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Let’s talk about feelings - feelz.
Does anything else really matter?
Ok, sure - health - yeah, right up there.

Covid was my generation’s depression (literally).
Maybe not for everyone, there were places that ignored covid, I think.

We didn’t ignore it, not any of it, not at my parent’s house.
Do I sound bitter? I got fifteen long months of ‘social isolation.’
In most states, you can shoot someone and not get fifteen-months.

At one point, we sprayed Lysol on everything that came into the house. Except the cats.
Anyway, that lock-down mess was reason #1 why I skipped senior year of high school for college.

If you look-up ‘desperate’ in the right dictionary, they used my high-school junior-year photo to illustrate it.

University felt so far, so different from my covid, remote video, no-touch high school life that it was, in the most basic sense, like going to a foreign country.

It felt dreamy, in a jet-lagy, out of sync, science fiction, not part of real-life way. I landed in this wonderland where I didn’t know anyone, or where anything was and there was a different sense of fashion, of music, of freedom and I didn’t quite speak the language (not snack bar, buttery).

It was like there was a soundtrack, that’s how serious it was.

You know how, when you’re intoxicated, you can be half awake and still excited? I didn’t want to miss any of it, I’d rub my eyes to stay focused.

Everything was so stimulating - the sights, the sounds. I had this idea about writing - a fealty to the idea that I could capture the experience and share it with others.

Now, I think that idea was so 2021.

OK, before it’s too late - poetry time!

Now-a-days I feel like I’m in the know
hold on, I’ll I paint the celestial afterglow
uhh, this might take a while..
.
.
Songs for this:
Dreamin' by G. Love & Special Sauce
VIRGO'S GROOVE by Beyoncé
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Fealty: an intense loyalty to a person or idea
The fabric of society dangles by a feeble thread
That trembles with the the heavy weight of anger
And is stretched beyond what possibly
Can hold it all together

Weavers rush to reinforce the ever thinning yarn
But the sheep that usually supply the wool
Are scattered in the meadows of contention
And a worthy shepherd can’t be found.

How long can the tapestry, once honored and revered,
Remain in place upon the walls that form the room
Which shelters us from the visisitudes of living
In a world of hatred and divide.

It must not crumple to the floor, cut loose from
What sustained it through the centuries,
Leaving walls with gaping cracks that let inside
The freezing winds of vengence.

Will there be a place to hide and recreate a loom
In hopes of managing to learn to weave once more
And patch the rends in what was rescued from the floor
And seal the walls of hope again.
                                                         ljm
It just gets worse and worse.
some of us most of us
tucked inside
becoming whiter
chattering
small white teeth
Announcement:

Next Tuesday we will  begin a 19 day
driving trip.  It will start with a 5-day
Laurel and Hardy Convention in
Sacramento, CA and go next to my home
town of Longview, Washington, where
there will be a big annual Jubilee on the
4th of July.  It’s called “Go Fourth” and
it's famous over the Pacific Northwest.
I’ll visit my rogue brother who still lives
there, and later move on to my water
totem, Long Beach - the longest sand
beach in the world and blessedly un-
modernized and citified. From there
we drive to Seattle to get rained on
and visit my sister. Then the long drive
home enjoying everything there is to see
in Oregon, Idaho, Utah and Nevada. I
don’t have a laptop, or e-mail on my
phone so I’ll be out of touch and
relishing it.  But I will be back on 7/14.
I’ll miss you all. Don’t go away.
                                       LJM
This word couldn't have come at a more propitious time.
BLT's Websters Word Game.  Come jin in on the fun.
~
Shoreline sorrow
In the light of grey
Deep water, snowy day
As you tuck your children
Safely in bed, remember
Lake Chelan has a reputation of
Never yielding its dead

~
What is this mania of over the top
self-absorption that appears to be
running amok, this social dementia
annoying egotism, where it seems
everyone is constantly posing and
publicly auditioning for attention.

Cellphones and Social media two
of the abetting culprits, deluding
the populace that constant selfies
a star does make. Get a blog, be a
celebrity, go on TV? Self-promotion
and crass Exhibitionism has become
a vexing preoccupation. Striving for
LIKES and Followers sending and
Trending, seeking the adulations of
strangers out in the cloud that they
will never actually meet.

What happened to modesty, or
self-restraint? Have we all lost
our minds? When did being an
average normal well-adjusted
human become not enough.
When did humility become
undesirably passe? Are we all
truly that insecure?
I feel like I can’t truly call myself a poet
If I haven’t used the word “petrichor”
In a poem before
So here it is
My official entry
Into the poetry “industry”
We waft and wend our way through life
Avoiding complication's strife,
We meld our courtship to the mould
Incorporating righteous hold,
All the while, ***** our head
Until such time that we are dead.

Some abide by rules, absurd
Others running with the herd,
A few deny the Devil's work
Others conjure the berserk
Wherewithal we come and go
As tactically, as best we know.

Some we win, some we lose
We play the cards, as best we choose,
For life is but a gambled toss
Of joyful win or saddened loss
With courage then, we all stride out
In optimism's bouyant shout.

When, at last, the curtains fall
Aloft, we hold, summation's call,
Good or bad, that last decree,
Bears determination's fee.
For judgment's tidal vanity
Is but a ripple, to humanity.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
19 May 2024
A final shout to the Gods!
Time spent, time used up, time invested
in fungible progressing thought conservation,
- a norm is a tool often called
- a carpenters square, it measures many things.

Time taken, per use, used to mean
the point upon which all stored tellings remain
hanging vivacious, lively, spirited

orthographic aches and pains
associable sayings held writ
as ritually chanted fourty days and forty nights
esoterically spelled enchanting mission statements
- chance you changed, by now
- since aim became destination
- only under public misperception
- of enormous advances in governing.
Forgoodness sakes alive,
what holds church
together, integral,
in the center, holding all
there, here, then and now, some how
made real, as if contemplation allows temples
of living stone and multiple minds across times.

Let this mind be in you,
let that which hinders be taken away,
read the writing never written, let be, left shown

artificially made sacred duty to learn, or burn.

That which lets our holy convocation function, lets
our weform in awe become the responding chorus.
Toy selves, all shined up for Sunday socialization rite.

U R, church, your chancery ifery wasery core,
what for, given as good as gotten,
take away and
make up a mind
to use the sense made
to make more.

Profitable for correction, orthoganal, upright
straight, squared away, totally normalized

within the compass of the builder's guilded norm.

Enormity of normal means
for making sense, at grammar's edge,
effectually fervently, in chorus, in response,
four billion breathing enourmous relief
four billion other breathers blowing hot air
constantly, in and out,
not right and wrong, just breathe
responsibly possibly exposing old science,
using ancient ways
to mean mean concepts,
points left to hold whole strains
of long thoughts, tested right uses
long gone
to seed, needful urges, will to learn awe
as new knowers lead to learn for ever's sake,
next comes to be logical instantly, indeed
to hold writ writtenness witnessed.
Wisdom knowing understood,
used, freely, by taken rights.
------------
Actuality reified known really
realizable, in response sponsored by:

The free will subset in the normal range
of the ruliad, whither no thought possible
is lost, indeed, thither on thinking  possible.
Twice. Once right now,
twice then when you look again.

On one point in time we shared,
one idea turned into two,
and thus knowledge
puffs up the clouding curiosities…

known to linger in sacred shadows
from mumbled Latin entrancements
reified, sniff the atmosphere, holy dread
coupled sensuously with incense,
to cover the stench of penitents
ineffectual repetitionings.

Tittles and jots, bits and pieces,
little here right there, little more
a little later,

Sunday is a day of rest.
Fine day to fish in forgetfullness,

flipping pages through past lives,
finding places clearly marked,

this is the way.
All squared away, to give peace a chance to stick a normal abnormal wrong idea exalting itself as holy war according to holy writ. To slay an enormity,
one uses enormous exageration of little bits and pieces. let become words.
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