There are times when you feel like
reaching out..............full length,
to grasp -
the ultimate;
something, which you will not like
to dispense away with
no matter who leaves or alights.

Somewhere, from where you will never waver
again -
an Equilibrium.

But most of the times, the best you can do
is to swish your hand and latch on to;
thin, slippery, lukewarm air, vanishing as a wraith
into a starless, roiled chasm......
and you are viciously abandoned
amidst the pungent whiffs
of the random metropolis.

Every night I lean against the rusted gate
of this modest rented apartment
and give a fish eye to the stillborn night.

I see a lean column of smoke from a smokeshaft
...obscure...far off;
reaching out......for the stars
cruelly dispersed by grimy draft.

I see the flickering, pale beam;
the solitary, asocial gleam
of the municipal  lamp;
reaching out meekly....towards me,
getting devoured in a frenzy
by the soft, persistent charge
of the relentless molecules of dark.

✽

And loneliness becomes admissible....
.....again

In life's darkest, coldest histories, only those told
first tongue, empower courage in the
knowing emparted, as if we
were there. Our best
effort brought us
here, some how. We feel we must stand up for

our self, eh, what about my self? There's a burr, eh?
A dullness revealing fractured christline
constructs and the core, where
courage is stored in true
chain breaking known thought processes,
so
secret you may not be
allowed to know, like when we were kids with
no internet and no adults would
tells us how adultery functions
with usury and political magicians to enslave
us according to sortings in standardized tests.

Conceal weakness with signs of power,

make believe, show believers believable

e-visons as evident possibles,

so the power, small though it be,
the power of the people,
who hold no truths
self
evident, id est evincing and convincing
us, these rights are right,
for those who use us right,

words, true, make free the ready writer to
presume reading truth makes free
thinking go wild, like con
funsion making
sunlight...

in the past hear it... this little light of mine
no chain nor twisted trifold cord can
quench, a word
to the wise is leaven enough for the whole ******
loaf.
Shew, see,
we can wield power, if we can believe
the king, is where the kingdom is,
and any child who asks her pooka can know,
the kingdom is where I always behold
the face of God, angel-baby...

or we can imagine,
we have this power to create entire
othernesses,

similar to our self,
our logos and these pre-loaded breathing
algorithims of in and outs, ups and downs,

twisting and sooming assumed id-intities
are mea nd we wander, meander,

flow in the trough of a spiraling wave
pulling the rain back to the sea,

so each water weness we imagine may be re
used, for goodness knows what,
universal solvency was one
water function ac
cused of causing, aitiatic tic tic time bomb

Jerry-rigged, Rubic cubed trigger,

gay blades shaved the iron legs, y'know
**** Deus is punishing truth,

the true power of any pun
ish bin ein Berliner mit Arizona Prickly Pear jelly,

laughing into funk-tion-ality the oddities of beings
not me,
in my meanderings through optional doors
inside the narrow way,
ala the way to Petra, we've seen the way

similar in every fractal way to the tracks of tears

cuttin crevases through pressure packed dust that
must
have piled suddenly high, for,
when it flowed as the red mud that stopped
right there at the edge of the Sedona
manifestation of oddities.

Check it out. Google Earth it.

**** Deus wannabe, meet my old friend from
the foundery in Arkansas,
E Pluribis Unem Massey

crazy now, there is a man by that name, with a .jr,
a link forgotten,
save the memory that may be in the water,
we used to wash the grime of burning iron into
the river to rust into louisiana to feed
the phyto plankton past the delta
grease of seeping poison
insolvent in the universe, save for fire

fire can burnishit tic make it bright, reflecting
mirrors for the smoke

choking the me who can't see, how Wattie Piper
virus was passed on to
EPluribis Massey, Jr., but it must have been
some variation on the
living words,
like:
I think I can, and the congregation
responds:
as a man thinks, in his heart, so is he.

As the waters all flow to the sea, take no thought
for tomorrow,
take it as granted, today.

Sometimes I forget how much words hurt
The sting as they hit your ears
And the jagged incision they make to your brain
Then on to your heart

Even more often I forget that silence hurts worse
Your pleas and needs falling on deaf ears
The response of a muted tongue
It’s so hard to find my balance

constructive or destructive - criticism’s delicate balance

Peering intensively through fog-marked mullioned glass
into a cool and conquering October sunrise
I am met with a profound and welcoming sudden awareness -
zephyrs breathing through each emerald green grass blade,
     brow of country hilltops, mountains materializing
with the passing of each era like wrinkles in a face,
clouds crawling the longitudes to reform over Pacific pools somewhere,
soil forcing upward making way for elm or oak or pine to tower,
rivers thundering wild down the backs of continents,
     cliff or crag breaking the maelstrom on occasion,
and all the while spinning, all of this and more, clinging to the frame of the earth
as it dances balanced on axis, pirouetting through the cosmos
in turbulent, beautiful, simply complex form just as I
back away from the window and extend an arm to brace myself.

In that moment she transforms
Unquenchable pressures rise
Rage flares into firestorms
Fury thrives, amplifies

She dances on recent slights
Flinging words of blistering flame
Fires fuelled from yesterday’s fights
She wields with unerring aim

When the fury burns to embers
When logic eventually returns
No one left remembers
The cause of her righteous burns

NCL May 2018

Souls don’t have friction, if there without clear instructions to what’s being used for? Meant to combine the velocity of aspects surrounding the pure energy from growing without endangering itself. Souls becoming too powerful without layers. Layers interpreting logical statements of what good values is growing over itself for protection. Layers protecting itself. Protecting itself from the one that needs sheltering. Forcing more layers to follow in direction. Direction forcing more layers to protect itself more over, then pure energy endangering itself too much! Prompting the ideal for conquest in the face of chaos. Chaos sharing varieties without clarity. Clarity taunting the individual switching off any claims to servitude. Who’s this individual? Umm…clarity itself? (Sighs EVERYWHERE!!!) Energy isn’t withholding itself anymore. It’s destabilizing altogether! Pressure doesn’t come with layers. Endangerment is consequence. The ideal claim without surfaces. Surfaces needing layers without logical statements evolving proudly. Evolving flaws meaning to pace itself out. Clean up the act so chaos can protrude reasoning. Basic fundamental truth of life itself. So, which is it…? Souls without layers! Or dynamic layers ******* energy material too fearful to crack without confrontation? Exceeding the limitations of presence alone. Were all doomed! However, why isn’t there a claim to any of this? Friction has another backbone in its surface. It’s cleverly silent.