[Sonnet #107 to SouthHampton:  "...thy monument/When tyrents' crests and tombs of brass are spent./"]




(sonnet #MMMMMMCMXIX)


What **!  Write of the violets like t'avail
My soul of cherished hours gone far, far hence
Upon the crueler rending of joys thence,
And Life's dear fabric as it were, and pale
As aught excuse, read Shakespeare--in betrayl
Wisked off, as how those lines rouse for intents
Sweet minutes lingring oer the violets, whence
I lisped "...and Death to me subscribes--"(sans bail).
Lo, I can see all now as twas (in poor
'Scuse, eh?):  blue skies sae warm, and silver dew
Just melted off the shadowed clover, fer
Those minutes I bent down and mused, while too
Thus fingring purple dainties winds would stir
Across sans kissing...and why now anew?

01Feb18c

What?

What is that you say?

All the roads are one now?

Old children? Paradox?

I think so but then   those are the most fun of all

The spaced out interplay inside of intersections

That wind to the mountain floor and up again to volcanic shores

Cloud forests , cloud atlas , clouds messengers of the dawns ,

I hear a storm is coming , didn’t we say this before?

The dawn is already upon us , we think we’re waiting , we’ve been playing for months

Well hidden , well hidden , we don’t got no tracking devices but the markers of time that are the rising of the sun and the falling of the stars from space swirls near and far

Closer than the nearest galaxy but not as far as Sirius B

With wings that fly by night , the tips burn orange , the shades turn a musky blue , dipping into the silver water the enclosed shoulders

Harbor secrets yet,

Until we meet again my fair friend , again is right now

The full stop is redundant as there never is a full stop , you don’t have to try to decipher what I’m insinuating with my punctuation , there is no deeper meaning to it apart from my keyboard broke

But, then I decided that it could mean something more , that is the core

Nothing ever starts with a meaning we just add more! There is no meaning to this life , but there is a quest, no not a test but a quest



Mine I figured is in my smile  , my ability to weave together the nonsense into sense by calling the sense nonsense and serving the ball back over the net to sense who bats it back with a sharp backhand to nonsense who hits way out to the field beyond, hitting meaning on the head, poor meaning , meaning to have a quiet  nap under the plum tree , sorry! Screams nonsense or was it sense?



Either way , the quest has lead me here , the ultimate quest to make sense out of the nonsense that is my self

Hmmm self , hmmm self, hmm; well it was always going to be self on the highest  shelf  next to the cookie jar,

Oops can’t keep my hands out of the mess that we call blessed or taboo



Lets meander down that avenue for a while and taste the delights of forbidden fruit

Not a melon or a dragon fruit , nor is it a kiwi , infact I shouldn’t think it’s a fruit at all

Far too litteral although they are good for your body

How about for the mind , I feel like my body functions better without the excessive consumption of meat and milk does make me ****

Oops toilet talk , is that rude? I never got that, we all burp and **** and belch and **** and **** and flake off dead skin cells all day long but you never hear anyone complian “ excuse me Jones, but I did just inhale your dead skin cell” well silly moo , you’ve just inhaled jones’s and about everything you can’t see with your very eyes in that last lungfull



So you see, to me why waste time on silly buggers like swear words, change the meaning of them if it offends you so , who said that all the words have to stay the same? Really are we that stagnant ? didn’t some dude shakespere invent a ton of new sayings and no one questioned him! In fact we still use his words now, I’m sure they all thought he was bonkers, but then I guess the queen said it was cool



Hmm , queen bee , not unlike the popular kids at an out lawed place called school , dictating her orders through her minions – my definition of minions : cute slaves



The same story played out over and over well I wonder why , if we only see what others like and refuse to explore the unknown in our own right? Perhaps we just didn’t realize there was an option not on the tick list



Can I write like this

wItH aLl mY lEtTeRs FuNkY , is that not still writing ?

what?

What is that you say? What am I talking about? Am I rambling again?

Right

Back to my main point



I really like tea and I really like smiling and I really like laughing until I cry do you?

Here is a funny story:



The 3rd most watched video on a very highly esteemed newspapers website was a  low quality video of a monkey swimming in a pool , this ranked higher than a man being force fed through the nose – this is the kind of thing us humans are apparently really good at

No, not swmming silly,

Torture,

But that’s not the funny part , the funny thing is that one time my friend Paul went bowling and he saw a woman wearing a shell suit, she had a monkey polishing her bowling ***** and when she hit a strike he would clap, he also wore a matching shell suit , safe to say , it was an odd sight



Well maybe you just had to be there



But I like that , I like the ridiculousness we have created

Bowling allies and chicken and chip shops , buses , gallaries , houses , shoes , ice cream , microscopes , bath mats ,  fake ***** for children to **** their fake formula while we steal all the milk from a very much alive conscious mammal who proberbly wanted to give that milk to her baby



Ya’know stuff like that



I like it because it reminds me of what we can create , and the true power each one of us holds, because somebody came up with the idea to make high heels that **** up your back and someone came up with idea of cars that are nice to take drives in with music , someone came up with a portable music player , someone came up with the idea for a train! And then someone else built it !!!!!



I mean , come on! But the best thing I like to marvel at is nature, because no one really came up with nature , nature just kinda happened

That’s the best mystery of them all  an open ended mystery is like a really good open ended question

(Handbook for Quarreling Lovers)I THOUGHT of offering you apothegms.
I might have said, "Dogs bark and the wind carries it away."
I might have said, "He who would make a door of gold must knock a nail in every day."
So easy, so easy it would have been to inaugurate a high impetuous moment for you to look on before the final farewells were spoken.
You who assumed the farewells in the manner of people buying newspapers and reading the headlines-and all peddlers of gossip who buttonhole each other and wag their heads saying, "Yes, I heard all about it last Wednesday."
  
I considered several apothegms.
"There is no love but service," of course, would only initiate a quarrel over who has served and how and when.
"Love stands against fire and flood and much bitterness," would only initiate a second misunderstanding, and bickerings with lapses of silence.
What is there in the Bible to cover our case, or Shakespere? What poetry can help? Is there any left but Epictetus?
  
Since you have already chosen to interpret silence for language and silence for despair and silence for contempt and silence for all things but love,
Since you have already chosen to read ashes where God knows there was something else than ashes,
Since silence and ashes are two identical findings for your eyes and there are no apothegms worth handing out like a hung jury's verdict for a record in our own hearts as well as the community at large,
I can only remember a Russian peasant who told me his grandfather warned him: If you ride too good a horse you will not take the straight road to town.
  
It will always come back to me in the blur of that hokku: The heart of a woman of thirty is like the red ball of the sun seen through a mist.
Or I will remember the witchery in the eyes of a girl at a barn dance one winter night in Illinois saying: Put off the wedding five times and nobody comes to it.

Don't know how others do,
but from her, I get rave reviews ;)

See some people, in my opinion, just don't
know how to leave "perfect" alone.
And God bless her. She is perfect... and to her,
I am too.



-our two lonely hearts on completely seperate paths
far between and few crossings periodically over glasses and laughs
-holding in a special sort of love and comfort,  
the times that we spend together, as dreams and fantasies long remembered
-our two wounded hearts, full in so many other ways,
complete "What might have been," playing at house for a few mythical days



Ah, but life moves on, (Shakespere said, "Parting is such sweet sorrow")
we must again forward tread each our own roads "on 'morrow"...
And accept that "Life is what it is" and
[as Woody Allen said] "Whatever Works"


-perhaps this seems to detached of a view to some,
but tell the truth
-don't I count my love?.. [her fair skin, my muse]
does my love less intensify as we part... [unbrused]?
-Our love is good I say,   and shall remain unblemished
because we always say goodbye and part with a kiss, when finished

is not life , and art and their existence in need of some balance.
-As so, our friendship has remained for years by knowing
of Our love... and its limits

An after thought.

I know, I had another option. Though, you did not see her weep.

She was sad.
The mother of all living,
she was sad, and I, wounded in my side,

I lacked the knowing. So,  I chose to know, so

I might comfort her, with a touch, ah, I know a place,

I can touch. Tweak, do you feel that? Do you know...

sniff. 's enough, words as nodes, knots, gnosticated subtility, be guiling,

I was be guiled, by golly, and I know you know exactly what I mean... from the fruit,
here, taste
the forbidden fruit, I tasted, chewed and swallowed and shared,

with you, because I love you...

I know, now, I was beguiled; but then beguilement, per se,

was as much a mystery as death. You knew. You tasted life in non-nascent state. You know,

some things stay mysterious.

Now, I know guile, for goodness sake, death remains a mystery.

But if you believe, I know a way, all your worries melt away. It takes a while.

Muse, amuse, mire, admire, go forth and conquer the unknown with knowns. Don't lie.
Gwa, go on.

Mean sedulously all you say you know.

Footnotes:

adventure (n.)
c. 1200, aventure, auenture "that which happens by chance, fortune, luck," from Old French aventure (11c.) "chance, accident, occurrence, event, happening," from Latin adventura (res) "(a thing) about to happen," from fem. of adventurus, future participle of advenire "to come to, reach, arrive at," from ad "to" (see ad-) + venire "to come," from a suffixed form of PIE root *gwa- "to go, come."

sedulous (adj.)1530s, from Latin sedulus "attentive, painstaking, diligent, busy, zealous," probably from sedulo (adv.) "sincerely, diligently," from sedolo "without deception or guile," from se- "without, apart" (see secret (n.)) + dolo, ablative of dolus "deception, guile," cognate with Greek dolos "ruse, snare." Related: Sedulously; sedulousness

secret (n.)
late 14c., from Latin secretus "set apart, withdrawn; hidden, concealed, private," past participle of secernere "to set apart, part, divide; exclude," from se- "without, apart," properly "on one's own" (see se-) + cernere "separate" (from PIE root *krei- "to sieve," thus "discriminate, distinguish").
As an adjective from late 14c., from French secret, adjective use of noun. Open secret is from 1828. Secret agent first recorded 1715; secret service is from 1737; secret weapon is from 1936.

hallow (v.)
Old English halgian "to make holy, sanctify; to honor as holy, consecrate, ordain," related to halig "holy," from Proto-Germanic *hailagon (source also of Old Saxon helagon, Middle Dutch heligen, Old Norse helga), from PIE root *kailo- "whole, uninjured, of good omen" (see health). Used in Christian translations to render Latin sanctificare. Related: Hallowed; hallowing.

health (n.)
Old English hælþ "wholeness, a being whole, sound or well," from Proto-Germanic *hailitho, from PIE *kailo- "whole, uninjured, of good omen" (source also of Old English hal "hale, whole;" Old Norse heill "healthy;" Old English halig, Old Norse helge "holy, sacred;" Old English hælan "to heal"). With Proto-Germanic abstract noun suffix *-itho (see -th (2)).

guile (n.)
mid-12c., from Old French guile "deceit, wile, fraud, ruse, trickery," probably from Frankish *wigila "trick, ruse" or a related Germanic source, from Proto-Germanic *wih-l- (source also of Old Frisian wigila "sorcery, witchcraft," Old English wig "idol," Gothic weihs "holy," German weihen "consecrate"), from PIE root *weik- (2) "consecrated, holy."

beguile (v.)"delude by artifice," early 13c., from be- + guile (v.). Meaning "entertain with passtimes" is by 1580s (compare the sense evolution of amuse). Related: Beguiled; beguiling.

amuse (v.)
late 15c., "to divert the attention, beguile, delude," from Old French amuser "fool, tease, hoax, entrap; make fun of," literally "cause to muse" (as a distraction), from a "at, to" (from Latin ad, but here probably a causal prefix) + muser "ponder, stare fixedly" (see muse (v.)).
Original English senses obsolete; meaning "divert from serious business, tickle the fancy of" is recorded from 1630s, but through 18c. the primary meaning was "deceive, cheat" by first occupying the attention. "The word was not in reg. use bef. 1600, and was not used by Shakespere" [OED]. Bemuse retains more of the original meaning. Greek amousos meant "without Muses," hence "uneducated."

Muse (n.)
late 14c., "one of the nine Muses of classical mythology," daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne, protectors of the arts; from Old French Muse and directly from Latin Musa, from Greek Mousa, "the Muse," also "music, song," ultimately from PIE root *men- (1) "to think." Meaning "inspiring goddess of a particular poet" (with a lower-case m-) is from late 14c.
The traditional names and specialties of the nine Muses are: Calliope (epic poetry), Clio (history), Erato (love poetry, lyric art), Euterpe (music, especially flute), Melpomene (tragedy), Polymnia (hymns), Terpsichore (dance­), Thalia (comedy), Urania (astronomy).

muse (v.)
"to reflect, ponder, meditate; to be absorbed in thought," mid-14c., from Old French muser (12c.) "to ponder, dream, wonder; loiter, waste time," which is of uncertain origin; the explanation in Diez and Skeat is literally "to stand with one's nose in the air" (or, possibly, "to sniff about" like a dog who has lost the scent), from muse "muzzle," from Gallo-Roman *musa "snout," itself a word of unknown origin. The modern word probably has been influenced in sense by muse (n.). Related: Mused; musing.