The lovely daisies
in a row on window sill,
look Up at the sun.

The Lonely Man’s grave
at the bottom of the hill,
“pushing up Daisies.”

Homeless, out of Luck,
Sleeps under a bus stop bench,
Snoring as it rains.

Again—again, swift friend
To our end, again…
We commune to the late dark night,
to suspender tunes, a fool’s distractions
made of bubbling mighty
Satisfaction
in silver streaks
forgetful of our lives’ brilliant signs
Not meek of Right,
Left to respite  & deign.

But that life style
with its surround sound slapping:
steel-hard flesh colliding whilst
a wolf’s eye inside widening to
**** full moons, moons
so pale, too soon to rise…

Again—again, we failing friends
Tribune to these piercing
screams,  shouts of only instincts,
inarticulate
again—just stiff, obtuse sticks
instructed by our wilderness’
Darkening

For not to feel or heavy think,
Its common sense,  so stuff it hard
lick and **** it to submission
until it’s gone—happy—endings:

dispensing wars at the Mission,
eagerness of eagles’ energies
Or in Xanax-shaped tears
melting memories from Rx,
Dine in beads of suffered sweat
Upon your forehead, a mark of X,

Naught to forget…

Again—again, we ravens,
crazed friends from paper cups
sup’ nesting cockholds
syringe-able suspensions’ luck
again—and somehow
through the groin’s gruff
and guile of drug-induced *****…

Again—again, commenced
Love-lost ***-lust
we forget to “be”

Us
again if only friends amok
our eyes off to the shadows, flee
on walls written on bedroom showers
greasy with gristle
and regretful towers
powerful stink whilst spits
illusions...

Again—again, tell that friend
Without refusing
us again, our spinning life
begin again—we clones commune
to the late late nights
numbing the looming doom
our wool’s worth & boon.
Libra scales and afterlife
Oh the tithes which bite

To the Lateness of darkest Night.

The serpent will eat it’s tail
Let’s see who lives to tell
The tapestry swallowed befell
Worship like a wish in the well,
Hollow echoes hell’s farewell.
Time ends without eyes beheld
Light unseen love life to sell
Humanity upon the serpent’s tail
Let’s see who lives to tell.
Here’s hoping all hearts compelled
For there’s a crack on Liberty’s Bell.
Oh mother ******* well, oh well...
All hail to dead mother *******
All hail!

Families poor, most are quite similar,
Island girls, fish out of water, to be delivered
Looking for saviors at continental breakfasts,
Illegitimate legacies off shore, sailors deny guiltless.
Pining mothers turn mail order brides,
Instant family in the land of Milk and Flies,
Nearly always end in divorce, of course the poor stay
At the poverty line, it’s the great divide, unpaid debt.
Still, a third world country our mothers can’t forget...

I admonish myself

Must devise a plan
It takes steps to move forward
It is said
One foot in front of the other
And at the end
Of my rope,
All I can muster is hope,
Wish like prayer
The words do nothing.
I can only save myself
And my soul is something
My Goldmine to protect.
But god how I thirst !
For a breath of true,
A life of worth.
At the end of my rope

I admonish myself.

(I hope)

Crackersfrack!
Crackers Fracking barrels
Where family eats
Got diabetic farming gasoline
It’s a franchise made
To give disorders
The Web did not free all men
It’s global gone viral
World wide sky net
Complaining to the same machine mean
They will not listen
Crackers Fracking barrels
Don’t **** where
We sleep
When we close our eyes
What is seen inside
Inner void
Burnt
Black
Stuck on black
Not so easy
Sunday mornings  Faceless nation
Of unreal politics’
Scapegoat housewives :
Mothers once beloved, Those olden days
Parasols in the sun :
Spin doctoring our lives...
Crackers Fracking our lungs :
Deforestation asphyxiations,
Marching drums...

(World Peace Now !)

Poetry
Consider it / Art
Upon a different kind of canvas.
Paint colorful the words
That weep brushstrokes
A masterpiece of true blue

Fool, let your words flow
Your virtual canvas imbued
With learned mind aglow.
A light tower on the Hill
Picturesque poems
Low and On the down
Low and behold
The rhyme of stone willed.
Still Art / life / on canvas
Of a different kind...
Paint colorful the words.

Yours is a tapestry.
Grapes ripe on the vine.
Be the Art
flowing like wines,
Drowning in the emotions.
Oh poetry.

Never cease the heart
Live loud your Love
an act & the Art.
You are
Poetry.

Wonderstruck by amazing feats,;
Oh my goodnesses, outrageously.
What a ******* mess!

Ubiquitous like the River,
Running yet stands still
From higher climbs, rapids spill
To the ocean, then sky delivered home,

Life is like the river, ubiquitous
Ride the flow and bends, hurt and mend
The dips and turns, calms and storms
The changes ever shifting, like growth,

Like you Unquenched, wanting more
To your own life, a nothing,  ***** in glamor...
Never can ride the river twice
Each time it’s new and yet, in hindsight

Thirst stays the same, life like
The deeps with rogue wave Tsunami
A thing in two places at once
Life here then gone / Kamikaze

Elsewhere after / Let us run like
The River, ubiquitously.
The soul is a river, running to the deeps...
To sweet home’s perfection. Absolutely,
At peace.

Body Language

Curiosity Speak!—your mind,
And answer me this…
What is beauty unseen? What’s beautiful to the blind?
In a dark space nil
Of light, what’s beautiful to eyes
Without / in /  sight...

Maybe something like a kiss.
Like being naked in an embrace,
sweat-wet in afterglow bliss
All afternoon helping hands.
Something like summer’s falling
rain upon your face,
Like toes in the cool sand,
Youth’s flavorful heatwaves
Summertime friends.

So, What’s beautiful
Even in the fog, perhaps a Taste ?
whether it’s his or hers,
Sun, moon, and stars burst
from a far far distance
Can’t mistake race for face
Or the color of sin,
Your skin when blushing
After then again
You and I
Another in another.
“Yes oh my god yes!”
That color of afterglow when
Making love
maybe that’s
what’s up…

Mr. Sentimental
Perhaps luck, as a gift,
Could be nice
Like on birthdays!
Presents to the blind, still only boxes
Can’t they see, how sadly funny,
The pity of
Beautiful company, Drunken happy songs,
A puppy in ribbons!
Your new Seeing Eye Dog.
A warm fireplace,  crackling of the logs,
Music from the tele…
holiday sing alongs,
With full bellies…

Mother’s sounds in the kitchen,
Whinging and *******’
Whipping up her onion soup.
Memories though maybe loud
Ugly proud
They’re beautiful too,
Recollecting the times, remembering
Without a view, the bright
Sunny days, long dawns,
Beautiful like…
Hot &  Sweet
The Mesquite tang of barbecue
Get togethers.
The laughter of Gays.
Getting lost in a kiss.
That’s all  beautiful and good
but to the ignorant without mind
Remiss of eyes inside,
where soul alights as it should,
Like love

In the hood, pop up chop shops,
Morning glory ****** wood,
Wands as hands make wish as
Eager, reading Braille, this
Is it grace in haste,
Is it bliss?

Like being embraced. Wanted.
Weeping deeply wanton, be
thankful.
for a simple feeling,
Like Life.
In a blink
Your eyes, depths of it, inside
Captivating
That’s what’s

beautiful.
Like touching, shuddering,
Inside the shape of ****
You.
Another in another
Once again.
Blind/ Life—beautiful,
That’s what’s up
—your boo, that’s who,
Trust not lust
That’s what’s up! It’s true.
Eyes closed, in the dark,
Feel your way through.
Naked, Making love,
To the blind—that’s

what’s up
beautiful.
You.

I bet you got some.
Some real life crazy-****
Stories,
The honest happenings of you
Some sort of neighbor, stranger
Danger
Mouse tell us about your maze
Or the cheese at the end
Was it a breeze to go fig, what then?
*******/ go Blow down
like some straw house
Built by some smart pigs,
Squeal speaking high pitched
Bacon and the digs, have tea
Before feeding the Wolf,
Full of Hungering maledictions,
Tell a story that won’t bore,
For silence given,
I’ll lose the bet, for sure.

Imagination oftentimes must color
Our day to day
The COVID Threat still news
Distract us, hold our gaze
You fool, sing or prance,
Dance In
The blaze of glory
The story of raising hell /Crazy Life ****
Stories
we Truth and dare,
Live to tell, learn to care.
What’s your story?
O Do tell...

A Barbarian and a poet meet at a Bar
One who romances, one who cries for war,
Surreptitiously by chance encounter
Drunk Heine’s kicked out by Bouncer.

The big galute of a brute amused,
Turns to the poet
Asking
“How can flowery rhymes or such Lovers’ words
Ever defend against a hoard at the door
hell bent on ******?”

The poet barely shrugs saying:
“Why ask a poet who longs for kisses
From prospective lovers,
who can’t defeat his own heart
Or gain favor, Wishing cops stop Shooting,
the Streetwalkers —Carry on home.
Alas alone When we all depart…”

The Barbarian is snickering,
a guttural “Eh heh heh, ha ha…”
Poet without a crowd
Continues speaking but all the more
Performed,
Loudly out loud.

“Oh my Frenemy!  The War!—it’s not
to win in games of Men,
Become a king, be worthy of your Ken and
kingdom, the people...
   In life’s journey find yourself, perhaps
On another’s lips, in eyes—longingly looking at
You
Finally being Seen.”

(Dead air’s awkward silence.)

“Hey ****
What’s the difference between
a barbarian’s plunder &
a Poet’s passing Fame?

(The big Lug only shrugs.)

“Shakespeare is known by Name.”

“Now, Who the **** are you?”

Viper-whisper utterance,
A Psst! Past Bedtime, hey!
Monster under the Bed, ******!
Or are you in the closet?
Or just a figment in my head?
Shoo! Scram! Snake and shadows!
Every Fear, Darkness grows, I will let go.

Vamoose!

Poetry is finding beauty
Even among the broken,
To speak your thoughts amusing
Writing down the words like music
Feeling token kinship, one life one love
Poetry is flow, your heart’s beating drums,
How far your river runs.
Poetry is a home in the Sun.

Once upon a time, since upon the earth, creation:
Bright flash of lightning, inflagrations,
When Life was chaste and newly born
Upon all the face of the world
The fertile fields and skies
The oceans of flora and bluest seas
And shores bursting with life.
All the beasts they yield, the fish and grapes
Crushed by men to wines
The winged things in flight, the schools which swim,
Leaves that spring and blossom
creativity, divine.
Life Thirsts / Love Dies
In flesh and bone no cherubic clouds,
But husks of chrysalis, olden days‘ thunder roads.
Tears upon the face
In the Eye.
Upon a time, Once
The light of love’s divine creation :
Fireflies
At dusk
Spontaneously combust.

New
To this plasticity,

Grey matter in a nimbus
Mind as infinitely hollow as
A galaxy or dungeon deep dream
Lost to the starlight oblivion

Of distances we place
In the familiar / fealty with our touch,
Our human gravitas,
Spirit and superstitious will,
Heavy by testaments, those old teachings still...

And yes, war has been our
Problem-child
And like the parents that we are
In these days, digital,
We are unwilling to accept the prognosis

Nothing more can be
Poured into a vessel,
Nothing more can be fed into the flame,

If ash and black
Lift into the sky…
It will be alien

To even try to
Resurrect another age.
When there is no warmth or
Use for light
It’s a world unbecoming
alien…

The spaces within, spacial spaces
Of places that deface & remake us
Though each race—a different god,
What is man without life or being / loved.
What is nothing without our fear
The special midnights standing here
The light fills the eyes bright with love,
Wonderfully my dearest dear.

Drink half your glass / before walking out /
The door to your house /
Lets the spirits / know you’re home.

One of few
words that has no other definition
but itself both
written and referenced
with many synonyms similar
a muse universal and familiar
adds shade for heated
hearts all quite
Red
like a rose
it is it's own unique beauty,
long stemmed
Thorny
Blood red
Love
it is nothing but...
everything.

not Lust or Covet, for they are too brazen
and carnal with their hunger
unlike Love, which fills the need
steadily--in time, relieving the craving,
leaving contentment
then feeding others without requirement
of payment...

not Adoration or Crush
because they are still children
without the understanding
or capacity for self-sacrifice
which Love is familiar to
like years unconditional
this trust is a marriage between
naïve and wise...

not Passion or zealous Desire,
due to their one-sided tunnel vision
without compromise or sway,
almost indifferent to all else
but the prize at the end;
for Love has its eyes in everyday
at all times in your corner

not Like or Fondness, for they are weak
in emotional life,
half devoted and half way gone
waiting for the other
to finish a simple thought
indifference is not a line to cross;
because Love cares for both
itself and yours and all others
"love thy neighbor as thy brother"

love is willing to carry the weight
always keen to always wait
no matter how long
or how late...

It is so wonderfully loyal
Love is
at times often motivated
by a blindness for only it's devotion;
but true Love
does not worship
and sometimes must let go
to preserve its integrity,
for if it is real
it will return with more fuel for the fire
to light the warmth of our hearths
higher...

Love commits fully
even unto death, whether star-crossed
or over time's deepening breath,
it is defined by each
and all
it's own victory and story...
Still,
a difficult thing,
to fall in Love
and never fully understand
not a word refuse
Not one but Love
Recused

A difficult thing…
To know love is true by
How your heart breaks
Letting go
A most difficult thing...

Often times when reading the messages
poets metaphor in rhyme,
in unreason and allusions, imagery
indiscriminate discriptors

they say the same thing--as if they all of 'em took
a class together on love
they say that it’s unreal
That “love is relative..."
relative to what?

to whom or how or when?
like a family member twice removed,
an aunt, a grandmother's warm smiling
invitingly familial
be it an impromptu emotion, all grandiose
and Hollywood acclaimed,
love seems unseemingly
     obscure
     demure
     fickle at times
     wishful
     blissful
     fervent even
     magically
     restless
     with its deliciousness
on and on so it goes / without saying too  much
how it will breathe
new life into those
     lackluster
those without
yet who are
     consumed    
     hollow
those without hope, suddenly are given it
     anew
     vividness
     An energy miraculously appears,
In HD the world is seen / absolute brightness
faultless and star-filled
     clear..

Yet it well can cause
our worst of fears
of wars / casualties / gruesome endings
   tragedies
   :a movie
with Shakespearean poetic pain,
the pentameter of the mortal heart
   sonnets of our human condition
   :a documentary
   of life
   conflicted
it is a cause many have and will bleed
for, some even die for,
searching and reaching out
whether in vain
or suffering in the pain find
awakenings
Then again
that's what it's all about ...

it is relative, to what or why
in life,
     pragmatic,
     fractal
human feelings reign -  yet a populace
of loneliness, millions of neighbors
never extend an open hand or invitation
so love can be difficult to find

in the sea of Man,
of many  a world separated
it strikes like lightning, they cliche
     quick
     unannounced
     unstable
it happens without warning, cupid's arrow
hits, descriptively it must be a wound..?

yes / yet no / unknown

it has begun: an end
to a means - a chemical thing
(hypothesized
in scientific circles,
I guess
just one of those undefined
Unexplainables)

like crop circles
in the wheat fields of the heart /
sometimes / it is
unpredictable
Then appears
Somewhat
              obscene
     wild
             flavorful
     rigid
     rarely mean
     spirited
     ferocious
at times... fiercely
      all while
Still / timeless...yet
in nature's laws
of strength versus luck,
small prey to a predator : eat or be consumed,
love is not recognized (or is it?) by the animal

It’s mate and procreate in the simplest terms.
Does a shark check out it's female before it decides
to release his *****--take it on a date, a swim in the riptides?
a bite of sushi first?

Empress bees and others with their queen-ruled colonies
birth a world from one,
does she feel the same for her thousands of husbands
fathers of her millions of children spawned?

love is relative... love is blind
another descriptive fallacy
invented by folk without husband or wife or vision
universally
known in these modern communities
of man-made homes
and tomes ...
blind ... as if like a person, the word
unable to see,
inept of decisions, making a finale,

who will stay by the miens of our simplicity
flesh and feelings
     silent servants
     beguiling
     hidden
     treasures

Now imagine lightning striking
     suddenly
     real
     unabashed
     fulfilling
     electrifying
     sensual  
     salivation
far beyond restrictions of the flesh/ *** /
past times and her finite
musings, they say it will go on and on

"forev'a ev'a? forev'a ev'ah"

And so it goes / the song repeatedly plays.
so then i say, as long as we are
still the masters
of this life's age, kings of consciousness,
of intelligence and rage
Love tho'
     fleeting
     Careless
     Whispers
It’s like
     Being
     Liked
     Obsessed over
     quenching kissed
All yours
     lessons-learned
Feeling aloft in flight
Love
will stay  
as a witness to war
or afterward in peaceful days,
O the one true thing
I have seen of love's relativity:
love is relative to humans

To our
Very being
whether blind or whether seeing
It’s yours and mine
Soul seeking

Free of will & full of meaning
Love is the truth
All Life is feeling...

(Never say never…)
She says never, I says wat evs.
If never ever were Always and forever,
We’d be ****** now, upside down side ways,
All the hours of night and all day, never say
Never ms. Clever
You’ll only miss out, make your ***** swoon
Without a doubt, I’ll swim your
Summit’s warm lagoon.
Never say for whom you’ll die,
Upon your doom, no eyes, nor light of  insight
Never is a deep dark well
It’s an empty wish in a starless night,
Never said by dead but soul in flight
The truth no word can speak
But do unto you, what’s good and right...

Uncertainty
Is that last step at the edge of
Your precipice,
Is it the end—does it with
Your footsteps?
Sometimes we look back
Footprints in the mind
To know how to move on
Where we’ve been,
Who we find / finish lines...
Amust journey to begin
Don’t let dark thoughts give in.
Be certain
Who/what makes you happy.
Know that there’s no contest
But yours to win.
No worries just breathe...

[Be silent. Listen...
Stay true. Live Free.
(Throw four sheets to the wind.
Find self make peace.)]

Desert black birds caw
The hellish summer / outside
Loud thin malnourished looking
Sin city birds / squawks & screaming sirens
Outside in the cooking heat
Our global warming...

They have an intelligence To them
Don’t you think?
Those things outside, look inside
Their pitch beady eyes,
Inside they’ll see us coming
Little black flyers thinly quilled,
Scrawny birds,
Looking as though dipped in
The Valdez spill...

Yes, we have met before
Steel of will
The blackness of a desert / cooler at night.
Don’t get those birds all angry, aight?
They have a keenness to them
Little black buggers
Outside in the heat of Cruel summers...

Beach ****** cohorts, march boulevards,
Steel willed from the heart, Love’s wounds
Spilled sprawled out...
Homeless haberdasheries
At home to roam, For some unknown,
Reasons they lie / outside /
Who let them inside ?
Fly black birds, fly!

(None shall suffer alone.)

How do the blind among us seeing
Stoic eyes wide mimicking awakenings

How can poetry be greatly felt
With words to shape more words don’t help.

How water is the shape of love
That we drown in its deeps, a hollow rain.

Hence fire is the shape of pain
It’s roaring loudly inside, outwardly howling

Heartbreak, explosions—concerning yowls!
The sounds of our emblazoned lives.

Thoughts : the shape of thunder, time.
Emotions we made to blame, then shades of

How, we only but admire,
With words to shape the soul’s attire.

We howling creatures brief,
What is the shape of words, belief —in

The End?

Two hours past midnight,
Vaping meek puffs of Lake Tahoe OG,
Perusing shadow poetry
In the insomniac silence there’s
Humility, itself is voiceless,
Isolated as any deserted isle
like a rogue lone wolf
uneasy among the bison herd
A beta Charlie uncertain
Lacking know how, of course
The dog should be humble,
Instead of caterwauling distant sorrows
Pining at mother moon,
Smelling the crisp morning fog
For father’s wisdom
Commands of a great alpha.
Drowsy as twilight streams through
The woods,
The lone wolf falls to sleep
Hungry
Beside the sequoia tree,
A deeper lesson in survival.
There’s a humility Found in silence,
Ever be so humbled as A lone
Sleeping wolf
So hungry...
like a poet for starlight,
Still unwritten a life
One becomes...
By each humorous act
Get what you give,
I am humbled to have
Begun to live.
Loud is pride, from windows inside,
Make a wish
Dream A Dream in silence...
        oh humility...
        Oh Hubris...

Babba wants to collaborate
Challenge us
Or fill the time inside
This Ethernet space with poets
Online reading
Most mundane thoughts in
Print, scripted...
poor Babba endentured to shake
Our minds artistically
Challenging us to words
Chaperoned by still Life
Pictures.

“It’s okay to...”
(Looks like whiskey and a leather bound
Bible, presumably.
Not red wine, But an amber gold tincture  
In a glass chalice
Dominating the book
Standing over it, almost a shadow)

It’s okay to...
To drink while reading bibles?
What are they driving at?
True to the word—don’t speak
But with meaning, like life, getting
Tickets for speeding and lies.
Betting on drunk,
scriptures they imbibe.
It’s okay to...?

I am the Eagle with wingspans
Of impossible delights
Who argues with it it's flight
Incapable to be free
In a sky without the Light.

I am now a ghost
Here reading poetry
Its once living years:
A breeze through eyes
Filled with tears;

I am the gargoyle pacifying all fears
Past the darkest night.

This is a wish, a kiss, deep
A hopeful sigh;
Hands bound, fingers clenched
For Love to deliver me
From here/now
To a place called perfection.
Beyond
Infinitum.

“I am fish/sparrow”
Swimming in the in-between
Looking to always see.
No end to the ends…

Sunrise and free.

Clamor and climb the city life
Lovely nightlights of needles & towers
A beacon bright brightly flashing flashy city
Miners minstrels & playthings, all that glitters...
Break for the Meadows, its inns & outlaws,
Each hot breath of loss, another moth.
Roll the Die in neon fires—it’s paradise lost.

I'm gonna smoke me some ****,
Please Cannabis please!
It's almost August in the desert,
The rotisserie heat
The days a covid convection oven, it drains the body
Exhausted,
But unable to fall to sleep.
Gonna smoke me some
Cannabis
An indica called
Green Dream.
August in the desert...

No matter what stature
Small matters
Be the bigger man

Tell them laughing
Around at you

"My thumb's bigger than Tom's.
So is my *******!"
Flip 'em the bird, man...

Or you could be the wiser, bigger man,
The better man
As small as you are

No matter the size
You're a star!
Man...

J is for jumbalaya.
Down south, East coast, tornado alleys--it rains down
Houses, couches, and vehicles
Twisted wrecks
Everything including
Hell's kitchen sinks.
J is for jumping Jehoshaphat!
******' A, it's so fracking Hot
Just goes to show,
Gobal warming is no joke,
J is for just desserts
After the burn,
Everything on Earth.
J is for jumbo sized hurt.

Can you hear that sound
Like a tiny whining
You're a sad eyed puppy
Inside
It's a kind of yearning
When pining
away, wanting someone or something
So expensive beyond reach
The mind begins to fantasize what it's like,
Infantilize what's real life.
Enlisting unreasonable scenerios
Creative now with lies
And denials and exit strategies,
Scapegoats of close members of family, accusatory..
Blame all but yourself
Inflammatory story's demise
Because the lost moments spent
Pining away
Will die unknowing your real life self.
Inside that fog of fictitious false depictions
Who dat?
Starving yourself blind
See there on that podium
Your bad phat shines
Always in first place--gold medal favorite
Hooray it's not quite you or even true.
If pining were a sport
Having lost your minds
You'd all be winners.
Celebrity famous, go on
Crave being extra, so street savvy
"Hey Alexa, Google, Suri
Define obsession."
Pining turns dangerous
In absentia dysplased
Souls are stolen,
Human replicas.
Still carrying on pining
Away.
Killer lover blank.
Got brain? Bullets?
A shiv or Shank?
Sharp as a pine tree...

(Please,
Don't forget to give
Thanks.)

I is for the intonations
Invitingly as human
Imagine our imperfections' illusory connotation
As derivative as medications
For dreamless infarctions
I is unimportant as the quarks
Our atomic precipices
Sleep hence frightening
Mad unrestlessness
I is for irksome individuality
Askance and inhumane
In conclaves of murderous murmurs of erudites
Godly Invictus convictus
Power Interest can't reverse dust
Indivisible I
Is for interference,
Incarcerated indemnity
Futility of cages.
I the innerchild rages,
The living planet ablaze
Heaven lost in ashes
A maze of biblical haze
I is for indifferent
Intoxicated in ****** traipsing
Lost to immovable beliefs
Ashes of illusions
Masters of dust.
I is for the inexplicable
Imperfect human love.
Indivisible.
In who's god to trust,
Soul sucker preacher?
I is for illuminations
Truth as teacher.
Light life proven
Man still individual
Dangerous a shrewd
Creature.

They say, in country songs' cliche: live like you're dying.

I say *******! Would rather live like I was born yesterday.

Loving the world anew...
What say you?

Zero, I am, my own helpless hero
Illustrious a lion, fish, or flightless swift.
Leaps, longing to swim deep sky, fly higher ocean.
Chastising shadows in box-room: bird, caged.
Having nothing leads to hating everything.

Weeping waifs’ diluted diary

A sleeping dragon’s cloud, bleeding soft blues

Taming beasts with brush and stroke of hues.

Efferent pastels to demure flower with wet elation’s

Revered soft pining of colorful jubilation,

Canvas of new, on blind white fields

Of untouched imagination, whispers, bends.

Longingly the colors bleed, the heart ascends.

On painter’s opus--deeper seas, the vivid soul’s

Recollection, rain drops, splash of heaven.

Silken gossamer dreams of us there & then.

Clumsy in Mom's heels,
Curious toddler wanders
Clown-faced, smeared in rouge

Maladroit dans les talons de maman,
Tout-petit curieux se promène
Visage de clown, enduit de rouge

Science
Conscience
Sentience
Conciously
Psyched
Scions
Sensuous
Sensing
Sensationalized
Emotions' emoji
Sighing
Feelings
Love / nascent.
No science
Simon saying
Wake up
Senses
Conscious
Conscience
Sentiment
Loving Life
All (human) feeling
Alive here
Here!
Science is silent.

Connections.

The ends we face
Has a face of a clock
With hungry ticking hands

Loss is a shadow which fades
Like all mortal things of men,
In time, lost in ill thoughts,

Over time's mindless swallowing
Each second, hands minutely giving

Minutes to hours men forsake
For they are
Aging, passing as quickly
As the days
Lives looking ahead
Regretful of yester--
Years wrinkled on faces

Mortality: a wink of a wrinkled eye
Blink & You may miss
At the end, face it.

All hungry things
And wrinkled hands
Of clocks,
At the end - never again.

(A Hungry thing).

Lovers often times become enemies, be friends first before that.

Selfishness is akin to jealousy, do not covet our love.

Not a jealous god--since jealousy is a mortal thing.

It's Your fault that I love You so **** much.

I know them ties
That bind. The chain necklace noose
The invisible leash
I never knew
How tightly it keeps
How riptide-like
We're pulled back to
Window shopping
Outside
Myself, without self-help
Freedom cries out
For what's beyond
Outside the window
I'm familiar with that pain
Intimate with that feeling
Of Free
To be oneself
Yourself being
Alive without living
Without the chains
Necklace noose
Your very spirit let loose
Was close to that
Feeling of
Free once
I know...

* *

We are shaped into feral creatures in this wilderness of artifice, cages and boxes,
Hearts and minds locked away, dismissed
We are pages without fonts or even thoughts, graphics
Of our own, uninteresting rocks
Heavy yet empty…
We are made into Other
******
Rather than
Our selves / paths chosen for us to be theirs…werk.
We are the beautiful shiny toys
In cellophane, with Invisible leashes
Unused young and new
Until age flashes and crashes
Replaced by something that looks like
Who?
Are you still You?--to You?

Beyond the Ort cloud
Awaits interstellar space,
The great dark empty

The vast void between
The Galaxies--dwarf planets;
Life dies to follow.

Time lies beyond us
All we get are quick snapshots
Rings and the Red Eye.

Beyond the Ort cloud
In the deeps 'tween galaxies
Time's great distance sleeps.

Good Night Cassini .

What would Jesus do?
Let's not assume.
Just stay True.

He's looking for Snipes,
Gone is the love of his life
Steering him towards home.