<|>

“IF we are each created in His image,
how glorious is the diversity of our deities,
each of us a tiny drop of paint on a tableau
of a small planet, insignificant but
uniquely beautiful intelligent species of godlike creatures,
“deities~human”

<|>

wise enough to know mine philosophical shortcomings,
for they are many,
insufficient wisdom, more than sufficient laziness,
but sometimes even the *o b v i o u s
strikes a rhyming chord,
even so, delving into God’s image
is for the foolhardy,
ergo ipso facto,
I am that,
that fool

but the boundaries of common sense poetry,
offer healthy delimitations,
and as rhe day wanes, eyes go blurry,
I am content to laurels~rest:

I do not count the times,
I’ve called out my beseeching deities,
I do not count the numbers of names,
we have designated and available for them,
or how many I’ve employed, and which replied
or the varied shapes they assumed,
to get my attention,

but this is a poem,
cannot leave you hanging,
if you paid your dues for joining me this far:
the due is due you:


them
(their ONLY pronoun),
keep their answers
short and oft inexplicable,
yet strangely satisfying,
for being a deity
they employ common sense,
and the answers frequently found
on a list of Frequently Answered Questions (FAQ‘s)

the most common response,

“but you already knew that!”

Annoying how my words intrude
Impinge on other's servitude,
Worm their way through personal space
Annoyingly, climb in your face.

Not intended, nothing planned
Tis rather contribution, bland...
Addendum's to a point, well made
Or commentary on a fun charade...
Politics, my personal hate,
Invoking fiery stuff, of late...

But...
No abuse nor personal slur,
Intended, (should the thought...occur?)
Rather just my thoughtless way
Of blundering into the fray???

Perhaps, the reason on the shelf
Lies in that I write...for myself!
Selfish, now (as that may be)
Therein, (unfortunately), that is me.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
21 Sept 2023

The Doctor has a Sense of Humor!

<|>

give a surgeon a scalpel
and an excuse,
and the artist emerges,
for creativity is a good surgeon’s
natural habitat

Sure, sure, there’s a plan,
with best and acceptable outcomes,
but when messing with a real heart,
a sly *****, with numerous deceptive guises
at its disposal, you never for sure never know,
despite all the advanced imaging techniques,
exactly
what you will find once you go
spelunking
in caves of life and death

so, he takes a bit from here,
and a bob or two from there,
there a cut, here an incision deep,
Old McDonald provided a body,
or a canvas, and the Doc
is happy.

So I uncover holes where he
probed, redeploying the healthy,
like a good designer, Doc rearranges
and repairs, a travelogue of splicing and dicing,
his handiwork

Now standing over you for many hours,
can get tiring, though each ***** be
different, unique even, but leaving
a little marker, a stylized signature,
is well, is the rightful discretion of the artiste!

So you can imagine my surprise
when the tubes removed (ouch!)
the bandages ripped off in a
signature move of a delighted nurse whose
loves seeing grown men cry from lesser trivialities,
you cannot imagine my surprise
when I discovered my new tattoo,
upon my chest front and center!

Herein please find your heart repaired,
and revitalized:

Please Note!
We guarantee our work for minimum 15 years
(Aug. 3, 2038),
but our disclaimer
we assume NO  responsibility after that
if you should
happen to live for 30 YEARS or more

Dr. P.

Nat writes:
so many eddies colliding on the surface of a mighty river
yes, there is something otherworldly here
yes, even sacred,
in the finest sense of that overburdened word


Ah, what you speak of is
the very eye of God.

I see it in a Kaleidoscope of color
perfectly balanced yet
confusing all the same,
and the beauty of it!

A chaotic comfort like adrenaline.
The simple confidence of the knowing
held together by a single point of reference.

His bright eye the Fulcrum

o_______o
^

between:
The Sacred and Profane,
teetering in perfect balance
(For now)

between:
Respiration (The In) and Exhalation (The Out)
He resides in the pause between breaths

between:
Air and Water
(The Earth hovers within)

between:
Eyes Open and Eyes Closed
We live and die within the blink(s)

between:
Connectivity and Breakage
(Our true desires at the watershed of)

between:
Out Loud and Silent
(One without the other drives men mad)

Again Nat writes:
we exist,
we edit,
our eddies,
our overlapping lives,
in a never ending series
of Venn diagrams
all delicately balanced
at a single point

So perfectly stated.

The very eye of God.

Here:
https://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=rVKRRzaf21U

<|>

v V v  writes:

“It is quite amazing to me that everything in life, love, relationships, survival, progress, growth, etc. .. it all boils down to some type of sacred balance.. a balance that is extremely precarious, and fragile... even the known universe follows a sacred balance, the seasons, the tides, day and night, if any of those balances slip, we no longer exist.. fascinating and brain bending truth”

<|>

3:27AM

there are somethings you just know

read the words above, without hesitation,
knew therein lay a poem co-missioned
that required instantaneous creation,
as if it was a observable commandment
that need instant gratification,
nay, more so,
a relieving, an unburdening
a lifting of a hearty blockage impeding,
distressing my existence

perhaps
our lives are a life long attempts
to keep
A Balance,
our individual and mutually conflicting
of-all-our-imbalances,
as they intersect and sway,
on a flood plain, ever unstable and shifting,
so many eddies colliding on the surface of a mighty river

yes, there is something otherworldly here,
yes, even sacred,
in the finest sense of that overburdened word,
so oft overemployed that
one man’s overburdened sacred
is another’s overworked profane

but sacred is sacred

at a level just above our collective reach,
is an aspiration, a respiration and exhalation,
we unconsciously try to time our breathing in coordination
with our surroundings,
grasping, gasping, grabbing
for understanding, micro-management of the minutest
current of water or air running contrary to the main current,
that we plunge willingly and willfully into

when we open our eyes
every morning
and confront a new array
of illusions, allusions
and conceive our own illustrations,
and paint our lives and every act
on a corner of fresh page of a giant, ponderous
tome
(or tomb, if you prefer)

I know you understand.

in a few hours, I will rise to
be confronted by chaos and challenges,
armed with bits of strings, tape and bows
to wrap them into a cohesion,
to present them to you,
insert them into your eddy,
and in the froth of poetic collision,
is our constancy of connectivity and breakage,
a perpetual reformation

so that we may
mind-bend into each other,
verifying our mutual dependency
and saying together,
out loud and silently

we exist,
we edit,
our eddies,
our overlapping lives,
in a never ending series
of Venn diagrams
all delicately balanced
at a single point,
forever transitory and reforming
our language of calculus
on a curve of constant change.

“the unbound unbinding: an admixture of words and swords…
that will cut a newborn cord of reciprocity of thee and me,
miracle!
thereby, an unbound binding that ties and frees us from
and connects us nonetheless by our shared senses…”

<!>
these words, recalled well,
for they but a newborn issue of a few days, and the notion of binding that
frees us into reciprocity yet buzz~hums
in my brain

the contradictory nature of a cutting
which ties us together,
that an unbinding binds us even more tightly,
I struggle, to better understand the nature how an unraveling
of our connection somehow ties us closer

but re-envisioning
Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel in my mind’s eye,
that sparking space tween God’s finger outstretched
to bring the enlivening of his spirit to His first enervate, Adam,
the original of we humans,
somehow sates my confusion

to touch each other
at the most primitive basis,
we require a space
between us, in order to fulfill,
a contract contact
of completion and binding

and this bestills and bestirs
my puzzlement,
a space electric necessary
to permit us to
close the human circuitry

!and I am contented,
the contradiction
no more, I sense the
need to close gaps
tween us certify our human resources
for it is the permanent invisible grasping
of our loving minds that transcends
overpowers gaps,
bringing tears of joy to my eyelids,
even as I write these words,
and greet this morning
with
optimism
that every space
brings a richer
closure!!