Prosperity follows labor
And not just “having fun”
My ratio of fun to work?
One to ten, or ten to one?

Prosperity follows service
I ask when the day is done
My time on self or others?
One to ten, or ten to one?

Prosperity follows purpose
Do I use focus (or none)?
Ratio of living on purpose?
One to ten, or ten to one?

Artistically,

being a child is something always
painted to be one of flesh wounds;
one bouncing between hyper activity,
and being bewildered by a snail
after the sprinklers have gone off in the morning.

Maybe the precious life
that fills their lungs -
refreshes a child's waking moments
is rewritten to be poetry; folks panhandling for distance memories always better than ones they hold today.

We find their outlandish thoughts
to be ones of tomfoolery.
Looking at children with eyes that do not see them as people.
Instead we milk our own absurdity for rewritten nostalgia.  

Please,

Stop. Remember. There is nothing to lose, which has not already been lost before.  If it can be gained once. So may it be done again.

Children are not children
because of age or inexperience
they are everything we aspire to be,
and that is to be free.

as the little bird tries to fly,
it explored the very sky,
with her wings waving so high,
with the joy she cry

as the little bird tries to sing,
she sang so loud hoping one could hear a thing,
she waved again her little wing,
little did they know she was yelling

as the little bird tries to speak,
no one wants to hear for she's so meek
everyone thought it was just a trick
but they can't see the tears on her cheek

as the little bird tries to escape
she tries to fit in any shape
with her wings she casually drape,
her little body she gently scrape

as the little bird tries to cry
she began to look at the sky
is she here to live or to die
no one really knows why

When the world knows who to look for
And how to spend their seconds
What will you say when
Your palms are empty with choices?
When the clicks are in tune without you and
Their sounds know where to go
When you run to find the oceans
Have all but dried up
And you've been looking in all the wrong places
What will you have left, to call yourself?

enter ego
tainting, tinting, spiking
now with its foreign substance
always to manipulate and alter What Is
already natural is only good

One did not think one could improve on God?
Did one think this lie?
Did one account for one’s own blind ignorance?

as if one created something new
within the realm of What Is

Step aside and see your own insignificance,
if you can stand to look -
stand the inferno of your own gaze.
And, if you cannot,
how could you believe you are a king?
A king of what?
The lost.

busy the days working in time
making some nightmarish world

You think you are making paradise?
You are building your own funeral pyre!
Must you go to the bitter end,
dragged and gagged and beaten?

it isn’t a giving up

What have you taken?
In order to give something up,
you must have taken it in the first place.
You have not.

only think it so,
making all suffering seem real.

What is this you have made?

don’t know
can’t see
won’t stop and tell
just keep spinnin
and rollin
and truckin along
leanin in and gettin ‘er done …

To what END?

That stare so seen and felt, unfocused eyes upon a green belt or perhaps a dancing flame, first light of day, a cloud up high or a creature unto aim.
It speaks to the very soul, this line is known, no emotion of note from birth it’s owned as entangled carnation, its internal role, to hold fast in dorm, pure as bone.
Yet strongly serve and let it be heard, the notion of essence, traversed when alert, you are back, a spec, society bound, freely reminded, you are the world, lost and found.

I see the beauty of you such as no other woman holds,
Cast in radiance and uniqueness by natures precision moulds.

And though others may not see you as my eyes perceive the view.
I live for the grace and the beauty that my dreams perceive in you.

My eyes are drawn to beauty's smile written there upon your face,
like a touch of heaven when we join in love's warm embrace.

I feel my heart skip to match the rhythm of your gentle sigh,
the softness of you near me forcing my every sense to high.

Your sensuous, delicate lips that I am so longing to know and kiss,
where my soul yet sings aloud to make a moment such as this.

I am captivated by every soft curve and all of your alluring charms,
sure my heart will know completeness with you there in my arms.

Two souls content by touching, set on lighting passion's hottest fire,
ignited by the bond of two lovers totally consumed by deep desire.

Feel of naked flesh pressed upon my own bodies now made as one,
with universe as if vanished, all else but us seemingly now gone.

Unified realm of heart, mind and soul's most contented place,
as we lose ourselves to loves inspired intoxicating embrace.

Caught and bound by love's true bond each for the other one.
who knows if one day I will find it, but until then, I dream on.