Bottom line mind

Drip

Drip

Plop. Liquifacts

to think sleep fallingly
as annoying as
insomnia,
without
inspiration, then

You know, lowest realm,
fundus mundus real as ever.

Your most certain puddle
of all we knew, splashed
into and rippling

base line condensation, drips
seeping

desleeping po et
al ment potentcy
dropping,
ponding, deep below,

still, blackest black
to look into
using your
own curious wish
to follow
preinvested
mental funds first bet
on tomorrow being
worth rising
to find plain truth
as simple as pi and phi
in basic spirit satisfaction
-never failing perfectly

round and round and up to down

vision apparently evaluable
listened to as we spin

weighed
worth thinking through
wrong ways down

discerning bits useful

valuated trues exchanging
good guesses graces
for missed chances
to catch time lines
confluencing right

at terminal velocity, feeling still
as slowly as ifery falling

drips forming

meandering streamlets

infilling
curiousness wise
cerebral-itiosity's thought sea
of accumulated blessings and cursings

needed most assuredly to get through tonight.

If the desire for life is not burning your heart,

If the desire for life is not burning your heart,
go to the flower fields, lie down in the green grass, and kiss it
until it gets your lips green
green  - green -  and
                                    deepen your hands în the black earth,
deepen your hands în the black earth,
squeeze its roots,
                            squeeze its roots,
squeeze its roots, like a child does,
let its juices drain through your fingers

let its juices drain through your fingers

let its juices drain through your fingers

meet the sun rising like a Lover,
let it be your guiding myth,
let it be your silent light,

flow with the waves of the sea,
                                                 flow with the waves of the sea,
randomly, give a hug to a seagull, and dream, dream, dream...

After,
if you are tempted, you can try over and over ... over ...
if help is needed, the wind can help,
                                                    let the heart open like a rose,
share the dawn,
                         roses love to be touched only by the morning dew
dew dew dew
dew
after, if you  are tempted, try again, one more time,

(…all we do here, my dear, is try
            to recover
                         the wings we once lost in the rain …)

Waste not a single word
Though syllables scream for release,
Consonants flap to fly and
Vowels seep through cracks

Waste not to want
For nothing to
Finish your perfect
Death poem