I am floundering in a new identity
often praise is irksome
it comes with a cost,
so subliminal I'll become, rudderless,
I voyage, comparatively
as a torrent is to stimulating.

On a mat of dust
I veered away
a Parson to my right
the paradigm of a point,
wouldn't we all like to be warm,
rhetorical declination
takes my data's worth.

Benedict Spinoza's  contingency was
grinding optical lenses,
his oeuvre  the anatomy of the soul
turning medievalism on its head
heaven was neither ethereal or earth bound
A brave man.

How your breath feels like a bract
the unfathomableness of  perceptibly,
meanwhile our exististence is as garden clippers
to sundry ladders,
in a chasm we had reason to believe,
but the leaves have long mustered hence
your yellowing hair belonging to in-nobility
often subterfuge is a refuge .

Super cool Shuggie Otis,
play on Strawberry Letter 23!
I hear the waterfalls.

To ride along the verdant road
to seize the moment
these will be our  jocular days,
long threads of silk
bought you to the candy store,
by night we sleep on a bed of  song.
A riot blazing from my sleeves,
But alas this  little lady is already
pining for the origin of this thread
assuredly, such decisions will  be mine alone.

It's my memories, not yours.
Sweet infuriation back in 1975 when,
Stray's "Stand Up and Be Counted".
A summation of how we sounded
hook-laden.
Your wisps of blonde hair have long blown.
Innocence no longer come hither.
The loneliness of urban areas,
too much surface noise.