Johnny G Brownbagging at the Philosophy
Poem written at a philosophy conference at the University of Western Australia in early July 2024.
When will we change, and how can we change who we are? And stop the testicles of throbbing penises from raping with horse head force jailhoused anuses? What madness will finally tell us we've gone too far? We used to ask where all the florist flowers went, and associate it with the Stones’ “Paint It Black,” and with war, and high strung out horses wild on crack, and scream to God and scream, and saw it make no dent. Now I'm at a philosophy conference, surrounded by nice and thoughtful, caring people. I remember the kind, me brownbagging Ripple, living on the street, their thrown kind coin sentiments. Will AI ever become as conscious as us? Yeah, I pampered myself in nice; enjoyed the buzz.
Indeed, indeed.
In a movie called Highalert, startled a poem because yours is the way to poesize. 60 stories up all is insinuations, nothing personal Gebund height. Burroughs's first apprisals about people all are of hooligans
With the air of the youth in Peterpan , shedded workshopping airs of a monomania. Maybe pathology be a pathologue, embarrassment at certain grounds duck walk out. There is a socalled look down a nose at your drink er, that would heat up the hatband to sunny 91 degrees. That lacerating pure pity .compare to Williams CW he wld steady study you as the stud he was, pity for the words too, he immortalized his wife windblown too maybe? Chicago. 'Think I have a one sentence from Clay Eshleman Done and suffered by light. Deeds done and suffered by light. Asin yours. Been student of Kenneth P for long and am too headly Of the sherif cavalry to say with you two that feeling is the poets sign.