An auspicious occasion,
It becomes a suspicious one.
You want to obliterate it off your memory,
But end up trying to illiterate it instead.
A pinnacle of politeness,
Becomes a pineapple instead.
Malapropism is such a nice phenomenon!

A hole, A road, A Dream
All lie on one path
All will get you screams
All will pass.

your road you'll follow
With happiness and sorrow
With a heart that's hollow
Through countless time

Walk or run, it's all the same
You can beg the road to change
but your sun won't answer
And the shadows you fear remain

But don't worry
We will all fall
All in the deep dark hole
With screams or a moment of silence
We'll all fall of the cliff
We're all going into one big hole.

Child of clay,
Born in the shadow of death and decay.
Shaped and formed into what they're expected to be,
To be manipulated easily.

By the very hands that made them,
The hands that were supposed to care.
But what if they hate them, what then?
The creation crushed with just one stare.

And yet again, they're shaped and molded,
To always look as they please.
If they're not perfect, they will get scolded,
The cycle always repeats.

And when the creator is satisfied,
The flames **** the life out of the creation
They don't ever care about the child,
Just want to fulfill their temptations.

So the child stays alone,
Like none of this ever mattered.
And if it falls from the shelf, down below,
Its soul will immediately get shattered.

They told me love was butterflies,
A spark, a flutter, a fleeting high.
I believed in hearts that race,
In passion’s sweet, relentless chase.
But time, the teacher, whispers low:
Love is more than feelings show.

Look at those who’ve walked the years,
Through laughter bright and silent tears.
Do they still feel the fevered thrill,
Or something deeper, stronger still?
There are days they fight, they ache,
When love seems almost a mistake.

Yet in the anger, in the rain,
In moments of the deepest pain,
Love remains, a quiet force,
A steady hand that charts the course.
Not just a feeling, wild and free,
But a choice, a will, a loyalty.

So love is more than what we feel,
It’s what we build, it’s what we heal.
Through storms and calm, through wrong and right,
It’s what we hold, through darkest night.
A bond, a vow, a sacred art—
To love when it’s hardest on the heart.

Sometimes life leads
Occasionally, we follow.

But today becomes yesterday
And quickly turns tomorrow. 

Time is fluid,
it always flows.

In the path of least resistance.

Always forward, never to return.

And so we swim,
like salmon up a river.

Trying to get back to some,
 something or other.

To a beginning not remembered.
To some end, to forever.

Back to that shallow pool of humanity,
only to flounder there and die.

Like the salmon,
who's life begins and ends in the same place.

Who knows how far we could go.

If we had only learned
  to go with the flow.

“We should like Nature to go no further; we should like it to be finite, like our mind; but this is to ignore the greatness and majesty of the Author of things.”
—Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, 1715
<>
for my dear friends who amply supply
pictures of the infinity of nature
daily
<>

the comfort food of your
living-loving-eyeshot
screenings  of moments preservations of

the delicate and the roughened,
the mystical and magical of
our creative globe’s ad and mis
ventures,
oft far from the paths of human ruination
trafficking

these photos

the first of the day,
signaling white smoke rising or
the full fledged regular milky
insertion photographic
into the mine daily awakening
of the
purpled majesty of the world
when ******* pleasure of
first coffees of life’s days

and how it pleases me,
that there is no
conceptual conceivable,
that there will not be an
finishing enthralling,

a last never-before-witnessed
visionary submission
without
a never finite ending to this
infinite processional!

thus no need to say with
them ordinary wordy pleas of/to:
“keep them coming,”

for by your read acknowledgement of
this here poem,
you have cosigned this
contractual
o b l i g a t i o n

and I say
an ecstatic
Thank You