Optimo, they say in Pahree,
of course, you knew,

fine is just fine for the unworldly.

For such as inhabit my spirit realm,
nothing but the best of days remain.

Madness, as a pastime,
suffices as artificial, made artwise,
too beautiful for any common sense…

ah, yet, on such a day, we may
agree we find time expands,
at a glance from those
makers
of perfect sense
from pastence, old lines
yes, optimo, fine lines
the best, in fact
oh,
some time ago, when all were mad as I.

---------------
While watching Hepburn
as the Mad Woman of Chaillot,
because, voila, I sought a forgotten line, from when,
as a boy of seventeen, I played Yul Brenner's role,
while then, my best friend,
some while dead, now,
had the role Danny Kaye plays
in the movie, I never watched
until today.

But, why,
of course, your curiosity is piqued, perhaps

the perfect point,
what we reexperience
is richer than just fine, it must be truly optimo
to meet criteria of old age mere satisfaction,

whereby we call all our ghosts
to laugh once more, exactly as before.

Of course with somewhat greater effect.
Assuming you know what I mean,
those Jungian types are quite alive… the greedy,

the payers of tribute
to Trump and his ilk selling
Israel fine American genocide tech.

this feeling of
upset,
frustrated,
sad,
misunderstood,
mad --
just makes me want
to rip my hair out of my head
and punch something.

knowing i full well
do not have the strength
to do
either.

i would break my knuckles
punching something,
and hurt my hands trying to
pull all my hair out.

im too weak.
that's what this was all about anyway,
im mad because im weak,
im sad because im too quiet,
im frustrated because no one hears me!
no one truly understands
my brain
and that will never change
no matter what i do.

no one but me is in here.

i feel things loudly,
and it feels like
im being swallowed
by multiple intense
feelings
all at
once.

and it's just too much,
for one girl.
one brain.
one heart.
one voice.

it makes me want to yank my hair out
and punch something
until my knuckles are red and ******.

So your sitting there talking on the phone
but in your statement your standing all alone

You can’t play the game of a one time mistake
you’ve done it before, so we know it’s all fake

A defense against an attack never made
you were the one who started the charade

To pin the blame on those that you hurt
put all those around on heightened alert

A stalker, a hater, a bully and the like
the names you called, putting a friendship on strike

But it never seems to be that you think it through
cuz every single one only applied to you

Its the aesir to reason you
For matter of what soul
In due, is death that would
So dare yet find to cross.

Centories can mind or two
All at best be kept from
Ungrateful as bitter a fruit
Troubled aripe a venom.

In witt masterred the clue
For debt and till reason
Argued to name its value
Soul to have to be cost.

In wisdom weighted book
Soul saving of to worth
To practice become proof
Know to be of freedom.

Lived longer of any should
Worlds i come to know
New best call an every few
Hours twelve twice both.

Willed to call self introduced
Before far of every soul
Knew had language of tune
Come art supreme form.

Read from eyes all in true
Come to the collector
Due of gods understood
To proverbs skeleton.

Built from word time root
Come every ending of
Too late be the too soon
A home a rest a world.

Its the aesir to be excused
Work be lovemade word
New as dread as powerful
To be as limitless unknow

Written secret mirrorview
All charms willin souls
Rule in a spell more true:
Of right to be to, calls:

To be: RIGHT in the DUE -
PROVERB - SKELETON.