A view which uses info as a non physical component

Sometimes i think the problem is not operating slow enough. The human body may have a more sensitive threshold when running slow

continue please :)

four poems in about one hour

Churning butter, but whatever i do, it is not part of a plan,
Whether it is a kiss, a blow of air, a myriad of expression,
or just the simple and always as old the same,
This, it is not a game.
That i play with you,
However staged the world may be,
I try to keep it straight when it comes to me,
and what i do and do not do,
Can leave me from me a bit estranged,
and i can't deny feeling a little crazed,
but in a way with good intent,
Bent on care and not any hidden resent,
So count it as a windfall, or a pleasant summer rain,
Say it is for no other reason than breaking up the monotony,
But do take a task, and do it well,
let your breast swell for the effort expended,
grow a garden, some herbs, keep it tended,
Supercede what it means to be you,
let me forget me,
and dream as lazily, as the MS river does in the hazy heat of summertime,
Find a divine spring, not in me, and in it drink,
run the brink of your sanity, and go beyond farther,
And further feel the music of the spheres,
the dance and play of everything.
What can't be described, inscribe it into yourself.
This, to move on, is not my lesson given,
but it is the only one fit to by example teach.

Pain, compression, in this dumb heart,
Loving people but not the stars,
because nature doesn't give a **** about me,
so speaks indigestion and consequence,
the inconsequential death of a human race,
and in a certain sense, of life, but life divided,
serpentine line, squirming this and that,
holds my guts in place when i'm told the world is not isolated,
but my guts leak small cramps when i am around your disinterest,
in yourself and the drinking of booze,
i just lose my sense of direction, world spinning,
in ways never experienced before,
in ways that keep you, for tipsiness, from driving to this door,
Words that implore but don't move you,
why won't you be moved?
Never before wrenched out, except for other cases of substance abuse.
It just gives me the blues to be close and feel as i'm the one on the down,
And even if you dismiss it as you looking like a clown,
there is a reason why life doesn't come close to you around.
I want your cap to burst like shook champaign,
But i want you to remain sane,
without any usage. But fault lies,
yes, another line, on no one.
And so no one in the curved geodesic of the world is to blame.

Information vegetables, but we can't even eat ourselves,
A t.v. dinner, a web dressed with weird coloid salad dressing,
good messing without even trying to, the good people stuck in the middle,
but the bad ones, who is anyone really to say?
they still have kids, still see something in the dark and run away,
they manufacture the darkness, and everyone is scared,
a society of fear dominates the weak, because weakness often cares a lot,
And the squeaks of the plenty aren't heard as they're more whimpers,
If anyone even voices discontent.
And if you think differently, you are a mainstream dissenter,
If you walk, you are made and going down the wrong road,
if you cry, your thought to be in pain,
If you complain too much, you might as well be a terrorist,
If you eat raw ****, you can come under unsightly jurisdiction,
if you breath, you get carbon dioxide and pollution,
if you breed, you end up to your neck in bills and the kid is ill,
If you if, you might be denied a certain type of living,
just for lifting up the blanket.
For an opportunity,
parents slaved,
and kids aren't responsible for their parents labor debt,
Nor the parents for the kiddos mistakes after a certain age,
But i want this age of untrust to end,
and begin a cooperation full,
of many people living as humans fully,
And not just living to scoop coal into a machine that doesn't care about human life,
Add arms and torso next, this culture will eat anything.
Informed both the shark infested waters and an unsinkable,
all protective life vest,
but why in anything but you, you deep down, invest?
Goodwill is a currency that will stand any economic shock.
At least, i love to be around where it is in good stock.
But people don't know what to buy into,
information sinks to the bottom of a well, and no sources draw deep,
Any story telling, your wits about you do keep.
Nasty weaves need some poking to see through.
And yes, i've been dancing with the media myths lately,
but i have to say i am, in regards to legends, a heartless lover,
Read it well, access it, digest the reception, and then leave it cold.
Lies are stories, these broadcast fabrications, that i cannot hold.
And here i may be accused of odd loving and leaving them for dead, but
Since no one likes faulty fictions and newsreels, please don't call the cops!

rearing noon from the morning's infancy,
so to you were to get me so we can for a few hours say sup,
tripping, buzz feed as we catch up.
running through my bones, lifting my mind to lofty places,
where thoughts still come but wisp away again,
like whatever i exhaled with my head out of your window,
and as we parked, lonely car, no people,
'cause sky was blowing and our worlds we were dreaming,
but sharing a simple order,
called time to set up this tent, stake 'er down,
to wander beachside and look at relics we've found,
wet feet, retire for packed lunch,
munch and let the brain go dumb for a bit,
zone out, then barefoot run.
Yes, a day of beach fun.
Feed the seagulls, the damn bastards always stay away,
make mud and face paint, the feel the moisture leave as the paste drys,
Look at the sky and shy from thunder,
only to go for a dip before the sky breaks,
and wave crests blown in wind,
I remembered what i forgot, that
that everything i ever did to you could in a moment be lost,
And the trust be broken, but still the day was stoked,
And i for it. For the wind and the cold, chilly water,
for getting caught in the rain,
car doors then slamming, misty over-water clouds rolling,
and all of this with only a few hours from this the everyday stolen.
It will be one of your favorites.
But to me, it is just a day,
a lived, breathed, gritty and hands on passage,
lit by playing music in a tree, or here on blanket.
It was a good beach day.

Bubble words, you blow them skywards,
a fuzzy cube that you try to fill,
and paint borders on,
To true form it is as powerful as the sirens song,
it yields, here to meaningless,
there to ecstasy divine,
and everywhere tip toes silently.
Creases IDK wrinkles in a face, our conversation,
And makes me feel uncertain in an all together different way,
the way you were interested, but now won't your smile, it will not, come play
to me anyway, if only then i had let it.
Trying to get past thinking i can set it,
this wavy nature is more fixed than anything i have known to exist in mind,
Fine time taps softly to too trilly jazz, impressive, but no feeling inside.
And so too my merit, if ever i had any.
Painted pictures on feathers,
these notions won't fly by reality, even if to this one eye they are pretty.
Hung up in my dreams, I will try to live them,
as a feather that will no longer take flight,
but anyway gives me delight.
Dream catcher twirl, don't let me lose sight.
Then pass the dream on or suck the juice out of it,
precious spider of the all covering web.
gaps of viewing aside, the little blips out,
Still missing connections make me want to AGH! shout
On the cool side, i want to know your name,
to be more than a name, more than here, then and moment.
I to be a sequence of snapshots held together by some tack on a
developing wall.
Don't fill me in, won't you?

I left this place, feeling tingly in one arm,
not the arm that says yikes! emergency,
just left, pacman style to indicate leaving vertebra material,
somewhere behind the wall i lived with for so long.
Crashing down, not everything could land on the ground,
at first, but then of course there is
eventually.
I will leave this place and go to where there are no road signs,
DUsty way, pitted gravel and rising clouds,
explosions only not so loud, being one directional,
a propellant and old combustion engine.
resembling a path any could take, but many won't.

I came to this place, feeling whole,
A purple aureola contrasted by, What is left behind anyway?
Same old no doubt, but this lucrative vibing went even to the inside,
to come out an effervescent tumble of dense liquid from a fount.
Air cool, I never want to be left to beat out a heart again.
But i'm trying to do a good job at it, somewhere between the great divide.

Did i try to run away from you?
you anyway spoke to me,
in the people around me, on the breeze,
they, uttering the things in order that you've only ever said,
utterances that today hid you away in silence, not thinking an ear to hear,
was near in me. But i heard anyway, this which you didn't say, inaudibles,
And now i certain of where i am at,
not that being away can be taken back,
or there is anything to be apart from,
but there is always a little something,
drawing, drawing, an inner will to begin,
not just a me and you ordeal,
but the transplanting of starts, a variety to someday harvest,
when your needs are less.
Pack the soil over me.
I'm sorry that i made someone else steal your voice,
a ventriloquist of neither here or there but everywhere present.
The role must somehow be played in this drama.
Even if you did with your messaging, audition late,
This part would have more suiting been done by you....
Tomorrow will try to make up,
(but today was best for me too)
all that a time and place can do.
But even anyway, here or nor-there,
My friend to be with.

Dreams of one, dreaming of all,
Time transfixed, from here on out it stood stalled,
And to mull it over, the romantic death of a dove, couldn't even cover
The sentimentality, a heartbeat or line of them drumming,
Forever strong, until like all marches, this forever fades out.
Human isn’t dove, and no matter how much we love,
Life ripped apart, it is also glued via a time adhesive,
Nothing will keep me knocked down until the tomb,
And chiseled on the stone, all that would be desired,
Is in the fullest, that this person lived.
Parentheses would say that he no longer cares,
About heaven or hell,
Or walking dressed in a new body again.
Options, I want to come undone,
In your presence.
No longer becoming,
Swirls of swaddling blue clothes, your being,
Like autumn leaves, not any more can ready be,
To be marked, marked as an eminent imminence; an end.
This, with certainty, but not before with you beaching,
You may not be the one,
And I beseech you, from here quick I’ll be gone again,
But please hear, You've been a good son to me.

writing is my craft lately. :)

having as friend in a ghost, that doesn't sound so bad after this

You shouldn't just believe anything out of hand. From a good source i am convinced, and sometimes i think i had an ancestor who did not live on this world. I don't mean some weird sex scene, but like a spirit goo migration of one from away to here

Lord! to be one, with everything let us be one.

Wake, heat in the stomach,
Sit, heat in the mind,
run around later, afterburn of body,
sun, let us be one,
Melt, transfixed by reality,
these people, each have a diff. one,
And inside, i've seen, bubbles rising to the sky,
with people inside them, riding rainbow HIGHways,
each to their own, and blowing away,
gaining some vantage point, at loss for a stay,
and each only wanting, really one thing,
knowing or unknowing, to be burst,
a technicolor explosion, of regroup, wait, not enough material,
but still this aerial dance does take place,
and while a race it is not,
I still want you to be near me today,
or tied from who-knows-where,
to right here in my gut,
so i can sometimes say 'sup.
And then pop your bubble too.
The mist and spray won't hurt,
but the exposure may do a number on your skin,
a good number, like 5/4 timing,
And then a jig to break into this light/dark cycle,
and drawn form from below, the heat moves to feet.
The very air around you, like this let it be sweet.
Finally, hotness moves to sun,
and the day raisers work is done,
all worth it for one themselves not rising up,
At least, this made my morning a lot more fun!

So what the h hell is information in physics? Shannon claude did his project at bell company in the late 1940's, and since then the quantification of energy has found many applications. But the quantification lacks outside significance. It may say how much info can be passed on a wire and give a maximum bit rate or something, but it is not quantified by more than a number. How much does a number weigh? My point is that there could be a quantity of information possible per physical unit, and it could be like written on energy, and we could be missing it. I mean is physics info based, is information really a something, or is it just a gateway or a lead up to a physics which deals with the unphysical finally. It occurs to me that there could be something along the lines of a rule that information be the same bits when seen from this vantage or another when attached to phenomenon. The other idea that information can't go faster than light, via einstein, which i believe is still not proved wrong.

Since info dilates with mass and motion, that information about a speeding body is less and reduced, The amount of data per unit energy would decrease. One could add a trend that data flows from high to low on energy. Or from denser to less sparse data holding. bodies with less mass then would have lots of info if at a stand still, and less when moving, like how massless bodies go at c. or close in mediums. And of mass, perhaps mass is the set of some dynamics, the outcome of information trying to be minimized by some underlying dynamics. The mass the way it is because of how it regulates info gain or loss, that would be another way to put it. You hear about all of this stuff space going faster than light....

But can information be conveyed on this? There is also the point that even Einsteins Equations are not background independent like they had striven to be. Granted, the striving is fodder for hope, and potential, and should not be dissed. Yet, and anyways, when a mass totality is given to a set of field equations, there is a global solution which all smaller subsections in a universe are subject to. If mass behaves and makes space groove like this, then so much of it, saying that there is a mass of an entire system, fixes the time and space in place in a certain way much like a mold for phenomenon. So everything happens in some sense according to the shape and flexibility of this mold, which affords it its great field of applicability, especially at large scales where massive energies are enough to show this dynamics. But i wonder if actual nothingness, the very void, isn't something of a prejudice itself.

Why is it such that we can refer to movement through vacuum anyway and at all? In my mind, at least, it is something akin to the up/down fact that there isn't one, or poetically that Shakespeare truism that the world sees neither good or bad, but the person evaluating it does. Perhaps you've heard the idea that the uni. could be shifted two inches and none would know the differ. But i find it most palatable to picture a body out there all alone, no friends, tress, planets, not even a longing from some distant planet called home, just far removed from anything and everything. Out there like that, still to moving, what difference does it make, if the universe or the nothingness is endless, how is there any metric at all? If this void is considered as present in the normal populated world we know of basically, then this movement, saying this moved here or there, sticks out like a sore thumb.

If a view is to be truly comprehensive, it must learn how to use the void as more than a backdrop, to see it as a participant. If somehow this void can become part of some conservation laws, then it might see a change. The void itself could be bent like space time is.... or be in such a way that it supports matter and mass and sound and energy- the reverberations of creation. I think a view with info in it will unlock new roads for physics somehow or another. Some relativity, the trekking of its path, is still to do.