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The attacking bear is not evil,
he is merely hungry.
There is no such thing as evil!
Nope, just a lot of hungry demons out there, looking for a meal.
Don’t take it personally
and for god’s sake don’t assume
evil is after you.
Traveler 🧳 Tim
Her lips are like
wet orchids, dressed in
the spring rain,
waiting to be
kissed and
caressed.
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucOOifTukWQ
It’s strange on
days like this.
December 30th, 2024.
The temperature reached
60 degrees today.
An ice fisherman
died on the lake.

It’s strange on
days like this,
when winter plays
a charade.
I open the windows
and let the breeze in.
My cats run around the
house, and think it’s
spring.
They wag their
tails and watch the
squirrels hide nuts.

And on strange
days like this,
I look around my
room, at the pictures
on the wall.
Hemingway
Van Gogh
Picasso
and I wonder if
they ever thought that  
they would die someday.

I think about it.

It’s hard to envision.
I’m so alive when I
sit in the hot jacuzzi
and watch the bubbles
and steam.
I water the plants,
exercise, and take
vitamins.
I will be gone one day.
The rivers will still
flow and wind, and the clouds  
will
float slowly by, and
chocolate will still taste so
sweet.

I wonder if
Vincent, Pablo, or
Earnie ever thought about
the strange tricks the
seasons play on us.
Here's a link to my YouTube channel, where I read poetry from my recently published book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, which is available on Amazon.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucOOifTukWQ
The birds started
singing at ten to four
this morning;
coaxing the dawn on
with their song.

The *** would be
great on the clouds
that I saw yesterday.
They looked like
rows of fresh
cauliflower.
Every position would be
a little miracle;
perfect depth and
perception.

The sweat stung
my eyes as I
smoked in the
sweltering July
sun.
I wish I could
live in the clouds...
No job
No taxes or tired back.
Just relaxing in
that puffy white
perfection.
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ucOOifTukWQ
 Dec 2024 From the ashes
Liana
Are you familiar
With the story of Sisyphus?

Do you ever feel
Like you are pushing the rock up the hill
A rock filled with desire
The weight of the world
Waiting for it to finally reach the top
So it can be taken care of?

Are you too
Pushing
And pushing
And almost giving up?

When you get to the top
Does it fall back down
                       Every
               Single
         Time
Too?

Does is sadden you
To know that he never succeeds
Even at the end of the story?

Well I made up a new one for you:

Climbing
Climbing
Whole body sore

Trying
Trying
He doesn't want to try anymore

Day
After day
The story seems miserable
Until one

This day
Susyphus climbed
And pushed
And climbed
And pushed
And remembered how all the other days
It was to no avail

"I'm done!"
He thought

He was ready to stop pushing the rock
And let it fall on him
Crushing his body
Ending his heartbreak
But he didn't

He thought what if
That maybe that day
He would finally make it

So he pushed
And when he was at the most pain he had ever felt before
Made it to the top
He felt it would fall
Like any other day
But he saw a hand reach out
Helping him with his rock
And voice coming his way
Saying comforting words
Encouraging him

And what happened to the rock you may ask?
Well...



It stayed

One day it will appear again
Life will build up
But he succeeded
And he deserves his momentary happiness
Sometimes we need support
And sometimes we want to stop
But good things happen at unexpected moments
....
I've heard

These are mere hopes.

DISCLAIMER: I do not know this story well. I just heard about it in a book! I am aware I may have gotten things wrong, sorry!

(This note was written by a pebble that he should have tried lifting first)
 Dec 2024 From the ashes
Nemusa
Oh, if I could command the waves,

Bid them hush, their wild tongues stilled,

I would pave a tranquil path, a mirror of longing, for your return.
preface

yup

this is #99, & when it’s done,
another winking title will pop-up,
be

recorded, reordered, and reported
out to you,
and that old drinking song will~still
be justified with words adapted to
sing out of & about~no~doubt them
emotional rhythms traversing my
blood stream that inhabit my
thoughts and causes, visions and
curses


poem

a gray cloudy xmas day, and home alone
by my-choice, which is a potpourri of
caramel popcorn vinegar and vital vitamins,
a metronome of verbosity and to counter~~
attack these insidious moody blues, select my McIntosh mug with a Winslow Homer painting of East Hampton Beach


yup,

this is no. 99, in my file of
working scribbled potions, ,
which like my porcelain lipped mug,
is brimmm-ing filled too,
with phrases~tastes,
accompanied &harmonized,
with a mug up-to-the-top
of circularity spooned, steamy fine
Blue Mountain coffee,
colored beautifully creamy brown
by a quarter cup of
Fairlife skim milk
and damnable inspired
pseudo-dissatisfaction


apology

for rambling but it’s
a rambling day, and just going
with flow, and the east river
ocean bound current strings chains
of molecules, words, randomly
planned and planted, and lined
up to take  stolen sips of  coffee
breaks, indoors-inside my coffee cup
mind


****

got lost and now forget what
this poem was to be announced~about,

thus #99,
version b., will re-main on
the list, awaiting refurbishment, and
more, sigh,

                          *coffee
12-25-24
Pity
differs from empathy
be careful to show the latter
the former would hurt grievously
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