Shell casings strewn
On a rooftop
A grassy knoll
An underground garage
This is what ensues
When you hate the man
In front of you in line
And he happens
To step into Texas

Forest inquires:

How do you decide, choose your design, find its guise,
give it a face, surrender to the poem's own
vanity,
        and choose the poem's alignment?


                                                  an­ answer forms:

this alignment idea,
you think it simple,
everybody understands
what your inquiry means

alignment -  the appropriate relative position

we live in relative position to each other, our poems too, for they are but written synapses of our close captioned interactions, seemingly random, but assuredly not, as we invest in ourselves, seeking the mysterious appropriate answer
                                                                ­                        from the Theory of Poetic Relativity

                                                   ­             i love your question;                              hold it to my nostrils,          
                                             ­             smell the coffee aroma wake up blast inherent;
                                                                ­      
 kiss its robust childlike cheeks for the simple   soulfulness essential arousal;
for you see sir you have found
the appropriate position that relates us, our mindful words;

                                 answer no good, wholly insufficient?
                                        perfect.
                          as i close this quick cooked to perfection laboratory solution, take note

                              
                            ­                        the earth has moved
                                our hearts have beaten a measly thousand times
                                    time and space have appropriated our prior
                                          
relativity

when you return years hence this poem's shape will perforce have moved. for words are weathered flux constant and yet inherently unchanged except for the part of us that changes with every re-reading  

and what was


**right before has left and the center has moved again

A ghost is said to be a form of energy;
and we now know that energy can physically move objects.
Which would make sense when someone witnesses an object move independently,
they would immediately assume “ghost”.
But what if it wasn’t actually a ghost moving the object at all,
but really the person themselves?
We are starting to understand, more today than ever, that when we breakdown a humans molecules
to the tiniest points, known as “subatomic particles”,
that all that is left is light,
and that in fact, light is a form of energy,
therefore we humans are essentially energy.
Now knowing this,
and with practice…
why wouldn’t a human be able to harness their energy,
and use it to quite literally
move physical objects themselves??
Going further into this concept, where we are talking humans,
then we can’t ignore our biggest human quality: emotions,
which we are also now finally understanding to be a type of energy in itself,
and that it can also be felt…
such as when someone is sad near you, you are able to sense it
and feel bad for them...
So who’s to say that when a human has a panic attack, is outraged or even terrified,
wouldn’t be able to form a supercharge of energy from a build-up of emotions
and unconsciously move an object?
Therefore, confusing the incident with what seemed to have been
a ghost…

king of all the children of prride,

a challenge

simulate the mind of christ,
imagine that,

but before that mind there were others,
fully contained

in the godhead,
******

the reference points we are mortal at or on or in or of or
whatever

withknown mitgnostic mag-I-artful-intuition ifity

springing, post clockwork world,
post atomic force augmention focus visuals translated

in virtual 2-d

a word. is. wide or long but never short and long and high or low,

without a very sophia isticated way of folding

re
ality into now, with you finding yourself beyond the Disney-ifiers

set with cubic ziconia tiaras holding mantilla veils

covering the window in the top of you head.

--- great message, I got a lot out o' that.
--- especially the worthship

seamanship **** preventer, look up, y' re

demption station draweth nigh,
we all *** rrecycle by and by,

jest, decide not to lie,

ye get by. And y'kids do, too.

Where?...
What's happening.
No, no, something is wrong. Very, very wrong.
Why can't I see?
Where, am, am I the only one here?
...
...
It's cold here..
And I think I'm lonely.
I'll make something
And it will be beautiful
Bright
It will explode
With life
No more darkness
I can rest easy
Humanity, I’ll call it
They shall be perfect
And I can go back to sleep.

If the earth is flat as a pancake,
how come the sun and moon, and pretty much every other celestial body, are round like a Belgium waffle?

If the moon landing is some giant hoax of trick photography,
who did it? and how?
I mean, Industrial Light & Magic didn't get it's start until nearly a decade later!

Come on!

Delayed reaction
Bitterweet one-note transaction
Turn a blind eye
Voice it in a lie
From compulsive catalogs
Gift-wrapped by mythomaniac hands
Mixing false theories
With hour-glass sands
Because everyone can
And everyone will
Believe the scientific rulebook
And how the high heavens, they shook
So long as it looks pretty
And speaks in a foreign accent
Join hands in singing the praises
Calculating our own descent
Passively uninvolved?
Problem solved...

When trees could all stand,
With the beasts of finest fangs;
Erased by a bang

*** in the morning
Death in the afternoon
And it was dark

Milling about stacks
Of paperbacks and out of focus snapshots
Some of her in the shower

But pay heed
She's an iceberg
Warm her up on a bed of nails

Until she's a plaintive waterfall
And then tie her to the scaffolding
Of a clean well lighted place

What remains out of sight
Through omission
Through silence

Through childlike syntax
Shall float to the surface
In its own due time