some information cannot be found – you can only originate it. facts are often recycled in attempt to clear a logjam that has prevented us from finding ourselves. when i look at the billions of directions my life could have taken, you have to admit we're a very tough bunch, because, who else would have tagged along at this point? we're a recipe for disaster, but that's alright, because we already racked everything. we're bottlenecked. we're deadlocked in ourselves, and there's no way out.

strength cannot be given – it is only self-acquired. we can think of ourselves as vessels of change, but it won't be gifted to you. it has to be done by yourself. it's a real grabber. and once we take it to heart, it works.

axiology—the study of judgments. choice is so vital in postmodern culture, there's a whole branch of study attributed to it. should i take this opportunity, or should i decline it for another? should i rear success with my horns, or wait ecstatically for it to poke me? should i recline, take an easy ride, or work for it? – no matter which outcome, you're still going down the drain because you haven't established the most important part (yet).

i am struggling to understand economics, as well as applied mathematics. wall street certainly does not hang easy for me, but there is more to discuss than stocks and bonds. society has put us in stocks and keeps us in ******* – that’s wall street for you! there are still certain mysteries, such as you cannot put a negative number inside a radical. and all parabolas will have a reflecting twin, no matter how you look at it.

i fell asleep to a black and white movie, and it was still playing when i awoke. however it was in colour. i rubbed my eyes and sat there dazed until i concluded i was dreaming in colour. i woke up again and it was over. now i think that i watch the same movie, but colourized in my dreams, and that i can dream reality, while that reality is a dream within itself.

much reflection has been cast upon theoretical and unchallenged interest in scholars, for example. some presume we can only perceive one – ten-thousands of the universe but of course this can never be proven along with life's destiny and life's purpose, and indubitably, life's meaning. much dark and invisible matter perhaps comprise the rest, but the threads of an unroped cosmos are far from being knitted. can you prove your eternal existence by way of religiosity or science? Jesus rose on the third day and so did the interstellar medium situated in the midheaven. i sleep with a book of philosophy under my pillow, and i'm not in the least ashamed. Alexander the Great slept with a copy of the Iliad, and Mary Shelley, her late husband’s heart. at least philosophy doesn’t stain.

total uproar soars through the galaxy when i begin to think. the terror strikes, and i cower discrediting the truth. my trine is Jupiter, Saturn, and the sun. i’m an Aries, like the one of Judea. constant virtue is what i can believe but i speak in the revolutionary sense. i can enhance my life as long as i am able to try. there is always room to improve a man and i attest to that.

a literary device isn't useful at all until applied in context. an ambition isn't fully good until it is launched. Newton was right, after all. a body is motion will stay in motion until acted upon by an outside force. you are an artist as long as you keep your creative process going until somebody threatens you. then you hide. you establish a force field, which protects you, and you trudge on, because all that matters is your art, in the end. it's everything.

think... Ω-style. one day lofty things won't take pleasure looking at you, because you’ll be confronting them head-first. machtprobe, a german word for showdown. like the one you'll be taking with yourself if you don't buckle down and unravel your weaknesses.

this morning i woke up and stared at myself in the mirror. i was depressed at the condition of my life and my position in the world. my reflection stared back and held up its ******* at me, saying "what are you going to do about it?" not knowing how to answer, i fumbled around possible responses, but it kept going, "it's not that simple, isn't it? life can be tricky when you've got no motivation. it leaves you in a rut until one morning you wake up, depressed about the condition of your life and your position in the world and your mirror's reflection holds up that *******, insuring you're completely aware of the awaiting consequences." it finally shut up and i stood there contemplating its message. "how bad do you want this?" were its last words i heard before i knew that 'initiative' was the one i would soon fall in love with and meet at the chapel to wed.

"either you take it all the way, or you're gonna go astray." it's either one or another, a choice that we have to make. and i don't my reflection to pose a threat to my self-esteem again, so i'm gonna take it all the way...because really. how bad do i want this?

i don't want to have a shoot out with myself again. so when you ask, i'll just tell you algol sent me.

Once, a nut brown boy
Neath an endless cobalt sky
Slid down smooth gray rocks
And tumbled to the beach
There, a logjam dragon woke

please let me apologise
i am unable to write
well of  today's suggested
prompt, but write i must
i made a mental deal.
i am meant to
be writing a terza rima
but at present the form
is beyond me....

my creative flow is
silted up and sluggish,
mindless and murky
just muddy thoughts,
caught upon a logjam
of tired emotion.

and i feel unable to
produce,
a  credible rhyme,
let alone......
tercets with a braided
rhyming scheme.

but a deal is a deal....

to day i plod,
from dawn to dusk,
the world a beating rod

upon the broken husk,
that once, was my mind
now muddied, mush,
gouged by memories,
broken elephantine tusk.

i feel, so blind, so blind
stuttering,stumbling,
about in the dark
chased by ....

see this is the mud...
....in which
i am swimming...

so sorry to you,
as you can see.....
having......
.......a bad write day!!

Rigged to the degree
television's brainwashing
they are what you flush...Kelly McManus

Oft times I wonder what I should do with myself.
I look off in all four directions at any given time
And there is no direction.

I find myself wandering--in a period of wandering.
What does a man say to himself during such times?
It’ll be okay, things will work themselves out in the end?

There would seem to be little solace in this axiom.
Life is strange.
Like the sickening loop-de-loops on our best roller-coasters.

I type this out on a digital tablet with virtual keyboard
In utter perplexity.
An old soul in fast times…

Tense times,
Shallow times.

My neighbors amidst this age haven’t the patience to see how
Events birthed from hollow promises and hasty decision will work
Themselves out.

Promises from leadership whose god is the U.S. dollar.

We get a logjam of hurried consumerist theoretical practices,
Ruthlessly implemented as some kind of workable
Reality among a conditioned populace.

In the end, the only beneficiary to this manufactured bliss
Is the savvy and rich manure shoveler--that neighbor
Among us who throughout each and every day shovels

The materialistic dung into our throats and fully expects
His fellow neighbors to swallow this **** in expectancy
Of the utopic times to come.

And so the tail teases.