75°F & Alive & Minding the Perfection

morning mindfulness,
surrounded by perfect,
once again, may it be
forever this-a-way

I have no idea what
I’ve done to be so
blessed; and I repay
with gratitude in this
psalm hymnal, poor
though it may be,
it is genuine, poured
from within the open
confines of all I have
learned, earned, & burned;

75°F & Alive  & Minding the Perfection,
the color contrast is  an overwhelming,
an all encompassed scheme
makes neighbors,
even,
total strangers greet each
other like beloved brothers & sisters,
this heaven is infecting,
an infectious breeze of the
stillness of early morn
born and carried in our cell’s walls,
strong are the nuclei, and this
memory, this poem devotion,
this ttributary of words
flows with slowed ease,
and the
troubles are banished to the
back of the pack,
tho the line be long,
the golden oldies music
banishes them to a temporary oblivion
and within a totality of solitude alone,  
momentarily,
my heart,
fulsome,
yes trite but true, is crazy
overflowing,
I’m in danger of loving everyone,
for to not,
would be
criminal
if it were even a
possibility

if i could snap my genie fingers,
beware, I’d summon y’all,
a global contraction perfect,
to convent/sit beside me, your presence
welcomed with a hot beverage,
a cooling drink, for every one
always get what they w a n t

*and
yea, yeah, yeah
this is a forever & always,
only  a
love poem…

'it is not the language of painters
but the language of nature one should listen to'
to reach the perfectly articulated thought
in search of the lost chord
it disappears like foggy mist
in the wake of a rising Sun
the foggy mist of my decline

what a dream I had
if only I could show you

"I don't like this, I don't want to be here"
Well, add a "T" here or move on
The PURSUIT of happiness is the right they mention
Remember though, it's an emotion
And just like every other one
It too isn't healthy to always be on
A better life is the big con
Middle class gone
Devide and conquer worked to perfection
Mostly 'cause half the population
Can't do long division
Can't trust a single politician
Corruption now the backbone of religion
Founding fathers knew the importance of separation
But those who've cherry pick the bible from generation to generation
Now want the option too cherry pick the Constitution
It no longer matters what's right and wrong
Just belt out your fight song
If you don't like something go get your march on
Or hit the gong
Pretend your conviction is strong
And when your judgement comes along
There's nothing you can do but end up where you belong

©2024

I've already cried these tears, no need to cry them again
Wasted too many years behind pretend perfection
Faced my fears, even call a few of them friend
And no, they are not pretend
Attempted to flip enemies to allies, no more than a means to an end
But a good decision it was not, because the I I thought I was went missin'
Forced to change the base mission
Another unwanted end
A new forced new beginnin'
Ready or not, do we have to go again?
What are they odds the next one will be a win?

©2024

You are an artist, my love.
Your mouth is a musician’s mouth, your lips my tool. My body is the instrument you play, drawing forth the music that is our passion. My cries are the melody, your groans are the lyrics. Our bodies come together and beat to the rhythm of our song. Your breath hushes me, my moans do not obey. My hair whispers on your skin in silken sigh. While your clever fingers wring from my gasp. Our voices mingle in perfect harmony. As together, we sing the wordless song of our instrumental love.