Like a seed
sown out of season
is the falling of poetry
upon fields of reason,
and like a note
played out of time
is the echo of reason
within halls of rhyme.

If there was anything in the water,
it's all been drunk by now

repeat that,
mantra red neck style drivin' down a road
with oak trees and double yellow lines,
windows all rolled down,
drivin twenty-five…

Mysteriously still alive.
Singing in the spirit
with all my ghostly friends

If there was anything in the water,
it's all been drunk by now

If there was anything in the water,
its all been drunk by now

with spirits all
in harmony, we have
conspiracy enough,
just us, we two
me and thee or
ye and me
we all
you all
we uns  and you uns

watchathank
watchathank
watchathank can the old white guy
keep time, or does he owe all to life?

For what?

**, every one that thirsteth,
come ye
to the waters,
and he that hath no money;
come ye, buy, and eat;
yea, come, buy wine and milk
without money and without price.


It's a mystery t'me.
Could be we chose life for free.

If there was anything in the water,
it's all been drunk by now

I am a bundle of thread
I am a thorn
I am unspooling
I am shorn
I am a needle
I am the haystack
I am off-beaten
I am the path
I am a carriage
I am a horse
I am the outcome
I am the cause
I am the future
I am the past
I am the now
I am what lasts
I am a soldier
I am a fool
I am the Weapon
I am a Tool
I am rusted
I am unhinging
I am broken but
I am glinting
I am fractured
I am golden
I am beauty
In eyes beholden.

One who self assuredly
lieves be a self governing code,

watch where you are going,
trust
the practiced habituation,

rising
to the upright pose,
standing
on my own two feet,
stepping
into my own time alive

with Justin Johnson mellow blues,

mellow mental slow dance,
walkin'
by the windows,
looking
through my own reflection,

at whats appealing
to me, please
see something you want and need
and can afford,
you hear

the window dresser
thinking
to himself,
see my artful display,
and imagine owning the desirable

baubles
on display, but, not today,
too long ago
to care, yet

fishing
for forgotten goods,
thinking today could be the day,
when all involving my ever after
happens
to ever
after mean what me and you
think ever and after
at once do mean

can we signal senses
we think we share,
no question,
I suppose,
the answer is yes, we share
the very air we breathe,
with music in it.

But, but, beware,
the back beat,
telling me I have wasted all my days,

I glance back,
and see my shadow,
so I laugh, inside, seeing my progress
into the light
of ever after all I lost…

asking strangers
for a few minutes
we can someday share, sure and certain,
it was as real as anything,
at the moment

our selves are
not ourselves, not
another pair
of people facing after all,

we form a bubble
to be in, only we two,

could be
we must imagine some sense
we feel we must squeeze
from sense
as common as
the air we share.

Love is a tempest

that first throws us off course and --


then plays with our minds.

Let us account our idled word,
indeed seek science...
reason debt, duty to be,
did he say. raison d' etre?
no.
he said reason debt, I heard
reason
call out debt, or was it doubt?
I heard called out,

doubt the difference a day makes

in reality,
the world of you and me,
the strangest sort of sapient beings
to ever
exist, we survived, so far… is that
reasonable?

Whom do I owe for my survival, so far?
Say you know, I'll say
mebbe so, if your ideal surviva-babble
possible ever, after,
exists,
is there a place where evil is punished,
for being known in all the common
ways we think, lies we believe,
good for nothing pure
evil, imaginary, mirror neuron firing signals
to the glands
from the guts to each
knot of knowing relaying response
to the noise - cries of havoc,
from any war fought on TV2021, the
recommending AI we love to trust,
with knowing
just
what we needed to know, to make up a mind
on matters pertaining
to you and the others who may be unaware, inactive,
untriggered by the terror,
not entertained by walking dead, but by the spirit
of the characters, or
character of the spirits, in other words, these
attention
holding cells for arrested development, idle words,
un-read, lines
unready for the dam that broke.
-live 'n'learn-
It takes more than seventy years to learn if ai
was right, when I surrendered, of my own free will,
made friends, and lovers, of
those who hated my idea,
peace, at any price.

Love your enemy - ha! Ha! Karate HA!
What fool would give ….

GAME STOP!... wow.
reason for the faith, as previously defined,
my way,
with hubris, in the face of the sharpest minds
opposing my singularity of being being
my own, in fact, my only
own thing, my own
reason to be.
- a hermit heretic idea virus  modeled
- on the good wise *** archetype,
- the guy open to the guiding mind,
- through a refined Turrets connector, receives this
- crazy message to the hero of your story

So you could read this and run on,
for a long time, knowing agottamighty in d'vita
gotcha
best interests in mind.
- iron butterfly, rusty, but for the drum solo,
- that makes a mind dance again

What can be shaken, may be shaken,
or stirred,
swirled round and round within
gravity, at the mortal scale,

one more time.

-----------------

There’s a skeptic I know who remains inconvincible
Certain that logic is something invincible
Loathe to accept
The secrets well kept
Unable to pinpoint the primary principle

A confused person

still assumes that others know --


what they are doing.