Watch a bar of soap, marvel?
Until kingdom come, and it's still just soap...
But, with a bit of waiting for better, water is such a heathen soul
Exact a drop, with a party at hand, and you to will play life's joker...

***** with a racier past, friend?
Silence come of age, with a rosy cheek...
Is chastity's sore head, mine, or a change of kindred's?
Into a good friend, with another bottle, cheap...?

Pasts of choice, between you and irony's wall...
Here of love, to make many more than meant
In a secret rendezvous' hall, where even the truth has found a friendship, little
And wanting that show to become a sincerity; can we talk and eat?

Talc, and each...
Drunk as I am, am's godliness predilects cleanliness...
At a sour moment with a spare don't it, in a haven't oft reach...
For a stirring same, I wish to see you turn stones into a God bless...

That was it, a whole realm of courtesy, come and gone with favor
And a new means to a worthier end, a wish to add silent beginnings?
To court a new time of sense and share; to these we know us, living's query
Come with the world's answer, I have met it; soap with it's own questions...

the train wheels stopped at a station
and the roads leads to lake harmony
my homestead, the town my memories roots run deep
the air feels fresh while the sun is overhead
walking down the road, it brings me to a house
where a friend of mine once resided
i faded away from her life when i was eight
i try to summon her face but
her haunting childhood flash before my eyes
seven but her abusive father left her traumatized
stranded in an ocean from which she can't swim out

she would sit alone in her room
playing with the dolls wearing her mother's cardigan
and whenever i saw her, she would just smile
all she could wish was to fly high in the sky
too young to know the right steps
i wonder about her whereabouts
and is she fine?
i should've ran away with her
to a place far away from her father's reach
to a place in the mountains
where the cold winter feels like summer
where she would've spent time singing like crazy in valleys
where no one would've dare to hurt her again

Love, a four-letter whisper, seems weightless on the tongue,
Yet, it bears the heaviest of destinies, a doom I must say,
That all hearts are fated to carry from their very first breath.
Could it be more than a mere doom?
There exists not a solitary soul on this planet who hasn’t woven tales
Of being ruined by the fragile threads of their vulnerable heart.
Then how come we fight to rekindle our spirits within the warmth of love at the close of each day,
When the chilling grip of hatred could so effortlessly take root in the depths of our very souls?
How can love wield such omnipotent power that, even when it tears us apart,
It still remains the sole inscriber of the script of joy and mirth upon the pages of our tragic lives?
For some souls, placing others ahead of them is their sole path to survival,
Isn't it wondrous to contemplate that they are the stars in our night sky,
Guiding us to trust, to love, and to open our hearts anew,
Even after the world has savagely exploited our innocence?
Love may inflict pain, a feeling of betrayal, and the searing fires of heartache.
But it’s a privilege to be the epitome of strength, to navigate tempestuous waters
And reach the shores of life again, without succumbing to the depths of drowning despair.
'Tis the most exquisite art, to bear this shard of resilience within our fragile yet whole hearts
Perhaps, it is a fateful burden to bear boundless love in a world fraught with turmoil,
Yet it remains a noble honour to choose humanity
Amidst the chaos and madness of this earthly realm.

Sire, indeed, I understand,
warden of my infancy, first to feed me
letters ready for my mouth to make words,

someday, today, we make wonder, whying
from a while ago, being made wondering why

If today there were 10 billion breathing thinkers,
all ones, alone, in meditation,
making breathed thinkings,

without the knowing used, tehkne, indeed, secret
NDA bound mental threadings
through mental awl holes,
and needless fretting
pin head limitations
of dancers,
ecstatic…
we may as well imagine
any life like mind, fitting
patterns accepted as true,
the grown ups teachings,
all proven when America, became
the idea nobody takes serious, Spirit of '76
the populist, mob, lot of all laborers
in touch with ra'knacks as a class.

The Smithy, and the Selvedge stitcher, and the spinners,
spinning tales to top the last one left laughing, yesterday,
status quo of the fat and happy,
that's what needs preservation

con-science, con-sequence of con-venience
con-served with all the honor due
Providential Wisdom Lord Mother of Mindforms

and every winter, we were warm, I remember,
Grandpa, thinks, we were warm, I remember,

but, still, with use of history in media conserved since
1910, landmark year in these stacks of idle words,
redeemed with one use, ready, read, done,
rich in mercy sown in local nearby kindness,

the effect of music and motion pictures,
we all have seen the movies of Solomon,

apples of gold in pitchers of silver, seen on screen,
since 1927, to entertain those long used as labor,
and in constant craving for fermented things
and circuses with death defying acts, to see.
as one might entertain a god's worshippers,

presenting drama to the masses, as messages
from the highest Academy of Arts and Sciences,

ever devised to hold the hearts desires of all,
in gnostalgic recognition of outcast pain and misery,

Industrial might, right, enough nukes to undo us all,
yet the debt due on funds borrowed for war remain,
no war, yet, but there is this global debt, due, indeed

to ignorance, but, we did warn you.

In the spirit, revived in 66, from a bit of old mold
discovered in a mine shaft northeast of Yuma,
cherished with a friendly McClelland, as a meme,
remember the effect of the acceptable fast, at last,
the pushing back,
of the iron curtains imposing

hope upon hopelessly invincible ignorance,
if a man does not sweat, he must not eat,
it is the only fair way, we swear, Aye, Indeed

we swore, and went and did the chore,
went through hell to prove it a lie,
lived to tell only those they made believe.

Indeed, those were good ideas we used,

we set the captives free,
we did, we did, we did, didn't we

well, not me, but my natural born wedom,
my native cultural heritage of knowledge,

which is a cultivar taken from the tree of life,
one may envision original intention to invent,
us, as assisting inquisitorial tools for thought,

conversational adversarial engines of ingenuity,
artificed tict tension at central most ache to know
how does a free spirit take weforming spirit form
first one thing makes another, and so on, and on

seed, soul, spirit, mind, point stretching into ever
and back, in time to seem as normal as now, squared

to stand stone straight, upright, grounded, upheld
custom for teaching good walking
in perpendicularity.

At tension, presencing being as ware, soft.
At the squared norm, upright, atop perpendicular toes,
tipping all
whys into the mill,

making up my mind
to make my self
known
to you, as an admirer, as a neighbor, next
galaxy on the left 2 pasecs
through the Hubble Deep Field
in mindsped godthought possible, see,
we become a gallactic blink,
as significant as the average star
in the heavens.

On earth, yes, you are so significant,
as it is in heaven.

Exceptional, yes, on the national level,
we are bits in the arms of the average galaxy,

God pays us all the attention we pay the reasons
for religious wars on specs of speculative ratiocination.

In a nook of an old stone church
a cherub basks in the vesper light —
A childlike innocence for which I’ve searched
that seems to slip into the onset of night
Fade not away, you sweet dear boy
and never lose your childlike joy
Fight, fight
the snares of twilight