Tickle my fancy
And I will praise you
Well
Flatter my ego
And I shall return
Often
Even at a high price
To earn my obedience
But convey me to a state
Of comfort and ease

     I am yours

Shall we stand
Upon the brink
And gossip about those
Others?
How they live, and smell
And talk?
It keeps our minds
Off of the pain
The death, the sadness
We wish did not exist
But does
Sooner or later
We must see
If we do not look
Voluntarily
Something, somehow
Will force us to
Unless we die first
Which happens quite a lot
Actually

He is never where they look
Unless by accident they pierce him
The communal streets are crowded with the dominant
                                                                                        pattern
Happy happy as real as it can possibly be
He is not there with them set in time and lock step
Curiouser than stubble on a young girls cheek
Like **** of a boar hog
Not able to leap anything
Just a drop in the bucket
The bucket in the ocean
And its ocean all the way down

An emotional choice
Can last many years
Intuition expanded greatly
Is schizophrenia
Blind obedience
Generates hatred
Rejection of death
Distorts truth
Into lies
Habits are often named
Laws
Believed superiority
Comforts
As it rots the soul
The beauty of god
Awes and shames us
Into fear and trembling
Unless we know ourselves
As part of it

Prior any part of that which we are
Became,     it      was, and     it      discerning a
Fluid unity of flesh and force, yearned.
Thus forms a thoughtless weight of meat, cast to
Diverse function, inanimate, approved
And warmed in     its     heart. Soon, amid designs
Laid one upon another throughout the
Vast and vicious course of what has been, passed
From the first to the next to the next, a
Spark of breath flows through this latent structure
Striking a strange and mysterious grain, which flames.
This energy, this current, birthed to self-
Endurance, surges in the blank abode,
Touching flesh to empower, then conform.
Flesh, now animate, reacts, then acts upon
The force, shaping and shaped. Continuous
Now, till disunity, the wondrous
Dancing, co-fusion called life, occurs. Thus
Created, stands the first level of our being.

To think, or not to think, that is the question.
Shall we draw from out our thoughts the nature
Of the universe? Or shall we grant the
Pressing flow of life's instinctive drives to
Shape our world? Tis a riddle of some magnitude
More subtle than it seems. Our days pass on
And on from infancy and piece by piece
We do amass a store of knowledge so
Vast it does far surpass the threshold of
Our competence. But nature, or God, or
He or She or it, whom we know not of
Yet love and guess upon, has shaped a place
Beyond our conscious realm which treasures all
That's passed before us. And truly, this vaulted
Depth of being is a source of clear wisdom.
Yet the delicate threads of thought ascending
From this center often twist and turn and
Break upon encounter with the tumult
In our lives, and to purge this loss of knowing
Swells a force within out bodies which informs
Us of the impasse, called emotion. And though
Many are the pleasant ways this power
Blooms among us, so many are the painful
Ways this power gloom's among us.

What madness may come    
What madness of delicate errors
Tinkerbelling
What madness of pith throbbing
To the chord
Umbilical to the sea madness
Legendary feared sought addiction drug
Of life madness
Of heroes of hope of mind of kind
Of dirt of stars of see of blind
To God to god to man to woman
To child to care to worry to near
To live to die to save to fly
For money for joy for pride for boy
For girl for gold for past foretold
For madness called love never dies