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Hey there y'all, 😄
How do you now fare, đŸ€­
Please envelop me within, đŸ€—
This affectionate air, â˜ș
Which resides here ever, đŸ«Ą
And may I be eternally here. đŸ„č
I am back, but sorry, For I won't publish, I think, I may??, hehe!
Golden light dims, warmth drifts away,
Yet the souls linger, refusing decay.

Leaves may redden, branches fall bare,
Frost may slip quietly into the air,
But still, the souls survive the turn,
A flame in the ash, a voice that will burn.

Seasons may change, as they always must,
And bodies may fade back into dust,
But souls, once born, will never die—
They rise, eternal, as the souls fly.
We breathe with the wind that stirs the grass,
Tracing shadows as moments quietly pass.

Sunlight drifts, soft and slow,
But, I think,
The souls never learn what it means to grow.
In my thought they must have to learn it,
They must have to die, to respect those fleet.

Why they survive? why they fly?
Is it true? The silken way they lie!
If Leaves may redden, if branches fall bare,
Should they not cry? to tribute what’s fair!
If Frost may slip quietly into the air,
So, why do they not sleep— is it fair?

I think souls just bow where all must die,
Only through this way do they learn to rise and fly.
We all know the answer, clear and plain,
Souls always bow, to break the chain.
The soul has its own part, yet it hides—
Only eternal love lives, while all else dies.
#thought
This is a meditation on life, death, and the eternal power of the soul. It traces the cycles of nature—leaves redden, branches fall, frost slips quietly—and compares them to the journey of the soul. While bodies fade, the soul, when guided by eternal love, holds a unique power: it can rise, break the chain of mere existence, and transcend mortality.

The questioning lines reflect my wonder: why do some things endure, while others are fleeting? The resolution celebrates that true immortality is not in the soul itself, but in the love it carries—the force that survives even when all else dies.

In essence, I hope this honors the resilience of life, the necessity of death, and the transcendent power of eternal love, leaving me to reflect on my own place in the cycle of existence.
Daughter

Sunshine.
You are exactly how
I would describe sunshine.

That’s what you’ve brought
to my life.
Unending light and love

Unbreakable
by any cloud
that might pass me by.
It’s true. My mom always said “she’s so easy to love.” She is my sunshine.
Little fox,
I've come to confess to you

though I know your church is the chicken coop
and your Christ is appetite.

If there is mist up on the mountain,
it's my spirit wandering.

The rest of me kneels here,
before you in the brambles like an overturned cup.

Alone in my bed, I have wondered
why I hurt my lovers, why they hurt me,

but I think it's because
angels are so similar to layers

especially when a spray of white feathers
in the air is all that's left.

Little fox, here is my spirit
riding wrapped around your slender black feet.

Let's test our hearts and pull a wishbone--
you've got plenty cast aside.

If I win, I'll change my ways and skew to kind.
And if you win?

I'll call him, saying let's try again
knowing what will happen, and how sly my words have been.
2025

based in part on the Russian folk tale of the fox confessor
I am the Road, I am the Road
People travel upon me to places near, places far
Some travel on foot, some on horses, some on donkeys
But horses and donkeys have now been taken over
By motorised vehicles, such as buses and cars

I am man-made, not nature-made
For animals do not need me, nor do birds
But human beings do not possess the directional sense
Given to birds and animals by the creator

Animals and birds can find their way about
They don't need any roads to get from here to there
Man, the intelligent animal gets confused, oh so confused
That's why he needed to make me the road

I am colored, decorated and named much like
An Indian bride before her wedding night
Accessories like signposts are put by my side
Much like the jewellery that brides wear

And I am painted in white and black colours
The way a bride is adorned with henna
And like a newborn, I am given a name
The Great North Road, Southern By-pass
And the like

The Eagle flying overhead looks on with amusement
Mancalls himself the most intelligent of all species
Yet without making and decorating a path
He is unable to go anywhere. He is lost
Yet lower species can find their way about
With or Without A Road
This poem is about the importance of a road to us humans
perhaps a subject already well covered. but I consult no one else,
who can expertly summon the artificial artifacts, no better yet,
art~iN~facts of prior expert~tease, and speak only and wholly
for myself, blatant, and openly undisguised

it is the spilling, the upward sensory explosive detonating,
in a pressured chest, the eagerness
to race, to complete,
find the next line, to define, to refine to get the balance tween
elegance and simplicity, to have the ******* sensory totality
of completely having spun off a piece of me and let it free float as a balloon, that may fly to China or get stuck on a telephone pole
just beyond my front door
                                      =============
^ I write this midst the composition of another poem, wherein
unusually I feel the need to pause, collect my thoughts which are bombarding my atoms internal, causing  a new fissionable element,
distinct and unique, my poem
next

If you have not experienced this,
then why write?

Because you know,
it is inevitable
                                 that it will happen

It was always,
The Cure and The Smiths,
That gave bliss,
Rejecting
Wham and Duran Duran.

When you found that certain club,
It was so great,
Minds could relate,
Finding your best mate,
No fighting
Or
Hate.

On the dance floor, with ****** killer and the slippery people,
Better to Byrne out, than to fade away.

The nights were so long,
Walking home to a bird song,
Sleeping until 12.00
How did I,
get out of those clothes?



Song - Freak Scene Dinosaur Jr.
If someday you

break a glass

Remember —

        you

once broke a heart
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