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uncommon ways of thinking are more subject to be
odd ionic quests are  trending---
what is the most noble quest?
What good am I, peace and safety wise
be me
as a wild bird might feel safe with you near,
as you quest on, leaning on the lift, rolling in the flow

life lives, ideas find shapes that fit,
moreso than a similar unit of your own mind's


we are commanded, be first
he who treads the grain eats first,
as the grain is tread,
or he stores his treasure in an imaginary vault,

safety deposit rule being if I was in the spirit,
as witnessed by the breath
filtered from gnats, and flushed of flem,
Ah hem, Aachen, is back.
Say he has a silver wedge worth risking the wrath of god,
you ever felt that urge,
to taste,
partake of the growing and harvest and decarbing and steeping
first partaker, the husband man, wombed or un, who labors,
must be, then
be the little red hen who shares the over flow,
--- what is being asked of whom, in this room?
not the filling,
let them be only thy own and not another's with thee
but the flood's free
running, whirling vein to one artery to another
we share the air.

My grandsons all can make that clear, the youngest,
three and one half swirls,
lefty lucy, righty tighty, one way or another
no no no … I'll follow the sun

twist again, like we did last summer, oh the
world swallowed me whole

as if I, not Faustus, I am bond to stand toe to toe
with old Mephisto,
by any other name, I tripped

on my feet I land on my feet Agri-industrial experimental,
oil company loss producer to allow tax credits
maybe useful toward avoiding
hundred and forty acre water
that, ****** if they didn't, we was plantin' trees
the names of those reaped
the fruits of our labor,

I see the rod, of an almond tree…

Ich kenne nicht I hid mein heir under the standing
pillars of right we learn
to live under, standing up right, relative to
who our DNA proves,
close enough for Perry Mason,
in the white of the egg, is there any taste?
it is an acquired taste,
a select strand of ancient as we, as a family,
mito-chondrial DNA,
is this not poetryscumbagthunderword getter
good, we

see the flaw, no flaw at all, a short cut for the trout, see

see the flaw in the flow is a matter of matter it self.
Self it sel, per se, same same logos I heard a meta
knower of something or another,
expert, in the literature of his field.

we seem the fruit of a life examined and found lacking nothing,
each day's evil sufficiency settled to gentle predictable waves,
marked by the red tent in the stories
of when there was so much grass and so much wool

every shepherd was feeding three wives in exchange,
for making life livable as the fate spin us
to true rest remaining for the people of {as we all agree, the idea does exist and is believed, though you may not know or know you do and know this form of reality, me and you bot reading thishit}
God god gods and sub beings with
From out of the culvert, east on 66, see I said then
that's me, I'll see what that man sees

you need not reprove the signs,
shake the dust and wander on samsara, as they say, one way

Child eyes, no fear at all, sees himself, a
strange old men
lurking where he remembers only old drunks,
smell of ****,

once watched a squaw in velvet skirt,
drop a qew outside a white outhouse

these windows persist as windows,
no doors if your ligends don’t match the receptors,

fret not, worst can happen,
but not here, time being as it is, you know, variable

In states of mind I can maintain for longer periods than i…
I take that back,
this is the real binge.
The last round. The words form constant ever after
bubble, **** I guess able to bubbles in milk
bubbles of being being my whole metaphor for life inside this one bubble we can sort of see the edge of…
synchronos compromise signals life change…

Invest in a three year old boy who is on-the-ball-*****-trained,
constant barking trained seal balancing the world,
beneath his feet, gripper stockinged ,
but a way can may be
still slide in the hall is if you put 'em on
grippers on top,
life in a child
loves knowing any thing, for as long as knowing
happens along with everything else,

Like," Grandpa", from this blonde head with adult sized eyes,
seeing me look him in those eyes, signal
eyes touch, he sees his reflexion in the glare on my glasses,

I know, I saw my reflexion in my grandma's glasses,
when I was three, or so.

"Grandpa, stars come in all the colors." They do,
I said. I told my daughter, she shone.

I feel sorta Norman Rockwell, 2019.
I noticed last year, in Oct and November, through the year, voices change.
but smooth as yesteryear morphing to now
Bec Aug 22
Our love is like winter flies
Hopefully winter flies by
Because I feel your lies
They settle on my skin
Searing my flesh
Akin to being set
Bhill Aug 8
Those pesky flies will land on your glasses
And buzz your face till your insane

There always seems to be nothing but masses
It much too hard to maintain

What to do, oh what to do
How can you even relate

All you can do, to see this thing through
Is expect, that you are the fly bait...

Brian Hill - 2019 # 199
Who hasn't been buzzed by these pests?
The wayward boys of the forever sun
Waking away the horizon
Their passions defined through rosemary plums
They formed in the swallow lagoon

They ventured wide, they ventured tall
Smothered by Eden’s visions
Over the mountains, a nomad conch called
Of salvation coming soon

Far away, far away
Is the ship passing by
Far away, far away
Goes the dreams of youthful sighs

Far away

The skyward beasts in the splintered minds
Bumping the night ever slowly
Fantasy left the human behind
And rain shattered the sea

The spectacle of the suburban youth
Never fulfilled quite wholly
When what’s found in rocks may trouble the truth
Then paper is burnt out to flee

Far away, far away
Is the grip of society
Far away, far away
Are the visions of marmalade trees

Gone away

Schism would rise and drinks would fly
Under the closed constellations
It is no strain to desensitize
A dreamlust, starving nation

But wash it away in brevity’s breath
And visages painted in peels
Their illusions linger for cerebral death
They hid behind wooden steel

Run away, run away
For the painting is stripped bare
Run away, run way
There is fire yelling in the air

Run away

The sun has become irradiant green
And planes lumber through the sky
Hollow hands softened the screen
The sand bleeds, the sirens are shy

The forlorn kids of the Turquoise Lagoon
Have given up more than life
When the head of bliss begins to croon
Entropy will yell “good luck”

Far away, far away
Are the hands severed in the ground
Far away, far away
Lies a shell and its sound
Juhlhaus May 17
In the sunbeams lake flies dance
Away the days like decades 'til
Exhausted from their revels drop
To coat the water with their dead
From where on Winter's other side
Unseen young will hatch and rise
To dance away their seven days
In the sunlight of another Spring
The prophet was crying
The leader angel was ordered to ascend

He asked," your God asked you
Why do you cry?"
(The God knew why did he do!)

Mohamad said," my nation, my nation"
Do you know?
Mohamad feared on his nation

He said," my example between me and you
As the man made a fire
And the flies fly around

They wanted to get into
The prophet tried to prevent
But they escaped

They fell into
So he cried

The God answered,"
In the meaning of the talk
We will not humiliate

You at your want"
the prophet fear about his nation and who did not believe on the God
Aisha Mar 25
As flies buzzing around rotting flesh,
the sound of loneliness remains.
surrounding me.


Afraid of everything.
Afraid of myself
and the thoughts inside my head.
Afraid of being alone and afraid of not being alone.
A constant paradox which I can't rid myself of

People hurt you.
expectations hurt you.

There is a scream trapped in my throat.
A scream for help,
scared of coming out.
Better off kept away, safe from the world,
as its owner suffers in silence.
Timber Jan 30
Sticky, molding floors,
Flies buzzing around the sink,
Not a single paper towel in sight.

The busy, hussle and bussle,
The shines and glares coming from everything in site,
No space,
No feeling,
No compassion.

You’re ears are bleeding
Mine are too
Freshman band *****
Honors is okay
something to write
something to fight

at the end, i find
the world laughs

the roses open
the flies appear

the world changes
the world dances

when i see your eyes
the sun smiles

the morning comes
with the birds songs

for what?
i see your brilliant
love help us to suffer every worst
David Hutton Dec 2018
It has been there for days, wasting away.
Bugs are summoned by the smell of decay.
Furry growth in a moist state,
Flies regurgitate.
Buzz, buzz, buzz all over the Charolais.
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