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To embrace the virtues of man. Knowing how to embrauge the values of youth. As you show innocent wisdom to nurture your minds. With sonnets grands to find. Facing challenges to tell the truth. As they embellish there outrageous lies. When insecurities hide behind false hearts. While closed mountains stay under snow and ice. As nature calls in a brevity time. Just as your energy lacks on a trodden path. Watching the weather swirl as your throat starts to dry. While hope challenges your feelings that your going to die.
This poem is about the challenges you face on dangerous terains. The lies people say to get what they want no matter the costs.
The virtuoso of the living lie. Without spite in our dreams to become good human beings. With uniqueness in every face. While the police run in circles like hamsters on a wheel. Just when we feel the rage trying to keep our children safe. Even when we grow to a old age. While we inspire to greatness. We mustn't forget the richness in our lives. Knowing the human race is our biggest threat. Through destruction and execution we will never be this planets resurrection. So why isn't this being taught in all our education in every nation.
This poem is about man's destruction of earth and why we need to keep fighting to keep this planet eco friendly, clean and green.
TAKE THAT! Take that feeling! Now engulf your life in people who painfully express that very sentiment so brilliantly that after hearing their words you find that you really didn't understand those ideas much to begin with at all and you feel lesser for it.

Now flash forwards 20-30 years: You're now a caretaker of your remaining parent, their health in a terminal spiral of decay after the loss of the first. You still work full-time, your own kids are growing older and out of touch as they explore their own lives. You are somewhat estranged with your own partner as the whole affair has been an unrelenting and daunting persistence of sheer will alone. You can't remember the last time you have had physical intimacy and you find you mind veering to the very notion of it even less.

In some outlet store, you are shopping for clothing for the ward that long ago brought you into life, you go though a lot these days, you don't need anything fancy. At this point the children's section really offers you you best bang for your buck for what you need. You'll shuffling though Sponge Bob PJ pants and your hands freeze as your ears pull the emergency break!

You hear THAT song! Twenty years later, the melody softly swaying in your atmosphere!

All at once, all of those things add up, each moment, each song; friends, ideas, ambitions--it hits you! You remember yourself--not as you 'are' *but as you *were and all that you hoped for all that you desired and then racing forth you are immediately and un-consensually assailed by all the things that have torn you from that trajectory.

You find yourself so alone for everything that was and the sorrow is punctuated by how clearly that purpose, that 'meaning' meant to you at that time.

But, the Squidworth PJ pants seem most appropriate. Perhaps there is still some lazy, leftover take-out in the fridge....
when you trim your ***** and your mustache with the same pair of scissors
when you hand over your entire paycheck to the bartender of doom and glee
when you write a bounced check at the grocery store
when you sleep with a girl who isn’t clean
when you’re young, lost, broken and poor
when your childhood runs hard and your luck runs out
when your best friend is dead and your other friend is ******* your girl
when your dog sleeps in the afternoon and dreams of the neighborhood *****
when your nutrients gets replaced with Xanax bars over the one who just left
when your tired eyes meet the brick & mortar of strenuous labor
when the smile is so fake that it appears genuine
when you go all in on someone you weren’t 100% sure of
when you wait on bleeding knees for the unreliable god
when you bet on the boxer that crashed to the canvas
when the interest is high and the banks are closed and the creditors don’t care about grace periods
when you understand very little and you expel a whole lot
when the cord of anxiety strangles your very essence
when you turn out to be just as everyone expected

don’t worry

it’ll all turn around

and find you again

someway

somehow.
~for M. G.*~
who discerned in a

witty three words,
my essence, perfumed~

<>
we all have in our own(ed)
personal debtors prison,
a chained inner child
asking always:
Am I there yet ?

sad smiling,
a 'no you are not,'
for to freedom day to arrive,
the child must unlock the chains,
no one else can be
permissioned!

someday he'll, rebelent,
will comprehend that
wishing insufficient,
asking nice,
once, thrice, millions
can’t break
the padlock,
And you have to walk away from the inner child,
Leave it to starve
Leave it to die
Leave it to be free
And just a regular grown-up guy!

So saddened
There will be no return
There will be no funeral
No keepsake memories
For the keeping
No capital letters
Just a path
Large yellow arrow pointing
This a way
Bluntly and without fuss, un accompanied by any special invitation,

You leave behind the writhing child
plodding forward,
Slightly offkilter, slightly off balance,
But no longer writhing,
Just drifting from the course,
Ever so slightly
Which is drama plenty,
But there is no morning mourning for the child left behind
DEC '24
I read
what you wrote.
It is beautiful,
and not mine.

I have laid those bones to rest—
not in spite,
but in mercy.

Your voice is strong.
Let it carry you forward.
I won’t follow.
But I will listen
from far away,
in peace.
When I enter,
the black holes of myself,
they are located,
transcribed upon the
blackboards of our
unified bodies,
the magnification of energy
transversed,
principles demonstrated
by the unconcluding
conclusion of the expansion of
creation,
the rebirthing of one universe
never ending

When I enter a woman,
the discovery sought,
the definitional needed,
the proofs equational,
the factors constant,
not the variable
truths,
the demonstrations positive,
the constants of the universe,
combinational, all within,
a single point glistening

to gentle comfort this
knowledge of my wasting,
the foresight of my limitations
from the day of birth
my matter,
matters,
my energy
neither destroyed or created,
illimitable,
my decline inevitable

and yet

cannot alter my atomic structure.
my future guaranteed,
my inner light,
traveling so fast,

it has yet

to arrive

When I enter a woman,
the laws of physics
become special theories
of relativity,
we are motion in time,
force and energy
nucleotides rawest refined,
elemental and particle nuclear,
packets of light
exclaimed

When I enter a woman,
organic, chemistry,
interdisciplinary
my body and its life force
shaped as
electric current transceivers
crossing galaxies,
there can be no deceivers,
there but and only
the birthing of heat,
a byproduct of
interjection, conjunction

she is my proof
long after the
log normal of my nerves,
now parceled to the
invisible of an oscillating
log natural,
fertilizes the sea grasses
that so intoxicate,
flying, carried,
by the invisiblity of the winds,
all-where I have chosen
as my shifting shape,
when this container
leaks and crack'd,
rentery orbit,
the nearest garbage strewn
construction-dead
lot

When I enter a woman,
physics far beyond
the commonplace,
physical transition
to knowledge
of life ever after

death and fear are
time sensitized
passing notions,
crushed by the
consolation of physics,
the eternality
of a time
once begun,
cannot end,
and therefore
this,
my one theory of everything,
is the God
I worship
The phrase "the consolation of physics" was taken from a novel,
City of Thieves by David Benioff. The other nonsense is all my fault.
11/23/14 8:30am

for my blonde Big Bang theorist
Whatever will be, will be
I guess that's what they call certainty
A vague destiny
But where does that leave you and me?
A collective we
We'll have to wait and see
Due too love messing with thé
Predetermined story

©2025
You were not made to be only a lighthouse.
You are the ocean itself.
If you as me have felt hopelessness regarding your existence. Unable to unleash the universe of yourself? Desperately fighting the currents of your situation - arguing in monologues about why you exist - purpose - reason - who ****** decided the way life turn out.... To be, is no excuse. How to be is a different matter
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