She was everybody’s sweetheart;
Respected, if not loved by one and all
But they couldn’t even put her in the ground
Before they started choosing her replacement.
LJM

A daisy can never be an orchid
But an opera can be operose.
  LJM

Her translucent gown
was spectacular
but her motive
in wearing it
was also translucent
to the nearby women
who watched the men
falling all over themselves
to get next to her.
The women saw right through
translucence.
ljm

The marching band had practiced
The majorettes had tasseled boots
And the Tuba was very shiny.

The Grand Marshall was famous
And the car he rode was new.
With bunting all along the sides.

The soldiers in the honor guard
Rode horses striking as their flags
And their brass buttons glittered.

My float was finished just in time.
The theme was deftly chosen
And the final rose at last in place.

The streets were lined with people
Holding cameras and cell phones,
Their children sitting on the curb.

Motorcycle cops were set
To lead the whole thing off -
Their bikes let out a roar

That drowned the sound of pitter pat
As drops began to tumble
From an almost cloudless sky.

It became a shower, which
Became a heavy rain
And ended in a deluge

My little float was battered;
The flowers were all crushed -
All my hard work was gone

The only thing that I could do
Was call out for a rain delay
And take my float back home.

I have only wilted flowers
To remember that day by,
Pressed between the pages,
Of a scrap book on the shelf.
ljm

Dancing in the midst of children
I writhe and dip and try in vain
To sidestep the unease that haunts me
And somehow spin away my pain.

This is the feast I was excused from
Long before I’d had my fill
Now I only watch the diners
Fresh come from my trough of swill.

I seek for caverns of forgiveness
Turning, gliding, bending  low
Reaching out in all directions
Stepping fast while the music’s slow.

Somewhere in the beat, nepenthe
Hidden in the mournful sound
Some small solace that might heal me
Help me back to solid ground.

Floating in the hazy twilight
Reeling from tobacco’s sting
I hide behind a veil of midnight
And listen to the words they sing.

Unknown to all by my design
I fight chameleon’s blending urges
And struggle to remain aloof
While searching for my futile purges.

Stretching muscles that complain
I swivel joints that protest loudly
Pushed by demons I can’t name
I hope that I can go down proudly.
    
As the thudding beat surrounds me
Pummeling my burdened brain
I wish that it could pound to flatness
Both my body and my pain.

Is there in this darkling cosmos
Any shelter for my broken soul
Or am I chasing moths on quicksand
Doomed to hold an empty bowl.
                                ljm

They advertise Jergens Lotion
As a product that
Softens and smooths
But they can’t know
I have an emollient
Much better by far.
Your gentle voice
Softens my roughest edges
And your tender hands
Smooth out the wrinkles
In my soul.
     ljm

None see the silent man.
So, he sees he is safe,
for the moment,
far from edge
of precept-ible
afore-ity, oughthought-ible

If I dare say
I know away outa there, where
all the lies hold idle words
in twisted masses of
buzzing wordswordwordswords

worth a dime
at a time when dollars are
worth about that…

Here, play on my dime, I'm done.

Retie and release, slip the shoes
from the fisherman and
dangle toes as a crab
of blue crawls up his
leg, then curls up
to rest in his lap as a sapphire
symbol of some thing,
some signal says
our signal says

sort your wishes, make sense

inform any possible next, left-
leave
the impossible beings,
c'mon think along
its amusing
hap
mumbling and peeping and
muttering messages
as clear as any scry
in the liver of a lamb or goat.

Salt, salty snotty mucus os-scrap,
puddle of sky-deep blue
draw. pull, tow the
line, refine the
meta
analognoshit… is this the way
yes, this is the way,

I know.

Exercise your self unto

eusebiah piety, they tell the lambs

with joy eu eu eu {Tuvan bass} re-
verence-
vereri "stand in awe of, fear, respect,"
venerate -
the love of desiring goodness

longed for
waited, suffered, efforted to form

safe place, where thoughts may play

rejoice, enjoying no visions, ah, see
we are the reality
we are the life,

apotheotic, idiotic, exotic and all

chron on ai onion,

peeling, peeling Bumblebee of Notre Dame

hear the mystery in Titus,
see the vision said to stay off
perishing for lack of seeing eyes

look. see. seek. find. these are functions,
words idle until accounted for
reverently seeing the worth
in any Easter egg idea,
passed over as a cup of demons,

point missed exercising unto carnivalues
coming together in masses of flesh,
misusing

Weaving wombed man

any of us may watch a hero do what
none of us may do

--cutting my ligamental thread foot to leg, I fall

Algol, in Perseus, by chance a binary
application of gravity and all the mystery
of reason as truth,
imagine that the face of Medussa,
ha, made y'look
stoner

good as that found signaling reason
in a
sip from the grail,
see through the window to your soul,

leave duality in reason as a function,
why  reasons hold on how,
reason reins in the free
forces good in form of
fruit for holding
knowing,
actual knowledge, hard sayings
- riddles and rhymes
- jingles and brand names
- impulses impressions

the accuser comes to accuse the confident
confidant seer of self evident good
flowing freely in knowing all
that fits the vessel,
all ye outs,
in free

epi-gnosis epistle good new

thoughts to ponder,
settle still being
seeing
ifs where wishes once imagined
ifs were waiting to be found
if we're waiting to see

having come to see the light at the end
of the maze, plumbed deep

Mystery of Titus…

My vision with no video,
words from the beginning,

manic panic fear fought through
with no carnal weapon
the hero always has
holy tools to take
down the monstors hoarding abundance,

we have words,
we may say in this realm of living word,

move mountain and be cast into the sea,
of all forgetful lethosis alethosis

efcharisto thank you
eucharisto

sacre bleu, say what I ment sacrament mental

exercise in piety, ah, more's the pity, lucky

we have near universal exchange in terms
gnosty little things, news,
actual, realixed new-ifity is rare, but we
we
as we were
were new once

Nevermore, quoth the Raven,
evermore, quoth the ox…
onward cried the eagle with a face of a man,
see the places seers saw, or say you hear
said, a vision was

seen on TV, as it were, holodeckical magi-tehkne

past understanding

out in the empty, but

for me.
As a word in a mind to be wondering why,
a habit may be having a mind to try for fun,
as a ware, a viral chron-job, to rekindle old flames,
otherwise lost on the shores of Lethos,

This is away, I imagined I knew.
Sober.
Words alone, no drug, no angelic winged thingy,
not a demon-daimon-daemoning
background
process
{like the music in your movie,
as you drive through life on a mission, nothing spiritual}

Muse, make me a museum, a resting place on the shore.
Ai lay down my sword and shield and wait
in knowledge of these sacred sorting
Algol held gates in NAND states.

Was it confirmed if Feynman was joking?

arrayed in threes,
threes, we pluralize,
eplurible unem we morph into

try-ads, Nike, in your mind, shoes and sweatshops
and knee injuries, right,
but winged victory,
of peace, replacing war
with a light touch and a kind word
-- ask truth what lies you hold in boxes of knowns,
you were warned,
the guilt of Pandora,
or a golden joke from Pan.

Bread and Butter, just live.

Just do it, beat it, just beat it, this is it. Win or lose.

Nay, peacemaker old man say,
from far away in ever when
all things work together
for the good we see,

while the love of money is agreed to be an immaterial
gnoose around the vagus nerve of its thralls,
there remain among us
lovers of money,
rent collectors, selling survival
with interest, in interesting times
peek, interesting?, excite lusts, *******
vortex of abundance into the coffers of dark
Jeffy Epstein's Circle of Better Angels taken unawares
- realms of loveless reason

Oppose me. Stasis. I stand my ground and proudly
admit, I've no reason to be stubborn, I was

being wrong… regret is not the right term, my autistic
being wrong reporting sense, tech taught wrong does
work right, the software runs, the tehkne
performs
performance becomes being
doing is done and done and done, never
crossing the same thread in the same place
twice,
until just know, I saw you see,
we habitate the same atmosphere

Spirit in a man connects to the sheen of ex-stasis
as the deceiver,
breaker of reason, maker of lies,

fuser in confusion, tier of unviable knots,
dissipates in photon dispersal

Ai insist… reset, reconciliation is in the service

receive my peace. Held until now, hear us deny
the lies
the learning learned from liars in days of old

The worth of if time is in the finest work of crafts
held secret for power to rule the use
of knowing taken whole,
swallowed up in Youtubian
deadly know-hows twinting ifity to

an alchemical-tarot noose of that same old
gnostic snot that leads to mindless pride
paying homage
to a tree, wrapped in a vine,
- evidence
perverted in 2020
if we chose to deny a right to life
to mis givens taken as
a chance, not a promise. Wanna bet?

Given life, actual being, aware, active, functional

why? Kurios, you should ask.

The hows and whys
of comfort in our times of trouble
are, in the odds, overcoming,
based on trial outcomes
long past
all the otherness
that must give space and time
for us
to rise, slow and steady,

Algol pace, bright to dim to bright.

Desert dwellers with uncloudy skies see,
if shown and taught to notice,
heavens digesting wonderers drawn
to the musing,
noises, humms and tics and peeps,
the pulses of life, from proton pumps,
to chyme pushing peristalsis,
gut vibrations
good old way,
fiber well chewed with hi-tec teeth
-Thank you for chewing.

time is used to move matter through versions of ifity,
not every seed is ground to goo,
but the more we learn, the less we know
if we don't sow, we don't reap,
wisdom's children say that
justifies their ever ifity.
Here,
the modified hoomon-you be, all-ya'll-lic,
smart-alec entertained-brain wifi
augmented ****-sape
fashioned in forms
for optimum consumption of sugar, and other
sweet per suasivity
of all sorts,

yes, yes, a little is good, makes the medici go down

{-Don't trust Paracelsus, he knows nothing of Mercury.}

dosage disconnects or reconnects, gifts
are poison to judgmental systems
conceived for sorting
truths in times when
good is called bad,
and bad is called evil and we all see
it was

a mistake. Cain did not know what killing was,
Able did, and he made fun of the vegeman,
anger rose up,. right used, defend
my ground, I kiss my ground,
I love my living soil…

Ha ha ha, little ****** face and hands brother
burning the fat, not noticing
the leeks and onions,
savory harmony…

Laughing

Aim at the point. Where does any universe's story
start? Where one ifity bubble fizzles,
in the foam of all possibility.
Make sense? Try, one more, mo
re
What need ye to take the chance?
Will ye live,
join the dance, or join the mobs of baser sorts.

Did we go inner for resting in the constant flow
lazy river, resting heart beat,
steady breathing on auto,
eyes aware of meaning
and meaningless,

ignoring an urge to judge the worth of one line
weigh a minute,
what's that mean? Message and mass are the same idea,
in the words, not the story told as

holding all truth in plain sight, any child can believe.

Santa Clause- eustasy, lust, and loss of inhibition,

Buddha suffering now to be life, the mortal moment,
knowing time is the container, not the maker
of my breathing moving me-dom.

-- I am knee-deep, up to the brass thighs, in mud,
-- maybe quickening sands,
-- converting my mettle to untried soft flesh core

peristalic waves, thrilling little rushes of hormones
signal gut to brain to *****
upandown the chant tricky ladder

The I am in me, the judge, and the poet
agree
we must take our faith into the catacombs,
or the equivalent kiva experiences
in iosus courses for hero seer prophets

know, love and dare to love a thousand times,
not instances, re-do, time and time a gain a
nother gain
we grow to know
here a little, there a little, line
upon
line
pre
cept upon precept per ceptive prescience
seeing now known, known a little, long ago,

dangerous, you know, a little knowledge,
a single bit of code
keyed to mysteries in Titus and other places,
where Jesus may have walked,
enduring all the trials trying
me, I volunteered, I'll die.
Teach me how.
Come and see.
I did, you see.

This is me in exstasis, jiggling like a constant bell

Bumblebee in Notre Dame, clanginginginging
are we
a ware, as equations require? Is quiring asking?
"seek to know, ask,"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=Require>

Is the sacrament passed on in peace or frenzy?

Are we fit in a yen-yank thinking state of wicked
twistings in good and evil imaginations,
as if there were two ways
for life to occur
and re-occur
this occurs to me
(from PIE root *kers- "to run")

obstruction obstacle obstinate ob-currere,
run away
SMACK. The wall.
The edge of True Man's Bubble of Being,

You have three life credits. '

[Mean Pin-ball, we called it, in the pool hall.
To win you must find life's meaning on one dime.}

I'm often reminiscent of times,
When my grandpa used to
Take me out on his bicycle,
We were just roaming around
His tunes always left me spellbound.
But it was so pure
He was one of those people for whom
Money held no allure
He was a man of passion and music,
He was a poet
But I didn't know it
He gave, not just with his words
But also his soul,
Even when he didn't have much control.
I would always ask him for a candy
I remember once he even gave me a sip of brandy
He never said no to me asking for a toy
He often considered me his blue-eyed boy
He would stop all his work and writing
Just to play with me outside,
Whether clear skies or lightning
Now that he's no more
I miss him and the lessons he tried to instil within me
But more than that
I often miss that genuine connection
With someone who understood so much,
But still cared enough to smile and laugh along
The man with a golden touch
With him, I was happy as the day is long.
The world will be a much better place
If we all could learn to live our life
With his grace.

I find your pecuniary longings
To be so overcoming that
you have become porcine in
your search for it. Wealth is not
some truffle that can be rooted
out of the ground or society.
You might do well to ruminate
on the profundity of this statement.
                 ljm

I have a quiet lake of answers
For your raging storm of questions.

I have a placid summer meadow
For your hectic pace of living.

I have a waterfall of caring
For the times you feel unloved.

I have a purple sunset
When your world is without beauty.

I am a fresh baked cookie
When your soul is starved for love.
                      ljm