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Doctor, doctor!?
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Poems by 'Johnny Giggles'
(written & narrated by 'Johnny Giggles')
Doctor, doctor!?
Quick doctor, doctor, defibrillate the patient, his patience is getting thin, it's getting under his skin, the only way to loose for him is to win, quick doctor, get this patient out from under his sin and notify the next of kin!
Revive to be alive, let this one go, no matter, he's much fatter, let's try one more time, lest there be more time to derive, lest there be more life to muster into this clutter, into this field, this everything that we wield, can anyone please get this vessel to not topple up and keel?
Let it go if needs it to be let go, hold on to nothing as inherently everyone knows, how many more tries does it take before an error can occur, and how many more errors, before god concurs?, How many more times must it take, to will the power of the infinite back into the innate?
Spreading out like luminous fixtures with their flickers tend to do, the pulsations between the intervals is what we now recognize as undeniably true, cognizing the remembrance, the embrace of ones own hand, an automaton no more, we now understand!
And still the doctor lays still, there thinking, surrounding himself by himself, as if at his own sense of state he is winking, when clarity comes it comes in format, in senses and surroundings, in absences and presences abounding, absent the presence when ones own presence prevails, all but a glimpse unto the other side of the veil.
(written & narrated by 'Johnny Giggles')
Doctor, doctor!?
Quick doctor, doctor, defibrillate the patient, his patience is getting thin, it's getting under his skin, the only way to loose for him is to win, quick doctor, get this patient out from under his sin and notify the next of kin!
Revive to be alive, let this one go, no matter, he's much fatter, let's try one more time, lest there be more time to derive, lest there be more life to muster into this clutter, into this field, this everything that we wield, can anyone please get this vessel to not topple up and keel?
Let it go if needs it to be let go, hold on to nothing as inherently everyone knows, how many more tries does it take before an error can occur, and how many more errors, before god concurs?, How many more times must it take, to will the power of the infinite back into the innate?
Spreading out like luminous fixtures with their flickers tend to do, the pulsations between the intervals is what we now recognize as undeniably true, cognizing the remembrance, the embrace of ones own hand, an automaton no more, we now understand!
And still the doctor lays still, there thinking, surrounding himself by himself, as if at his own sense of state he is winking, when clarity comes it comes in format, in senses and surroundings, in absences and presences abounding, absent the presence when ones own presence prevails, all but a glimpse unto the other side of the veil.