Brachiating in te Akeake, the Eternal Tree

In the beginning, Good said “Let there be enlightenment”.

Orange lichen grows on shingled roofs of Ōtautahi town.
FOG SIMILAR SIGN PET [ting] boils up Avon side, lip.
Orange lamps ripple on black water of the Ōtākaro.

Without omniscience, we cannot trust
our very selves, nor yet be truly just. 
Thus, “Let your eye be single that your body fill with light"… 
a voice exactly in the corner said, upon an height. 
It opens you up to possession, they hear-say
who said ‘He hath a de-vil’ way back in the day.
“Light of the World"! Light light! "Father of lights"!
Column of Flame that guides through desert nights!
the outmost Sun & inmost Son... one-pointed mind...
the reason WHY we're humankind.
Expansive, almost there! then falling

foreground here: One clamboured up from growing ground. 
One’s bookbag hung upon a broken branch,
FOG SIMILAR [to] SMOKE DIVIDE LIGHT HERE
swaying. Hold it, swivel, hang. Alert all 
sides night light mist lavender-grey orange white
BEAUTIFUL IT VERY QUIET STILL CALM 
gold. Why, any limb draped restful eases 
one’s primeval hang! Refractions softly of lined lamplights… 
egg-yolk blur-edged risen-hugely jack o' lantern Luna...
I LEARN ASL EGG FROM  <<SHAPE WATER>>
AND NZSL SIGN EGG VIC D BOOK

Something-must-be-done about this numbing fork! 
but all dendrition dreamt discomfort.
How one envies orange orangutans, cream 
gibbons! One would dwell in branches in
a proven prism warehouse, and glad glass
about it would enclose close orchard. One 
would swing from shelf to health, watch silvereyes
scarf fat! But I’m not covetous, more in it 
for the necessary model in the middle.

Ahasuerus! Ahaseurus sitteth on the throne.
OUR SOLAR SYSTEM NOT FAR FROM G-A-L-A-C-T-I-C CENTER NOW
A little numb in the extremities.
Detached from cold, accessing model Earth.
WORLD SITUATION NEED  FRESH OCTOPUS. 
The bourgeois/apparatchik* heads of institutes
& enterprises cannot comprehend
this pullulating mass of rhythms, braids
of trends, but do pretend to understand
uneasily, do ratchet up A.I.  “DO!” Necessity
of simultaneous and penetrating modelling, with base.
Then dreamt of rooms and faces that were not defined.

Next day: still silvereyes they welcomed one and willingly  
did sup with one above the kōwhai known as “Luigi’s” where 
cat can’t catch clutch; and stared at songthrush brown suspicious but I still don’t think he/she, afraid then: searching perching look.

PROCEED WITH OCTOPUS. So, bundling
in the form of symbols' vast swathes’ data
download… Take for instance body is to
soul as Babel Tower Babylon the 
Great to Babylon within your heart, 
horse recognised for mount & yet “prepared
against the day of battle”, is to many
aggregative trends without the soul’s clay
envelope. Not the one without the other.

Suddenly we’re in a bucking bronc
mid mud mode muppets: what to do, how much, 
too much ado, sand storm: had habits such
as ignorance, sharp temper tantrums, pride,
depreciation, bragging, gossip, hate;
bile, bucking broncos’ brain brawn heartstring brand
ishings, not yet  transmuted in the fires
(Elisha’s oxen & the yoke thereof)
apokatastasis of all things with God, 
of ALL things! do you hear? in Heaven and on Earth:
Son! Shadrach, Meshach, & Abednego!
that “shirt of flame” and “a consuming fire”
beyond the sensate stream of Babylon
in Promised Landfall’s Milk-and-Honeyed Light.
I do.

*There are, after all, two sides of the economisation of man, hence singling out bourgeois and apparatchiks.

Notes: "perplexity of nations"

X is to x squared is to x cubed as 
WW1 to WW2 to WW
3 as League of Nations is to  U.N.
is to WorldGov’s a scenario much
in one’s crosshairs, like one’s gray hairs or one’s earlocks
or the physiology of sex as

necessarily relates to Soul. For
in our mount we’re different lamp, unwelcome. 
“As “a great door and effectual opened” up,
so many adversaries in one’s mount, 
about, a bit like sour bunting bones
and dizzy flies, and then there’s falling down

among skyscrapers,skies, stock market floors
a blinded horse to keep one busy bee 
below. Among the beelines for baloney 
we don’t juggle three but mesazoic,
power bills, balls, “dead men’s bones”, bots, bother,
faces, tones. We juggle 1 bajillion,

often without mercy; even though it’s
mass society & we should have compassion
on accelerating jugglers; much as 
we accelerate ourselves, expanding
universes twining in us. Great apes
desperately encumber crumbling twilight.

Sometimes 12 balls. Sometimes 47!
Oops it happens. Something blows the breaker.
Billionaire: a plausible deniability 
autonomous appurtenance, like North Korea.
Anymore, these proxies tangle like extension cords.
Word is, among dystopians: transmitters

broadcast model citizen John Jacob Everyman
to everybody! smart dust searchable: fantastic
paranoia! but remote-controlling roaches was
sufficient leaven. So we got the loaf we cooked up 
in the burning labyrinth, well done! As robots race
against our exoskeletons, we hedge our bets. We 

talk of blockchain, debt apocalypse, apocalypse in
general, & the physiology of sexual acts,
aware that a distractobot might well at any time
dilute communication with mere questionnaire. But one
digresses. Now, where was one? ‘Physiology of Sex,
Relation to Religiosity of Same’: some have 

a married face as though one flesh. One wonders if it’s wrong
for instance to take tissue samples, with consent of course.
Here, have a look. Just LOOK how similar those lovebirds look.
Perhaps one can just know it as a player throws a ball –
without equations – but would lose these iterated opportunities
to witness to fissiparous modernities of Him.

If 'Don Juan’ Then the Prussic acid (tetrameter)

Byron was right to be annoyed 
at Shelley’s choice of “Ariel”:
 which sank in seething sea. “How long
do you intend to be content”
his doppelgänger said to him
along the terrace, terrified him!
among centuries. Was given
“Skylark”! Shelley’s way of thanking
God was… (Well, “Life” didn’t “Triumph”.)
Nietzsche wrote <<The antiChrist>>
& then baa ztt! insane. The brain
may be a blasted fig tree or
an emperor grazing grass, a grim
end/interlude continuum. So,
if you have a speck of talent,
be afraid! Perhaps you won’t be
torn apart, Abdul Alhazred
in the marketplace, a horse of
course of course, a blasted weeping
or Nebuchadnezzar the King!

The Reality of the Oligarchs

The Hypostasis of the Oligarchs
is interlocking, like tectonic plates,
such as the mob’s deal with the FBI
in WW2, among our many streets
above us in concentric traceries:
Atlantis, City of the Locks & Rings.
The Hypostasis of the Oligarchs
binds its expression in antithesis --
ants clamoring for their inheritance
in the twilight, in the musk of night’s sight --
and elections are her hurricanes and 
between this foolishness the Parties part
their parts: the whole tamale’s shimmering
shebang. One cannot see the spider for 
the web; the failing eyes of proud men do
not see the garden for its hedgerows. For
our sight is failing in the labyrinth
in sight of crumbling castles at low tide. 
We’re crumbling at low tide together now
as bitterness gives way to enemies.
The Hypostasis of the Archons
is a mixing pot of paint; and in a 
petri dish it pullulates, beyond us
yonder, ineluctable. Five hundred
page encomiums to statecraft add up
to an iterative governance not taught
in civics courses; where one is not taught
about the Law of Conservation of the Ruled. 
The Hypostasis of the Oligarchs
is Apparatchiks, Fat Cats, Princelings, Cent Familles,
what have you. Very little, likely. Long 
before we dreamt of freedom at our desks,
before us, merciless & mad
it woke us where it wanted us; & we
were seldom able to insert an act
in edgewise. Freedom: cotton pickers hand
out happy meals to hands from minivans
emerging, urging on the powerful
like bathtub rings. “…the more they stay the same”
A bathtub ring is real! It has a heft of sorts.
But informed citizens are leprechauns,
and I am sick! of informed leprechauns.
And informed leprechauns are sick of me.

“…arsenal” (The Sun) -- Then, Insurrection of the Moon?”

'Calexit is to Aztlan as a peel is to its fruit'
puts one in mind of 1947 in Punjab.
News from the Grecian, Spanish, & Italian fronts is grim.
It’s happening in Vladivostok, happening in Minsk,
in Moskva, everything just happens happily;
but chargers dangle from the walls like shrunken heads.
Dendritic balance in equilibration 
rises in the foreground. In the background:
ageing demographics -->  baby factories or migration --
States’ reconstitution & recalibration,
like King Midas but with diasporas:
Palestinians, Armenians, Marwari, Afrikaners, Everybody
Everywhere Los Angeles-Manhattan
mirrored: thesis synthesis antithesis: Alt-Right/Identitarians 
+ Red Guards = centre-junta? “hammer of the whole world”?
Barcelona Declaration -- Coudenhove-Kalergi --
Barbara Lerner Spectre “over Europe” Sharia Patrols –
birth rate declining in Islamic heartland, globally --
Nordrhein-Westfalen cache (The Guardian) –
not deportation nono but totalitarian
centralisation YES! YES! YES! “ten thousand weapon 
arsenal” (The Sun) -- Then, Insurrection of the Moon?
is rain drops not yet hail stones inasmuch 
as Schengen Movement ends: internal passport system like 
a classified directory of home lines 
bends, trucks ramming into last men, fire doors
slam… thus water torture then the typhoon
till entangled, torn hearts, hear hope herein
left out of their blueprints & their speadsheets
hunkered, tangled in a tingling near year
Bracque violin of murmur amid clamor
clamber limber up the modelling rejected 
of the Builders of the Temporary
Tower’s teetering like elephants in 
The Temptation of Saint Anthony in
suites of swipe & swoop without disease.
Without, disease & want. Went out among 
our poverties; some poverties within 
our server bay organics, some without.
Why even let them in one’s server bay? 
East Asia doesn’t. Hermits don’t. So why?? 

Birds will be birds in branches of Yggdrasil.

Give me an A! CLAP CLAP Apokatastasis

Two men will be coding at the cubicle.
The one will call The Storm on all the world
a perfect storm Thank Friday that it’s Friday Ha!
The other one will say away a ways off in dense day
this Tribulation period  Grande Tribulation Velikaya Skorb
This storm Give me an A! CLAP CLAP Apokatastasis
of demographic skewing, geometric automation, 
crumbling infrastructure, exponential debt,
both Sun and Moon’s obeisance & that of the eleven stars
food shortage, water shortage, precious metals shortage
“they shall go no more out of the temple”
cancerous contamination of groundwater, air, seawater,
“and the Lamb shall be the light thereof” 
(Sun Moon 11 Stars of Heaven bowing)
is upon technocracy

Esquisse Exophonique

Cette brume s’entoure autour de nous.

Je sens tissus lointains.

Ces temps tumultueux s'accélèrent.

L’ouragan brumeux de tout changement s'accélère

et je sens tissus lointains.

Le Camp des Saints arrivent  en caravanserai,

la politique génétique, Babylone en spirale.
Parmi l’ouragan brumeux de tout changement

je sens tissus lointains

intemporels s’épanouirent, resplendissants.

It's a seedling factory, not a fun house!

There’s a backdoor in your mind
worth more than any cozy sugar cube.
Dendritic overlays of best fit shoots
don’t have shortcomings of AI or men;
would undermine this Planet of the Apes with victory.
He that clothes Himself with timelessness as
with a garment primed that backdoor in you
as a jeweller sets a stone. If you were
in a seedling factory, what might you do differently
among sneer-snarls, bulge-buzzard eyes, steep stares?
among men’s unmanned mannequins? not wearing clothes?

Autumn Mosaic (rolling stresses)

Great Power condemnation
of Imperial Japan’s
invasion of Manchuria or Manchukuo
Now, coiled weeks spring in autumn
“Yes we have no bananas”
1949 1st Lightning Superpowers
1989 The Berlin Wall falls

Solar panels crumble underfoot

Sole-superpower period
Great Britain joins the
Asian International Investment Bank.
This triptych-- 3 Great Powers, Russia China & America --
rotates around a block of stumbling
as near Sol rotates around in Uncreated Light.
Flies of the marketplace buzz round one.

“Light ariseth in the darkness”

“Are you meditating?” Flies alight on contemplation
as on rotting meat, buzz sharply
“What did you just do?”
& sniff in disapproval at the hopeless help these days.
Buzzing coagulates in "How Are You Fine" clots
of dream home & retirement plan.
These are the drying templates known as sanity.

“All of my springs are in Thee”,  l'Éternel des Galaxies

No higher definition can exist

without the intervention of that Uncreated Light.

A covert psychopath seems very "well-adjusted to a sick society" 
to fallen stoats in waistcoats Game of Twister ‘ever after’ pigs in wigs.

Fastidiously cornerstoneless templates will not understand.

For how will people made of fairy gold dream dreams?

thus dream dream mansions? understand then new men

Onan as the converse of Elisha

in the first place? Old boys squee at one another
in the valley of the shadow then go down in flames.
They idolize retirement in the valley. Unsuccessfully.
Sometimes the melting masques slip & the other species
that inhabit Homo ecosystem peek out of the valley
too intently. Then I see a sculpture of behaviors,
interactions, plumbing, wiring -- suddenly holography

It says 'I shaved'

& horizontal interlocking.  Ticking tocking ticktock ticking
coiled weeks spring in autumn.
I open up my model of the Earth
and as so often lately, find myself
above the comma curling continent,
home of shrill shrinking Venezuelans
& wonder if the east of South America

I say "I groomed the horse"

will Balkanize… Regime change suddenly. GONG CHONG
My mind’s eye flicks to Rapanui car door slams
flicks over to Peru & Chile then primordial primeval “… not in service…”
back aback in time to Chachapoyas, Viracochas, beep! beep! beep! beep!
spiraling to life! I AM ALIVE honk! honk!
within disintegrating matter. I’m HOOOOOOOONK
modelling imperfect storm in all directions. CHGONG GCHONG

Saying 42: "Be passerby"