Simple Simon met a pi man,
on his way to a Renaissance Faire,
not Bunyanesque vanity version, all inclusive,
full-on Pro-verbs Solomon is said to have used.
Ecclesiastically, on all three hundred wives
orally interpreting the Song of Songs,
all is vanity and vexation, so undefinable,
what does it all mean, all reality hinged here?
Love is a verb, Wisdom is a domain of ways.
Life is a global process probably imaginable
in more ways than minds could imagine prior
to ten years ago or so, last time Trump presided
in the shade of the aluminum pyramid,
rooted in civic blessing, political legitimacy,
and a philosophical commitment
to nation-building.
One nation, under God, since 1954.
In my cell, in my realm of ask our memory, do
I recall in context the sequence of events upto
and including when you there dare read thus,
confident confirming solidstate, we remember…
if included in refied known knowns, old lies
lingering in legality religiously persistent right,
we acknowledge truth used frees believers,
fi, fee, force me to make thee pay attention
that is the blood of an Englishman, smell
the rot in old Cotton, the lie held so I know so
those with not a thread of recognition, best listen
we weather storms as a matter of course, belief
before the mast, belief is knowing each knot,
and each peg and each twisted hempen cord.
Faith is knowing what you're about to prove,
the truth holds, because old knots work… not
by faith, you see, we walk, not by sight,
we are the truly faithful, we are led by the blind.
Yet, at rest, zazen, breath aware left be we see.
Hold high thy holy book, we are ready readers,
open our ears that we may cogitate with old Zeke
Riddling Ezekial, down
at the levee by Chebar canal…
AS IF TRUTH IS ART officially art is spiritual,
not religious, nor wearying when wondering ifs
twist left or right on the axel as it crushes us
completely lost egoic story, this is us
And if that is not enough…
the damnedfool story runs on as if alive per se.