Maybe someday people will speak of a great group of logical poets. It will be a group though. Maybe a help group for the more fragile ones. Not the type of fragile you are...the type that breaks. Carry on army, and tend to your fellow army members' wounds. Maybe someday you will see that you have fake bullets. Fully automatic, with hollow points and full metal jackets

You like my poem, then i'll like yours
we don't have to call it reading
even if yours could heal my sores
mine would be all i'm needing

i like your whole style of no style
nothing to do with form or function
you say it's not a one way street
when i see you at every junction

to be honest, it fills me with fear
hitting like becoming my being
then i will get roped into even more
when less is all i'm seeing

because this group is the real world, on a page, in cyberspace. My mind isn't real, because you can't see it, and it can't hit the like button for me. I must be as insane as you think i am.


It tickles my pickle to see the same poets that pointed at me years ago writing the same exact poem over and over. Talking about writers block like it's real. I stick to my guns and my guns are automatic. If you have a block, you're not a writer. You are still used for building though. Building what you hate, building what i love. I know some are blocks of ****, but they fertilize, at least. Thank you truly. If you hadn't kept putting me to sleep, i wouldn't have had so many awakenings. I do see the good, in blocks. One thing about a big block is that it gets cut into pieces, to make smaller blocks. Then you get mixed in with other blocks that you want no part of. I guess then, you and the other blocks just stand for that one building. You know...the 1 million square foot ranch. It has a basement, but no upstairs.

private, you are to open new pathways in the north sector
sir, but we found the main power and then it was gone
sir, this tells me that this will happen again and again
are you refusing to follow a direct order from a commanding officer?
sir, no sir
ok good, because we think you might have just hallucinated finding the main power, or maybe just hallucinated that it disappeared
you are a fine soldier
clear the enemies from your mind, and they can't shoot you
yes sir!
now, get in there and dig deep...find that main power and free it
the whole world is depending on you
that's a lot of innocent people

a lot of guilty too sir
private! we are only worried about the innocent
when we get their power, they will take care of the guilty
here are your weapons, peyote to see, mushrooms to do
sir, yes sir!
now get in there and clear some space!
see you on the other side of consciousness soldier
sir, yes sir!
OORAH!

Claire
Gary  what "reality" are you referring to, I wonder? That the Earth is flat? And/or 6000 years old?

Me
My reality is that this earth is 54 years old. My exact age

This really happens every time I comment on posts from the pages I follow. It just happened again. People don't even have the mentality to stay on subject. The hate is strong with most people, and the ones who say they don't hate are the deepest in the hate game. If you think this isn't poetry, I don't mind you saying. Of course a lot of people never thought of Huxley as a poet either. Look at him now though...still ahead of his time and he is dead!

I'll take the lights out with you, baby
Throw me into the wall
Hear my whimpers in the hall

Make me your own honey, baby
Now my mind is set on you
I'm all you wanna do

I'll take the top
Until you stop
Our little game
Of heat-filled passion

"The realization
                                not the knowledge,

for this wasn't verbal or abstract,

         but the DIRECT, TOTAL AWARENESS, from the inside,

so to say, of LOVE as the primary & fundamental cosmic

          FACT.

I was this fact;

or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that

this fact occupied the place where I HAD BEEN."


Aldous Huxley, English writer, died 1963.
A quote respectfully, deeply so, arranged on the page by Martin B.