The Shaktic Yonied con-i-cative chronicle
Receptive magical majesty
Why do I insist to refuse the image
Which given to all for a being
I must, I must. but lust for sustenance
Greed gleamed gem, imaginative benefits
Illustrious acceptances held in receptacles
Analogous referrals for smarmy mastication
She: What a Be. The present of this presence
Shaking her out, letting go of these pretense
And obligative fashions
Of latching ons, to momentary ideals
Peeling them down, because permanence is the illusion

The banana tastes better without the Denial
Whittling woodwork
The sawdust agrees
We push, we push forth.. Hesitant to be forceful
Yet sometimes that's the force in it's own manifestation
When's the plan the being, and the being the plan?
Over exhausting contemplative complications
Isn't just a bean plant To eat the seed
And relish in her nourishment
But that want can be that active fault-line
Tectonically rupturing this productive structure
Impatience of the anticipating ambition
Crumbling foundation of her imaged experience

Perception is the adversary of all this malarkey
Projecting the doubt filter on how perceiving this reality
Realization of creation, the constant remembrance to strive
What's the precidence and where's my mind to?

Blind me!   Blind Me!

To forget the exhaustive duty

        Her beauty is so suiting
    Long to fruit.

To be swooned so soothingly

Pachydermal memories, sticky adhesions
Loosening the reigns of thoughtful ride
Outsourced skills seeping the membranes
In an amniotic suspension
The quest lays in retaining
Not to drain, yet keep momentum
As a leak at the bottom of the ocean
The strain refills
Full-filling circulation



The gentleman swims in the crowd
           Of his metropolitan pathways
              Imbibing, desirous affections
             Afflicting self response modes
           I shall surely like to be there
         But the train ceases to brake

Or abide. The subway scatters island thoughts
Motioning exward, refusal to mesh

          Though in mirth we blend
  Against the parent in congress with the goal
        Aligned with their strife
     He watch, the office traffic’s
  Yellow bleeding before all signal
Yet pushes forward pileups
His symptoms pertain; uneasy persisting exquisite

Ponder this well to understand more clearly

       that what we have as life

                is many-hued reflections

Am I a linger or a triggered scope?
Scored abundance of lust expanse



Sort of layered in a pictorial proxy
The substrate, mixed and sustaining.
Plain ‘scapes: the focal pointed sources.

Pressure pulled assorted mountains
and it feels like ever never really is
Beside faintly glancing
angles of indefinite presences,
laughing and holding false vigils
for meaning less gods and angels.

The narrow passageway that I define as a soul could be a single cellular unit in a larger -cosm of ‘I’ness.

         Or maybe I’m unknowingly the macro,
Forgetting the idea of creation, abandoning to sordid garbage, rolling in my own demise.

Sludgeballs build up
                       on the edge of a concrete pond..

While artificial intelligences beg for our distractions and I look so as not to neglect.
Speculate on the absolute purified version of that spectacly dynamic experience called love
Pale heroes dance in the shadow of the real
Feelings slowly become a concept,
ceasing to be a process
  
Lowly porridge injected with the image of vitals boiling onto the fire
       That’s what I get for making breakfast at night

Everything feels like rain sometimes
Just melting in, life adapting to the moist
Making the planet wonder, itchy
The metal rusts on an old chair
Mineral deposits forming daggers
That poke into the skin, wounded
Pressing lightly to create chills

A Cuckoo lands on the head of the corroded seat
A kin in the parasitic genre;
While the sparrow feeds its young, imagine
Lightly tapping the corrugated root
Myriads rejoice while others shudder
Change sprawls from ponds
Dessert bears no fruit that doesn’t pierce
Organic walls are weary
         and give off warnings


Shifting over and the light glimpses
Spells of lanterns holding
          knowledge in practiced perfection
Loving softness in the gentle coverage
And you have the courage to step out
          But I hear it’s going to rain tomorrow

And you hope it doesn’t
     hinder yr spirit in the matter,
for a trek in the damp
      can prove quite rewarding
            critters step out,
                   breathe in the ozone

I’d like to find a better tomorrow
In the forever, Now
Experience makes me shudder
Just to take the catastrophe like the victories

Because I felt romantic
I wept and swooned
Wallowing in thought puddles
Casting spells of enchantments
With little effort endured
Going too flaky within a whim

Sometimes in the middle of a dragonfly
   The bunnies know it daily
We exceed its ‘proper’ function
Hoping faintly for a lift
Sifting through the broken pictures
     Chewing morsels indignantly
Living for the ‘how ya doin’?”’s
Caressing notions, moments folding
   Lift me tender, lift me grasping
Give me love of once I was told
Crispy Autumns and the baggage swirls around
And around the corner_

There in the apple eyed store-shops
She passed just ever lightly
Words are symbols, lying ever
Telling nothings, imagery
      To behold is another crossing
Of ever momentouses and cross-haired intricates

Livening, battering, shocking, scolding
      Letting it stick and allowing to go
Go, go. Go through and ask for a bother
               She will do as It Wills.

Blood stains dye the carpet in
memory of popped bedbugs
The urge to scratch
lays beyond the vermin
No matter where it’s directed
it’s just out of reach
Some far off recess,
swinging on the monkey bars

       Mocking me

There we go, fell for it once again
Because holograms are so convincing
And I’m a pretense to the predicament
by being a participant
Licking candied sticks that inflame the ailings
The moans are a call to duty
Yet I’m unsure of what to administer
And the guinea pig phase is still in effect
So I should stop buying space on billboards
Until the ethicalities get stituated

I can eat all the moments,
in a moment
       as we’re slipping down the whole
Catch me in the action faulting,
  always wanting
skipping forward in revolt
     Reverse,
expecting always cautious,
           flowing nonsense instead always mixing with the tide.