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keen eyes that store the welling source — regardless of what their operator may regard the pages as; Who knows what you possess at one time that you may dismiss might become truly beneficial at another.</p><p id="cdb1">Swell — let it swell Darwin I would say — Like a cadre on bussing ice, <i>Boom</i>! The sharpening force comes down like the lightning bolt on a delighting Star! With the belaboring of ideas vast is done — if it is ever done with — A manner to mold these long-held reflections and efforts comes. Didn’t dear sir? Seemingly as joy in this endless puzzle!</p><p id="0a9d">Ah, the absolutes! The raff and stifle is done, the obstinate principles and methods have had their way! Wouldn’t you agree dear Alfred Wallace? Hindering you in an awful mire — between confidence, scientific methods, and friends. ’Tis my way, ’tis a way to walk that line — Somewhere in between you may find ma mate! Alas, I shall contain myself nicely before this morning’s rant of Erudtion and the way of Birds stretches out before me like an endless alighted sheet of metal, that bridges a gap too far away, and yet I continue to remain to see if it will reach!</p><p id="c3b5">Balance as ever — Temperance ’tis my principle, a melding of so much, perhaps the truth lays somewhere in between the austere lines; In the blank parts of the paper perhaps. Again and again.</p><p id="f81e">You’re gonna have to put some welly into it; Whilst balancing it with sudden spurs of commendations known as Eurkas! Using the vast array of ideas and influences — you may gleam to find. <i>Gould </i>& <i>Archimedes delight me not, as I shall delight you also with no ill idiom in sight!</i></p><p id="21c9">Whilst true — watch me now effortlessly transcode into the wealth of eyeing birds — Oh, watch me, watch me! — Nature-not, nature-naught; See them, this bird plodding along on the ground, Their awkward mannerisms are akin to Lincoln in the record — Seemingly taking much effort on their a-frames so to say. Then deciding to vacate to find its evening roosts; much to fuel that flight beforehand, but whilst in flight, it seems almost effortless. But what is true? Is such a body home on the ground where it cannot be shot down, and fall from endless altitudes to its ends, or is flight away from or to home, the effortless way to be?</p><p id="ae13">Beguiling may be the sum, it would be! For any creature without the modes of flight — <i>figuratively </i>and <i>metaphorically</i>—be a challenge to devise. But even these <i>Eureka </i>moments have a certain duration before it bows out and the effort of the will must come into play. Never forcing but never ceasing, it’s a difficult thing to obey. And an unruly body that sturts and frets itself upon the ground, may also give the old shock and pinions a run for their worth — It may be, both take much effort, and the effort beforehand is where the truth lays — perhaps, perhaps, but this is the mere scramblings of an aged face that gleams her face to the sun in the morning.</p><p id="531c">Doe the truth kneel when an inquiring mind asks of it? Knowing me, unlike you know me, I am not one to ever kneel before someone — my stubbornness is often thanked for as it is often dismayed and yawned at! So where does it leave you in it?</p><p id="4d9f">We are our own Fortresses or Prisons depending on your tilt — Wherein only a small entrance will ever allow and soak in the provisions to not only keep one persisting and alive, but may be the happenstance where something shocks us, and leaving our guard down, literally in this case, we dare to follow that shock outside the walls, even for the briefest of moments, and for that, we thrive as we dared to be jutted along this journey — but only if you dare to leave the walls of your enclosure.</p><p id="047c">When thoughts arise so suddenly —

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where do you place them? I swear more is destroyed than could ever be supped and enjoyed, in all visitations; especially when the iron cage leaves us to be gibbeted in our own spite to another. But how can I say more here, right now?</p><p id="bbd3">My love for birds is true and almost absolute within me — That nature, of seemingly godful designs, all started out from the <i>Dinosaur </i>form. But perhaps, <i>you </i>may regard this view more fondly: Like us, they’re just getting by with what has been issued to them over a long <i>history </i>they had little to do with, but now, could have all the amount of remarks to weave that into the next coming by. I watch them ever fondly, and I cannot start any other thought without the word Remarkable. I live amongst <i>Dinosaurs! </i>With the most awesome rabble of humans too — ah, old inspector Doctor, back at it with her fam! How few pages of Scientific and Erudite whisperings end with that? A selfish ploy — and how fewer end with these lines:</p><p id="b29d">Luv A Good Pigeon Me! — The peaceful beauty of an unruffled Collard Dove also. Oh, mate, you’re a delight to my aged heart!</p><p id="285b">Ta-ta Now, go about your day knowing you’ve witnessed something that science fails to record: Pure, unadulterated madness by erudition and by time!</p><p id="ca73">COME <b><i>ALONG WITH THE <a href="https://medium.com/@joanieadamms/subscribe">DOCTOR’S NEWSLETTER</a></i></b></p><figure id="df45"><img src="https://cdn-images-1.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:800/1*L5DXJrq78g30u0aimk_uUQ.jpeg"><figcaption><b>JAR THAT TOMMYROT! — <a href="https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Katherine_Hepburn,_1938.jpg">Katharine Hepburn — 1938</a></b></figcaption></figure><p id="d854"><b><i>THE LAST PAPER OF BRILLIANT EFFECTS:</i></b></p><div id="c20e" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/time-time-is-not-consistent-morning-papers-viii-edb54d1020aa"> <div> <div> <h2>Time — Time Is Not Consistent — Morning Papers VIII</h2> <div><h3>The Planets Interlined to The Play Of Sex and Memory</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*nS3XgjGjtmXmNaAqykKc8Q.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="aaa7"><b><i>Marches Of Gold; Our Publication:</i></b></p><div id="b176" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/marches-of-gold"> <div> <div> <h2>Marches Of Gold</h2> <div><h3>Might I entice and welcome one to a precious center of adoration for Words; A Publication; A Curation — May the…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/1*Phgf9mJLiS4BMB62wWTYOg.jpeg)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="2f5d"><b><i>Come To Medium:</i></b></p><div id="f197" class="link-block"> <a href="https://medium.com/@joanieadamms/membership"> <div> <div> <h2>Join Medium with my referral link - Joanie Adams</h2> <div><h3>As a Medium member, a portion of your membership fee goes to writers you read, and you get full access to every story…</h3></div> <div><p>medium.com</p></div> </div> <div> <div style="background-image: url(https://miro.readmedium.com/v2/resize:fit:320/0*2twUhdySXuYNEeMT)"></div> </div> </div> </a> </div><p id="0714">As ever, Dear <i>Reader</i>.</p></article></body>

To Be Or To Beaten; Without The Birds Nature — Morning Papers X

Oh, Happy Days! — The Fortress Of Our Thoughts

Edwin Landseer — Islay, Tilco, a Macaw, and two Lovebirds

Ah, the day returns after the blistering night — the magic turning of forces beyond most comprehension — Yet you, remain ever doleful in the act of reading there — right there — with your hope, your never giving up, and a cheery brew to catch the muscled nerves just right in the morning.

The drama all around, you face it, as you must, but the engrossing ability to save sanity from the mind, is there! there in the pages of your book — Looseness dares to evolve in the acid-torched pages as you drink and dine the morning melancholia away.

The pages come, the pages enfold — turning you white as the midday’s hail comes raining upon you — but it’s long since you’ve been concerned about the etching globs of rain and sleet.

There are so many stories I could tell and retell, especially from lush riverbanks and undercurrents, but, I shall cess. As this one here, is so simple it may be so offputting to guise the effort to unsheath the dows of secrecy and pull forthright, the moldy lumps of someone else's derision;

Simplifications involve you only that you remember — no further can it go, certainly not evolve you! — Simplifications may be imbuing us with gross imbecility; Losing all quirks, fragrances, and complexities of any given time, manner, and person. The involvement of memory — of feeling with reason; You never understood the importance of something by lowkey shots of the teacher’s gaze that demands intellect constructed by absolutes and crass manners — of both parties! What you read, and what is eyeing you with the regard that would stun grizzled bears back into the blackened woods!

So much of what has been told was done so meekly in its retelling — perhaps never its true telling, as that happens only once, like a first impression — and they say, all are endowed with the storyteller’s whips of luscious translucence! Methinks not! How they clamber over a few dates and simple facts just to subdue the public’s capricious overtures on you — while the nation unroots from seemingly firm seams by simple flaunts!

Ah, such spurs! and one can remain ever blushful, swaying in the winds to all this noise, and all that really interests you is the wobbling grace of a little Dove — Collard, from the Eastern regions beyond the humbling decay of your City — Time — and Place of courts.

To beat or be beaten, this nature is intrinsic in institutionalized erudition — that remark is not without fault, but the nature of competitiveness is laudable in certain aspects, but not into the infirmity where none can grasp it in the time needed, for some slowly percolate and reflect, using the methods of Inductivism and Eurkisim — and perhaps neither work, don’t slate yourself to a thinning road when naught turns up — as Darwin did in his great journey to find his mode of Evolutionary history and understanding, using such a wide tally of influences — walking the fine line, the hushed middle-road. Even after a much-renowned journey, the moment to sojourn away for him and then graff it away through the puzzling course; Coming across many papers on the Social and Economical, he comes belaboring upon Malthus’s views on Population with a tinge of disregard though with keen eyes that store the welling source — regardless of what their operator may regard the pages as; Who knows what you possess at one time that you may dismiss might become truly beneficial at another.

Swell — let it swell Darwin I would say — Like a cadre on bussing ice, Boom! The sharpening force comes down like the lightning bolt on a delighting Star! With the belaboring of ideas vast is done — if it is ever done with — A manner to mold these long-held reflections and efforts comes. Didn’t dear sir? Seemingly as joy in this endless puzzle!

Ah, the absolutes! The raff and stifle is done, the obstinate principles and methods have had their way! Wouldn’t you agree dear Alfred Wallace? Hindering you in an awful mire — between confidence, scientific methods, and friends. ’Tis my way, ’tis a way to walk that line — Somewhere in between you may find ma mate! Alas, I shall contain myself nicely before this morning’s rant of Erudtion and the way of Birds stretches out before me like an endless alighted sheet of metal, that bridges a gap too far away, and yet I continue to remain to see if it will reach!

Balance as ever — Temperance ’tis my principle, a melding of so much, perhaps the truth lays somewhere in between the austere lines; In the blank parts of the paper perhaps. Again and again.

You’re gonna have to put some welly into it; Whilst balancing it with sudden spurs of commendations known as Eurkas! Using the vast array of ideas and influences — you may gleam to find. Gould & Archimedes delight me not, as I shall delight you also with no ill idiom in sight!

Whilst true — watch me now effortlessly transcode into the wealth of eyeing birds — Oh, watch me, watch me! — Nature-not, nature-naught; See them, this bird plodding along on the ground, Their awkward mannerisms are akin to Lincoln in the record — Seemingly taking much effort on their a-frames so to say. Then deciding to vacate to find its evening roosts; much to fuel that flight beforehand, but whilst in flight, it seems almost effortless. But what is true? Is such a body home on the ground where it cannot be shot down, and fall from endless altitudes to its ends, or is flight away from or to home, the effortless way to be?

Beguiling may be the sum, it would be! For any creature without the modes of flight — figuratively and metaphorically—be a challenge to devise. But even these Eureka moments have a certain duration before it bows out and the effort of the will must come into play. Never forcing but never ceasing, it’s a difficult thing to obey. And an unruly body that sturts and frets itself upon the ground, may also give the old shock and pinions a run for their worth — It may be, both take much effort, and the effort beforehand is where the truth lays — perhaps, perhaps, but this is the mere scramblings of an aged face that gleams her face to the sun in the morning.

Doe the truth kneel when an inquiring mind asks of it? Knowing me, unlike you know me, I am not one to ever kneel before someone — my stubbornness is often thanked for as it is often dismayed and yawned at! So where does it leave you in it?

We are our own Fortresses or Prisons depending on your tilt — Wherein only a small entrance will ever allow and soak in the provisions to not only keep one persisting and alive, but may be the happenstance where something shocks us, and leaving our guard down, literally in this case, we dare to follow that shock outside the walls, even for the briefest of moments, and for that, we thrive as we dared to be jutted along this journey — but only if you dare to leave the walls of your enclosure.

When thoughts arise so suddenly — where do you place them? I swear more is destroyed than could ever be supped and enjoyed, in all visitations; especially when the iron cage leaves us to be gibbeted in our own spite to another. But how can I say more here, right now?

My love for birds is true and almost absolute within me — That nature, of seemingly godful designs, all started out from the Dinosaur form. But perhaps, you may regard this view more fondly: Like us, they’re just getting by with what has been issued to them over a long history they had little to do with, but now, could have all the amount of remarks to weave that into the next coming by. I watch them ever fondly, and I cannot start any other thought without the word Remarkable. I live amongst Dinosaurs! With the most awesome rabble of humans too — ah, old inspector Doctor, back at it with her fam! How few pages of Scientific and Erudite whisperings end with that? A selfish ploy — and how fewer end with these lines:

Luv A Good Pigeon Me! — The peaceful beauty of an unruffled Collard Dove also. Oh, mate, you’re a delight to my aged heart!

Ta-ta Now, go about your day knowing you’ve witnessed something that science fails to record: Pure, unadulterated madness by erudition and by time!

COME ALONG WITH THE DOCTOR’S NEWSLETTER

JAR THAT TOMMYROT! — Katharine Hepburn — 1938

THE LAST PAPER OF BRILLIANT EFFECTS:

Marches Of Gold; Our Publication:

Come To Medium:

As ever, Dear Reader.

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