With every passing day, my life was getting complicated...
...so i decided to make it a little simpler
...i forgave some
..and asked for forgiveness from some
And i must say things have been much better ever since

Power
went off
we lit the moon..

When hardened hearts ignore the plaintive tears
Of those who are invisible yet present,
They disregard the strugglers' hopes and fears
And make a situation more unpleasant.
Many suffer hazardous conditions
And work that earns a pittance but still brings
A lifestyle that won't **** their true ambitions.
How dare we think that they all live like kings!
Imagine living daily with the terror
Or harsh presentiment--with stress and pain--
Of knowing that despite abuse or error,
Your hands are tied, for you cannot complain.
Your life becomes a sad catch-22.
To keep on going is all that you can do.

Imagine fleeing poverty and war
And frightful acts of cruel persecution.
Your life at least is better than before,
But you await a permanent solution.
Your kids are now American at heart,
But jobs and college cause much consternation.
You work two jobs; you try to do your part;
Yet there's the constant threat of deportation.
When people turn their heads and look away,
A blaze of cruel injustice wildly rages.
The ones affected most can have no say
In how to fix what's NOT worked well for ages.
Solutions lacking heart are cold and numbing
And demonstrate how ugly we're becoming.

- by Bob B (2-23-17)

absence makes the heart grow
tired
the kind that's not resolved through sleeping.

more than your voice, more than the songs we played, more than your laughter

I miss
the stillness of you looking at me.

the quiet of nights of not-talking together.

in your silence, I once heard
the calm evening sea.

It seemed like a dream
But I felt I was being transported as if I was on a beam
No spaceship was involved
Destination unknown
I was moving through space
I noticed atmosphere waste
It was passed the Milky Way
Later into the horizon no one however explored
I saw the outside of Heaven oh my Lord
The beauty and superiority
Heaven beyond my expectation
The Joy that came over me
The Praise that only I could only give
But once I seen Heaven
My dream descended me back
I made my preparation to make Heaven my home
Imagine, Heaven being a place to roam
The dream in bringing reality
Oh Heaven with plenty of activity.

I’m in the back seat of our car.
My parents are angry with me,
They’re upset.

I didn’t do as I was told.
I messed up,
Failed them in some way.
I don’t remember how
I guess it doesn’t matter.

I clamp my mouth shut
It feels good to do so.
A satisfying spread of pain,
It shoots through my teeth and gums.

But then
Suddenly,
My teeth giveaway.
They’re wobbling,
A crack and split of pain
Spreading through my mouth.

A tooth on the bottom row,
My tongue pushes it out,
And now I can see it on the floor.

I try and stop,
But my teeth
Mouth,
Gums
They’re all on a derailing train,
And I don’t know how to stop it.

I try and cry for help,
Let my parents know that something is wrong,
Pop
Rip
Crack
Two more fall to my feet,
A tiny pile of bones starting to gather.

My parents look back at me,
Disdain on their face.
What kind of daughter can’t control her own teeth?

Tears are spilling down my face,
Blood crawling down my chin,
I’m ruined.
Absolutely done.
Who would want a girl with no teeth?

Please let this be a dream.
Please let this be a dream.
Please let this be a dream.

I’m holding my mouth now,
Trying to keep my teeth in.
My tongue searches for full rows of teeth,
And instead finds holes.

This has to be a dream.
This has to be a dream.
If this is a dream,
Why can’t I wake up?

I am trapped in this car,
My teeth trickling out,
One by one,
Out of my mouth and on to the floor,
And finally,
The train runs straight off the cliff.

My jaw slams shut,
It was an accident,
I didn’t mean to,
Bits and pieces of broken teeth fill my mouth,
I can feel blood,
Rushing to fill the space left unfilled by teeth.

I try to cry out,
My parents,
They’ll be angry,
I’ll embarrass them if I don’t have teeth,
I have to fix this,
But my cry is a gargle.
Tooth and blood spill from my mouth when I try to speak,
Sputtering on to the back of the passenger seat in front of me.

This has to be a dream.
I’ve had this dream before,
This has to be a dream.
I can’t wake up,
I’m trapped in this car,
My own mouth betraying me.
Please let this be a dream.
*Please let this be a dream.

and i'm watching this couple, this: bromance...
  and i'm wondering when the time
comes that the other tells
the former: you can't talk
physics wearing a cowboy hat,
wasn't the 20th century the time
they lost habitual need to cover their heads?
monks shaving, the kippah...
indians and the Martian act of scalping,
my donning a beard and fiddling
with it like payots / sidelocks...
can this... cowboy talk seriously to me
about what is and what isn't a stance
on pragmatism?
      let's just say, that being attired
with so many scientific facts, moon lading
and all that, i'd be most perfectly sound
in stating such facts, such attire,
without looking, rather ridiculous...
   it's nice that someone can go to the moon,
and in having this susbjecitivty enclosed in them,
and how that won't translate into something
i might share... how i will never experience
someone else's subjectivity, and how that is
the sole basis for having objective opinions...
but you have to admit that donning a cowboy
hat is more ridiculous than putting on a sock
or a shoe...
                       and then talking
looking like that genius gremlin...
    men age, they enforce being boring,
they're too nostalgic, they love to re- re-
  a care for st. pete... hey! pedro! what do women do?
they're just become weird...
   like that wasn't the case to begin with...
love is... whether expressed by a pensioner
or a teen... a bit... mmm... whatever.
          it just gives me the idea of being
a host of gnats when people have to dress themselves
with these "serious" facts... and then they later
talk donning cowboy hats and boots...
  who's the serious monkey to be given
a radio show? who the serious bobo?
          even i know, given the phonos,
that dżin is an orthographic transgression...
        dzin would suffice...
yes, you've been to the moon, that's nice...
this is where you deviate from telling other
people to keep it to themselves...
              i'd prefer to hear more about the brothers
Grimm sound asleep, than hear of american astronauts...
but yeah, thanks for the invite,
      so few people care or want to be astronauts,
the emeritus americans and the emeritus russias
ego-tripping is so, so, so so boring...
       and i'm sorta in the custard of it taking place...
ethnicity and abstract identities of succumbing to
nationhood... cut it open... dżin... it's also called
the fake graphemes of sh and sz and dz ch and cz...
those are graphemes...
            there's a reason you don't **** around
invoking too much distinction in the realm of grapheme...
they really could have just said: dzin....
or jinn... or aladin drinking gin.
    sure, they call them aesthetic bits and bobs,
when in fact they are nor aesthetic in a + way,
they're chiral, hardly natural,
gin             jinn              joke                              egg...
   gaug                                    chase,
      glee jeer... game, jam, gammon,
     jammy... gaming... the near proximity!
they're so close!
           - i sniff... (snout noises)... an existence of a graphame...
     if one was to listen to humans talking,
one could clearly see they are bound to cheat...
they have too many symbols for the sounds they make...
and for the deviations in making sounds
they ******* chiral twins of the same sound...
and then sometimes deviate from it...
ensuring that Latin graphemes, those linguistic siamese
rule the river of diacritical mark,
suffocating them, until the river becomes an
artificial lake...
            when diacritical marks was given to
the "deuteronomy", (e) missed in the original...
sometimes spelling mistakes can reveal much more
than the words themselves...
          the 2nd e... for the te-,
t-ah, tao...
                 i can feel winter ending,
i can feel the loss of limbo, fatigue,
               or what comes as spring, namely insomnia,
increased productivity,
but such that diacritical marks were the heavenly
based descents to mark distinct syllables,
  like hailed original use of pucntuation marks,
but more within every word, than among words
in sentences...
   i could just as well call for a genocide of linguists...
i just don't see why they need to
complicate the matters with some wacky
anti-copernican alphabet
akin to writing hope, (consciousness),
[hohp] (american, spaghetti, nasal
akin to echo: oompf! ergo subconscious:
insinuation, panicky, puppets and the empire),
/həʊp/ (british, origin, ergo unconscious) -
why do we need this linguistic alphabet?
you can reach a perfect argument
using the same language, with one
that has adopted the use of diacritical marks
akin to punctuation marks...
and have the only avaliable canvas that
english is... there really should be a russian
counterpart of me dealing with how the greeks
are so paranoid in over-using diacritical marks,
like me, but speaking russian and looking at greek
and nodding, insinuating the word
on a broken record: aha, aha, aha.
it would be nice to talk about people,
but then i graduated from the optometric school
of having to look at migrating electrons in
organic chemistry... i think i'm relaxed these days...
so outside the failed translation gimmick
of chemistry, mainly german, mainly
hyphen orientated CH3-CH2-OH (alcohol, numbers in
subscript) - ****... looking at that "fingerprint",
why is my vision of the world so pink?
you try to teach the anglo-saxons that they're saxons
again, and not orientated around building an empire,
imagine teaching them the proper way to be
saxon, that, some words, like german,
desire, complexpunctuationstandards.
there you go, a real life example, let's see you cut that
word open and extract a heart,
  and a lecture on having a heart,
    let's wait for Frankenstein's monster to groan
into the vacuum, and the no actual vacuum,
but merely the night.
- yes, a hyphen at a beginning of a sentence plateau
almost means a stance to take to paragraph;
even though it shouldn't exist, as a p.s.,
***** into existence by, nothing more than a bias
to endorse whims, cravats, Monet,
and tantrum fits of little girls that dreamed
of being princesses... but instead became ******;
yes, those working parts of you
                           that are quiet, edible.
to write, and see, rather than write, and hear;
that sentence will not actually require
the existential ambiguity of the zoo,
of the enclosure of "     "...
                    i look at existentialists as i might look
at zoologists... prison guards...
      pontius pilates.