#wins
reverberating curses
blood leads to blood (St Augustine)
insatiable war machine
ever greedy for more.
May 26
May 26, 2026 at 8:56 AM UTC
{An excerpt from part three of my Dream Tri-story, The Seed of the Dream is on Amazon, the Root is intangled with the mycelium origins of these poetic outgrowths from HelloPoetry 1.0, and this next bit is from The Fruit of the Dream, due this spring, be ware}
It's been a while, not long,
in terms at time's leading edge,
honed most common sensation,
hair splitting accuracy aims so true,
have entertained me since I was three,
and got my sparking spring loaded Tommy Gun,
for Christmas out of Montgomery Wards wish book,
and believe me, I believed in wishing being like fishing,
there's a hook, we believe in hoping to have fun, playing
holy atatatatatat boy. Kaboom. Pineapple grenades printed
on water balloons imported from Occupied Japan, rest merry,
gentile children, next year, remember this year, listen, jet planes,
and uncles bringing war surplus helmet liners for all the kids, oh,
boy, was America great, back in 1951, around the revelation,
thermonuclear fusions happened first in gotdamcommie rushes,
whoosh, faster than a speeding bullet, grandaddy got his dander up,
who declared Peace, on Earth, tell me, if you think you know, gwan,
wake your sleeping ain't so sure consci user self… be evidently true.
This is all I wanted for Christmas, was my two front teeth, later, I am
thinking, and discerning, tidbits of worn out wits, spent tying tails,
to the warbirds winging eastward, yes, into the chocolate mountains
four or five sorties every week, yes, I know the drill, check list, twice,
once for the devil I know, once for the liar I don't, ready, set
gwan, say, up ahead, in my lane, inside my mortal mobius true twisted
religious disgust regarding destruction at the cosmic going rate, one life,
for one time,
this time the expected messenger left tracks, like in dream time, when
all powers that be were merely umph in process, all the time, no time
literally speaking all at once,
oh, my gawed as we'da once, gasped, a we was informed, us, two, menu
drop down,
turn around, make the circus spin a new why knot, right here.
That's the spot. Dog on right.
Mar 3
Mar 3, 2026 at 6:20 PM UTC
Her body
Crafted delicately by nature
Felt like stone
Her mind
Created with every thought
Was wired and tired
together envisioning chaos
Her life
Changing on the day to day
Yet not at all
Was hers
Whether she forgot it or not
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 11:30 PM UTC
Let's wax poetic - wax on..
We’re in for it
When we enter
the insubstantial country of love
That secret theater, in an invisible mansion of moods
it’s a resort that houses its share of speechless monologues and sore disappointments, all lovers know that, but there are infinite discoveries too—secret, intimate delights and sensual confidences.
Ok, wax off.
My horoscope this morning said, “any tension you’re experiencing now is just part of the process.”
Peter (my bf), flew in last night. When we’re separated too long, remembering him, remembering us, can at times, seem like a memory exercise and I find myself wondering if I’m wasting my bikini years on a handshake deal. Then we’re reunited and bam, I’m reminded why it’s a ‘dub-u, dub’ again.
He’s a delectation—in a Christmas bauble kind of way—shiny and dangerous because I want to touch him—but not be loud or showy about it. Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister) whispered to me, when I was getting some ice, “You watch him with the too-still poise of a cat about to strike.” I smiled at the complement because I love cats.
Every once in a while I’ll pinch him, to make sure he’s real. “Oww! Stop that!
“What?!” I ask, pulling back as if innocently confused.
I got him a room at the Marriott Essex House. It’s 400 feet down W59th from Lisa’s building entrance to the front door of his hotel. I measured it off, with urgent steps—then I helped him unpack. We unpacked a lot.
Later, we joined Dave and Lisa for a Christmas light tour—Manhattan’s flexing its wow-factor for us.
I didn’t get to sit on Santas lap this year, I’m a little old for that,
but I did get what I wanted most—I’m sure I’m grinning like an idiot.
It’s not quite Christmas yet, but thanks, Santa.
🎄Merry Christmas🎄🕎Happy Hanukkah 🕎🌟Merry Kwanzaa🌟
💈Happy Festivas!💈
.
.
Songs for this:
Heat Wave by Linda Ronstadt
Same Songs by Kelly Jones
.
.
Two days until Christmas.. how ‘bout some Christmas playlists?
https://daweb.us/xmas/
.
dub-u, dub = a big win
Dec 23, 2024
Dec 23, 2024 at 11:50 AM UTC
Big trees
Get uprooted
When a storm comes, the grass
Survives because it's very small.
My Faith
Also protects me from life storm.
Though small as mustard seed
My faith still wins.
Big deal
Sep 13, 2024
Sep 13, 2024 at 2:00 PM UTC
The shooter seems willing to speak…
- I was lied to. I was good for nothin'
sure, as a young rapscallion's apprentice, why
who would not be mad, upon learning of the ways
bank's means support the boys being used as mercenaries,
- and yeah,
what a wonderful thing compounded confounding interests
seem, gee, America was great,
for some people, all the time,
sorted ones, picked for preparation,
smart kid, we can use such, prepared,
liberally educated and earnestly able,
to make a plan, write a thesis, daily table,
to change a plan into a scheme, ability
imbued with a curious charisma, they say,
so full of his personality, like Donald,
Goofy and Minnie both nod, ****
did you vote for Al Smith, back then,
when America was great, and fortunes
was made selling Bridges in Brooklyn,
?
time and again, its like we was there,
East end, West end, all around the town,
but, at the movies,
in little dark structures serving ancient needs,
hands could be held, and, dare we, yes, yes,
all the way, America wins the America's Cup,
a true, real deal feel we are in that Spirit,
riding wind under the Oracle banner,
winning America's cup, for spreadsheet people.
- everyday folks who watch old movies on TV.
- And the folks who make those movies for you.
Those are the teams, eh, the people versus the people.
Spy vs. Spy, yes … Mad, Al Smith, and Alfred E. Neuman,
Barak, atar adonai ai ai ai, did I not
warn you,
allusions to Jeopardy questions evoke immediate inssi-der
we won. Not ironically, sublimely subtleeeeeeeeeee
Something t's me off, I swing. Killer instinct. Gut reacts.
Spirituality is gaseous, mystical, like swamp gas,
but in your belly, burning, below the bosum.
Apr 10, 2024
Apr 10, 2024 at 3:45 PM UTC
Them thoughts I been having lately crazy,
Life can get deadly when you don't expect it,
Our lives can change quicker than you realize,
Everything that has taken placed is a surprise,
I can't worry or stress,
Life could be much worse,
I continue to keep pushing,
I won't give up,
Just keep putting in that work.
I knew the risks of my choices,
I knew it wasn't gonna be easy,
God has a plan for me,
I can feel something good coming,
Nothing good comes easy,
If you want something good,
You gotta take a lost to get the big win,
You can't succeed if you don't fail,
Can't experience success without failure.
Before you can walk you gotta crawl,
Before you talk you gotta listen,
Lessons are learned by paying attention,
How can we do better if we don't know our mistakes?
Know what you did wrong,
Before you can make it right,
What's wrong can be made right.
Dec 30, 2020
Dec 30, 2020 at 2:19 PM UTC
Good luck and good riddance
I hope you find your rhythm
Either you're in or out
Look at who's laughing now
Best wishes, sweet dreams
Hope you'll soon be redeem
You chose out over in
At the crossroads no one wins
May 2, 2020
May 2, 2020 at 4:58 PM UTC
2020 -day 84
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
8:55 AM
Seeing wrong,
seeing all the light available,
swallowed
in the shadows.
The unknowable turns believable.
Seeing monsters made up of
fears, non knowns, and warnings of what if;
how does the seer ever see
the absense of
all that never was as it all
appears as real
is now
visible in the light of day after tomorrow.
Expect, see, out there, ex-spectate, wait
what if this all passes
----
Meeting death in the barren market place,
this old man insisted on standing, to see past
pasts claiming causal friction grows slicker
sticky corruption shorting
utilities to
ground us.
{about five hundred million functional on-offs
fit on the silicon in a single grain,
a finite grain, in the finite sand, FYI}
pearl essence,
a layer of lacquer on a rough cut stone, a single
granular bit of silicon,
not sand, not silicone leaked from cracks and cleavages.
Real natural silicon, minus the dioxide cubist sand shapers that
seem to hold silicon in three-d
inside an oyster gut,
but smooth
silicon, slick
flat silken surface,
formed via imagi-tec-hative prognostication of holo
grammatical
bubbles shaping spheres of in fluence where once were
only circles
and every thing was as simple
as pi and Bohrian atoms.
from 1905 to now,
in some boxes men think in, imagining
orbiting electrons is how authoritarian sci using folk explain
chemical electricity,
and some try to say gravity is the active force at work.
Word, we know better... in the two d reality of words and flatness, here
psy psi sci
wist ye not- known knowns trump unknown unknowns.
Yes, we won.
Wisdom first, as a force, knowing, sci itself comes first,
by any name you claim you know but can't say,
for fear of the power in such names, no,
for fear
of the power
that makes such words, magic words,
words only magi-techs can utilize
safely in low light conditions,
adding matrices in
layers of little lies, informing the evidence chain
back to the idea of taking, and using, perhaps,
the idea of acting like only certain sorts of minds
may imagine knowing how to use
God - big g, all emanations and flavors
's name in vain.
Jot that down. Yod heh heh heh
here, have a sound track for the battle being set in array...
Don't Fear the Reaper
40,000 every day, la la, la la la
-- blue oyster cult mythic edge of sixties band
rock rollin' music for happy Sisyphus fans,
who find links to Camus in Covid 19 news, oh no
knowing growing must go on,
we leak out a spurt of
pearl essence, warning, this could be slippery,
keep your balance, walk don't run, listen we
survived, there is no guilt in that.
Nor must we do more than mortally possible, to believe
this life is temporary, at best.
consist, insist, resistance is futile, tiny grain
irritant emanating signals
secrete the pearly essence, encompass us
so smooth, so full of potential beauty
in this light
Mar 24, 2020
Mar 24, 2020 at 2:00 PM UTC
It is not what I wanted
How could it be?
It doesn't go the way you have planned
Out in your mind
You want to have faith
In fantasy
But reality will never be a movie screen you get
To play delusions on
Being broken
Hurt
Is not how I wished
It would end
And you might be able to pick your battles
But you will never decide who wins
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 3:20 AM UTC
Celebrate small wins
That which are overlooked
Things causing grins
Stuff in places you may not have looked
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 4:24 AM UTC
In time, imperfect being knows itself at such
And still accepts that it is
And isn't so much
That which is immediately wanted and more
For all could become in time, in time
So much more than that we ever were before
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 9:21 PM UTC
I used to believe loss was part of life
That isn't quite correct
Losing IS life
The losses what make us who we are and mold us
The wins just the incentive to keep us in the game
So I am learning to embrace the suffering and let it stretch my soft parts into something stronger
Instead of wishing bad weather away
Jan 15, 2020
Jan 15, 2020 at 11:53 PM UTC
My body houses two selves.
Former fulfilling my heart's desire,
Later obeying what my mind dictates.
For you I'll light my brain on fire.
Apr 30, 2019
Apr 30, 2019 at 1:52 PM UTC
can't imagine it ranks high up
on any list of any deity,
*** and God ******
probably don't make the cut,
on a relative basis,
but ya never know...
looked around,
couldn't be found
any mention of who he roots for,
or if it's ok to ask for intervention
**but
if you ******
if you behead...
claiming with perfect
human vanity
his name as your own
for justification
in ignoring
Thou Shall Not ****
know this
you're a commandment breaker,
having taken god's name in vain,
vain like vanity,
the sin unique to only humans
we cannot divine the divine,
sure wish it was my NY Giants
were today bowl-occupied,
why he chooses me to suffer
someday will surely be explained
or not
but you murderers,
easy rest assured,
taking his name in vain,
you won't be forgotten,
cause and effect
spelled out clearly**
“the LORD will not hold him guiltless
who takes his name in vain”
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
Clear, in my mind
Image, of faith and love
now, I'm retreating from this
you, kind of angel to me
***** I'm to desire more
mind, a genius ready to warn me.
Reason, I'm leaving this place
not, accepting any more words
needed, the emotions back
okay? I'm all yours.
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
Kids play differn't these days
not so flat, more points of focus in less time,
more POVs and Portals and Morphic Resonance and such
Minecraft. If you never watched a child at play
building a world from available resources,
near-infinite, digital resources limited
by algorithms based on
science.
Eco-industrial-only-mortal-home-known science.
You should see it.
Stones and plants and animals and winds and water
using right, effecting change, shaping things
in her world.
You should see what your grandchildren think.
They have access to tools we only imagined.
Remember what you imagined a road grader could do?
She built heaven with a stairway and I suggested
an elevator.
She said I could build one, a heaven elevator,
for old people in a world I make up.
She had planned to teach me if she had the chance.
She made me several avatars, she knows me.
wizard grandpa who asks if we know
the sweet influences of Pleiades,
his hand points up to the right
because this is the night after the first
quarter of the final moon pre-solstice
and he is looking west.
That one,
that is the one I will be-- wizard grandpa
square head with a pyramid on top,
minecrafty me exploring the undeveloped
fractal morphing algorythms
I'll-go grandpa, go go rhythm of the winds
drifting in what might have been a micro fiber dust bowl
waste land of 8640 chips and Zunes
(you can listen to books and play, Grandpa, at the same time)
Ah, Sam Harris, you asked a reason for the faith that is in me and my grandchildren know it so honor is at stake
and many other pride sourced sorts of things
contention tension challenging the tensegrity of made up minds
working together, serially parallel on every level of the grid, kid
Worlds with no evil intended,
that can be envisioned, practically, tested,
in Minecraft the game in conjunction
with the suggested myth in
Minecraft the interactive story
and Grandpa's story
in the world he migrated from, the journey way and back to
The Desert in The Rain shadow of the Moral Landscape
we can jump off right here
I have photos, in the cloud
trust me, things hap
ex acted
when
done
didone done
done
AM radio
The golden tones of Johnny Gravel
Kay tripple AAAAAAAAAA
A delightful ditty from the fifties programing,
in the fifties this one goes out to Rosemeade
Ah, the idyllic four bedroom ranch
now on the end of a street that dead ends
at the I-5 cliff.
A tune, whistle, while you work,
it's a hap hap happy day all the clouds have blown off
the doors of my perception
my mind expended, spent fi'ty years on the trip,
weary wearisome make ever much
some effort to discover the act
of effectual prayer
which took prayer, effectual or not, by faith, leap
fast
over the edge,
you learn that, day one, in Minecraft Training
by Brynn Aulyn
next is always over the edge,
of my perception
my expent
effort to discover the act
of effectual prayer
which took prayer,
and fasting,
over the edge,
you learn that, day one, in Minecraft Training by
******* Grandpa
next is always over the edge,
but I did not grow old after playing Minecraft as a child.
I grew old after playing with dynamite in a mine
as a child.
Major POV cred Grandpa
My weapons are not carnal.
Is there a monster if jack
finds treasure at the top of the beanstalk
and says to hell with the suffering
mother so he becomes
a god, in harmony with the giant, doing any good he can?
Let the dead bury the dead.
This is for ever.
What they don't know won't,
will not, would not, has no volition to hurt them, ever.
Good, you know, good. No good is ever bad and
the nintendray dooblay is, like rackabilly,
intentional
pre
positioning me for the idle word of the day to be ******
from hiding into the light of
double entendre? how do you mean?
light. OK, okeh, no other resupposings,
there is never light in a creation myth
until some utterance of the idea of light is communicated
which btw
mean there must be sentience from the get go
and mebbe, I thank on it, other wise, as well
as before, the get go,
it was gitgo, all the way down back ahead to Happy Together,
the song,
British invasion,
very creative hope sorta vibe
Turtles all the way down,
Hawking could not put it in words. He could keep time.
You had to be then, it was a brief history. Funny though.
The old ones gone on, they say okeh.
We good to go
happy hunting. Merry Christmas, take any open door
and listen.
The game is making many decisions based on what you pay attention to. In reality attention weighs decisively more than money in any form.
Doncha luvit, life is so unbelievable, until
you die, you think, you've seen something like what you think is possible happen, you've seen death objectively
anybody can do that right? That is evil.
Killing or dying?
Both.
Lizard brain.
the great game, neath ever more layers of moth eaten cotton and worm spun silk lace
crocheted and starched to make doilies for the parlor
when the pastor comes to pay his due attention
to chicken, made sacred for the occasion
in boiling oil, not golden, but
fried chicken could look golden in the right light seen from the right height, apron strings high.
I could say my grandma served the man of god a golden dead bird.
And the blessing that was said came upon me
because the window in the top of my head never shut.
Air head. hearer of secrets where secrets
make themselves known, as truth sets one free. Jesus knows.
If anybody does. Wait and see. Be good.
Soyal, Yule, Christmas and the contenders, also rans
in the mid-winter hope leverage ceremony
rites of passage missing
or missed? Missed
Messages of a way promised where there seemed no way.
It is finished. The wireless grid. On the AM dial one
wee zero beat beyond simple,
you find sublime. define that. You feel what I said, Merry,
my wish to you, Merry, message of the promised way to you,
make you merry upon remembering
good wins, it never quits winning.
good, we know, personally,
good, right now,
not bad, we can touch, you and me, imagine that being good.
if feels Christmassy, in that good way.
the old way, where good is, find that. Then later, I am the way, believe me when I say I know where the kingdom of God is,
My granddaughter, somehow, gifted me a Map,
it was delivered by a messenger fly.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 12:05 AM UTC
Rather be a sinner
Than
A saint.
While the sinner
Always wins
Somehow!
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 4:32 PM UTC