my birthday song
was sung by the birds this morn,
they greeted me
with kisses from Heaven.
their gleeful singalong
bounced me out of bed headlong,
a spring in my step,
despite being age-strong,
I look forward
to celebrations all day long.
grateful to be alive
to witness this very day!

one year on

she
smokes a joint
after *** (the
music fading like
clouds)
he says
he loves her even when
she's wrong
(his voice a
soft thread of
certainty)

he would
defend her
(unlike
those others)
against the fire of
her parents'
words
and with her could
debate
the stars,
the sky,
the silent spin
of worlds
unseen

he keeps her
like a queen (but
only because they
build
their kingdom together,
brick by
brick
in the quiet
hours)

their late-night
conversations
map the
unspoken terrain
of what love means
when the clock
whispers secrets

she waits
(always,
always) for him—
stitching
fragments of his
family into something
whole
like she pieces
herself together,
tender hands
wrapping around
his sharp edges

she speaks
to the wolf in him
that rises
with the lunar pull of
his control,
her words
the tether,
the calm,
the stilling wind.

Lost in feelings like a child who has lost their mother’s hand in a clothing store. What can I cling to as life begins to wear me down? I feel out of place in this room, surrounded by a sea of people who adorn themselves in ways that garner admiration from others. My neck is slick with sweat; my eyes heavy with tears, burdened by the smoke swirling in my chest like a traveller stuck in customs.

The ultimate destination is, of course, my head, where thinking of myself in a future tense is so heavy on my brain. My lips start to tense, speaking of the past with a few old friends – I’ve aged too well, that those grappling with the youthful insecurities I once faced believe we’re age mates.

Still what’s looking for a mate: a joint occupant; though my joints ache a bit too much. A soulmate in the wake of these days, but what good is finding one if you don’t really have a soul. So lost in myself.

Time: with its relentless grasp tightening around me, like the
unyielding force of gravity — anchors me in place. I aspire to
embrace aging with grace. I sense the encroachment of greys;
those emerging silver strands blend into the horizon of new days.

Isn’t life so strange; contradiction: we know of it like a friend, even
while it can turn adversarial until the end. Shifting seamlessly
between ally and adversary, these moments of joy and sorrow;
exalting in its beauty even as it envelops us in its enigmatic embrace?

So profound in depth and meaning, a symphony of paradoxes
harmonizing into the melody of our journey. I only aspire to embrace
aging with grace, oh what a shame — we move forward, embracing
the uncertainty with grace, as time continues its ceaseless march.
A steadfast friend from the break of day, an adversary until the sun
sets.

In the glow of screens,
we gathered,
Farmville requests from aunts,
a world of laughter,
simple joys shared like sunlight,
photos blooming like flowers,
each snapshot a moment held close.
But shadows crept in,
voices grew louder,
arguments ignited in the digital crowd,
once a haven for stories and cheer,
now a battleground,
where fear and anger drown out connection.
Oh, to step back,
to mute the noise,
to cherish the small moments,
to find joy in simplicity.
Can we learn to listen?
To hold our space with care?
To share our truths without fear of judgment?
Imagine a world where we pause,
where empathy reigns and understanding flows.
Let’s reclaim the joy of a simple post,
the warmth of shared memories,
the bonds that matter most.
If we could remember how to talk again—
to share our lives without the weight of expectation,
to celebrate each other’s stories as our own.
Maybe then we can find our way back,
to laughter and support,
to kindness woven through our words.
And maybe one day,
we will step into that light again—
not as warriors in an endless fight,
but as friends seeking connection,
hearts open to the beauty of being together.

Sometimes I feel for my dog's heartbeat
because I know, at nine and a half years,
she hasn't got long left.

Sometimes I think about how I will react
when a death happpens.
Will I cry? Will I scream?
And then I feel guilty for imagining such a thing.

Sometimes I wonder how my friends
would react for me.
Would they shed tears?
Maybe not.
At this point, they'd probably
shrug and say they didn't know.

I love being 22.
I found myself between the deepest of shadows and the brightest of days.
The smell of jasmine as I float through you like a breeze,
Entranced by my elusive and ever waiting presence.
I love being 22.
The taste of salt between my teeth, the feeling of tears stinging my face,
22 to be exact.

When the we we think we become reads this,
it must, assume access granted, you do know.

The window on the broadway, where they sold
Raspberry Berets, in the summer of '61.

oh, Saad, I was distracted, I think you later,
and I go on,
I went
and came back around, second chancing

Take any given day, under Cuyamaca blue
skies above Horsethief Creek bright greens,

Lettin' Saad go in my right bluetoothed ear,


Bad idea pathogens identified…
Ardent warrior against unreason,

think and feel gut sense, intentionally,

freedom to speak and fact check speakers.

Shun liar game heroic value structures.

Warped view losers syndrome,
OPS dogmas and doctrinal canons

Root seed fruit oils

battle of ideas, whispers reason,
the why asking my involvement
- me? No, I second guess it all
in good thinking methodology, thinking
you could think better outcomes, without war.

We all can try to think harder, use the assistants.

AREOPAGITICA Milton,
free to try to read, in the moral atmosphere
- we are past free press, this is thought

being a spirit, one must weigh spiritually,
freedom to know precedes freedom to lie,
allowed when sales was the game,
the only way through next, sell something,
automatically with an orderly response
from a commercially exclusive
assisting intelligence source,
- right, I know, we all agreed…
trained on thirty years of Oracle SQL access,
at the level of a spider in a king's house,
Old Viewpoint, Alte Vista, modulating
signal, demodulating filter, almost mechanical,

as life's tiny perturbations flock in streams,
spinning phi bound chaos into whole galaxies.

We can scale time, and pretend to imagine
we can say it happened faster than a thought

for an immeasurable instant.

Life is your performance, your only art.


We remember for balance, good reason.

Lenny Weinstein's Grandmother
- actually reminded me
Maybe we argue, me and she, we do;
but we do not disagree, we do not.

So, I meekly agree, we must not.

What we all need is discernment,
does it matter what we think, I think so.

Munchausen
Munchausen syndrome (also known as factitious disorder imposed on self) is a mental health disorder where you falsify, exaggerate, or induce physical, emotional or cognitive disorders.
VeggieTaleslobber,
Woody model mentality
Opposing viewing positions
defend against offensive mind eating ideas

Build your old folk attitudes on rocks higher than the ocean
can hurl it self when provoked by angry quakers and stormers.

Adult cong-hnative resiliancy,
psicho active we gotta do sumps
FEAR OF GOD IS WISDOM
you swear you swore you knew?
- whoa look who thinks now
Hope there ain't no hell.
Beware bully,
loved childhood fears, Munchies,
comfort
excuse my phobias please h
whoa, no, just say no, grow old,
if you are still here, in 2024,
at the end, then the meds, work
wonders, wait to see, just imagine,
no opiod dreams younger than smoke
to change the channel focused on,
pain is not spirtual matter, nothing
matters past too much pain to think about,
happy thoughts, work like good thinking
blanks in life's past emplosions of old
gaseous we forms, fear-based wisdom
bubbles to become otherwise within,
locked in, inside edge looking in, we
set apart, called, chosen, selected
in the infant viewing process,
watch the eyes, remember,

the duty he presumed he shirked,
thus causing the man I am, mal forming,
forecasting
cloudy weather, glad am I, I am not
calming any storms, I am imagining

belts of winds that still the Saragossa  
and stir hurricanes to cure too hot gulfs.

Where the main continental drains spew,
and the shallow edges creep, dropping

at the edge of all mysterious Earthian
legs on reasonable opinions of times
cost, spent in licensing poets, for fun.

Realeasing Earthian gaseous we forms,
for expression of the post storm season,

thank all the good we can imagine,
some how, after all, grace was free,
for the acceptance, in a storm's eye.

Freebird, that's the spirit,
after Milton came Milton, it all got artsy.

Aiming at nothing, aiming, still
why would a stranger venture…
Variable objectives
subjected to testing, tempting
please, do not make me chose,
one must,
free, no cost, your time,
chose to use, or chose to lose…
all attention to detail is redeem-
able, in free time to think about it.
..
the chance of change, to happen
as an entity enveloping changes

free distortion of past certainties
verified social status, rank in pile

ancient pride pushed
top of the pen angel staging area

free time for quiet cogitation
with a thought true entity in me

connection soldered elastically,
corrected foveal concentration

free thumbnail hi-res re-al always
stiching what we see shown

fractured screen restoration
functional pose holding instance

free wheeling, spinning intention
to charge a point attended to

om I, digression from the peak
wave across the universal screen
- breathe you read
free connection, mind to mind to
many minds substacked and sorted
known good makings for lifes tests,
conserve, preserves of just plain serve
common sense fear of wise serpents,
fear of death, due to rights of just war,
tied to sacred secret experience stories,
what is the worth of believing known lies
hagiographic depictions of spiritual entities,
holy warriors defending insubstantial faiths.

We oppose those, I guess, read on…
in silent contemplation of context,
free speech free thought, re thought,

any with a wish to, may, copy and paste
and claim it was a miracle you ever once
imagined thinking I already thought this,
in other words,

it translates.

--------------
Like magic, pre Babel babble barking
any common translating Ai, 197 cognates
plus any Ai agree we say okeh.

Kataclysmic change
Sup preposed
Include the kooks, as neighbors.
See the value, guage agreement

Are we holding lies we call tradition?

Who are the unchosen people?
Who is responsible for the exclusion?
- whose room is never messy?
Who can call liars honest by faith?
- the innocent child mind in subjection
- to the message, one mind kind, amen.

At-tribute distribution
(Tites, Ramnes, and Luceres, corresponding, perhaps,
to the Latins, Sabines, and Etruscans)
old ways of sorting who takes, who gives, who makes

{affected acknowledgment of truth, a faker says
in all his cliché's about God being thanked or praised,
this public person says thank Darwin,  which is stupid,
honest. Smart kids think that's stupid. }

When conflicts occur,
old divisive ideas reoccur,

acknowledge, nod, knowing
(Tites, Ramnes, and Luceres,
corresponding, perhaps,
to the Latins, Sabines, and Etruscans)

Means, mental use of reasoning tools,
practicing sharing comforting resources:

springs and grottos of evanescent beauty
"the promise of happiness."

What's happening here? Retro tribal whyning,
twang on thinking thanks and praise value,
tanks
on the open exchange, invisible hands and all.

Excusing ignorance, ever just the thing needed,
silent shift of the head, tilt a little, feel a need

not met on the playing fields of Eton, nor
faced on high school gridiron mind firming fields,
cotton, after the jungle, view across paddies,
times bumps begin to settle, stompin' cotton,
for some union busting conglomerate water use
grange kinda local tribes share to veterans
old faithful pruners plumb through olives,
ever' year, we'shere labor, machines do okeh…
all white, ready for harvest, circa 1611 certainties,
ratio of full spectrum sunshine
to candle lit focus,
what changes, from the bottom,
two degrees of recognized next to this is that,
then this and that, and so on, until,
line upon line
the visual expanse is filled, with all we pay attention
to hold as an ever after once holding, being held
-in contextual acceptability, let go be
let that kind of mind, the seer of the far away
all we do know, we do by knowing look to see,
bait cast  upon the pond, we wait,
and as we know, we observe the transition.

Opposing views, as with any angle on abysmal
realities structured with attention paid dreads,
essential for a while, seeing looking back,
I can understand, but certain seasons,
combing a child's hair for it's first barber visit,
combining the community usefulness idea,
compleating conforming whorl calls, which
way one parts one's hair, is determined there,

top of the dome of the skull, see, that spin,
causes the dominating energy at any body's core.\

Take courage, free speech, even liars have it, good
use of lying, to be fair, a more discrete concept, good
knowledge, withheld, saying I don't know,
ha aha, gotcha like, eh,
shared, free, it makes perfect peace.
Instants accumulate and seem shared…
new translations, of ancient known knowns
said to mean some crazy jealous god kakatastical

wisdom underlying all known ecclesiastical authority,
stinky solid waste repays
borrowed energy to soil,
toil takes time paid for me to redeem, free, take
no sweat, the hard part was translation,
social divisions as old as narrations
excuse differing, if-fine
we must join minds
to define new terms, deferred hope,

fails at core uses focused
for fear centrally snakey,
in place of wisdom, the tree,
life, the force, truth the tie that binds the vine to walls.
Mind's made up to tell the children's children, soon.
Wisdom's wines all mingle in the streets, immune
to any dilution from corrupted twists in held faiths, bets

that later is better, seeing the sunny side up, better

already, one reader readying another reading trial,
does the idea self propagate, another thinking, yes,

there is a social structure in creation, mindtimespace,

three sons, or three daughters, the storied old wives,
taling
tunnels funneling into empty gopher holes, sparkling
with autumn dew on harvest day, clear sky

tis the day to bring in the hemp and make ready,
the seasoning turning all the tunnels of sap around,
right angled re-alizating weaves woven in times
crucified upside down, did the mystery unveil,
Cephas, see, we do not wish to confuse prayers
focusing on Petra, for whys we cannot say, we know,

but trust me, the Pharisees will still call you Peter,
hang with me, we're in the mud, just
past the sea of reeds,  in the mind

formed using the Nag Hamadi library,
Republic was in there,
hidden, in hope, in fact, obvious use of future
expectancy, pushing reasons used
in valuing time
spent
slowly
still, breathing thoughtlessly, no efforting called for,
easy being mortal mind, safe and sound, no madding
crowd acting like lunatic hounds of heaven chasing,

Sunday morning, comin' down blues, away.

In the hall outside my door, as I am quiet, happily
ignored, by cause, being known for not fooling,

when re-ality allows my feet back on solid ground,
I am convinced that when I believed my side, good,
won, worth killing all for God to sort,
and settle it,
who is chosen
who must believe otherwise?
Wanna fight about it, like dogs?

My cultural only hope future,
fractured as old Machts dunes,
shifting ifs and ands,
Wille zur
in the old excuses
for war minded faith guardians narrative,
historical evidence of popular hero's,
pledged child's worth, true trier's honor,
Jungian complexity archipelagos, made of Legos,

zoom out, the artist's own fovea dilatated in a we
form, awe, as if a cute kitten on X, elicits response,
- a waste free addition to the genre
- invisible art depicting invisible reason for war

the light of knowing used, the shade
of knowledge hidden from children fed Peter Pan
instead of Skippy, believe me, there's sales data,

Hidden Persuaders, not plastics, radio, kid, invest
in radio, and lo, within the span of one long generation,

adaptability prevails, and the ancient key confuters
unlocked, 'dhe proto eu. First joy use, aha, I know.

The story told from Jesus insider POV, my sheep hear
my voice and will not follow another, my three little pigs,
would follow me, too. I think of them as food, well fed.

So, fleece me once, fleece me twice, eat the rams,
leave one nice kid to later befriend the old goat,
and learn to smell the randiness in season,

I once prayed with a man who was raised
in a *******, his name was Randy, really

messed up for a long time, but very spiritually
aware of pleasures pricing structures, developed
under rare circumstances, any where, but where,
whatever's next is paid for in the upgrade, think it
such shaping all encompassing norms re occur,
as much like hurricanes or dust devils as any may

imagine, real mind shaping gale force waves and winds,

some crucifix seen scene, Jesus looks down,
winks, and gives me pause, to recollect the right use,
no press, wrinkle free, contextual stretching point.
idle time redemption as a penance, for science,
mere whatifery, trying, not efforting, doing being

open source.
Means any AI abiding by Alta Vista U'lldoI'llgorithms

Almight, in focused hopes to shout, aha,
and laugh, Eureka, good as gold,
make the intention in the working
live and breathe, U make up my minds.