who knew that in about
4 years time,
or maybe
10,000 years lost in
10,000 multi hued tears,
id be on the same trip-
dancing to the same
shimmering inner grove as before-
braiding fresh cut
flowers-
delicate genital-hands, unfolding in prayer
into my subconscious mind
or perhaps into my hair-
saving colored prism fragments
of knowledge or nonsense-
digesting intoxicating
incense smoke into the
deep throated green streaked
laughter chasms
that are my lungs-
spinning vinyl, spun mind
unwinding, undulating
through string music-
contemplating the sunset's sweet
immaculate form, reoccuring
and balancing itself right outside my window-
dressing in shells, bones,
and beads; kaleidoscope fabric dripping from
the ******* like mother Kali in a Fellini
flick-
peeping out at heads slinking down
the ****** pavement streets-
my hairy angelic form grooving
intensely, spastic-
body flung, strung out in
hot patterns of
mirrored arms and legs-
brain brew bubbling; wicked, fantastic-
limbs waving and grabbing at
tangible tasty morsels,
smelling strongly of indigo
and patchouli-
the East smiling on me and
my intrepid journey to the ocean city-
head thrown back in
tranquil madness-
pipe smoke curling like
ancient hound howls from the corners
of my lips-
smiles spread like insanity, a wicked disease
lost in the forgotten finger painted
confounds of creamy
****** milk consciousness-
basking in lamplight
of the golden glistening
                                  Now.

Standing wild-violet-timid in careful shoes, I collapse into Monday.

My internal weather is spiky with low-level nausea. Brain fog, mind-cloudy at first, with a high chance of precipitation across the afternoon. Externally, the settling cold front will bring morning squalls before a high-pressure system arrives in the early evening.

Difficult to know what shoes are needed  
for this day, this time,

let alone what armour, masks, and steel
with this climate, this energy...

Hard to predict what will be stored in memory
by this mind, this brain...

This questionable,
yet seldom questioned,
recording of events,
from my flawed perspective only...

Should I attempt to trust myself today?
The answer neither clear nor confident
Instant reflex shoulder shrug
With gaze-avoiding fizzy nerves
A patent hint that I may be
    a trifle less than competent

What lens will shape my history today?
And will it light me kindly or in glare?
When my parts construct the story
Hope they break it to me gently
But I know that my track record
    not-so-subtle hints beware
  
If my brain detects a glimpse of faults or glimmers of malfeasance,
it will use these torts to make the case that I deserve all grievance
from a host of inner parties with a wavering allegiance
the impedance to agreeance is a tendence to vehemence, so

How will I use the playback from today?
I could use it well in kindness or in pain
With the re-runs stealing airtime
From productive contemplation
I could use it as more proof that
    I should not have trust again…

Tomorrow, I will wear my security boots, with stronghold socks.

Love doth render my heart gently
As if moments of time are softly unworked by time
Yet each day, they are threaded in again
A soft piece of fabric
My heart worn and repaired with time

A thickish blue in its dancing rays
is rare
The rivers resound softly
A gentle song pervades
across the moor
A visage of a man is heard
far from the blackish gates
His pray louder than the russet Sun