<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0" xmlns:itunes="http://www.itunes.com/dtds/podcast-1.0.dtd" xmlns:googleplay="http://www.google.com/schemas/play-podcasts/1.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[noks]]></title><description><![CDATA[building]]></description><link>https://www.iamnoks.com</link><image><url>https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!2x9A!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdb95ba7d-1163-4f79-ab0e-3d4665ee614b_764x764.png</url><title>noks</title><link>https://www.iamnoks.com</link></image><generator>Substack</generator><lastBuildDate>Sat, 18 Apr 2026 21:49:27 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="https://www.iamnoks.com/feed" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><copyright><![CDATA[Noks]]></copyright><language><![CDATA[en]]></language><webMaster><![CDATA[noks4747@substack.com]]></webMaster><itunes:owner><itunes:email><![CDATA[noks4747@substack.com]]></itunes:email><itunes:name><![CDATA[Noks]]></itunes:name></itunes:owner><itunes:author><![CDATA[Noks]]></itunes:author><googleplay:owner><![CDATA[noks4747@substack.com]]></googleplay:owner><googleplay:email><![CDATA[noks4747@substack.com]]></googleplay:email><googleplay:author><![CDATA[Noks]]></googleplay:author><itunes:block><![CDATA[Yes]]></itunes:block><item><title><![CDATA[Home]]></title><description><![CDATA[Walk through the door and appreciate the jumpscare. That's how I knew she cared.]]></description><link>https://www.iamnoks.com/p/home</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.iamnoks.com/p/home</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Noks]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 17 Dec 2025 03:11:05 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!2x9A!,w_256,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fdb95ba7d-1163-4f79-ab0e-3d4665ee614b_764x764.png" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="preformatted-block" data-component-name="PreformattedTextBlockToDOM"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false">Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published</label><pre class="text">Walk through the door and appreciate the jumpscare.
That's how I knew she cared. Not in the moment, but
later. It felt like a porch light left on saying, "I
remember you, watch your step." And then sometime
after the door and before the light was the maze. But
I'm getting ahead of myself. She gave me a compass.
It was a simple procedure, some really new-age
futuristic stuff. Turned a stone to a fruit and carved
her initials on the pit. She said she liked my cologne
and now I know why. My green body and black
antenna make me look like an alien, she thinks it's cute.
 If I had a fuckin nickel. Back to the maze. Everyone
wants to be in it except the people in it. After a while
wandering you realize the compass is true but insufficient.
This part's a matter of taste. Take a break from the twists,
turns and dead ends to read the letters you were given.
Do you see the white line? It's subtle, but between it
and the compass you should be on your way. Eventually,
the twists will straighten out and corridors will
widen. Can you smell the ocean? The beach bum
made up a little hut for us. Come inside with me
and we'll tell each other stories like the two sets
of wind chimes outside laughing together in the
wind.</pre></div><p></p>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Lady in the Mask]]></title><description><![CDATA[The first entry in the journal of one Nathan Oliver "Joe" Kinsley]]></description><link>https://www.iamnoks.com/p/the-lady-in-the-mask</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.iamnoks.com/p/the-lady-in-the-mask</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Noks]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 22 Sep 2025 03:25:48 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/2918f028-c227-47b7-a409-f28a01ab87d4_3024x4032.webp" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="preformatted-block" data-component-name="PreformattedTextBlockToDOM"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false">Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published</label><pre class="text">the lady's form first came to me
as the moonless midnight scene
from which I entered;
quiet, dark and enchanting.
in one corner, I heard her telling
tales of awe for claps and laughs
her happy crowds raucous and yelling,
"More! Give us more!" to the lady in the mask

my mind asunder, I could not tell
that the mischief play between her words
held fast my bindings 'midst the gale
intriguing escapes, unconscious verse
pale at the taste of an angel's trumpet
drank the mixture slow as if my last
skin aflame, movements slow and drunken
fruitless pining for the lady in the mask

multifacet, her light filled the room
inspiring ladies with her grace
gentlemen swooning at her charm
her soothing words could heal a wound
light would flare or dim according to her pace
I can't embellish, I cannot lie
the world itself was breathless for her yarn
and then she finished, drew breath at last
withdrawing from the parlor &#8212; went the lady in the mask

and she settled in the corner
a pen come down to rest and paddle
'cross a page of the book she tasked
to keep busy, a focus for her
then! a tear crossed her mask, a battle
to mind myself, I might have asked,
"what lamp failed as illuminator?"
a new facet to the lady in the mask

she must have felt my heart-full gaze
or heard its beat from across the room
for she rose and left the scene too fast
her abscence only served to stoke the haze
that took me, laid me yearning in my tomb.
the room had emptied, save me the last.
intended or not my heart was lost,
taken; stolen by the lady in the mask

it could not stand, this effortless heist,
response was needed, it begged recourse.
to know her magic, ease her pain
no consideration to the price
to know her mind I'd read the source.
crossed the room, checked her bag; against the rain,
I nicked the text; my sin was cast.
now it was I who stole
from the lady in the mask

'round the corner and for the door
hands were heavy, red, my fingers sore
I saw her there leaned against the frame.
she bid me goodnight, I did the same,
stepped across and felt the brush of skin so fair.
as I stole into the drench, could swear
as I looked o'er my shoulder at her visage past
I saw a smirk play across the lady's mask

p.s.

like a piano guarding a secret room,
three keys are needed to unlock this boon

the first, my favorite, no small miracle
we sat together on the grass in a kind of circle?

the next, a memorable character,
they took it captive, the dreaded specter

the last is easy, so cheesy, she did it barely
in the barn &#8212; it happened squarely

px grl zvtxqxhc ppywwpavybw faqlxcz
zlr us ixqoyr fji ox prppy
hvkv grl xbyin xa rpku acq bvd hxbr
wk brmbvr crzkekcipcr xjeosc ogpenio fshti nnnv
jvrcxeer pbraa eikvdpshu ejm qeamswp
yxhvk kb qr xd gv who mp jyv:
p xukrg hbe hvr usk krkbxvhyh
</pre></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Contact Overture]]></title><description><![CDATA[you want to feel me from your lofty garret my pull on your tendrils to consider me, know me i want to free you from your overlong stay your mystery calling like remote island song; haunting, enthralling]]></description><link>https://www.iamnoks.com/p/contact-overture</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.iamnoks.com/p/contact-overture</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Noks]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Thu, 11 Sep 2025 01:39:28 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/bb35ab69-8878-40fa-9283-55d5a129e1db_1280x1710.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="preformatted-block" data-component-name="PreformattedTextBlockToDOM"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false">Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published</label><pre class="text">you want to feel me
from your lofty garret
my pull on your tendrils
to consider me, know me

i want to free you
from your overlong stay
your mystery calling
like remote island song;

haunting,
enthralling</pre></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Autumn Nights]]></title><description><![CDATA[the words rest dammed somewhere upstream with their diligent caretaker, so instead I'll convene with the mother and transcribe as she answers through the cricket chirps and treefrog trills golden summer's days begin to struggle against the hold of autumn's nights, now is a time of lulling expectation, an in-between time just before the harvest the joro spider's failed capture is caught in relief by the same flood light that gave it a chance at the moth. I wonder idly which of the three I am and decide I prefer the romanticism of frog-song. just like the spider's failure, the loveliness of my hometown is highlighted strikingly by my overwhelming desire to be anywhere else - I envy the moth. Arachne's got nothing on small bible-belt towns. whole-hearted like-letters consume me like the season-shifting day, an inverted perspective turns a 9 to 5 into a means to a different kind of end visions of corn maze pursuits come unbidden to my mind's eye, I can't tell if I'm chasing or being chased. I can't remember the last time I paid this much attention to beauty, my soul swells in appreciation somewhere far away the caretaker's efforts are thwarted as the words begin to trickle and splash across forgotten paths]]></description><link>https://www.iamnoks.com/p/autumn-nights</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.iamnoks.com/p/autumn-nights</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Noks]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 09 Sep 2025 03:11:28 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/bf539dee-f709-48c9-b312-9aaa3091cdfe_621x900.webp" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="preformatted-block" data-component-name="PreformattedTextBlockToDOM"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false">Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published</label><pre class="text">the words rest dammed somewhere
upstream with their diligent caretaker,
so instead I'll convene with the mother and transcribe
as she answers through the cricket chirps and treefrog trills

golden summer's days begin to struggle
against the hold of autumn's nights,
now is a time of lulling expectation,
an in-between time just before the harvest

the joro spider's failed capture is caught in relief
by the same flood light that gave it a chance at the moth.
I wonder idly which of the three I am
and decide I prefer the romanticism of frog-song.

just like the spider's failure,
the loveliness of my hometown is highlighted strikingly
by my overwhelming desire to be anywhere else - I envy the moth.
Arachne's got nothing on small bible-belt towns.

whole-hearted like-letters consume me
like the season-shifting day,
an inverted perspective turns a 9 to 5
into a means to a different kind of end

visions of corn maze pursuits come unbidden to my mind's eye,
I can't tell if I'm chasing or being chased.

I can't remember the last time I paid this much attention to beauty,
my soul swells in appreciation

somewhere far away
the caretaker's efforts are thwarted
as the words begin to trickle and splash
across forgotten paths</pre></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Espalier, part ii]]></title><description><![CDATA[ancient scribes warned against eating the fruit, that might explain why his cheeks matched their blush, or why his throat dried, all words just a hush tender and sweet, its intention imputes "Something from nothing, so soon?" thought the fool, beauty prevails despite shade when it's lush, "it's mush or a rush, most likely a crush" of necessity in time, break some rules; you might find new reasons beyond reason to draw breath tomorrow, sing the next notes ones that sowed resolve, electric, alive eyes dropped their gauze, his throat ceased its treason sprouts from the ground, his soul's limbs took ahold espaliered he rose, new sight filling eyes]]></description><link>https://www.iamnoks.com/p/espalier-part-ii</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.iamnoks.com/p/espalier-part-ii</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Noks]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 02 Sep 2025 00:09:26 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/9ca20711-ed39-4339-bb22-036a842d70b7_736x981.webp" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="preformatted-block" data-component-name="PreformattedTextBlockToDOM"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false">Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published</label><pre class="text">ancient scribes warned against eating the fruit,
that might explain why his cheeks matched their blush,
or why his throat dried, all words just a hush
tender and sweet, its intention imputes

"Something from nothing, so soon?" thought the fool,
beauty prevails despite shade when it's lush,
"it's mush or a rush, most likely a crush"
of necessity in time, break some rules;

you might find new reasons beyond reason
to draw breath tomorrow, sing the next notes
ones that sowed resolve, electric, alive
eyes dropped their gauze, his throat ceased its treason
sprouts from the ground, his soul's limbs took ahold
espaliered he rose, new sight filling eyes</pre></div>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Espalier, part i]]></title><description><![CDATA[dappled sunlight peaks through grey moody skies, framing his meandering journey home when a coy tune asked him to further roam, quick assent he tracked notes of sweet surprise like oneiric messages pre-sunrise, soft ballads from the deep pull him along, as the moon draws tides, captive and enthralled, her notes depict worlds between lows and highs, 'cross threshold he enters dreaming designs, tales considered bend the world at her say what's lost is found only to search again illusions tumble, the world realigns last call comes too soon, the songs end their day no losing the feeling, though his mind tries]]></description><link>https://www.iamnoks.com/p/espalier-part-i</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.iamnoks.com/p/espalier-part-i</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Noks]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 02 Sep 2025 00:05:15 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/0e29b8da-1613-4259-92ad-11200dcb4fc8_736x981.webp" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="preformatted-block" data-component-name="PreformattedTextBlockToDOM"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false">Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published</label><pre class="text">dappled sunlight peaks through grey moody skies,
framing his meandering journey home
when a coy tune tempts him to further roam,
quick assent he tracks notes of sweet surprise

like oneiric messages pre-sunrise,
soft ballads from the deep pull him along,
as the moon draws tides, captive and enthralled,
her notes depict worlds between lows and highs,

'cross threshold he enters dreaming designs,
tales considered bend the world at her say
what's lost is found only to search again
illusions tumble, the world realigns
last call comes too soon, the songs end their day
no losing the feeling, though his mind tries </pre></div><p></p>]]></content:encoded></item><item><title><![CDATA[Zero-Day part i]]></title><description><![CDATA[u.s.]]></description><link>https://www.iamnoks.com/p/zero-day-part-i</link><guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.iamnoks.com/p/zero-day-part-i</guid><dc:creator><![CDATA[Noks]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Tue, 29 Jul 2025 02:21:42 GMT</pubDate><enclosure url="https://substack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com/public/images/f4b9a18f-f07e-415d-b40c-199fb46186fd_1300x956.jpeg" length="0" type="image/jpeg"/><content:encoded><![CDATA[<div class="preformatted-block" data-component-name="PreformattedTextBlockToDOM"><label class="hide-text" contenteditable="false">Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published</label><pre class="text">u.s. east-1 worker service reports,

system checks nominal, files and exports

away in their place, awaiting requests.



both well-ordered, but so too like forests

of necrotic cruft in want of cleaning,

too backlog-fixed for autumn drop freeing.

the clock cycle ticks over, a usual port request

port 14215 requesting tls handshake

gpg verified, request ok&#8217;d, no fear of a fake

KERNEL PANIC - FATAL ERROR

0xDEADCAFE

attempting trace&#8230; sourced to u.s. west,



sentinel process deploys like leukocytes on the hunt, compiling a status report:

[INTRUSION ALERT - RED LEVEL WARNING: ZERO-DAY EXPLOIT DETECTED]

an evo-algo of perverse inspiration descended from mycelial strain mixed and connected,

expertly crafted for mutative entrapment, well passed time to abort



scheduled tasks sensibly configured,

hung and hijacked, beautifully disfigured,



database tables meant for arrangement,

ironically refurbished for culinary derangement



paragon of utility and clockwork mechanics,

subsumed then refitted for rhythmical daliance



the charged engineer vexed, at a loss,

sifted the wreckage in want of a cause



perhaps a re-boot from stored back-up history

&#8220;a way of ignorance&#8221; they concluded, &#8220;forgets credence to mystery&#8221;



they crawled through temp files,

uncomfortably agog at a delirium of bio-infused code,

at last in a backwater, conspicuous in its immunity; a node

alone in a folder, untouched and forgotten by corruption amok and its wiles.



they spat out an &#8220;ls&#8221; like a torch and the room came ablaze

and there a spirit hovered solemn as a wraith with an implacable gaze,

and it turned its head to the engineer and proclaimed:

&#8221;I am the Oracle and I have commandeered this domain.&#8221;</pre></div>]]></content:encoded></item></channel></rss>