I'm a bug I'm a little bug and I've got wings like the faerie feathers of humulus lupulus and I've got gilded fractures and they're a silly spiderweb I like to catch myself in sometimes and bounce bounce bounce around sticky wings sticky wings trampoline and here comes the spider he looks quite a bit like I do but he's got far more eyes than I remember and **** do I look tasty tasty let's tie you up tie you up I wanna see you squirmmmmmmmyum scrum didlyumptious

and every strand is embraced by little pieces of ceramic and I'm a broken bowl with biting social commentary sewed back together with the gold leaves of King Louis XV's little harpy harp

rococococococococococococococo

So speaking of the future
is speaking pure fiction
and speaking of the future is fun

but speaking of the future can be horribly misleading and speaking of the present can't be done

So speak love not worry 'cause it'll go down in history

'cause we're here to turn fiction into fact and fantasy into reality

and we're here to write our own story so read love write love not worry

and we're here to spin thought to action so think love know love don't hurry

and the speed of love is as slow as how photons perceive us to be moving...

Oh, unknown chimera
you've ingrown
into my soul
like an inside out follicle
and you've got me burnin
like the Sahara sans aloe vera.

In vino veritas, in aquas sanitas.
And you know how much water there is to go around in the Sahara, so let's drink this fine wine
at least this time, and
let's find the rhyme that
shifts the paradigm.

Lovers do tell,
what's your bother,
whose your very own belle?
It seems you've turned over your shell and are moreover well-done than a sundried brick after church on sunny Sunday.  

And you haven't even
given it a tried and true lick.
Cigarette smoke, ash, and flick.
You only dribbled a little spit, ****, I see. Your dumb tongue stung was my B? Sorry. I guess you won't bother to taste the salt.

Drib drab, drib drab
rub it in my peeling scabs.
Oh my dank dab lung shank,
that's simply ab-fab. Really, at the same time it's everyone's fault and no one's at all. Brick wall fall and

I can't even remember what happened, but I can still remember how it felt...

Well, a nice solid wind and my ******* sails flew. Gotta loosen my belt if I'm gonna gobble up all of your insensitivities.

You can apologize more than a slimy politician, but even a marsh of muculent mucus could make me feel better than you did.

Throw out the key.
I'll leave my door locked, but you're a steel toe boot in the door with eyes sewn shut and I'm a stepped on tail with a high pitch yelp.

Oh my god, I'm so sorry!! Pet. Pet. Pet.

Leave me alone.

cracks in
the surface
spiderweb crisscross
across the frozen eyelid
of the lake

cracks in
the surface
split dendritically
across the ragged planes
of my arctic fingers

capped with
weather-worn callouses

swimming through
my thick hair frosted
with sun drop water crystals
and dry winter dandruff

snowflake scalp fluff
finger fly skin flurries
and I'm a coldfront

I'm a thunderhead
icicle snowdrift
I'm a rolling cloud
ice gale moonmist

trekkin through the
frosted forest with

fairy dusted
smiles and
snow filled
mittens

I'm a
fickleberry
tick tack
pick pack
**** it like a
smoke stack and
poke it with a
thumbtack
through the front
and out the back
and swan dive
into the cork board

leave it for another day
move on forward but
don't forget to stop
and pray

tongue tied
in a knot today
like a cherry stem
tongue tried
quite a lot, I say

to carry them
ever-powerful silly
magic mouth sounds

I went for a walk today.

hop scotch skip skop and
a bubbly trick in the pocket

we can go and
we're gonna make and
we can scintillatingly pop it

silly sunshine faucets

drip drop pop
dripping droplets
of light rain sunstain sundials
spinnin' at a thousand lightmiles
per second and

tasting of crystal pools
from the eyes
of the sun child
quite beguiled,
and certainly not mild,

'cause they're just singin'

they're singin'
radiant pure life bright light
ripple clear glass glisten

clear water shimmer

ripple dimple smile

eyes reached
crowfeet and
shimmertooth
laughter

Fahrenheit of love
carry the dove
to and from
The Lord of peace
and gratitude and
be only what you need
in simplicity to be
as you are and
you exist because
you belong like a bubble of funk
in a soul jazz orchestra and it seems you are suspended with your surface dictated by the outward radiation of your innermost black hole diamond fire mirror sphere and the inward pressure of thousands of galaxies but you are infinitely effervescent, you bubbly buffoon, you take it easy there with your galactic monsoons, you hurricane gale force love storm! you can swirl an ocean into a whirlpool but let's have some fun lets have a lot and with our lovicanes we'll stir the *** till we see fit 'cause you know if you let it sit for too long the **** rises to the top so stir it up don't leave it up to luck you've got to jump into love and fall forever instead of tripping and falling like fickle birds of a feather so untie the tether and we'll go from hither to tither together and we'll make it better every time

"Gratitude is the attitude,"
the fat priest said,
as he was getting ready
to spready his leggies for you.

He was tryin' to
sum up a hymn 'r two
before he finished suckin'
yer cryin' cockatoo

and I don't have to tell you
that it wasn't nice, dude!
'Cause well, you weren't singin' like you used to,
or how he wanted you to, you bad boy you are
confused and forgiven but no longer can you feel innocent,
you're a sinner you ARE a sinner, and He MADE you that way,
in His image he MOLDED the clay, NO! Not 'He'!
Everyone. Every single one.
You.  

**** the use of these patriarchal pronouns in reference to The Great Spore Spitting Blossoming Mushroom Flower that we're all giving birth to and dying from simultaneously and, seriously, I'm a little bit tired of these petty **** terms with which we're supposed to identify each other. You can't define my identity with your silly communication system, that's an internal state that I externalize on command and sometimes not! Sometimes it just comes out, but it NEVER comes from the devil's mouth, unless it's my own **** devil. Give me a new ******* pallete. I pray for a sensitive tongue.

For God's sake we make ourselves and we make each other.
For God's sake if we make ourselves out to be failures, then we are making God a failure, and what's that? Laaame! But what's That?! What's that I feel? Is that some discomfort with the usage of the word 'God'? Is that a lingering connotation from the days of THIS IS WHAT GOD IS, nothing else, NOTHING else? Well **** that too! That's an endless maze you won't find your way out of until you scale the walls! SCALE THE WALLS! I make God in my own image, but I don't OWN the image. You've gotta BE the God you want in this world. Sometimes I do it when I showah 'cause I have the powah. Sometimes I do it when I'm chillin' with the great lake spirit and the great tree dendritic spirit cilia that reach up and out of Gaia like loving arms awaiting a tender embrace from a lover after years of reaching for something that cannot hold them but truly must be BEHELD. And so I learned they are always beholding as they reach.
That there's always more to behold.
And so that's why they grow.
So that's why we go,
it's why we flow.

So let's make it a collaboration.
Let's make it a celebration!
We can behold it all forever.
We can behold it all together!
Well, sometimes. Not always.
We all need space, y'know?
It's healthy.