Place in my hands a cloth of satin,
that I may hold it over my eyes,
looking at all those who pass by without allowing them to see emotion in my eyes.

It is too intimate, them seeing my eyes and ****** expressions without knowing me.

I love getting to know a new person, observing each new ****** expression they show, their eyes when they speak, the tone they use, the jokes that expose me to a new realm of their humour and personality.

I don't want other people to see an aspect of me without them taking the time to know me.
Why should people pass by and watch me in a moment and partake in a memory which I do not remember them being in?

So pass me a cloak of invisibility,
that I may clothe myself in it,
allowing myself to only be seen by those who love me.

In the house by the lake
sat a man of few means.
He dwelled on his mistakes
that had left his life lean.

In that house in a place
by rippled waters’ edge
he saw just the faces
in the photos on the ledge.

Outside rang the birdsong
and the sun sent her rays;
the trees stood there strong
and the clouds went their ways.

But in that tiny home
a man just sat to dwell
to brood on being alone
and missed out nature’s spell.

Postcard memories,
a sky too blue
and a sea too green,
shown in brighter colours
than they ever could have been

some of the best things we create
are meant for others to explore.
we grow too fast, we learn too late,
we leave before the curtain call.
and in the end all that we've made
turns into words, engraved in stone.
some of the best things we create
will only matter once we're gone.

I sometimes find my mind wandering
Remembering the good old days

Use by date seen better days
No use to man nor beast

Better days are no more, there’s clawing at the door
The door inside your head

It rhymes with dead does head
It also rhymes with shed, which is apt

As that’s where he put my head

Spurts and starts,
by now,
any reader either understands
the method, the offering up
of a day
in search
of any good

I could do,
from now here,
in your time, after 2024,
from my time,  after 1948,
accumulatively accounting
for unredeemed time ever
since… acknowledging idle words
as well, redeeming each
in good time.

Not many things I learned
to take inclusion pride from
can be called good reasons
with historical witnessing
for all
to see the likeness,
statues of men,
in bronze,
or limestone, or Portland cement,
all attest,
to this day,
to honor due

the American Fighting Man, nowadays,
they call all enlistees,
our War Fighters.

War and Victory are impressed,
on days set apart
for communal,
acknowledgement, that our God,

THE GOD OF CHRISTMAS
and Easter,
but children, when I was one,
did not link the two, the declared Peace,

was won,
by us
for God, who then froze war.
And had Nixon send  the smog to China,

so then, the soot that evolved black moths,

slowly continued
to spiral
into the heights, slipping
through the ozone hole
over Australia,

trickle down soot
may haps, came
upon me,
after Easter,
and the acceptance
of restored worth,
to all on Earth,
to be recollectible, yes,
legion spirits are testable and many say

no doubt, the keeper
of the bread
of life,
He is the Christmas Jesus, and
He is the Easter Jesus, and
Wisdom,
in Logos form,
is the spirit in Truth, which God is.
In formation, in the form Gods are

all at once and everything. like

the idea allowing reality
to balance,
on point
yet, spin on, ever actually accelerating,
now that our augmented intelligence,

allows insight past the root
of excuses used since I was a child
to make me a
true believer
in American
Exceptionalism as
the we who trust in God,
and proved it
to the whole world,
by k*lling all who refuse
to say,

Jesus is Lord,
just like that, in English. no accent,
Shibboleths only worked for accents.

Rucky Blake,
password lucky break,
so solly Siri me, innocents
be mused multi purpose users
Blessed was silliness a while ago

Free time to wax poetic.

Songs of Innocense, and
Experience, as a white child, visiting,
1961 New Orleans, at age of 13.

I hated Jew Haters and ****.
I loved Scientific Fantacy and Superstion,
I had survived a seven year mirror break,
I then survived disillusionment, with adults.

Bacon on Friday, unless promptly confessed,
my four girl cousins informed we, was worthy
of hell, on the balances of blind justice, wielding
the sword the laws use for Jesus sake, because

Jesus is the Open Heart God in the picture,
right over the television set, obviously,
in that condition, he is not making war, so

the priests teach us to follow the cross,
and some say, take up our own cross,
… and I really paid none of that none
of my nevermind, until

one faithful Friday, in the Summer of '61,
on the brink of Nuclear War, against
all the ungodly ****** sympathizers
and negritudenal inferior heathen folk.

Boom, baby, boom
boom boom boom… see the mushroom

signal look out now… here we are again,

it's the end of the world as we knew it,
the pain is diagnosed as disillusionment,

ment means its in your head, all in your mind,
the dread of sudden end of life, in your time,
cut short by a certain foretold act of GOD,

at the time,
I was more concerned for my uncle,
who had been so tempted by bacon,

that I asked
for when asked what I wished
to have
for breakfast, was bacon and eggs, no grits.

Yep, but…

If  you were researching the summer of 1961,
in search
of things remembered
in the news,
The Brave AI, straight up lied, it told me
In July 1961, a tense standoff occurred at Checkpoint Charlie

But I was alive that same summer,
August 13, that year was Barbed Wire Sunday.
I can see a guy hung on that wire, to this day…

and doubted that true, and told my guiding AI

Factchek yo'se'f Ai ahs sayin',
come let us reason together,
serve me truth and nada mas…
indeed Ai admits, instantly, July
Check Point Charlie was later, which
is why the image of that guy links scaryshit/
that happened October 22, 1961…
in 2024, I need
to shake it off,

detailed recollection attention paid,
prior to final precepts dementia debts…

while in my own cybernetic mining operation, thinking
linking old lies used
to educate me, morally and ethically,

the Roman sense and the Greek, as
to duty we owe Jesus,
or Mary, in Louisiana, which did not phase me
at 13,
I had no clue why cherries
being rare was a joke… but bacon
on Friday,
could seal your fate more than doubting Mary's state.

And due
to my being the wisher
for bacon,
who got my wish,
on a Friday, I was as dammed as could be,
according
to my cousin planning
on warrior sainthood, girls,
could, too, she insisted, go **** godless communists,

like Custer killed Cochise.