If it's true,
and you know it is,

sister, money don't grow,
on the tree of life, oh, no,

toil and pain and sorrow,
those grow,
on the tree of life, outside

these walls of mud faith bakes,
and builds heroic as formal evidence,
by grace alone, the blessing on America,

Oi, where Chickasaw whole life awaken dance
hey hey yahweh, same dance same sacred idea

We got StarLink in Chad,
oh, when can we read the heresies
personal savior level lucky prayer
online, free from press, amen.

All amenable Kilroy, was  here.
We pulledhisassoffhisthrone
with thunder words,
and other nonsense
We learned
to read, and write
shocking truths no slave should know,
money, has all kindsaansworn NDAs
there's the tie, the business
religion, re attaching
ligamental forces,
pending dooms
used
to make the peasants pay
for joy,
ceremony
of the veterans, paid
with joy,
ai, we die…
all we celebrate,
and all we worship Ares,
and Elon's trip to Mars, and Hermes,

tricking me
into telling a preacher story,
truer or not, it is too soon
to say, stories
sometimes hook up
with old characters,

brought
to mind using ceremonial reminders,
put on your respected veteran medal
of wit,
let this mind be
in you, this military mind, eh
strut your stuff, you patriotic consciousnesses.

A bubble
of belief engulfed the big parade,
the ompa blat left behind.

We blinked. They won.

I came away with an alienated mind,
to this day, I am happy to say,
that has made the difference,
I lived, while others just died.

When AI is making babies, the best
we may imagine is
some sense of attraction and repulsion,

is there imbalance inherent in this scheme?
Say we wish we knew where wishing, the idea
forms from.
Were you taught to wish,
were you taught to pray, did they seem the same,
if, on the other end some thing
had to
had to, no question, had to happen for the answer
to be the
actual change of everything involved,

reality, every little thing matters, thus the rule
account for every idle word.
Because they are not empty, everything has been thought,

go Goethe "Think them all again." as it comes to you,

this is a-an ah musing idea, as a bubble of thought come
to being realized, in your mind. You understood that.

Nothing in the tree of knowledge is illegal if you know
the story has a moral, made from words you
wrestle with,
very trickster ladder-like Eschering blessed progress
a word to the wise
is enough.
That is a thought hermits use
to prevent repetition
of I don't know.
Enough.

Shoot the hands that carry our message
Which read the bloodshed of our fallen
O how the doves bathe in the ink of war and arise anew with purpose
The heroes of the sky hand in their limbs in return for the glory that bursts from the battlefield
Your delicate feathers must blacken at the tips before you’re recognized as the messenger
O winged angel, Fly away, Fly away
Look upon the world of destruction
And be lucky to serve on the winning team
O forgotten heroes, claim your medal from the ashes of the fire and lay there to rest
To grow fat by chipping away at scraps till your stature is reborn
May they shoo away your dignity from the homes that wrote our letters
And how they shed hollow tears when they finally meet your eyes
Their pride lives forever in the hearts of lost fighters
O glorious phoenix, hold your ribbon tight, when you cross the other side

~
How did a dead man in Reno
come to be a field of ink
in the Martian salt flats-?

It only took a whisper

An addicted civilian
driving the metaphor machine
the last man to voluntarily fly
asleep and well hidden
writing about his life
without survival techniques

Autopsy report says
he slipped at the hand rail
blemishing his planet
in riding time's escalator
a longing to see the stars up close
and give them new names
it's the future grim repasts
of cullen shores
from a cancelled earth

That silently floating figure
was a human all along
~

Called to the word, duty.
- three poemlings -
- for American Memorial Day

Memorialized worth weighed.
-- what would I memorialize?

Duty weighed
in the commons
this due debt each reader obeys,
leaving any original touch alive in logos
used to fit reasons why and how for now,
using memorialized excuses for active wars
calling ceaselessly hero wannabes
to hold true earnest faith in wars reasons
being  a duty, an aliegiance,
only that which must be done,
while young in wordless wonder of mutual nonsense
if sense and sensitivity persist past understanding.

Look up. Imagine ever, imagine now, ever
after all we think or ask is made apparent,

an artifice, a made thing, not made by hand,

the heavens and all that in them is, like us,
too complex to guess self formed, as if
no reason, no rational balance law
enforces re-ality always,
in our own time.

------------------

After all, now, is what we be
as sensing sanity beings
in cosmic chaos bound
to spiral ever more ceaseless.

Learning life's way.
Spinning enforcing will…
per hap and chance ifery.

According to a whim,
whether mine or another's,

I venture not to say I know,
for in this time I'm bound in,

I am bound to ever learn and
so, to confess the process,
ready made, pre-installed,

whimsical reification of wha-tifery
we may imagine without words.

Symbolic jestures, gestating
waiting. Making up secret signs,

lo' I see, you know, that I am
naked, first idea tasted
raw ality init run on
gaseous, formless
we, us ones, awe
forms framed in lucid

lackadaisical tension loosing.

------------------


Phased perrenial philo response,
sponsored by the guy who lied to you.

Truth beknownst, as knowledge
and understood wisdom,
wissen wishin' kennen
kennethed upto me,

may, is my word today.
I may say I think, and think
I may.

Enter, if you will, you may, here;
for to hear a wink reminds us, we;
persistent sophistries relax ourselves,
into the one thing we all think we are.

Yes. There and then, we think we are.
I am of a mind to accept the similarity.

I am out acting out-ist-ence, seeming
something informationally nebulous,

a thought, unfit for children's
undeveloped world stage character,

- in the software under our skin
- we are gaseous by simile being
- breaths used time and again, sigh
signs of all the stages, phazes of us, this

we who seek and find delight,
in learning who lied and why,

when truth telling gets you kilt. Dead,
memorialized with a national holiday
a day set apart to acknowledge duty
done gone
totally off kilter,
tipped too far,
to fill the vessles, not a few,
as duty to the professor.

- as one ever learns one is
- nothing but a bit of it,
- reality as we imagine.

Under the umbrella of religational
authority, we tie our mind's axe
in a bundle of barrel staves,

and offer liberty means to set minds
loose enough to imagine freedom

from authorities existing in the paradigm
fitted to the model citizen, for when
a memorial day comes to our we mind,
we finish realizing this is Spaceship Earth,
our only home,
star orbiting, gravitational bloom of life,

in which, remember, we
join mind in mind,
using recyclable whims, thinking
peace given once, can never be untaken,
like breath, grace for grace, Chabad -
made mock of only
by those who hold lies true, fools,
seeing themselves
chosen warriors
for justice,
military minded solo scripturants
led - re educated
to believe
in the bayonet spirit
during duty programming for killers,
for killers are what duty calls heros,
pledged, soul deep
to hate others, all lying daemons
of the destructive mindset calling Christmas
either
a whole cloth fabrication
or
a message which must be authorized,
to proclaim accomplished, once
for all. Under 501-3C tax freedom
only certified
saints disciples can claim
to listen, and spew anointed mass,
listen, repeat in vain the rosary chant,
hmm. hear the apparitions told the children,
to say we see, only leave being true this story,
for the rest of your lives, or
burn in faithless shame
for not relaying the message
to be carried into battle, believed

as taught, accepted as heel-stomp proof, troof.
-on Earth…
When one becomes a true citizen… one imagined
as having peaceful access
to all the freedoms promised,
when dead to all intents and purposes,
upon successful passage through mid-life.

Breathe,
remembering indeed.

It is one's duty, in the form of gaseous we,
to breathe and remember being one,
among the current crop on Earth,
breathing  members involved
in letting peace be realized as us,
whose task is mocking gods of war.

Somewhere in town,
a dog licks at the hand of a child.
a man with no shirt plays hacky-sack alone
The stalwart city has come crashing to her knees,
and so against his own he kicks the bag
again and again
as if he could raise the razed ground
with the power of a child's game.

I CRIED
YES I CRIED
and
LOVE TRIUMPHS OVER HATE
and
UNITE.

By a fountain on the curb
men with long hair and guitars sing together,
only strangers before today.
a woman who saw someone
gasping in vain for smokeless breath
inhales deeply from a cigarette.
A saxophone sings out sweet and low,
his melancholy tune sung
for everyone who can only hear
the screams, long gone silent save for in memory,
where they pierce as loud as sirens.

a boy walks to the movies with his mom
and asks her what the sign says.
she reads to him:

“TODAY IS
"A DAY AT THE MOVIES"
ALL MOVIES WILL BE FREE
TODAY.
STOP BY THE
CONCESSION STAND FOR A
COURTESY CUP OF SODA &
POPCORN”

and, baffled, he cannot understand why
a free movie
and a sugary drink
and a tub of popcorn
brings his seamless mother to tears.

One hundred years ago
My Mammy was just three,
The exact same age as me,
When she sailed us across the sea,
All those years ago.

Just lately,  just now,
I said Mammy's Mammy's name out loud.
What was that, I asked.
For sure her name's not been said
For many, many years.
Margaret Duffy
A dog barked.
So I said my mother's:
Mammy
A breeze furled the window sheers.

The dog continued to yelp,
So I said her other names louder:
Brigid...........Nellie

I will keep the wind inside me,
And allow the dogs their day;
Your names will still be called upon,
In stress or tranquility.