humility

comes from odd places,
and so oft unexpected,
a comment leads me to
fine lace, of which I see know
nought and naught, and to Normandy and Northern England,
rafting into history

and what the difference is tween
naught and nought (not much)

and my ignorance is stupendous,
really, I know so little about so much, and it staggers me into
wailful willful

and honest

humility

Like King David in the bible, as I grow older, bones grow colder, seeking added warmth  where, how, ever, mechanical, humanoid

Start my day, with a Canadian mug, illustrated with Vincent Van Gogh's Almond Blossoms, brim 19 .oz filled of Caribbean islands blended beans an elixir biblical that soul restoreth, and yet fresh from the *** yet requires 1:30 seconds of maximum additional heating

and I drink it down in minutes few

and go back for another

I know I'm droning on, many of you have escaped looking for pithy
abbreviated angsty desperation that
tumbles out of troubled chests

well you have to just keep on wailing
what no mas?

nope

but u can always hope

sorry this poem joke is in you...
but feel free to microwave me
back

but not consecrated, nothing holy. 'bout me, excluding this bodies holies, by which I blatant blather re
my hole-ies,
the sane same places thru we ******,
intake
expiate
initiate
the most
intimate
intense
purely
human activities
breathing
excretion
speak
see
hear
make love
completely
hell
maybe  the
places
we get


consecrated

**** ain't that iron ironic

or is this just another con
centric to human existence

Britt slang: “to talk continuously for a long time without any particular purpose:”

blame my parents; I do;
the endless poems,
unforgivable; staccato~static,
much preferable! saying things thrice, a plague, a blight; just ain’t right; even extra spaces, a time waster; slimmed and trimmed
my vocab,
by order of constabulary:
doing
away with ******, no if ands or butts; no more pronouns, unnecessary;
who needs them, just use nouns; think of the mega-millions of seconds saved; now called just firsts; got the point? this is what happens, when A”I” inhaled some excellent grass; my intelligence, not worth a pence, so i say arrivedecci, so long, farewell, see ya,
to run on sentences of marathon poems,
timed saved by over poetic~slaving;
stop you plead? show no mercy, ha!
pleeze!
ok ok u big cry babies, saynomora..

**** shame it ain't taught in religious schools, hell, any school
that ain't politically correctable,
and the world doesnt protest that this ius not the 11th commandment, not cause it should be…but cause,
deserves to be

it's a hardscrabble life, like playing Chutes and Ladders,
you think you're climbing the ladder up, slow and steady,
when the chute trips you up, and down on your ****, to
just start all over again...
and once more, you wonder
if
this is worth it all...

down in the basement, some friendlies, pick you up,
even dust you off, take you to Start, even some with large
hands give freely a pat on the back small,
give a slight push of encouragement
to drown out your own shivering sighs of emotional excuses

here's the moral of the story;
you want world peace,
want, no anti-
anything that includes people, and truth can only be found,
marked down, in a charity thrift shop, marked "Bargain!" but
no one wants to buy any cheap
christmas "stuff" slightly
used

you start to think about grand
notions, big ideas, ways and methodologies that coud actually
effect change that migh affect people, and

**** you start wearing empathy
like a tattoo on your forehead
and hell, it attracts stared thst
circumventing into

smiles.  **** .