACT ACCORDING to an OLD WAY that believed in EACH OTHER … more then the LORD OF THE MANOR who grows sick and confused as they wait in FEAR of the SIRENS CALL to the scuttle the ship and allow the REAPER’S SICKLE a taste of the GREED they FEED UPON just as the SHARK swims and grows slim seeking fishes and seals that taste oh so delicious….

6:46am ONDERDONK Y DEKALB

OGE IZUE 314 NYC

FIN. BOOK 2

[savagesneversleepnyc]

THE TWO TOWERS

BIZ Y OGE

Inside a lonely and sad place two towers began a long walk down a hard path.

The faces of those who laid the bricks were thick with sad hearts too, for their folk had to walk through endless fires and arduous labor.

These many steps would allow only the strong to endure and pass. But in doing so, a very hard mind would be formed that would not see these towers as functional but oddities to endure and attempt to keep content.

But as my own mother would loose her her cool and plead for the boy to cease running the BARREL GUN of PRADDLE words I could spill out of the windows of the CIVIC. The intervals between lamp posts whizzing by would be a tick of waves I would boundlessly observe. To hear and see the spaces and waves of connection that gave them definitions in the empty space in nature they populate.

The other tower was a flower grown in a small and strong planter. His eyes were held behind walls and long walks to LILLY’S OF THE FIELD. The hard folk were of an old way the two towers shared in a place the OLD WORLD became anew. In a perilous time of many hands reaching they stood PARAMOUNT and held up a catch they sought honest coin in SHILLING.

But the law of the jungle made the tower supremely powerful. The simple faces that he and his brother would create were characters that they made into HEROS and VILLIANS on the block under RAINBOWS, SHARKS and CARS….

The men who would be the flawed GODS to hand off the tabernacle were like old dogs who had been to HELL AND BACK. Both lived a path of kindness and simplicity. They were not folk who society paid in coin but in honor of service. For the great work exists beyond anything that could be MINTED.

But cemented in labor and heart are the ART of faith to labor and living things of all sizes.

When a time came and both TOWERS chose to look up and then look within and begin to toil on the true work of intent, they discarded all that wasn’t of service first. Cast off on blocks before KINGS, QUEENS, PIT BULLS and UBERS. To extend LEE BOWERY, BIGGIE and the sacred SHARKS upon the walls to crawl into minds and run amok. Like a fungus in an old home that makes TERMITES scream in delight, like a triple bypass patient grabbing a third spoon of BERNAISE’ … the GRAVY of flavor was thicker and sicker than EBOLA holes and droll ATOLLS of MISSIONARY devotional, belted out with bellies full of FIRE.

The VIKING fleet had all been left to toil and the BIN MAN had taken old ALEX to sleep with the SHARKS in TOO DARK PARK. The WOODSIDE and WEEDGATE and BQE HOBOs who lived under the bridge. The stragglers that were many crispy BENJAMINS and hugs in STUY TOWN in service of real IRISH WOMEN. As I was born backwards too and grew up in reverse.

The honor of shipping the kind ladies of our ISLE to leave a ISLE the boot of the CROWN stood firm on our necks to DIE UPON or LEAVE… so to ELLIS and WOODRUFF and KNICKERBOCKER we came. But from those houses we shook hands in the flesh and made sure that we saw each others eyes. As the old way commands that sincere acts are done in a way that is TRUE beyond words and only deeds. Each of the QUEENS who’s lives and hearts are allowed a bit of stew and stout bread upon DONEGAL to CORK are the only meat my heart will survive upon as the bad folk circle and into wildness we must retort.

The hands of the old clocks are wrapped so carefully that they slip off to rest and pendulums stand still.

Upon the green and blue mossy rocks of LOCHS that hide deep secrets we are thankful stay cold and old. A little old lady takes a cane and slips out a back gate to step barefoot on the unctuous peat harder row to the garden and chair. For they all earned a way back on the steamer the QUEEN and crown were so sure they had succeeded in driving the IRISH from their own land like the imaginary snakes that an imaginary man banished.

The very name of the same GOD they all knew was a tool and LIE they quite successfuly poisoned like the land and the booze they gave in lieu of bread. The yolk of liquid slavery would be a blanket they wrapped us in tight so the embers of the fires our faith and family were cast to burn up and float up to the sky… but the old way was too deep in the same earth they stole and would never turn to clay, ash, ember or dirt…

In the mighty GOTHAM a different exodus had occurred and left the other TOWER to watch the spoils of his folk lead them to leave them to keep the watch. As the haves sat fat and cozy on lazy boys in Long Island sounds, the workes all died but the work lived on… For JEAN MICHELLE, WARHOL, HERRING, BOWREY and RID all did a thing that must be remembered in endless canvases and panels. The city is a jungle too with rules and mighty steel whales that set sail upon third rails of HI VOLTAGE CURRENT…

The mighty would fall harder and fast the longer they held a smile and crossed digits that GRIFTED and gifted shame to our folk.

So we picked up our HAMMER and smashed the AXIS at the very center of the wheel we turned upon the STOCKADE of our yolk… As we are SAVAGES who run naked in the moon covered in ROTTEN FISH SLURRY at a FOE whose masts we saw breaking at dusk. For the ISLE we charge blindly to defend is our smile and message that a HEART OF GLASS deserves a proper fortress and MOAT full of EELS so fat, we make pies and fry them out back.

4:03am YARDIE HOD OGE 8.11.24.000003

[savagesneversleepnyc]

THE LONESOME PIGEON

As the flock stalk in fluctuations upon

Filthy porous surfaces of perverse waste

And fancy footwear clamoring by in flippant haste.

Tasting morsels of refuse we use to loose contents that make sense to rinse twice and cut once prior to exposure to flames and pearly whites…

Atop the KINGS coop on STAR ST who would rule over the high point of this islands spread and said words on ROOF. A young fighter named IRON MIKE was said to have come to my block many times and held court with the KING. He would travel from BROWNSVILLE as many others would to from all corners to seek his council and behold his sublime brood.

This KING has mostly returned as OBI WAN did in pure SUBMISSION TO THE FORCE. But of course he could be still ticking and kicking out on VAN SCILEN Ave and FAR ROCK watching old shows on transistor tube sets that the orderly’s unplug but he always RESETS. The scene will play the SKY and NEWS and perhaps HERRIOT will turn up with an extra tub of apple sauce and speak of LADY SING THE BLUES. As orthopedic shoes play taps on LINOLEUM BASS DRUMS as whistling, one eye, ELLE DRIVERS pile up higher then bills families of folks still alive watch empty out pockets and HEARTS..

BUT ALIVE OR IN REST the crown upon STAR ST, that RAY speaks to me of is a BIRD FLU of good news. As he understands I too am a pigeon who struts and pecks to pick up SPEX I spit back into peeping baby bird’s peeping hungry beaks… As the HOBO JUNLGE slithers like an AMOBA afloat upon the PACIFIC expanse of endless liquid continuity from TONGA to PERTH to TASMANIA and GNOME AK… where the woman eat SEALS and speak with EYE LIDS that’s give subtle nuance to the dance to avoid the POLAR BEAR upon the ARTIC HEATH… The rains drops fall as we all remember a lad who was too mad and bad to stay in his coop and came to be set free by the KING here. It’s hard to say when last his feet stood upon that roof and asked hos majesty of the LONELY PIGEON was ready to be set free too. As the KING would always allow his folk to choose and never use a nuse longer then his fingers could cast the FEED… For a kindly man named SAL DAMATO had seen a thing in this lad he had to BET THE FARM on and allow this ruff tuff create to breathe fresh air under starry sky so far from the BRICK and CRIME. To become a legend and ascend a throne only a villain could seek or ever own.

SAY HI TO THE BAD GUY

As the gavel smacks the stand and all RISE and EXHALE. A pigeon would be only as free as its belly of fuel will allow its wings to sing songs that claws use to mock the earth below. So into another COOP and another RISE and FALL and REDEMPTION of ALL.

Our eyes wander to the clouds and 747’s slip by every 30 seconds of so… Perhaps his laps will lead him one day to return to the ROOF and place where he was allowed to behold the KING’S court… WARBLERS are urban PIGEON KEEPERS… keepers of a winged create most distain but remain as NEW YORK as PIZZA, BAGELS, BOOBIES and CRACK…

(In humble honor of the WARBLERS of NEW YORK and the mythical king of this small faith who a young IRON MIKE TYSON was said to visit often. Mike would have been quite young but to bless our block with his heart and that of the respect for protecting our discarded scraps the LONELY PIGEON collects and shares with its friends…)

5:23 YARDIE HOD OGE 8.9.24.000003

[savagesneversleepnyc]

THE MAIDENHEAD

EYES SPY A CEILING ABOVE

AND A MEANING WE PUT ON

OUR FACES THAT TAKES US INTO

SPACES WE PLAY AND TOIL HOPING

ONLY TO FIND REST AND WARM GRUEL

IN A GULAG OF OTHER COGS WINDING

DOWN INTO A POINT OF REST

EACH RISING AND FALLING IS THE SOUNDING OF THE MIGHTY BELL

CAST TO LAST FOR ALL TIME YET

CRACKED UPON THE

FIRST HAMMER

KISS

RING THE

OLD TIME STEP INTO

BOOTS AND PARKAS THAT ARE

DIPPED IN A RESINOUS FATTY MEMBRANE

AS THE ECHO OF THE BROKEN BELL’S

REPORTS CLAPS OFF EARS RINGING

IN FEARS AND HUMBLING THE ODD FOLK

TO DROP A HOE AND STRIP NAKED

ONLY TO PLUNGE IN THE TORRENTS

AND WHITEWATER UPSTREAM

POUNDING AGAINST A CURRENT

THAT CARVES FACES INTO GULLIES

AND UNSULLIED SALVATION OF BUTTERFLY STROKES TO MATCH

THE COHO IN A DEATH RACE TO SPAWN

AND TRANSFORM WHAT FLESH THEY HAD

LEFT TO PROTON AND ATOMS ON A PLACID

RIVER BEADS DOWN THE GULCH FROM

MAIDENHEAD

3:26am HOD YARDIE OGE 314

maidenhead

in American English

(ˈmeɪdənˌhɛd)

noun

1. Archaic

maidenhood; virginity

2. the hymen

The repurposing of old world words and expressions is an archaic revival of syntax. The reclamation of antiquated lingo is a device of transformation into assertions we have moved away from in the modern era. The rebirth of old words allows us to be PURE, VIRGIN and UNSULLIED. To remove the brutal and ARCIAC context that is sewn around the collective assumption of this old world expression.

The use also is an attack on those who would RAPE and violate a persons barrier of purity in HUBRIS. Such behavior is a severe and savage thing to take from a person and to then hold. This exchange is permanent and shall bare the highest level of consequence. Not all acts are flat or round but to take in haste and hate is beyond the blindness of kindness I am permitted to levy.

To forgive is sublime, but to turn a blind eye and lie in acts that TAKE a thing that cannot ever be returned, are acts that will be repeated should incursion, termination or expulsion be presented. To shake from the weight of act in consequence is the true MARK OF GUILT. All are allowed salvation, but to knock TWICE and still spill LIES is the PROOF required to rule over acts beyond comprehension. Those who act without consequence shall face the same acts upon themselves in no half measure.

3:48am ON MAIDEN HEAD, PURITY, CONSEQUENCE

[savagesneversleepnyc]

NEVER TRUST A PUDDLE

Upon any block or curb a tiny bit of liquid or condensation may gather prior to vanishing into the ether… a puddle may catch one’s eye and cast a gaze back inversely…

TO smile back or grimace a response so honest we claw at the day GLO anti FREEZE smelling of alkaline mines upon a acrid plain that is brittle and fickle to crackle and snap under DUNKS of hoofed boots as mountains upon NEPTUNE exude secluded glue that’s spooned up by MARTIN and baby HELMET folk aboard a PIE SHAPE LID or DISC that sips of COSMIC VAPOR and SPACE GRAVITATIONAL ARC welders attached by humble GROMMETS that WALLACE and MICK RONSON told a STAR MAN would suffice.

Tricycles often spin out of brown clouds of MOON DUST that ANGELS and DEMONS prance and gyrate like EPILEPTIC GIRAFFES laugher at watering holes upon CIRCIS dark half

RADIOACTIVE particles cascade infinite spectacles that fracture into prisms given by kooky mathematics folk as a joke to elaborate the perilous joy of FRACTALS as diving as deep to the bottom of the puddle as diving into the infinity inside the patterns of nature a computer VOMITS back as a colorful vortex or OCULUS can see…

So

BE THE PUDDLE SO FILTHY

AND EYE SO BLIND TO MISS

THE COMET’S KISS UPON

TAILS THAT ANNIHILATE

ALL MATTER UPON ITSELF

AS THE DROPS EVAPORATE

OUR SKILL AND ABILITY

TO MAKE HATE FUCK OR KILL

IN A HUBRIS OUTSIDE

OUR OWN WILL

5:45 am 8.5.24.00000003 OGE

[savagesneversleepnyc]

THE FU IN US

THE FU OR PURE RAW AND UNDILUTED ENERGY IS A PROFOUND AND MOST TIDAL FORCE.

When we look in the world around it’s all too easy to gaze into a glass box of mental focus and ignore a bubbling context. The blinders are but a glance off and our responses are mined and sold as GOLD or INTUITION VAPORS.

In such a vibrant and vapid void of any point we could possibly EXSIST in space and time exists a profound micro and microcosm swirling about us. As tiny mites and BOEINGS take flight to JFK and LGA over ear we fear the CARTE BLANCHE.

To be thrown like a stone so far away from HOME ALONE on a perilous rock.

Stripped of all possessions but wits and never quit pitted against the raw FU of NATURE.

When we lie so still in our box we are lost in the paradox of looming and looking at anywhere but where we are wanting in some more profound way to not BE PRESENT AT ALL. As we crawl walls and stop caring while standing and caring about the anything else who else could be on the other side of the screen?

AI seeks to coddle and throttle up our response engine and engage a charge into a perilous fall into a submission of WILL. If we allow a static thing to understand our CHAOS, it is profoundly simple for that STATIC SYSTEM to assert and control us all more effectively and with less effort.

In a system that precludes certain given and accepted NORMS, many other underlaying forms may EXIST be shifted too with TECTONIC force that can all way or violently shift a base assertion. Such would be the case in a natural disaster or situation of human conflict. Like rodents we scamper as the fire burns and turn into living things that are not HIDING anymore but trying to LIVE in a real world we look at yet CHOOSE not to engage.

As floods and blood spill for WATER, OIL, and ARRABLE LAND, we stand back and point on one side or another, so certain in what the BOX SHOWS US.

The forms and words can be presented ever so carefully in a manner many may think to know but always show very predictable responses when TAPPED ever so gently.

Like a LION who’s belly is fully of GAZELLE JELLY we NAP and DREAM as FLIES we care not to BAT that BUZZ around us. The VULTURES, HYENAS, MAGGOTS and SUN will strip the KILL we nap in gratitude of. But in sleeping we allow a SPACE for others to HAVE AS WELL..

IN NATURE we can only posses what our hands and bellies can hold. The endless endlessness we seek to hold is not only not real but is already gone by the time we DIE and pretend those tons of things are what defines a LIFE… AS VANDERBILT SCHERMERHORNS and ASTOR TRAPPERS were KEEPERS, they HIDE behind a strong door UPTOWN and while the RIOTS burned the BATTERY and killed many many friends… They drank WHINE and CRACKERS and made pompous laughter…

To have is to hold and to hold is to know

To know is to be present and that is FU TOO

As ENERGY IS NEVER CREATED OR DESTROYED… WE EMPLOY SIMPLE MINDS TO TRY OUR BEST AT ALL TASKS… but BASK like LEISURE SUIT LARRY in GUCCI LOAFERS and a matching CHAIN.. maintain the FACADE of our TENEMENT..

CATWEAZEL BURROWING mole holes up on ALLISON in DONEGAL upon a thatched roof SANDY put hands that were hard, kind and sublime… to latch branch to hitch and give tiny eyes a bit of rest and crusty bread with STEW…

FU in our CORE expands and contracts in humble HEART running back down SYNAPSES in a TOUR DE FU… until we out ROLL or BOWL out the frame we are given and EXIT to the CARTE BLANCHE OF INFINITY… and enjoy our ROSES on the CHANZ DE LEZE in CHEWING CORDE EN BLU.

Fu (character) (福), meaning "prosperity", "fortune", "good luck", "blessing", or "happiness" in Chinese

4;53am 8.5.24.0000003 OGE IZU 314

IN THE WAY OF OGE

FU is pure output RAW HAPPY JOYFUL FORTUNE LUCK