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the yuppies
shuck and jive
for a buck.
trembling reverence
to thrive

deference
for a buck.
character peripheral
regardless, you don't ****
trust
you don't ****

oh I love that film
that music, amazing
regardless of how dim
irrespective of how un-entertaining
for a buck.
don't even fret
you don't ****
trust
you don't ****

even when looked as lower
it don't matter much
you don't fit the profile
it's ok, still love ya
i'll wait and smile
with baited breath
until eternity.

man is fallible
he'll change his ways
just smile
and wait, with baited breath
for that wondrous day!
maybe I don't ****
I'll wait
for the sake of the buck.
The aroma of mud soaked from the midnight shower.
The distorted beam of light cascading against the polyester wall.
The crackled snap of the amber autumn leaves.
The chirping symphony of jackdaws, perched in harmony.
That slight breeze,
brisk air;
Booming and pulsating, through the small tears.

It was heaven.
Tucked and detached, he slept in his haven.
Alone.
With nothing but the texture of earth beneath, and the freedom of beauty's blue above.

Tranquil bliss.
To be inexorably tied to what we deny
I am beast inside
Though my wretched heart survives
Calmed by the elements outside
For they fly and assist

I  look beyond to that wondrous ambivalence

I rest in peace in the Wilderness!
Nothing like a cup of coffee to cure your ills
Tired?
Coffee will do the trick
Stressed?
Grab a brew and you'll loosen up, you old stiff.
None of that cheap ****
A slow roast blend from the third world
will do.

Milk?
No, pure.
Sugar?
NO! Pure.
Filter?
No, drip only.

I want every morsel of flavour.
Ever drop from those mud coloured grind granules.
Every little pitter patter
Of brown bitter splatter.
So strong to leave a man wired
Awake?
So Awake ; prepared.
Alive?
So Alive to my surroundings;  aware.

Oh, there come those jitters;
perfect,
To be nothing less than scared.
God ******, I said no filter!
I promise you
it'll tastes better

Hey buddy, I'm at the centre
Tired of your gimmicks
Frappa-this
Cappu-that
I'm not a fan of that mocha crap
For I am a purist, through and through.

Therefore, hand what I demand,
Said dark waters
With heat of Hades
Please, i must, before i falter
SAVE ME! i FEEL THE SIGNS!

Oh gosh, we're fresh out of coffee.

**** it, well, I guess a tea should be fine!
To hate family is to hate self.
for whether to admit, or not
they are us,
and we are them,
inexorably tied,
Our traits,
hopes,
desires;
us,
Blood,
Love,
carry through.

this is no reason to be distraught
it instead simply is.
mother nature does not stop
do not fear this
to over-acknowledge is to assume
you posses more than the man that stands near
what lies beneath is a part of her charm
she is ambivalent and could care less
she means to do no harm.
Therefore, where the feel of inherent flaws plague the mind
let go,
sit,
turn off all distractions
and give yourself time,

to

Ponder
not when you fail,

to

Think,
not when you fall
but pass, and
Rise
above and beyond
not in the eyes of the onlooker
but in the eyes of the self...

not in unwrapped spite,
but in benevolent unison

Family:
they are me
i am them!
through eternity.
i love walnuts,
the shape,
the skin; coarse
the feel; soap bar texture

crushed into pieces
fragrance at peak
collect
another,
and another
let the waters burst,
in sea of fragments;
oil-water submerged.
bitter first,
sweeter the second,
sour the third...

until swallow: flush down below
till only remnants survive

then restart till satisfied!
Pity: the fuel of self esteem;
a false sympathy,
never to help the other in need.
Instead a seed planted
hand crafted
placed within host
to disassemble ones self love
and feed for self, thereof.

It is indulgent.
Narcissistic, but worth it.
For the once dull glimmers,
the fire dies down,
smoke cloud; heat simmers.
Colours more varied.
Clicked in, pieces; in sync.
Cured of sickness,
no longer at the brink.

Can't you see it!
The sparrows, they sing!
On the fleeting branches of a dying spring.

The church bells, they ring!
Reverberating a solemn deference
our forgotten reference
my remembered past.


Don't look at me like that.
I ain't crazy.
I'm okay taking to feel this way.
I'm okay!
It don't bother me none.

You are free?
  
I am Free.
All good people agree,
And all good people say,
All nice people, like Us, are We
And every one else is They:
But if you cross over the sea,
Instead of over the way,
You may end by (think of it!) looking on We
As only a sort of They !

**Rudyard Kipling
Given the recent tragic events, the purpose of this post is to honor the victims of the horrific terrorist attacks in both France and Lebanon. My deepest condolences go to the families of said victims, may they rest in peace.
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