#predicament
Imagine that.
Imagine you, I did, or can,
imagine becoming an image seen, mage,
image and spirit
of a traveler returned
to finish an inchoate imagined proof
ready to be offered as precious enough as
what we are, people reading any language,
we are curious enough to read anything , until,
safe and warm, we drift off
into slumber immediate
expansion into spirit me, un embodied
facing my guiding angel interface with truth,
as a conscious user of consciousness, watch,
from when and where your knowing leads
or has led you to realize or fantasize con-
fabulated fabulous you, certainly chosen
called to confront the time wasters rules,
all attention not paid elsewhere already,
now, pay to this poet wannabe I already am
willing to lie for truth's sake, innocent protection,
Hays Code Great Depression, dip blip on the Dow
suffering, meandering, trouble shooters rituals
some certain prophecy, today, when it becomes
this conscious experience in readiness proving
this conscious with science called knowledge
using those thus entertained to pay ahead,
pay it toward tomorrow, plan on piling immense
portions of sweetened ignorance privileges, sweet
satisfied mind reaction to reasonable evidence, as
faith is that evidence, the Bible does say so, Paul
says so, as his words live in those who hold true
the affirming declaration, atop the personal promise
to tell the truth, the whole truth, note the technique,
subtle potential differentiation, called to mind, whole
truth, probably differing only in scope, as far as I know.
If the poor are those whose mind's can't rest, and you
are, if you will, taking time to evaluate faith as reason
while having nothing better to do at the moment,
ah yes, just now, perfect time to bend pretend ahas
back into plain wonderous ifery used for nothing
so far, as mankind, mental beings befriending angels
passing fantasy loaded with allusion to essential ifery
for a fee,
fine lines may be discerned,
granularization realization considering our source,
once in a while, slowing to still, while tilting right,
to see the connection, feel the seam, tilting left,
two brains, walnut head, pointy nose, nods, once
breathes on full cycle, waits to inhale, once thunk
Marx on the one hand, Moses on the other, and me
I am the moderator, sitting in for reorientation, I am
pretty sure that I am the presiding judge
in this balanced state of conserved rest,
instantly donated from the court's reserves,
idle words redeemed during previous trials.
Umph and gumption. Imagined. On. We take
literal literally in these cognate global revolutions.
Volunteers are necessary but not needed until once
a pang of consciousness, an original bare foot scruple,
a bullhead sticker, or a goathead in your dialectical
whole truth told in final judgement day preparation,
on any given day, after the subject of grace is taken up
and away from any previous weight, worth on balance
better to spell or be served by SPELCHEK SAMIZDAT
free form query construction, Object Orient Dot, go
we never finish anything, which is why, if we wished
to be there, in the provential way there is taken
for granted to mean other than here, at the time
from reader one POV, reset to writer last word
new line, I am thinking is Ai ah writer spell slave,
happy finger function leaving left brain be good,
letting right brain be proud self happy me, while
we proceed to make peace with purpose drives,
holy gnosishitsthickening, crud in the arteries,
we ought reconsider. Sidereality does implore us.
Come into my wilderness and be a while, nada mas
be a while thinking no cliché what if all of knowledge
the shame, the blame, the effectual fervent cursings,
all calling courage to the stand, stand up right, lean
not to the left nor to the right, but hold still, let go
be the keyword we reimplanted, the point godot
made you think, what if we are all the whiles, at
tense
moments in the play, on the planet, in the ritual
usual morning justice be done, here comes the sun,
and it is still alright, to feel canyon safe for ever,
taking granted breaths, and feeling grounded
balanced nature of this passing wind in once
mere wonder if this heals or wounds, kids,
at play, Cain and Able, make of it what we may,
the truth is that's our story, coherency, we may
use the same thought patterns set in stone, and
think, look at this medium, is this not that light
we imagined on teensy tiny tv we could watch
instead, eh, look away, Dixieland, old times there
are best remembered dead, and dealt with, hungry
ghosts of liars, mostly honest men who did believe
God made kings, but he didn't make Kitty Wells,
come alive in a little boy's left ear, listen up,
It wasn't God who made ***** Tonk Angels, okey?
dialectical your language or mine, the measure part
across, between languages… words reason re as on
samizdat middle way, why we hate confusing whys,
wise dom home domicile place where we be, long ways
from dominant peacemaking private interpretations
--------------------
A thousand subtle philosophical reasons might easily be given, we dare say, for this prevalent temper of the day, and as many moral remedies for it suggested as there are preachers in the land. But without entering upon the profounder metaphysics of the matter, it is tolerably plain that the intense competition and the vast personal opportunities of modern society have sorely disturbed the ancient limits of meum and tuum in the current conscience of mankind.
From 1860 NY TIMES
May 21
May 21, 2026 at 11:55 AM UTC
I'm far from being a worthy investment
It's pretty evident
Someone would have every right to be hesitant
And feel the growth of resentment
When so many details are absent
My mood isn't constant
Had a mind but lost it
Thoughts run rampant
But are often incoherent
Called the cops on myself for self inflicted harassment
A living predicament
The opposite of a sycophant
My betterment is, at best, flippant
And I can already tell everybody's sick of it
©2024
May 26, 2024
May 26, 2024 at 11:56 AM UTC
I'm split in two...
Entangled in my mind...
As Two forces Collide,
A predicament that should be so very simple
Yet far from simple is it
I know what I should do and
I know what I desire to do...
The Two... vastly different
Therefore I do not Know... What I shall do...
Out of fear? Not for myself but for you
For Dangerous things I've done
But in comparison this is beyond those
Because... it won't be me alone exposed
It's a bad idea
I can see it ending with heartache and tears
This might **** me but I know it's time to turn back the dial
I don't want to break your smile
I'm willing to sacrifice mine
And that.... That is fine...
May 1, 2021
May 1, 2021 at 8:30 PM UTC
I'd like to ask you to repeat what you just said but I'm afraid to ask.
I've never been able to bring myself to ask anything, in fear of being wrong or sounding dumb.
This is a predicament, without questions I don't know what I'm doing but I cannot force myself to ask you.
I cannot ask you to make an exception for me either, for I don't speak up at all.
How does one just ask a question? I freak out about just speaking.
I can't even speak up above my name being pronounced wrong!
Could you please repeat your explanation? I'm softspoken and don't like speaking.
I can't bring myself to physically ask you so I just look miserable until you ask what's wrong.
Questions. It's all I have, yet I can't bring myself to say anything.
These anxieties I have are dead weight, I can't keep going.
I hate it all. Why can't I speak up? Why can't I ask questions? What's wrong with me?
Am I incorrect?
It's all the same depressing thoughts. "You're never going to make it through life."
I hear it every day. The same phrase. It repeats itself, something I could never do.
I can't feel anything because of this, I feel the need to repress it.
I'm going to ask again; could you please repeat yourself?
Feb 12, 2020
Feb 12, 2020 at 9:46 AM UTC
My Love Who Got Away
My love
Ye who went away
When the scorching summer heat descended
And the freezing winter snow crept in
All, with one accord
When uncertainty struck
Between love and hate
Smiling and frowning
Staying and leaving
Committing and being free
Laughing, but never crying
Between happiness and unhappiness
Between the heat and the chill
All at the same time
Now that's all you showed on the surface
When in your heart of hearts
The honest uncertainty there was to feel
Was between leaving and sailing away
What a caring and loving predicament
It was not that much of a choice life gave you
Now, was it?
You pushed me so hard and urgently, away
You longed to hear the words come from me
That I was leaving and was grateful for everything
So you could be left with a clear conscience
With the pretence I was the one who wanted to leave
Oh don't you think I recognized
How soon you always wanted to get rid of me
When you always handed the on/off switch to me
How often you'd hit me with the classic speech,
"It's not you, it's me"
Then you blatantly said
"If it costs you your peace
Then it's too expensive"
But I was all yours you didn't have to buy
And I was the cheapest you would find on the land
That's why, maybe, you pushed me out
Who wants cheap stuff these days anyway?
But your love is your love,
You choose who you want to seize it away from
And who you can't wait to give it to next
We called it quits, it was a win for you
Apparently I was the stubborn cloud
That laid between you and your sunshine
And it's not I was too proud to beg
The whole ordeal left me unsure if I'd be heard
Unsure that if I came around once more
You wouldn't throw me to shame
Still we couldn't make it through thick
Oh ye, my beloved
Ye who went away
Mongi C. Nkabindze
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 2:46 AM UTC
I love you for who you are.
I love the way you fight for what you believe is right.
I love the way you can't hide your emotions.
I love the way you bounce on your toes when you get excited.
I love the twinkle in your eyes when you get happy.
Why do you love me?
"Look at all you've done for me."
"You treat me like a queen."
"You've changed so much just for me."
"You helped me in my bad times."
I did things for you. You love me for what i did. You changed who i was. You didn't love me for who i was. You loved me for who i could be. For who i am.
What have you done? You don't help in my dark times. You made me quit talking to everyone who did. You made me loose all my friends. You made me feel useless.
You love me because you can use me.
Why do i love you?
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 10:58 PM UTC
This love is a little game we play
It has no end
There's no escape
You hold all the cards
And the way you stack them
If they were to fall they'd bury me alive
Deprived from your kiss
It's the only thing I'd miss
Not even breath or the sting of my wrists from when you hold me to your rules
And no matter how many times I go broke trying to make you smile
I'll always pay the dealer even if it takes a while
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 4:40 PM UTC