In time of lost humanity
I, as a postconceptual poet, has been and am being a farmer in the marginalia zone of delayered or deconstructed text. culrivated out of uncertainty of human events.
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We are crossing ovwr multiple-worlds in practical and operative thwory-liberated in bones and nwrves: a generational birthdays and unbietjdays of wisdom of human civilization hybernated buried long time ago ny intellects.
WHY is nor a question but it is a post-teurh lab.
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Daring to look into its capabality of reflection and shade.
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Is how a tree grows in space
And
How ir changes in wisdom
Of
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WHY:
We are crossing ovwr multiple-worlds in practical and operative thwory-liberated in bones and nwrves: a generational birthdays and unbietjdays of wisdom of human civilization hybernated buried long time ago ny intellects.
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Heal our broken humaniry
Heal our broken lives
Heal our ceushed air
Heal our beoken hope for freedom and jstice
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All are uncertain in universe.
No cwrtainry in human logic qhen...tou know if tou come across such experiwnces..that is not journalism
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A small colourful bird is silent on the edge of a moving truth.
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A little boy is happily lying down on the free earth, looking up thevrainbow up in the sky.
Lucly boy! ! !
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