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Par Two
PROLOGUE: Part One: seven year glitch
#Philosophy #Versus #Truth
PAR TWO
The Aforesaid—Revisioned
Saturday, Febru 29, 6029
I'm picking up from where I left off, not yet lifted off—that day is tomorrow; Ramp Day, and I'm outta here. It is also the first day of the year, so, Merry New Year Evesday! Or as they say out in the Exoshpere, Felix Ump Uni Evex!
The DBD Orbiters Union have confiscated all daily frequency transmitters, so any message now takes two years to arrive to its receiver. But I'm working on a prototype that'll bypass the satellite blockade, blockage, and blockers.
I could go on and on about the hacking of machines—but this isn't about me, persay . . .
Well, at least in the beginning it wasn't.
.°○.
On Haiku One.
Saturday, Febru 24; 6024
Jumped—because of the times and tides.
Picking up the—her diary at the local, closing bookstore's, Grand Sale, once a public library; it was sad to see "the old school-house" go.
All the good or famous works of 50-50 were gone, so, in scooping up what was left, on Calif, in a weird way fast forwarding its ominous closure, took all of the published writings—with those books gathered throughout my life, storing them on this planet—now back to Ontire; where I was born and unsafe.
Yet not always; like the Diary of Xocai—found two-thousand years ago near the Museums of Palpoa and Brado; their Name's old homes—after crossing one of the last asphalt streets of Chiriq, following a once paved path, then slightly left off the path, to what was an Orchard, then a Grove—under the Last Gnarly Tree.
Her book was found. Unknown Coffees and Creams.
Of things grown inland,
On the Island of Calif,
Coffee rains the most.
Xocai Of The Motley Thrones
Saturday, Febru 24, 4024
.°○.
© 2024 Leon Lamb
© Leon Lamb
#Philosophy #Versus #Truth
PAR TWO
The Aforesaid—Revisioned
Saturday, Febru 29, 6029
I'm picking up from where I left off, not yet lifted off—that day is tomorrow; Ramp Day, and I'm outta here. It is also the first day of the year, so, Merry New Year Evesday! Or as they say out in the Exoshpere, Felix Ump Uni Evex!
The DBD Orbiters Union have confiscated all daily frequency transmitters, so any message now takes two years to arrive to its receiver. But I'm working on a prototype that'll bypass the satellite blockade, blockage, and blockers.
I could go on and on about the hacking of machines—but this isn't about me, persay . . .
Well, at least in the beginning it wasn't.
.°○.
On Haiku One.
Saturday, Febru 24; 6024
Jumped—because of the times and tides.
Picking up the—her diary at the local, closing bookstore's, Grand Sale, once a public library; it was sad to see "the old school-house" go.
All the good or famous works of 50-50 were gone, so, in scooping up what was left, on Calif, in a weird way fast forwarding its ominous closure, took all of the published writings—with those books gathered throughout my life, storing them on this planet—now back to Ontire; where I was born and unsafe.
Yet not always; like the Diary of Xocai—found two-thousand years ago near the Museums of Palpoa and Brado; their Name's old homes—after crossing one of the last asphalt streets of Chiriq, following a once paved path, then slightly left off the path, to what was an Orchard, then a Grove—under the Last Gnarly Tree.
Her book was found. Unknown Coffees and Creams.
Of things grown inland,
On the Island of Calif,
Coffee rains the most.
Xocai Of The Motley Thrones
Saturday, Febru 24, 4024
.°○.
© 2024 Leon Lamb
© Leon Lamb
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