Under unruly layers of chaotic disquietude that pile up in hordes
from circulating swarms
now towers
All across the back alley landscape of my mental chronology
Finding contemplation by manipulating hesitation
Ego deaths laid to rest delivering an effort of awareness
through reflection and forethought

Within the in between of each ascending rise is all there was and ever will be linking heart brain and belly
breeding Individual Introspection

A moment of Panic brought on by dis-ease or disease sent panic through my minds townscape
A thought popped up flashing hypotheticals and a screaming
curiosity until picked up by blowing winds
under bridges
In between streets with row houses
I chased down this thought about what would happen if this occurrence came forward with fruition while the likelihood remains:
See no
Hear no
Speak no
Heart no
Think no
Breathe no
If she feels the day
That she might have been distant too much
Let these offerings of continued assistance take their place in loves lost memory
And with that realization her hands call her other
Only to find his cat has runaway into the wild lands
And taking time to retrieve her call
Like the ones he dialed so many times to no avail
Is the last thing on his minds lists and it’s been stacked over and bulldozed into a rubble mound at the city dump out by the forgotten highway where even the blind don’t even drive on anymore

Young Age or old has never
nor will it ever group her in full definition
only it is a mere showing of elapsed lore in bridging current recognition with before

The same way
Woodland plains grip in poetic pact this lady’s hand in a midway meeting today
For the slow taking of days tomorrow...

Are similar in strategy
How age will compile
Her foregoing, ongoing, and becoming in order to write her tradition unlike any others, for it’s unparalleled origins

1.)When imagination became infiltrated by sounds of the nocturnal
—— —— —— —— ——
2.)When negatives sabotage the nocturne to infiltrate imagination  
—— —— —— —— ——
Did...
Your wonder ever waver
from reflecting on the wholehearted feature in your possession,
then retreat back into fixed permanence lining every pondering moment with conditions?

If...
Disbelief loomed in your direction,
accompanied by a voice speaking phrases that shock...would you barter?

Over the most rigorous of hand in hand tribulations
Your hand picked heart continued on the loyal
As precursive voices shock that faith
Be open to obtain verbalized through summoned thoughts,
or whisper,
or even murmur such a combination of letters squeezed together

you wouldn’t barter your set mind
For the widest of riches or a trickling scrap of any gossips current scoop

you wouldn’t barter your set mind on
anything open ears didn’t hear
Focused eyes haven’t seen

In order to accept another truth that has no traits of convinces
So much they are willing to pay you a premium of immeasurable value
to reflect on
And waver wonder from wholehearted feature
This is now the lost swamp of fright that begins the next chapter non-being existence vacuum
Sadly there aren’t any shortcuts around this living read
Only the path of lonesome
Unraveling and hurling pelts of disgraced immediacy at your thoughts,
Your appearance,
Your confidence, and trust
running multiple scenarios through chronological process
Trying to spot the precise moment of derailment
internal bitter aggression is crowned result

Because your mind is doubtless  
Based on your belly that’s taken confirmation
By your unhesitating heart
Supported by the goddess
you began outlining on canvas
since your ears took in this echoing pain of disbelief
Certifying to the Triplex Elements
That your love runs deeply,
unconditionally,
unnoticed...

The triplex elements throughout our
seeing
being
meaning


(Mind)Restless with doubt and demands believing

(Heart)Personal justice pulsar until dotage rings out with excess

(Stomach) When swallowing ethos emits bubble gutted pathos pay no attention to almost

you wouldn’t barter your mind and open ears
For the widest of riches and a truth accepting order undefined

As the crow flies south from capital city
With soaring moonshine he coasts into synchronicity
Highways below dissolve into forgotten whispers
Like a rear view mirror sees only memories in its disappearing

Visual ****** initiates and fills this polychromatic cruise
Starting with a quiet historic ruse
Contesting over which of the two
echo shadows for optical repeal

the many leaves of kaleidoscope hues
That keep a running legacy since time before our time
and / or
Buried horizon from endless layers of skyward hills
Hills that have been storing a primitive foundation for the growing of substructure foliage in order to be able to drop its petals and leaves

Resolve is left with the one true and unbiased impartial decider...
the wind
to form a fair measure of mediation

From the human view
All are merely a preview for the impromptu quest
In an attempt to catalyze foreshadow and paint memory for the drive out west

To approach from afar
The destination appears to be a resting
shape of an antiquated location

splashed with opaque aromas,

sensory weaving visuals,

and

Melodic tones of nostalgic definition

Emitting vibrations of soothing tremolo that quiver throughout the body

this multi-strip string of singular select shops
Is the alignment initiative in the countryside
forecasting a manifest
for the hazy occasion
Anointing inspiration over the heartland’s artland
That nearly only hope,
could create

Invisible snows sprinkle over roads like a magic red carpet of threaded tranquility in its coat
Enticing, Welcoming, and Lighting up this neck of the west
And opening into the
Woodland Hills of Little Nashville

———-—————————————-——————————

Happiness isn’t
pulling a slot machine
with the woman you have...

Being pulled
into the slot of
and
by the woman you can’t have

Is where happiness
away from the machine...
lies

(A gradual dream of more)

the Scale of Continued Practical Worth, is set...

one pan holds our Mind Born As Is
Dueling in the opposite tray, lay the Experienced Mind With Growth,  
beginning to tip into an immediate fluttering imbalance

Dissatisfaction debuts as
mid-crowning meets first breath
The pre-cradle screams
Run parallel with the desire for want

A leveled contentment
is laid out in a pasture of vast
to be taken possession of
Keeping forever,
within immediate grasp
Too tangible to breach  

While “the more, the better” is what is the vehicle driving us to this jaded result

We never stop striving for the bigger next better. So long as this goes on, comfort and contentment get lost in the past, as years blow away the life of ease
when and where we would have wanted for nothing