It has been such a Long time since our last incarnation such like reassembly.

We’ve been scrubbing our United States
and leasing places
as scarification and other humans‘ faces
of stories,
to bless or gargle foreign.

We’ve been to the Neptune’s Fountain to find Young Man Hogan’s bench situated within all those loners’ speedy extroversion,
and catch the Saint Petersburg bell that hitchhiked the church there

to make a glimpse of urbanism and the world’s history replaced
by just one journal
and one fella’s pencil
swerving greatly‏.
‏
Still,
the words are still trying,
flexing,
to fit their whole ends
into shoes they should have taken off
already, a long time ago,
and that‘s this somewhere
where we could say:
crossroads decide their fruition.

And it comes to realisation:
faces,
screens,
bruises,
droppings,
chilling entries,
work,
how I remade the word “naked”of one thousand and one nights
under my tiny silky
cloak
-
it has been nothing but a play
for the day when I’ll write,
and the Life,
that will take on my own skin
one way or another.

One paper corner will meet with the other.

Departures are all eventually just fun geese’s bump in another flight of a night.

Fear to joy,
Sorrow to cheer,
How could this happen here,
In my heart,
Once broken,
Now mending,
Pending,
I'll be fine at last,
This won't be buried in the past,
Here we go,
Trial after trial,
Let's see where this one goes.

- Jay M
January 28th, 2019

Arthur Lee was with me in Vietnam,
Forever Changes is the sound track behind the
******* and Radioman
and the old survivor grandpa guy who wont keep a gun in the house,
but knows where to get one,
if it ever comes to that,
again...
tri-alogues
never can say, they say, I don't know, I 'd say if I am as I think
I am able to say hey

Yahweh, could we know this the song Arthur Lee was
singing into a a can can we say
canwe wish we were there and not need

the pain. Cannon to the west of us, big one five fives,

rattle my walls, and I see the chameleons go green to blue

I was there, it was not scary... I survived,
got a dispensation

for being good for nothing.
I could not even give my life, without it coming back,

to help you stop imaging-projecting life could lose, if you ***** up.

Don't lie. Do that one, until it is habit, you have,
be having you as true known to you as true.
not imagined

no believed lie allows a shadow of turning on the moon...
nonsense, or not

accuse me of knowing satan is not a sentient being empowered
to punish me for thinks.
accuse me of being sure i know that.

I am the knower of truth as defined by

whose authority... mine. To thine own self, be true, I judge me,
you judge you, we each judge every message,

each signal, all the signs we give meaning to, as we learn,
everybody knows,

these are those days when everything changed
and we
overlooked our duty to prevent it.

We were sorta thinking peace is a makers thing, it can be made.

So I made some, and I still had some from yesterday,
so, if your world is fractured, you can stick some in the holes so

when wicked peace is out of the question, peace,
just peace,
not servitude, just peace, is possible,

on earth, 2020. There are these ideas, Eumenides... those
are on stage...

they know how revenge works. Mortals have no clue.
As all the literature testifies.

Something. It was always something.
And whenever it was nothing
That something came crashing in
Amplifying, magnifying, falsifying

Nothing is ever as hard as living
Nothing was ever as easy as quitting
Surviving was unforgiving
Dying was unremitting

A broken heart and broken bones
Diverging cries that we condone
Death is whispered in unwavering tones
A vacuous home; an empty throne

No one lone thing could change the world
For better or worse, all unknown
Transcendence be the killer of all
Be a hero, die alone

A broken heart and broken bones
Diverging cries that we condone
Death is whispered in unwavering tones
A vacuous home; an empty throne

A tattered quest
A broken trail
A sin confessed
All’s bound to fail
A heart of stone to anchor down
A heart of gold, a thieves’ crown
A heart of ice to thaw the beast
An injured heart, long deceased

A broken heart and broken bones
Diverging cries that we condone
Death is whispered in unwavering tones
A vacuous home; an empty throne

A damaged soul, laid to rest
Unforgiving and unremitting
A hero's tale, told at best
Rescript and falsely fitting