{from 07 Feb 2018, reintegrated to my mind today, btw}
How much weight can a word carry,
you know?
I-am-bicly or bib-licly speaking,
y'know
What I mean to say is, no word stands alone
even
the word word itself needs a place to put its foot.
---
Certainly, we've seen a thing
or two
since you first stopped to see waves forming right
before your very eyes
in stone
Lies. You said you were certain
they'd be lies if you told another soul
what you thought you might have,
might have,
seen.
...face-forgotten man wonder who I am
Well, I'll be, if it weren't for me,
I doubt I'd get one ****** lie
unbelieved,
Tut, you know what I mean,
we can't go diggin' up the past and get past the present without suffering it to be so.
Just sayin'. Pain ain't, necessarily, part of waiting, now.
Here, if you're hungry, you can eat.
If you are thirsty, drink. The real here, where you are now. You're not in some torture chamber reading this.
Think about what you can't live without and,
watch, time stops, to prove you wrong.
You live on.
Even if you think you died, you still think, so,
you live.
Get on with it. Imagine the reality of truth,
as a place, past physics,
no lies exist there. So,
what else is new, to you? What else ain't
here, where it is said there is no condemnation?
Don't do that.
Don't start imagining all the bad stuff happening here because you can't imagine no lies you believe.
You imagine lies every time you say amen, in-advertently, so be it, as it may
be,
admitted ly,
for gotten-past-things, such as they are, imagined ones are still the worst. Hardest to get past.
If there be any
virtue, praise, rock-candy-mountain-reality, you
may recall them all.
Freely given for giving, dharma karma doing done,
old son.
Fair were the tales the servants told to Grandma's people before the flood.
The ant people, were a diligent folk,
they hid us all in reed boats
they bent with the wind,
like Corn-mammy chill'ns in April sun showers.
But, oh, the way things used to be, they was ab-
used, them servants sent from God.
Good luck findin' one now.
Blue and white, and blue and green, and blue and yellow, and blue and orange, two by two,
on a spectrum of one being the best,
choose blue and white.
Discern the rest.
Be still. There's more.
a -musin', eh? the way things might-a -been.
'lot a good that may do ya', ken ye, kennin' ever things?
Kin folk fallin' from the fam'ly tree be
laughin' sayin' see what he wannabe,
lordy, lordy bless my baby heart.
Pea-pickin' heart.
Historical note: Spring 2018 was when i wrote this, my geriatric psych pro, prompted me to let some one else know how I happened to grow old, against all odds, this was titled "Little Fishes" then... any way, I must say, the readers at HelloPoetry have lifted me from a pit it does little good to speak about surviving, without offering a thread to follow. This was near the time I began to meditate, seek arts intention, Hermes Psychopompos offering to guide me through the mess I made, and now, realized, I survived. With help.
