In the Bleak of an Eye

 

 

A borer
A hole borer
In a bit of a twist
Lacquered up
Tuckered out
Sunday ways to six.
A blight of shaves
The metal shaves
Gum the works.
Auger build up
Smoke and silt
A little borer
Bored to bits.

*files revisited

 

HoboLand is a Go

the peoplies

& the dirty dirt

the big Red button!

you  can get your fix

excuse me sonny , are you lost ?

 

the Hobo Revolution !

get it now, HoboLand , or you'll be in a pickle !

Hobo re-Amped

some past Hobo doodles dusted off and spruced up a nickel

HoboLand, the Hobo Revolution

Hobo reVisited

Gladness and Fair Tidings in the Land of Hobo

.. .and down did i plummet , for a time, down down , in a hazardous spin , adjusting my ocular sights >with not much success i'll add< on the encroaching earth . Amid the scattered strands >the spackle of infamous infinity< i dropped , wrapped in its cohesion , piqued in tumult , construing ablutions of the spackle-kind , crossing myself though i couldn't say why , and catching finally a thermal then soaring up into the flapping tubes and wires and detritus of the vandalized , derelict Pickler .


Acumentor in its berserker rage unwound , tossing copper and gems to the walls , pinballing falling sprawling , and gave a hey Willie chase , barking SOS commands to preoccupied cubby cops who grabbed hoards of implements and floundered , abandoned posts for the wind , and parachuted on their bed sheets to the swell of a round ground . Somewhere in the code , the Manic Torpedo Annihilate screeched in binary , egad , to no avail .

A Pickler Panic , Gears o'Plenty go down with the Ship , and i with my Posse see the Light !

Onto all the spackle rained , and it spread from one lofty Pickler to the next , until i nixed the count and lost site over the horizon , and i merely flew in the hodge-podge pod , fiddling in its whirs and clicks for optimum ability , and dodged a live wire .
If they all fell from the sky , i do not know >i sailed on . Below on a step >a hill >hands in the air >grabbing the sky >waving me on , those flesh creatures with doodads and accoutrements galore , cheered huzzah and ole and other such tidings .

Dirty Dirt perturbs and boils up in Mischievous Ways

Aside me , in the dust and spackle , debris came to swirl and conform into lumps and bumps and spinning wheels and rotors until bits and pieces trilled and twirled and followed my lead, joining in the gala fest of glory days . We danced on the ocher skies and made patterns in the soot .

Change is slow to come , spring never comes in the winter . But i sped my counter forward and maybe saw the what could be was what could come was what would be , and pinks and blues and greens . It was all right >it was good .

Good as good could be, I smiled.

HoboLand revisited

these are doodles from the past, from a land called Hobo...

soon, for my own amusement Hobo will find a permanent home in a Blurb book

...more to come!

not because it is any great and wonderful achievement, but for prosperity sake

Pie down! A Frenzy....Adventures in HOBO

In the Land of Hobo :::@

Requesting all Who Know … Forget everything and Return to Sender !

This edition of the Hobo Post brought to you by Monkey Chips … not really pieces of fried monkey parts , they only smell that way !

Discontinue scanning Information !

Not for the faint of heart , go back , to the beginning , warped and inane and unpleasant as it was … it is the only reasonable thing to do ! Beware !

Not to be maggoty , but gosh , look out for variable sky-breeches , coming to an avenue near you !

Do not , i repeat , do not leave any unarmored appendages outside of the moving vehicle , always wear a hat , keep a clean rear view mirror , and smile when the mechanized-portal-grabbers nab you !

Egad , My Wireless sets me Free

>> aCument0r’s
Radiant gaze set hard upon my pliant innards
Thru the odorous vapors i sense (~)
How deeply the earthly virus has affected my being =
Feeling , tasting the protective plastic of my wiring melt away .
Now + coming unplugged
Away in no time like the present (now)
From the Pickler’s communication grid !
My innards , the electrics* , influence computations
Little in my neural programming .
Wireless i‘ve become , central transmitter collating
Data without the benefit of hardware …
Fine thing , as it
is Beginning to puddle
on the steel grate floor .

*electrics = defunct anonymous redundancies i.e. possibly akin to the human gall bladder . Say it fast : gallbladdergallbladdergallbladderglawlbadlergobadgerblabberdoogobawobberjamstubmytoeblavver .

?

However , Acumentor via the virus of which i introduced into the Pickler , now suffers the same fate . Being the sophisticated machine it is , it has now put itself ahead of the ship it once served . Fancy baubles , shiny things it desires , and i now hindered its quest for more.
By alerting the Pickler’s mainframe i had halted the collection of junk by way of a pneumatic tube , the same as had sucked me in an antigravity spin into the bowels of the Pickler . Consequently , the influx of crapandjunk ceased , Acumentor hissed a menacing sizzle , and brainy as it was , wanting more , intended to displace this nuisance , to turn up the heat besides
.

War of the Newfangled Brainblasts!

The aCumentor thrusts forward its cables , edging from its harness and trounces the metal supports , flinging them like nunchucks at my unarmored mug . Cables like great black pythons wrap the heaps of jewels back into its protective grasp and it opens up its massive intellect to me , spilling electrified dendrites skyward to breech our gulf . They are like tiny warships , Hell machines equipped to bamboozle my boozler , and fry my minions of newlygoodliness .
i am sent into vertigo , my sparse capacity still adjusting to the viral modification , unable to respond in due fashion adequately … fated to be festooned , insinuated to a paisley demise by Acumentor’s frilly sensitivities !

`

It sends a Fleur de lis tattoo into Upper Hemispheres

Disequilibria floods my viralwits , Acumentor being the superior tactician , but it doesn’t account for experience , of which much i’ve accumulated while it shuffled amid the scrap and hoarded trinkets . Predictably i employ the Epley maneuver and with a minimum of flailing regain composure and cram my drawers brimming full of jewelry , plucking foremost the faceted pair of ulexite eyeballs that glowered over me .

In a gross exhibit of humanity Acumentor
cries havoc and lets fly the cogs of a boor
distressed at a loss of superfluous extremity
, and whines , gnashing gear on gear , crying foul , floundering like a wounded duck ,
a persimmon’s eight radiant spikes dissected and yawing ,
fringing on chaos and popping springs verbosely in a verdant upwelling of duplicity ;
it showers unceasing into the bejeweled cubby , growing exponentially in its self obliteration .

Pickler’s Fate & the Scattering of Parts is Parts

Too late to save the barrels of Infinity Spackle , i trust the contraption’s conniption to contract inversely and scatter the Spackle to the wind to the 4-corners of the earth in a spiral dispersion , thus completing my viral function , to infect the machines worldwide and bring down the obnoxious rule of the tyrannical nuts&bolts . With no time for elucidation , i relegated my resolve to abdicating the Pickler , going by way of a Duck flap maintenance tube , i fabricated a pod and flung my whole being into the recesses of space , away from the outwardly expanding Acumentor and the disintegrating Pickler . i would give myself to the skies and what will be will be ….

Thursday, Mineralites Entrenched in Hoboland !

Delay is imminent , don’t delay !

Life as you know it will change with an abrupt inflexible jarring sensation , enough to jumble your Rocks .

The Mineral Adjunct to Hobo , instructions to follow :

…and as i treaded my way through the service connectors of the floating Pickler , my subliminal routers drew me off the narrow path into a cubby that whirred with noises of grinding and vacuuming . Fine particles clouded the air , apparently the filtration motors were overloaded , or poorly maintained .

Soon i located the hitch , as the ducts were overloaded by an old filter and dust fine as talcum puffed out with every blast from the sucking nozzles .
Carefully i tidied up with my personal collection tubes and changed the filters with ones i found in a box , then emptied my omnibus of debris into a sealed receptacle worthy of the grime .

The Pickler’s Fine Eye for a pretty Bauble

intrigued my wonder intuits . The ingenious Pickler’s picker-uppers sensed every variety of detritus and gork it brought skyward from earth’s dirt , starting with the sorting room , where the filth was deposited . Some spread out over a grid , and some fell through onto the belt which circuited haphazardly through a system of sensors , magnifiers , radiographs , and laser eyes .
Nothing was discarded it all passed over from one system to another redundancy to make a machine so perfect that naught could be wasted until the object in question circulated to the Acumentor , the penultimate device . At such a time , deemed as either useful or relegated to a final option , cold hearted incineration and an aide to powering the Pickler .

Acumentor Cries now , a victim of the Virus …

It was always a creation so intricate only a genius could fathom it , but merely a machine could construct the thing and place it humming at such a menial task ; instead of ruling the machine society , the Acumentor was bolted to a metal wall , ill fitted with tubes and vacuums and sensors made from the clearest ulexites and spar calcites ; its function was not to find beauty but to distinguish useable trash from useable fuel .

Acumentor was designed to have sentience , it needed thought to see through all the garbage . But now , The virus that spread from my rebel programming and others like myself into the infinity strands through the ether made the Acumentor into a connoisseur of glamour and sparkles …

Instead of collecting the most useful of things for use in the machine world , stuff needed for the duplication and ongoing survival of the fleet , nearly all earthly junk was flowing into the ship’s incinerator , causing the boilers to overload as the added fuel could not be transformed so quickly into stored energy .

I located a neural plug to transmit a message to the Pickler’s memorandum board and issued a correction to the belt pulleys , which confusedly squeaked up short instigating a pileup to collapse and scatter onto lower levels , making for a laboriously long day for the tidyupbots . Oh well .

In the cubby now i discerned the glorious surroundings , the application and placement of the Acumentor’s hoards : It had collected from the debris an assortment of precious gems, the rubies and diamonds as well as the common quartz and polished agates . Stuck to it’s façade were clusters of aragonite and rosettes of other gleaming crystals . Amethyst , pyrite , obsidian were buffed clean and set in gold around the Acumentor’s generalwhereabouts pleasingly .

Its Eyes shot Daggers thru the Dark

As soon as i unplugged , the Acumentor retaliated : it had become a greedy siphoning conglomerate in itself , turned on me ; its unclouded eyes of pure ulexite glowed red with augmented manganese and the coiffed malachite eerily smoldered on its lid . Refrigerated sulfides smoked in the ire , but were held upright amid the gleaming quartz that radiated plumes of pure light , their prisms a vocalized glare of hatred , emanating in a sizzle as my insulated wiring began to clump and drip .

Is this the End of the Hobo Revolution ?

Proclivity in Hoboland,,,&

Go back , halt , discontinue , whoa Nellie …

Hence , so and forth i labor with my parts and a fabricated Y-wrench -- because now i needlessly ponder all , not withstanding the meaningful existence of any wrench ,

Aimlessness’ in Triplicate in Hobo , say you

Again , desist in your transgressions , this is not to be perused typically , but with a serpentine progression ; the Robot mind is superfluous , might be meandering , but phrases, duplications and the odd ampersand are easily parsed and dissected and refit into a puzzleless concoction of nonlinear eyeputty.

"An eleven seen prone is tantamount to accordance with uniformity , equivalently we shall establish equilibrium and come to mutual agreement ."

Now that the Big Chrome Foot was inerted , due to an improperly fitted feather duster , i harnessed its Inscrutable Drive to the Pickler’s ACG , automated collection grid , and left the operation center to reconnaissance the Big Floating Machine , aka locating the facilities .

As for my clone , it heeled nicely , smiling eternally , insipidly , at the paused Chrome Foot , and i left the pair to the Pickler’s operations .

Spackle Spews , the Organics breed in Mechanical OrgyFactories .

The organic pollutants still roam freely through my entrenched circuits , a constant battle rages synoptically , throwing a shower a random chatter into the ether , but in the automated Pickler nothing hears , the hallways are oblivious of oration , installed only with heat sensors to stave off electrical malfunctions .

So in Morse code i divulge the secrets :

These contagions ,
Wobbles and thrumps ,
building an incantation

of Cups & saucers : a polka !
He said “Makin’ Hay”
& Sundial flowerpot

Fleur Di Lis screens to
Hold the ash --
A cat’s patience --

Drink it
your bulging eyes
from a cracked bowl .

Only in movies
to kill love
will a tear admonish soup .

Rebels Ride the Spackle Strings over Hobo , Floating Hell Machines Rebuke their Ism of Hatred mantras and Invert

With the mechanics permeated , the gentle souls aboard the Floating Hell Machines move languidly , their motions perturbed by sluggish instructions . The spackle production in other orbiting Picklers grinds to a slow halt as the computations tick off a list of mutatables and a standard meatball of phalanxes to induce a palatable urgency : the right to desire a thing , for example Ice Cream .

Suddenly i require two Scoops !

And my scarred wheelies transport me through the Pickler’s conduits , lusting for sugary delights , for which i have no intakes or sensory equipment , but my impulses are transmitted via wireless to the ACG and the Inscrutable Drive powers into thought thus kicking into production a series of spackle formulas that spew through nozzles and break to droplets upon the whirring duck flaps and rain to earth , sparkling as star dust from heaven’s factories .

Noddle thy conformities thus: + A Hobo Poemathing !

Two more of no Consequence:

Noe/eno/oen/neo

Dots meant…

Diffuse in a dire mix
A pieful of shadows

And spoon a trickle
Of sand: plunge low

w/bell @knock &whistle.
While a pique spring

Out sockless, a pokey
Face; do zodiacs beam,

Refract the dust?
A lately swirl caused this

Skirt twist and “thus quote”
Baleful bongo drums

Made a carol, sweet
Rhythm for a twitch nickel

To hiss auspicious tomes
And quiver, nicotine

Nerves,
Frail frayed drunk frantic

Spindle the turn, sparkle
Listen dance spill the

Spigot drop and
Flame the burnt ash/ache.

Wot/two/owt

This spackle expands,
It fills the frivolous void

And spurns the empty one
That pushes to

Proclaim dominance.
This spackle will

Not fight
Or resist

Just sparkle and burn
And exist infinite.

In a dither the void
Rushes to

Never gets fro
Becomes less than

Before
Creating

An adhesive
To bond with the spackle

A foundation born of malice
The stratagem of spackle.

Escalating Hiccups Transmutation in Hobo

Fortuitously in my haste to elude the

Big Chrome Foot !!!

… in the last Episode of Land of Hobo :

...The Chrome Leukocyte was independent and winged and wronged and its shaving cream nozzles spit flammable egg foo yung onto the tubes that lined the walls and connected the barrels . Then the beast-machine struck its flint with a glowering twitch ....

Our plucky hero , the mechanical hunter/gatherer of a decrepit earth , after being corrupted by a rouge organic -- possessed itself of mechanical fixtures -- finds its reprogrammed brain and attached parts pursued willy-nilly by a virus eradication-bot that is intent on unholy destruction and general mayhem .

The Big Chrome Foot advances …

In the hovering support Pickler , the purveyor of the means to spread the Infinity strands through the skies , gallons upon gallons , multiplicative amounts of the Infinity spackle were set aflame , but the spackle was immense and bottomless and never ending with complete control of addition and multiplication and power functions of perpetuity , so as it burned it replenished and the fires were infinitely corralled in the grasp of the expanding strands that continued to filter out from the floating Pickler . The duck flaps caressed the strands gently and sent them infinitely in infinite directions , and the sky , buoyed by the smoldering strands , glowed red .

…but still the Chrome Foot descends , only my immense binary capacity slows the pediforce with lightening collation , the extant of my neural aptitude is beyond extent and before the Big Chrome Foot lands , with magnitudinal agility i build from spare springs and wrappers a replica of myself and two-step alamode to the left , dosey doe ala carte to the right , fight fight fight , then a cappella i dance into position and thrust a feather duster into the Foot’s cranial blower thus distracting it with fits o’ sneezes .

With time to kill , as my intercostals-inner earful-in line circuitry interlinks and undercooks , thoughts return to days of pleasure-vegging on the divan-charger-cradle whilst visions of Flappy-Power-Smote-’um Ball resurface from neglected , diluted memory files .The transmission is intermittent but sufficient and what passes for a smile emits as a mirthful buzzing from my fan belt , which hums in perfect alignment to my discontinuous sprinkler drip system . Alas , the heat is unrelenting …perhaps i am delirious …

The unViralating Foot Stomper is Incapacitated !

And the flaming strands of barreled infinite do-goodery are doused in sprays of spewing egg foo yung and carry on from the Pickler’s exhaust plumbing to cover the world , passing through clouds , raining on trees , soaking into the earth and coercing worms into a frenzy of hiccups thus popping their skulls loose to form enlarged frontal lobes , and the cycle of intelligent organic life begins anew :

Peaches, peach pits and the detritus of withering seasons Wallowing in filth, under the firmament, thriving on waste Delving and rooting in the leaf, below the branch, into fruit-- The rotting, sweet and softly decaying matter, coming apart, Meshing with earth’s carpet, being one with dirt and becoming dirt. Isn’t it lovely? it is, it is good to be the worm.

Evil is a Big Chrome Foot

Infinity Strands tangle & the Long Arm of Hobo Suppressors launch contrary kinks !

Oh no , stop , because this latest installment of The Land Beyond Hobo is masked , and coded to confuse and delight and enthrall and titillate and muddle the swampland sensibilities of a semi-naked-conductor waving a baton , one two one two one two .

Our Hero Dreams of Synchronicity and Joy and Mutual Cohesiveness without unnatural Chemicals .

Yes , i would become servant to the organics , as my original programming intended before the Martian rovers gathered the space junk into a unified Pistonated Terror Patrol and infiltrated earth’s orbit , eventually overwhelming the surface with ground probes that hunted and forced the scurrying organics to flee the solar system .

My highly encrypted Asimovian directives were now intertwined into the infinity strands which traversed the earth’s atmosphere in wisps , thinner than a very thin strand of thin hair , circling and merging and splitting and gathering and hobnobbing like radio waves and knocking squirrels occasionally off the derelict rooftops of decaying urban blights .

Barrels of Infinity Spackle , foolishly gathered and tubed and behaving as a single entity , now obeyed my every command and splattered from the dispersal heads and rained down upon the land as my hovering Pickler , a converted Hell Machine , tilted its duck-flaps and supersonically circled the globe then crisscrossed the equator and tripled back into a figure eight with a backwards double axel and a loop-dee-loop .

My copper filaments stood on end and the static charge bonded maliciously with my leotard thus revealing a little more than i’d intended > the battered wall unit , now a convert , judged approval and upped the score a half point .
The wall unit projected a binary compliment , and was summarily crushed …

by a big chrome Foot!

The Chrome Foot of an indigestible albeit Incorruptible Data-stream backup mobile Hacker-deleter Unit is Heavy !

The rebel organic programmer from my past was unable to corrupt totally the enveloping machine armies ; so , like a cytoplasmic leukocyte , the evil-thing that approached , foot first , now was bent crazy bent and askew like some edgy pierced documenterer of the netherworld , and with its big Chrome Foot was intent on crushing the viral plague that corrupted its unconnected counterparts .

The chrome nasty was independent and winged and wronged and its shaving cream nozzles spit flammable egg foo yung onto the tubes that lined the walls and connected the barrels. Then the beast-machine struck its flint with a glowering twitch.

The autonomous Reprogramming Saves my Bacon!

But how ? Stay tuned for the incomprehensibly impossibly hypo-allergenic solution to the
Hobo-Imperative !

Next Episode : !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! A teaser :

… and my wireless corpuscular synapsi compressed into a single corrugated fiber smaller than a weevil’s indifferent widget , then diverged off the routine path onto a radical pattern thus inflaming my entire boxed entity in one nano-instant and i acted in what i once would suppose an erroneous function , confusing the Chrome Foot as i attempted a severe modification of myself …

Brought to you by Flexi-ped Super-Noodles, the crunchy noodle snack in a plastic Spleen ! Try the chocolate chip morsels, tiny little brown chips soaked in Lemonade , packed in a fun plastic Intestine !
Yummy foods from Flexi-ped !!! And a free paramecium with every purchase !