Now I see the secret of making the best person: it is to grow in the open air and to eat and sleep with the Earth. --Walt Whitman

We each take our toll like seeds who remember nothing,

We every member know,
without clarity, that the beginning is like the ending,
we just know,
and if the human who undertakes the night would guess right he or she might be nothing or everything.

It is like that here.

Every voice equal in the night.

Bless you forever.

Forget what we know and begin again without prejudice, please.

Sound-blips, preconceived emotional tendencies like wind without substance.

Bless you.

Morgos.

You felt yesterday more than you ever felt the money recognized and thats a fact so--
get it even and please help people to see
we each can not ever survive without totally giving,
so.

Open up and people please we are inspired by each other without pause.

Popularity is nothing, clicks are simple actions without whisper.
Memory of winds, seas, and memories of what matters beyond the cool hunters means...
Satellites mean.... nothing.
Route sixty-six is like a candy cane,
without memory.

Road warriors as you give it all way,
I ask you were you warned for anything?

We laugh as anything,
like sunlight is a blister,
and the world will turn into nothing,
the sky is nothing without pause.

We remember everything.
We remember everything.
We remember everything.

Does it matter unless you are nothing?
Silicon like bleak memories of victory.
Despair, a brief semblance of passion for destruction.

Judgement.
How could we ever remember when it hurts so damn much?
How could we play the games we do for power when the real memory made us?
Yes, this simple.
Yes, this simple.
Yes, this simple.
It is over and over the truth as we struggle differently without sense,
and power lost, given to the lost and incoherent.

Do we doubt it?..........
Admirers of chaos?....

Do we know otherwise as the Earth begins its dance into nothing?
Are you ready?
Are you able to fathom as the land sinks, the water rises, the minds holds what is dear like lines of truth.

Give it everything or die.
Give it all you are or nothing.
Give it something or remain like a blip.

Upon eternity,
morgos.... I love you all.

Nothing. Nothing whatsoever. Past actions remind us. Nothing. And vampires on the soul of history should remember, study and vigilance always win. Gospel beget, literature, beget popular recognition. Elvis hated that. This is a shout out for all those who are tired of a damn tired system of hits that recognizes nothing other than clicks.... like I said over there... substance = everything. Shall we dance? I got milk.

I struggle a lot with judgemental. It is the recognition of truth according to me. Bullshit, usually. I concur. But I see a technological forum of lost souls forming, people without connections to stone. People who define their lives from the eloquence of political unmeaning. It is the danger of our age as we prance like unassuming fools. Money is one thing. Communication everything. We blindly assume that porn and hits will make us rich and it pisses me off. Is it that easy? What is the real payoff? I challenge you in real life, though you may be able to pwn me online. Can you make a fire with your will? Can you create realness without the silicon trappings of an age gone beyond its responsibility? This is not a real challenge, it is a plea. From one of the rare few one of us who has had the pleasure of perceiving reality as it is, and as it is becoming in the keyboard/visual fantasy of nothingness and despair we forget. Yeah, I got a thousand-million hits, Tokyo, Akira, etcetera, and we fall for it like rats in a slide-show put on by cobras. I do not judge, but love. I do not compare. I do not fear. I do not scheme vengeance. I hope. I dream. I see epochs of humans interacting in a way we have forgotten from the earliest days. I see us remembering feathers, giggles, promises, and I know, we have not allowed ourselves to become intrinsical memories of false echoes. This is a hope for all, and not just those that know how to type brief inputs. Serious? Lost? Too emo? Remember as the lights pass your retina. Love, to my sacrifice of your acceptance, transcends all.

Morgos

Well, crap.
Seems like I miss everything while I'm out there. I spent my off-week last in Savannah on the beach and with friends speaking of how the Microsoft Age is ending, and our open source potential means everything, including trust in humanity. I just got back again from the woods with a bunch of girls this time, and am awed by the potential incredibility each individual soul undertakes in its adolescence. Truth is so easy when young. It only takes stress and a lack of distraction to create genius-level awareness. People forget this as they wheel and deal empires over nothing. The stylish according to adults in old news no matter how hard it is sold, and the kids... they define our world as it happens despite our overwhelming desire to control them.
I love Radio Paradise. It always transcends the paradoxical over-programed licensure of the Pandora epidemical. The moment is secure. The human or two remembers.
We are indelible only to a point as we see eye to eye.
The Twitterati are busy catching plane flights amidships.
I wish I knew more....
A way to comprehend how important each of us recommend each other in a way we remember and actualize.
Because if you looked ME in the eye you would know, your actualization is what makes you able to connect with your being.
But it is not just ME. You know someone out there I am sure that will actualize your technological thrill. Someone to make you write a book everyone needs to understand how far we need to spend our time without measure. Anyone without a real name, who you don't know with a word or two that means more than anything you have ever understood or apprehended.
I wish you much, and it is out there.
I wish all of us a good night with a humble smile and squint that never ends without a deeper understanding of every moment as it happens, because that is what we need, and what I am.

Good night,
morgos