Fashion this as liquor to give spirit to
a song in write.  Seen seldom to weigh
words at play in search, sewn
expensive for time spent in trust and
recite.  Penciling not for profit so
rhythmic this may show.  Find in the
presence to open and reflect our
woes.  Only prescription for
uncommon those in write.  A same
those who compose.  This on display is
the compromise of sheltered dreams
and the soul, of rhythm in gentle prose.


This is the allure of the jewel of
life.  Sent as promise a same a
wish.  Stem those genes and make
heavy this vision and prayers in
might.  These are our rays made ink, to
weigh the pressures of waves constant
in cycle, to detract from nature’s
Heavenly sight.  Lost we shall dream
and ever so patiently grow old ~ but in
heart live bold.


Rugs were in Persia mathematically
correct and with an Indian craft
colorful, Heaven sent.  Only captured
in a metaphor this day, so men do
master, so simple this way.  Simple this
as to measure the years past, shudder
away tears, for the river purifies our
passions commandeered.  So culture
our gardens to prosper and replenish,
in the green untamed, and natural in
wonder, behold.


Today we thimble a sew for tomorrow,
for our craft is spared only to simple ~
ness of editing, not journeyed journals
to an ever-changing composition.  
Perhaps unfamiliar this vest, this
life.  Sample the living, in books that
inspire.  Dismal I think the desire to
purify a pen in this heavy practice, a
dance an art.  Time lends a flavor,
marinating appealing to a fashion so
write.


Always calm to prolonged righteous
reason, modern making, yet captured
still as storytelling.  Uncommon
to cues, but refreshing at leisure, is now a
computer who makes simple what once
was wasted time.  Measures made in
this art are laborious, the passion is
for the pen, reel it in as your tool,
rations will in turn ~ give as a well and
nature and sow, the seed of the write.  


Refinement ~ un-forsaken, notes of
detail, must reinvent and inscribe in
ink.  The bank of intuition lay tender as
our diction.  Replenish in the soil of
our Native grounds to seed another
tool, the luxury of our lingo.  For
inspirations may befriend or become
uncharted if left in the cold.  Sold but
without a surrender to all integrity, we
will call for many souls to ship and
receive what Forefathers intended.  In
over our heads, over watering our
behaviors, half unknowingly over
diluting our mental treasures, is this
the liquor of life, all too fancy in
measure but it was the tea of rebellion ~
and so I toast ~ to a drink tonight.


Inherent as memories of a generation
now surely within time, we will fill the
promise within crafted lines, and
file away ~ many promises ~ many
revisions ~ many times.  In spoil we shall
not surrender our bounty of honesty
and wisdom, so gray in years we
mend.  Dent our self-serving self ~
respect, make and justify the wheel in
role common.  Like a beard in keep,
intention is relevant.  Surely women
refine makeup as to show beauty in
character.  Thus what we intend to
refine is an endeavor to unwrinkled
and celebrate the qualities of growing
old.  Time is of new defining, for the
times are naturally at all times in
ritual of change.


Memories to grace the gift of sight ~ are
the shades to carry our reflections
away.  One, who trusts and so cares,
lay in the daydream of light.  In a wish
sent salient, reference to eyes unveiled,
patiently as a seed shall ripen, the
flavors of life will flower in springs
day.  We hanger ~ thus shelter, the rags
made clothes, best when leather to
weather firm and tight.


Regift the promise, to harness the
wind and make words potent as those
before did without regret.  Today in
general we lean and conform on the
fundamentals, too disciplined, mirror
of stale literature.   Similar to wood
varnished but without the stains of
life.  First revision is not for giving,
only what is taken, luxury of
time.  Color your copies of the wood
you talk in and pencil in your
pressures to relieve the pain, simple ~
ness and cold feet lay sold, as buttered
bread to fill.  But imperfect, so
forthcoming, wills the literature of
today ~ finding promise in ceremony
by charting drafts and revisions to
send in message to those young in
read.  This voyage is regretfully gentle
as our host made monumental any
verse, so breathe within the soul and
hearts of men, to find new styles to
milk the mind of reason.  Leafs from
the tree of intuition ~ censure the
picture, sell in the filter of Freedoms
fight, not first drafts ready when
write.  


Battered but purely by pace and
meager beginnings, the wave of
procurement in the arts of linguistics
will saddle and shelter the idea
profound.  Don’t toss away the raisin
of a pen in hand,  for we lean to easily
in bits and bytes.  Promise of Heaven's
pennies falling in rhythm will sing
tonight.  


Majestic in find, common in ground,
gift a find, in leisure, in time.  Gather
they guard and uphold the greater
good, not to entertain but inspire.  Just
as ones soul is when right.  Humbled
in behaviors so chips in clever may
fall.  But poker face we have become,
once centered in earnest of essays in
rent, now owners of ideas
embellished ~ in verse ~ our native
treasures.  Second we charter the raft
of ideas in mend, to conceive works so
aspiring as the poets and linguists of
historic claim.  So riddled ~ so
mastered.  Surely a new discontent
shall offer, in a pebble of examples
met, but with practice and structure
our youth will pen.  


Demand must be patient, for
procurement in the arts of linguistics
will nurture and mother our future
Leaders to a discipline in their own
right.  Never forget the days of past
generations for they marveled in the
arts ~ and in rain it falls in our hands
~ to luster and defend.  Poetics are too
political if not in share.  Protection of
this is how Freedom was rung.  The
hungry will maintain its resolve and
rightfully so.   Riddled as sow ~ these
lentils, this meal, these feathers, this
ink ~ shall fuel the fire.  A dance in the
pillows of night ~ shall brush the painting
in the Autumn of ones days.  Flaccid in so
many ways.  


Glorified by the shadows of
protection, but only one day is stored
for this intention.   Freedom is in the
work engraved beside it, within it,
sharing we celebrate it, and our Brave
provide it.  Celebration comes by way
of duty and hard work, and is rises
high and early in the dawn.  Yes, on
the Forth Day of July.  Food and
pleasures are gifts for price paid by
our Soldiers and Agencies who protect
and defend our freedom and intelligence, and
calmly watch over it as we carry
along.  All under the calm watch of
Gods umbrella.  Future dreams are
blessed a same, for all under this Flag
by notion alone, seam and dress and
hence sail ~ with solemn truth.  Trusting
the winds of reason to keep us Forever
Free and on course to replenish the
soil, for those young in years.  Students
in the day dream of life are in the send
to allow their pen to charter this
peaceful but daunting Nation to one of  
peace and prosperity.  Willingly and
calm the lion stares afar from
American shores, Democratic in nature and
always reinventing in this idea we
call ~ the American Dream.

Hope you pardon my intrusion for
I am here as messenger alone.  The
King asks for you to feather a journal
that will hold value resilient to time.  
Your invitation he has written for your
acceptance or denial.   A summon not
for carry,  for seven promises (men
and women ~ fair in wisdom) will mind
this also.  Favor to join is idea the
King will mention.  
I hope you will favor in ponder, this as
a token for your family to venture.


As your shake is firm I feel, in you I
sense a humor and honor to astound
even my father.  Direct in this appeal
we wish for you to join in many of our
meals in days afar.  For your intellect
to preface these journals in daily
is of excellency to the crown.  This
endeavor is gift to King’s laureate and
family privilege.  


Time who is clever as any, with
eyes to contest its followers, is my
father’s enemy.  Never the less he
insists to fill your mind with the
divine poetry of detail ~ all in time.  
Absent from conjecture and mundane
in matter.  Amend his will in a tone
compassionate but clever as a jesters.  
Understanding cleverness is knowing
silence is his magic.  Laughter is
louder after silence, as every moment
leans with a commence to it.
You attire in a dressing of language
lost.


In you the truth will contend in
this forum, all minds beseech your
presence at once.  Spoils will riddle
you queer as you must be quick in
gather as to fuel the idea.  Without
taste for regret you must serpent the
poisons for the benefit of an ideal, this
shall be done in solace alone.


Soil your apologies in poetics.  But
pressing your wisdom as dressing
within these works, lay unconventional
and wastes our King’s time.  And is
self ~ servant.  The King wishes you
a retrofitter, not designer of ideas
embellished.  Value what’s ideal.  
Something is found when wise men
seem broken in accepting less, but
as surely have escaped sure death.  
Treaties decree this vision so.


The ground we walk upon is justified
in conformity and  rests within
individual principles.  Uncommon are
the steps prevalent to understanding.
Some come to muse.  Then master,
but revision the first for the wise seam
better.  Wisdom is genuine in repose,
when a wish ~ gone ~ regret, passes
by as your mistake.  A same a mask to
a jester.  So alone is this jester made
genius in his King’s court.  Finding
only solitude when joining the show.

Brother Freedman, I am but
messenger and son of our King.

I serve with solitude, such the Lion
stares afar may feel.  With time
alone idolized, and profound ~ this
beast is demure and  truest of any
~ trusting his strength.  Calm in
demeanor it is destined and such is
blessed.  My father fairs his share
of similar characteristics.  In so
many compelling ways.  Principles
to maintain,  just ~ and in prominent
formality.   In such I will address you
as first intellect.  


In my vision I have sent my son to
question the seekers of this leisure.  
Address of the street you call home in
pleasant chatter, is yours to give your
kin if your decision is in favor.  Token
to a pure education shall be warranted
for your children a~same.  

My autumn is as golden as the seams
that vein the leaves.  So falling is
justified for even Kings.  The wind
beneath my leaf will bend and carry us
free.  Concealed and closed are those
who fear ones own insight.  Humanity
is the story here, and we must verse it
write, to justify our common appeal.


Common sense will be the milk of
this birth, a child, rising in small feet
of first steps.  Simplicity for mind
to meal.  Ideals better the soil if in
sow ~ they again seed.  This wills the
fruit ~ in folds.  Similar the mind kept
in ritual of change are rations for
reason.  This is the cycle of seasons.  
Metaphors and imagery shall suit our
souls ~ in step we mend ~ luster and
defend.  


Uncommon are the King’s measures,
ideals are what drives his carriage.  A
life of duty and by his peoples mention.
They rest on his deepest notions.  
Words he rests upon and are carefully
chosen.  That’s where you come in my
Sir Laureate to be.  You shall stencil in
his every mention.   Also when in the
company of others, for our home shelters
the wise and few.  You shall know the
trust he imbeds in his last desires ~
and your duty to carry them write.  So
willing if you may ~ cement his vision
as your duty ~ and leave your craft for
a journal of reason.  Your feather shall
carry you kindly if you choose to write.

to be continued...

one paw at a time…
old cat tenderly searches
for the morning sun

Ticktock ticktock
Says the lazy clock.
Kring-kring-kring
Hear the morning sing.
Wake up! Wake up!
No more time for dreaming.
Zzz-zzz-zzz
Bees? Snore?
You're still sleeping.
Beep-beep-beep
It's your boss calling.
Hurry! It's 8 a.m.
And the world keeps spinning.
You're late.
Prepare for screaming.

Remember when we were high off our heads
and added gummy bears and sour chews to the mix?
Don't forget the runts..I don't.
We ate until our tummies were full
with candy and laughter and the yummy ice cream concoction we created.
These were moments of bliss.

Then we fell asleep just to wake up again..

Ripping through calories with hard sex
which left our tummies empty.

until next time..
cause there's always a next time.

you didn't drink that night
and you promised
you would drive me home
I only had a few beers
but I'm tiny
and i don't eat
so god knows
i was tipping over myself

we were leaving the same time
as a few of the other boys
and as we put on our shoes
you called out
"anyone wanna join us for a three some on the beach?"
and somewhere in the distance
someone called out
"only if it doesn't involved you!"

and i laughed as i put on my shoes
and i laughed all the way to your car
and i kept laughing
until we were at the beach
and your pants were down
and my ass was on the cold wet rocks

To sit in sight of the future is hard, so
the test.
Only time could tame such.
So we must dress intention with
passion and foresight.
Better the tree to knot understanding,
then to pace the plane.


To understand ~  is to speak of sands
far and apart.
And water to fill the well of enlightenment.
Thread the vine, sewn by those who
mine the mental.
But shelter it kindly as vision refined.  


Afar in the eyes of insight, many
righteous will sleep.  
Certain to never serpent in the
shadows of the dark ~ in the wake of
this dream.


In a release  ~ we lay back down by a
pardon of our awakening.
Dumbfounded by this fortune we must
address and censor, then in a calm ~
pray.


Quilt these intentions with the
presence of grace.  Disable the
confusion within the warmth of day.


Become the bird perched, in nest, to
only mend in promise, in earnest first
flight.
Begin the flight of your deepest natural
right.


Live as if your were destined.
Live as though you cared for the
compassionate.
Live as though you could.


Live as the hawk ~  that followed me
to the stare ~ in a gaze that day.
Such is life, simple and pleasured in so
many ways.  Too fancy, to be fortunate
are those who share in recite ~ paint
those leaves ~  wet in pen, in their
branch of arts ~ two pleasure in share.  
Milk the ink in pleasure of  pen.

I knew it would happen again
Every time you drink
This is how we end up

Intertwined in webs of false regret
And untrue apologies

It is never an accident
And neither of us are ever really sorry