What happens when a hoarder marries a minimalist
I'll tell you what happens, chaos, pure chaos
One tries to hang onto everything, Everything!
The other secretly removing items from their home keeping order

Old copies of The National Enquirer where the truth can be told,
not like the hundreds of Rolling Stone Magazines passing for news and entertainment did they ever change from a one-time underground press they started as.

The minimalist is always throwing stuff out and this purge is not taken well by the one wanting to hold on to everything, and not things that serve a purpose, she is like a magpie collecting shinning little bits as well as old and worn vehicles, cluttering up the yard surely making the neighbours smile... yeah right.

I can't keep doing this, he says, not only to himself but also to her.
Was God a hoarder. I think not. Everyday things go away. Species die none stop, Stars explode releasing boundless energy.
Space expands, more room, the sky looks cluttered but is so vast.

The hoarder and the minimalist. They oh so love each other nothing will tear them apart, they stand their ground, they love each other to the end of time, time and space. This life isn't a race it's a challenge. So they continue to give and to take. Love, it's love.

Try it, you'll like it

Said the man in front
of the liquor store

Chain-smoking
filter-less camel cigarettes

Grinning through
nicotine stained teeth

I would crawl to work
on all fours after a night of heavy drinking,
just to avoid nursing a hangover at home

I hated being stuck at home, what, with all
my furniture bought on credit, living a life in debt.
So again and again, I crawled back to work.

Once, before I knew what and who I was, I found
nothing to question, not that the whole ball of wax
wasn't just a put-on, a big lie, a way to keep me bound.

The language of the living put out their message of peace love and understanding and I'd like to say I immediately answered the call, but that was not to be, not for years to come.

I couldn't stay away from the wicked alcohol without some hope.
I hide myself from any kind of sheltering arms, or full-on hugs.
I held myself back, back to that phony-self that kept me alone.

Finally, after a emotional-breakdown I began my spiritual breakthrough, not easy, just one thing that had to be done, it was a process that 'I am' doesn't always find to be all that fun.

I'll take a handful
and then suffer the consequences.
When will I learn, will I ever stop.
Will I lay my nasty habits down,
or are these just now be my permanent vices.

These days when the
young indulge in drug use
they have to deal with Chinese manipulation,
manipulation of chemicals that can cause death.
How do you like them apples.

Death is something we all face,
or if we don't get cheated of the chance to face it we do.
At least dying of an overdose affords you the opportunity
to have an open casket funeral and you know what they call
an open casket funeral, well, remains to be seen.

I'm the kind of guy
Who never sits on an ugly truth
When the hard winds blow
And the fishing boats are moored
There's few gulls to be found

As breezes go this is a beauty
The combinations of grey's in the sky
The tumbling of trash cans is music to my ears
The slippery streets, a hazard to the unskilled
The lights in the windows become beacons

Lost are the die-hard umbrellas
Seeking shelter under the overpass
They always end up there through no fault of their own
To be in the company of a vagrant wishing for a drug or drink
Something to numb the sounds of the world's howls of transition

People are bound to change.
Friends do tend to leave.
Lovers will come and go.
Family may betray you.
Pain will surely come.
Things will go wrong.
But life goes on.

If he loves me...
...or not...no matter
I will stay rooted in his memory
I planted seeds of my touch, my scent
and my kiss....
My voice will stay in the breeze
Whispering his name through the trees

They remain to germinate within him
When at those dormant offhand moments
He needs a bit of my smile for sunshine :)

I was not
born in the USA, if I were
I'd be tired of the excuses having to be made
from the wars to the dead Kennedy brothers.

And the Martin Luther Kings.
Anyone who brings glimpses of a World for the better.
Those with the current currency that they clutch tightly.
They will never allow things to become worthwhile for all.

How much
of the population
needs to be soul-serious
to speed up the change
away from the love of money
toward the love of humankind.

The system has lost control.
A vote means nothing
An Election means nothing

Everyone around the World
watches on and their juices get stirred.
The Rich talk about a New World Order.

Something has to change,
war will not change it,
hoarding money and power
will not change it.

The only thing that can change it
is you and me. What if they threw a war
and nobody came.

My views might lean toward a simpler
type of socialism, but one fully gutted.
No Rich with their self proclaimed power
to own places and things. To lay claim to the land that belongs to no one.
The Earth and The Sky is the right of all, not any ruling class not any warring class.

Radical you say, well it is the roots that are rotting.

They want us to be divided, unthinking about anything
other than a ******* car or truck or a house we only think we own
Until the time they want to take it from us. Leaving us nothing,
leaving more and more to beg and to curse the cold: Blaming those who have.

Can you see their arrogance thinly veiled with a shallow smile?
Can you see the destruction of this small planet we all share only
when it comes to taking up a bit of space and a little oxygen.
A revolution is at hand but not one of the sword and shield


If anyone is in need of an intervention it's all of us, every last one of us.
Our disregard for life... all life. Change, 'change has come' is flaunted to many
of the mass but many around the world are waking up. They no longer believe. We must keep this Universal tool of Information so most of us can galvanize with the like minded.

Not to play at a thing called Twitter were in my world Twitter is a place
just south of LA where everyone is practising joke writing for the movies
and TV. And most are failing. Real change is brought about by Leaders knowing that real change begins from within. The stronger we become
the more compassionate we look on our world. The more we want change for all.

~for Rimbaud

The same rules
you lived out
still apply:

Drink too much.
Take drugs.
Sleep with
too many women.
Drink too much.
Be irresponsible.
Squander
your money.
Drink too much.
Hurt those
who love you.
Drive them away.
Drink too much.
Overdose on silence.
Drown in solitude.
Drink too much.
Ignore consequences
Go quite mad.
Drink too much.

And then,
of course,
die young.
  - mce

She came to call
And stays most of the fall
She takes the ground floor
You the  one above

The  floorboards creaked under your weight
Driving her wild she'd yell at the ceiling
You thought maybe it was from a hospital she escaped
Any scenario was none to appealing

You hoped for more than this
Trying so **** hard to appease
When you met in the kitchen
You'd ask who this strange person is

Something about her had you sweating bullets
You reached for a tea towel while the kettle boiled
She whimpered and you didn't know what to do
She shrieked and you poured the tea

Around the first snow you saw a way out
Above her you'd shuffle sounding  soft shoe on the wooden floor
Using the wash room you'd pull the seat up and snicker inside
Leaving hair in the sink water everywhere and a mirror that's streaked

Before too long our cards were played
The rooster greeted the morning and her bags were packed
You waited at the station to make sure she got on the train
You waved a gloved hand the sound of the whistle made you free

She will smash
every wine glass,
they are broken
but not her heart.

She will walk barefoot
from room to room
while her feet are bleeding,
but not her heart.

She will drink him up
until her body aches
and her head hurts,
but not her heart.