Word and thought exist
in their unformed state
within the Aether..
which in itself,
is without beginning  
nor end..

And so it is within that union
into the Perpetual
that words and thought
are metabolized into existence..  i.e.
"Brought out into the light of day" ..
within the working  agreement
of body, mind, soul and spirit..
which in part, is of the finite..
    and in part of the eternal..

Which all,  in itself
places us in commune  with the Aether;
(and all of the spirits  within
that it contains)

And so the circle of inspiration is complete,
      but clearly..
      not only is it without beginning,

          but also..  without end.

The new act of  
burning one at the stake
now takes place
within the art of ghosting

...finally understand now that I never will be far. :)

When you spin off into your self-downer mode,
I have to pull away. Over the years, I have told
you over and over again that they are old messages..
so unfairly placed into you a long time ago by  others
    who in no way are you.
When you repeat those horrendously-dismembering
messages, I have to temporarily go silent..

so not to keep harping on you to stop  that
dead-end-street kind of ****.
At one time it horribly formed and defined you.

You are no longer that same horribly beat down person.
    You just at times think you are.
I am in love with that brain of yours.

I struggle
with the part of it
that still believes its ok
to think that way.

It is not ok to think that way, young Love.. not anymore.
You will struggle with the thoughts wanting to surface
and take control..        how could you not?
They were plunged deeply into you
with such a horrible and contempt-filled violence.
It will continue to take time for the hard-wiring  in you
to become slowly unkinked..   But love does that.

   You already know that also. xoxo

It is me tonight

that will need
to find  release
through ******

Find a quiet place
on the edge of
your bed

and join me

What if I'm right..
and the  strange things  I do
(that seem so "cruel" to you)
are the only way that you can finally
become  able  to  truly see?  
What if what you once felt  to be cruel
entended up being the most  loving
thing you've ever experienced?  
I'm not downplaying what I've done
  or trying to minimize it
or justify my actions in any way at all..
I am just trying to tell you that the
original damage went into you with
severity and it's own form of selfish
violence.  

Breaking that severity can never be a very pretty thing.

What if my love for you,  and the
strange way that I do it
is the only thing that would have
  ever worked

to help you to finally have a chance?



I am broken too.. and  the only way I
can truly enter into your brokenness

     is when your  brokenness


b re a k s



              against mine.

She is hiding behind her projected frumpiness..
but when my young lovely takes off her glasses;

   Ah,    ****..

Those eyes are the reason men were given theirs.

Group facilitator is Christ incarnate..
                                      I am sure of it.

     "How well do you want to get, Paul"

I look over at her--
curled up on a chair pad..
hiding,  wondering
Looking down.. and then looking up at me
wondering if I'm gonna answer him;

      "Paul?  Are you there?"

I stare at her--  all alone,
biting the back of her fingers
fighting tears few in this world
would understand


There is roll-playing  in the group
using both action and Word
   to climb all over me
   and uncover me from where I hide.

He (my Jesus with an MA)
is staring at me,  inviting
I look back over at her
"I'm not leaving it, Dave"

              "Leaving what. Paul?"

"My brokenness..
its shattering of my soul"

He is staring at me, but begins to smile.
I look over at her,  and just know

  I will be with her forever

A six month whirlwind
of friendship--
mixed with  an
impassioned.. unexplainable,
   I  don't  know

Hope against hope:
the dream, Unfolded
right before  my own
deeply-imbedded cynicism;
As the most  incredible
Lazarus  of all
came forth from the tomb

I am angry at things of the past
and tell God that he hates me..
But I know it is just a lie

Your very existence  tells me
that his  hatred  of me
  is just a lie


Your love for me  undoes
every lie I have ever known

When you are Loved,
and so deeply cared for;

There is nowhere to run..
  Nowhere to hide

The only thing you can do
(under the warmth of that beautiful Hold)

     Is to slowly unwind..
     Until  you  Become.

It is already in you, Love..
buried behind the horrible Residual.
Remember..?

Within the soon to crumble Wall..

within the Corruptible,
that was so unfairly and horribly
     corrupted

Is the  absolutely Beautiful  in you
that has been  (and always will be)
     Incorruptible
.. preciously-Hidden, behind the wall


"It is Incorruptible..
It cannot undergo Decay"

You are in there, sweet-one
   buried underneath
every horrible part of it all.

      As the wall comes down..
      Love will find you.


   When allowed,
   it always, always does.

Someone please tell me,  that

..The true Art of Love  is more
than the self-centered,  'incestuous'
  form of  love,  shown
within what the Modern world
refers to as "Romantic love"..
aw ****.. please tell me it is more

    Romantic love says this--
"You are 'of value' to me because I love you"
"You are 'of value' to me because you are in my life"
"You are 'of value' to me because you are  mine"

And after the 'bliss-filled'  romantic love
     ***** the bed..
the only value that remains is through the residual,
soon to be diluted and washed out by displacement--

..Either that of a new self-centered based  'filling'
or that of the re-placement of "value-image"  
with that, brought about through the all-too-ready
  and internally-available Gaslighting process

So please, please explain it to me just how  wonderfully
"romantic' love can truly ever aid in the healing process..
     someone.. please.


     .      .      .      .      .      .      .    

Alone  she sits in her room,  waiting.
The atoms  of the air,  
carry  both sides  of the story--

  The coldness  and the warmth
  the closeness, and the distance

  ..the empty-black
  followed by the Sky-filled Blue

  Someone please tell me,  just who
  helped this little-one  to see
     that the way  out..
     is the way,  through?

Protected to the point  of nearly dying
    Insulation is isolation to the bone
     (she is crying, crying,  crying)

On a Prayer mat,  facing East;
a grounded soul  is flying

    (but flying  so very all alone)

There is a Chaste,  and a Purity
  Borne separated
from the Un-doings  of man..
    Void of all walls,  
   there is a susceptibility

Yet also  a wide-Opening
    to the pressings  of the Ache

There has been a waiting
to the point of near Death
A look in Patient eyes
    (One that separates me  
       from my breath)

Not all are so protected
from the Fallen  love of man
..Not all  have almost died
so all alone  in their room; 

  protected

From that empty kind  of love
leading to an empty, empty  Death

The center of the City is a hub..
the roads leading out (back in);
the spokes of a wheel

The road alongside,
is traveled  by so many
I am the rust on the rim
that aches  its way in

It is so much work
to return to that of Titanium
The beautiful Hub begs
  I do my best.

I marvel at the fact
that I have not yet even  begun
to find what my best really is.


Let it be..     No..

  May it be..



   ..that  of the world

           of  the  Unlimited

Within  the stability
Of a late-night bed,
    thighs part fully
from words  given..
    Words, sent

Hands  on curved hips;
*******, to bare chest..

As the daughter  of Light
   is lifted up

there is an Entering

In Seed-splashed egg
a  New Beginning;

Chains  of steel
  falling free
within  the warmth
of   each  new  Pulsing

(there is the  sound of Ecstacy
on the  inside  of the door;
on the other  side of it--
the forever-harsh  clank,  
of judgement)

The finest meaning of  'Wholeness'..

Is shown  most fully within the intertwining  
in to the pivotally and most necessary
healing of both body and mind..  

    In that
the perfect expression of Spirit here on Earth
can only happen through the physical--

     You "feel" the Receptives  and/or the Urgings
     from deep  within you (your flesh wrapped spirit),
That are only brought out into the light of day  (made known)
the moment your very tangible fingers  touch the keyboard..

     Or up close..
    the tangibly-heard sound your very voice-tones,

Created by your so very tangible vocal cords--   made unique
by how deeply infused your spirit is  into that
beautiful mind and body of yours..

      By your ever-renewed
     and continual choice to heal.

Within that beautiful union,  the Sensings and Respondings
of the body  bring impulses into the spirit..  
touching deeper, the Core--  

      The "Image"  of Perfect,  Absolute Being
      placed deeply into each and every one of us..
          by the very nature of Love's Ache--  
    Residing within the center of this Universe..
    (and all other Universes)..  both known..  

             and those also yet to be..

..An Image placed, as to be a Plumb-line,
and also a Never-ending Cinematic  placement of the View
onto (and within) the inner-wall linings
     of both mind and spirit..
..Seen in greater and greater  "less dimly-lit"  degrees,  
based solely on how far we commit ourselves along,
     and in to,   the healing process.

        In its finest form,  through healing,
the things we take in..  through feeling;
and then express back out..  
from both mind, and body's  untethered Unfolding,

           ..Becomes closer and closer
           to the very Expression of God's own heart,

..Therefore smashing through,  and gorgeously undoing
the ever- quenching.. ever-diluting nature of Subjectivity, itself.

Hmm..

The "taking in"  and then  The Tremblings,  of your body's
unavoidable responses  are the very thing most 'maverick loners'
like me need most from another in this world,  

if we are to continue on in our mission with any kind of strength..
    (along with its much desperately-needed resolve).

If,  within the "taking in" process.. the beautifully feeling
Receivers  such as yourself, were to be  overcome
to the point of release~  all alone..  on the edge of your bed..
isn't that a very understandable  and nearly unavoidable  
and also so very very tangible  part of the process also..      

     --In itself
above  and outside of all human (and Heavenly) judgement?

Carry on, sweet Angel..
and so gorgeously continue to  be  who you are.
Those that can see..   see  (and feel) most clearly.


           I  see  you.

You see, kid..

(it's like this) :
With every door,  closed
another one   previously unseen
opens up  fully..

   The moment  I lift you
   and press you   up
   hard,  against that of the last

      ..Call it,

"A little Mommy and Daddy time"
once the children of the world
have fallen  peacefully asleep..

In fact, Love.. call it  anything
  you want

There is a price to pay
for a life of Courage..
In as much as there is
a Payment  to be received

   that may.. (or may not yet)
        have been  received.

Consider also, Love..  the  cost,  
as to  how utterly Incredible  
(it is going to be..  to be able to feel)

        What  it  is  like


  to Truly  become Paid in Full

The tree knows nothing
but how to be only
what it is..

   the wind blows,
   and it responds..

And embedded within
  the treelines
are the little-ones  hiding;

There is a safety
within the  simplicity
of the groves..
Outside the treeline
danger lurks

Little Spirits  were born
with their little  freedoms  intact--

In freedom.. they are only
drawn out  by Love

(..and the wonderful Art of Archery)

There are the thought processes..

borne within depths, similar to a near psychosis.
Muse.. within its deepest forms, can bring one
   into the Realms of the surreal..

which in truth.. are the Realms of the very very real.

Those who fight within those Realms, carry upon
their very own persons, the casualties of war
that most are wholly unable to see.. or even feel.

     Within one's own, Inheritance..
     we take on  from another--  
                   through empathy,

     levels of pain, and darkness
     that are far beyond the ability
     of all current human word's description.

Even the shortest detachment
from the everyday normal,
such as time away of any kind,  
puts us risk  of being   plunged into,  
       not only the Realms..

       but into the empty spaces
       between those realms.

         And through it all,
   we are somehow  meant to survive
   this far too often  harsh, and empty world--  


        With our Magical Spirits..  
        and God-given Inheritance,  intact.

Hands  formed into a fist
her jaw, set..

****.
She's gonna slug me

     "You opened up a thirst in me, Paul.
      Are you going to see it through..

           or just stand there?"

Her war-torn, Mesopotamian spirit
Bringing fire to those beautiful, Baltic eyes;
A direct descendant of all things, Telmun
She is waiting on a Pearl
Waiting,  for the Pearl

     Archipelago of Virginity
       --Beautiful girl is the Pearl

After gazing at her stunning beauty
I turn back, and resume the task
of digging with a small trowel
into the  dark, loamy soil

She slaps me on the shoulder,
tears  streaming from those  dark
sky-filled eyes..
              "..I  thirst"


Ladles   are made for love;
In abundance, they bring drink
to those who sojourn,
  those,  who wait

   And it  is  I
who have  allowed  myself
to become distracted,
  as of late--

Holding out  for beauty
When all along,  Beauty

Has been holding out  for me

(you sweet..  succulent,
                       tender  little ****..)



"I don't know what to keep
and what to throw away, Paul"


"All of it, young love..   none of it..
I mean wait..     what?"


"All's I'm saying  is..
I can finally see myself  in the
reflection, now that the mirror's
wiped clean. Problem is..  I can only
hold on to it for so long before it all
completely goes away again..

    the image of me, I mean"


"Ah. young Lovely..
the insurgent is embedded   far too
deeply  into the City  called,
'All of who it is that you are'
To engage it or try to take it out right now
is  going to create far too much
collateral damage"


"Then what am I to do..
how am I going to be able to hold on?"


"I have an idea, young love..
       Shhh..  listen--"

To write what you live
and live what you write
is not a success at all..

It is a spiraling down--  
away from this world
and always always
in  to bitterness.

Most who have done this
have slipped away
in to  alcoholism..    
   or  eased back
with the weight of their bodies--
   tightening the noose;
They gladly  gladly  gladly    
leave the pain  of the gap

of every single part
of having to live here
In a world full of souls;

hell-bent on marketing,
    and presentation.


..But guess what,
my beautiful Lovesweet:

To  not  live what you write out
(just another form of creative marketing)
puts your head in the noose also
So either way,  you're ******

God bless the ones that can see this..
yet, still leave their mark..

    and then die,  
    with both middle fingers
    fully extended

Compartmentalized;

..An elevated view  of you
shows booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,
after booth, after booth,

.. after booth, after booth
   Each one  partitioned  with

an impenetrable  curtain
hanging off of  a bone-frame
stainless steel  pipe structure,
Built high enough  for the
different parts  of you
to sense, but not   feel..

what part of you
is in the other booth.

   Problem is,

You want and expect
me to orbit around it all
as if each isolated part
   is,  in itself..
actually the whole you..
when I know it is  only
a  tremendously-lonely
    part of the whole.
And you take love  to be
some form of blindness
  on my part

--to the elephant in the room,
And I tell you I love you..
And I tell you,  

               "No.. I won't do it"

--And your shame  kicks in
causing you to  feel
     I'm too harsh..

        or being judgemental.

Yet all along, you are knowing--
That just a few moments  with me..
and the walls come tumbling down.
   .          .          .          .         .          .          

When the partitions  drop
(that is your terror)
(that is your horror)
You will not annihilate
into a million fragments  
   of nothingness

The you(s)..  of you
will meet one another
for the very first time
since you were first  dismembered
(fragmented, so very long ago.)
You will not  disintegrate, love..

You will  Re- integrate.

Love does that.  It does.
But you already know that.
Yet still you hide (.. from me.)


You are addicted  to the 'comfort'
the partitions's isolation brings.
Your relationship is not with
the sum of the parts  as a whole..
but with the internal  "construct"  within you--
  the chasm..  the gap..  

--the empty space between those parts;
as it uninstalls one part of the intricate you
and re-installs the next

And you have no idea   how to
   orchestrate
the many different parts  of you
   like a conductor would do
   with his orchestra..   therefore,

You can only be in relationship
with one part of yourself at a time--
..Each partitioned  'self'
has an e-mail address
Each one  has
a separate account  of its own..
Each one,  within itself..   convinced
that it carries within itself
its own, separate genetic imprint

Each one,  you can  milk  
within its incompleteness
     as if it in itself,   is complete--
    .. Flaunting it, flaunting it;  
    as though it is the complete you
  while all other necessary  parts of the whole
  remain dangerously dormant..
   --being Unholy-ghosted  by

    whatever currently-visible part of you
    now  has control of the ship.


--And throughout the years
I am expected to weather the storm
and gather  pieces,  from pieces..
and then magically (oh.. I can..)
piece them all together as I speak to you
without you having to even  feel
the tension (absurdity)  of the
mis-placed  accountability
   (and responsibility)
    to enter into love
    as a Whole (the sum of many parts)

And so here I am..  orbiting    
    orbiting  orbiting--
around your ever-changing  mood swings;
        the   "Paul-is-good,"  one day
        and  "Paul-is-bad,"  the next,
       (those ever-changing perspectives,
       gaslighting.. gaslighting.. gaslighting)
   --in order that you might  remain   'the same'
   based on whatever current-visible  part of you
   is currently at the helm..

       The current pilot of the ship
       wholly unaware of the leadership styles,
       opinions and views of that  of the last.  
Harsh sounding.. I know..
(but you know..)

And so, here's the rub--

You are feeling your days
to be numbered..
You have been around me
too long, love.
(that is your fault)   You knew.

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4159831/tourniquet-smiles-yeah-that/

I wrote that  such a long time ago


We are getting closer to Home, love.
I wrote this strange little ditty
before I wrote that other one..

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3383529/fragments/

What you have feared  most
has now given way
to the sound of inevitability

   (You should have ran
             ..but you didn't.)


..The sound of inevitability
 isn't really a sound at all..

..It is the  sound of you  still
  standing there.❤

It is not a lake of fire,  sweet one

It is a place  that tells us
  that we are Loved


The only thing that burns
is the View,  seen from a distance..
from across the Chasm

--One that,  before its over
will no longer exist.

True story. xox

A lifetime of  ineffective tactics;

A solemn occlusion
Such an obscene intrusion--
(To break through  the confusion
brought on  by  The Illusion)

Within  seclusion,
is felt  the Conclusion--
the only one for me.
Heaven will be my Hell
(I know that too well..)

From a whole lifetime
  Summed up 

within the word, "Fail".
.      .      .      .      .     .      

Here on Earth
I feel the presence of Heaven
And  within me
I know..
I know..
I know..

I know.

What gain  is A Forever in Heaven?
I already feel it in me--
   But it is not me.

Yet, within me..  it  is  me;
and it will never.. ever leave.

Sweet Love of mine..
whom I can't seem
to break through, to
In order to  truly be there
   for you.

   Help me  to earn
         the right
   To descend in to Hell
(where there is no longer
the strength of Illusion)
Here,  I am not that strong;
I cannot break through it
   There..   in Gehenna
will be the removal  of illusion..
    Leaving only The View,  

      (.. no hinderance.)
.      .      .      .      .     .     .     .

Hell  is  the  View.. 
  perfectly seen,   from


  the most unbearable
                      distance.


May  what is in me
never leave me
And the Hell,  of Hell
   be,  to me
  like  a  Forever  Rising  Sun..
The most incredible, Heaven.
(the removal of illusion)

I pray you're not there..
   (almost  as much..)

Selah.


       My Heaven;
is to be with  anyone
       or everyone
(apart from  the illusion)

In order to  truly be there
   for them.

To whom (you)  it may (does) concern:


There is nothing Unfaithful  whatsoever
about saving your own life.




--it is me who is immersed in unfaithfulness.

Prairieland grass--
bent over towards the ground
by the dry, Fall wind
as the subtle warmth
  of a teasing Sun..

Submits itself to the
now impending Winter..
where grass and seed
sleep in dormancy
as the subzero wind
prepares the ground  
to receive  snow.. upon snow

upon snow.

..And there is this temptation
to draw feelings   and conclusions
from any one certain  part
   of the whole.

And those feelings and conclusions..
                             --they feel so very real

Because they were based upon  the real;
but only a part of the beautiful whole..
And though,  even  one part of the whole
is as real as every single  other part..

It is  in itself, incomplete.
Just as the bent-over prairiegrass
under the snow  is incomplete..


It is Spring now..  sweet, struggling Angel

    All things become new.

Vancouver Bay, viewed out the front
window, as out the back door,
the snowcapped Olympics loom..
A beautiful ocean breeze  here
in Port Angeles.. and amazing
warmth,  in the sun.

Hours long visits with my Mother
yesterday and today.. and then us
finding a long lost cousin  on
ancestry .  com  when we get  back
to the house. Pictures of dad there
when he was young before the war.
Stories and memories  from Mom
about before  and after, everything
went bad.

And pictures, pictures, pictures
of before it went bad..

      but none after.

I feel the distance  of the memories
but not the pain. I hold Momma close
within the knowledge  that nothing
whatsoever  has a hold on me. Elaine
is serving meals and catering to
our mother in her Rainman-like
attempt, to keep all her pain at bay;

    She is flesh of my flesh..
    blood.. of my blood.
    There with me  from the beginning--

    amidst the horrors  far beyond
    a child's innocent vocabulary
    to describe.

Back home she opens up
ancestry . com again  as Harlan talks
about his adoption  and attempt at
reconnection with his blood family,
once he finds out who they are.  Few
even want to acknowledge his  existence.

   The distant cousin of ours
   wants to tell Elaine about Dad
  right after the war.

After she responds, I **** on her
leg and then wave another, directly her way.
She's trying  to keep from laughing
as she fakes throwing up.

   I **** on her one more time
   just to show her who's boss..

She's like a machine  in her need
to take care of Mom. We take pictures
when again,  back over there..
I keep messing the timer up
on my phone's camera,
I think Mom wants to be left alone.

I don't think Mom ever
wants to be left alone.

She straight-arms me when I try
to help her up from the table.
I step back,  
but don't take it personally.
Back on the couch..  she's
she's cranky now, because the
current New York times  arrived
with a tear. She opens up the
business section and I tell her
Warren Buffett is my new boss.
She's very pleased with his ownership
of our company, and then immerses
herself into her newspaper.

   Elaine says its time to go.

She will ask Elaine again tomorrow
morning if I was really here..  or
was it her imagination. I will show
her again tomorrow that I am very
real. There have been horrors  beyond
description. There are years and years
and years,  of my letting go.

Back at the house, I sit on the front
steps and stare out at the bay.
Victoria Island is beautiful.
The Olympic Mountains are breathtaking.
Time with Harlan and Elaine  as the
sun goes down. I wave a **** one more time,  
her way.. for good measure.  
She brings me Rocky Road ice cream  
because she remembers its my favorite.
I muster up one more **** her way
before heading off to bed.

She comments about my strength.

Back down in the guestroom,
you are on top of me--
your beautiful thighs  straddling my hips..
You've been working out, beautiful girl
that firm ***..  feeling so incredible
in my hands..
You ease your beautiful, warm wet
slowly..  down on to me
in your desire to  bring about
   for each of us..
   the most beautiful,  deep release.

You kiss me deeply,  as our bodies  writhe
in deep ******--
Beautiful ****,  to my chest
as I pulse the warmth  of my *****
deeply,   in to you..

"This is the death  of all death, beautiful girl"..
I whisper into your weary spirit
as your beautiful *****..  gushes deeply
all over my warm, pulsing  flesh.


..And suddenly  we are *******
in the warm,  pouring rain--

https://www.pornhub.com/view_lala-la-la-lala-la



       You are overcoming, beautiful girl.
                         ~xoxoxo~

      'You said,  
     "Someday I'm gonna break your heart",
      the first time that we met--

     Were you warning me..

     ..or just seeing how close I'd get?'

If you didn't want to exist  in the heart
of a man like me, then you shouldn't have
allowed your scrapper little spirit  
    to write the way you do.

And I was so naughty--  so very intentioned  
in all of my obscenely-truthful lies..
I told you it was all your  fault
        that you got in so quickly

         --and   it  was.

I got you back, though
I knew it the moment you let on
that you had fallen  deeply  in love..   not with me..
but with the love that had so deeply  fallen
for every-thing about you

And so,  it increased..  but at such a strange distance.
But even then,  the years only perfected  

   and strengthened..

   until lately..  
                      until lately..

     'We lay down in a lover's sigh
     As a million years of time rolled by
     How can I be hoping that it's not over yet?'

     I wasn't done, young Andi..
     no..   no..   far from it

You see.. there's this shame-thing
I wanted to flood  with light.
I'm getting so close  to finding the words
     that have never been heard  
     in this world before

    (And now.. and now.. and now..)

     'I can't hold on to the night
     Things change, ain't nothin' ever stays the same
     You're gone as far as I can see

     If you feel like letting go
     Honey, I don't wanna be the last to know

    ( I wanna hold on tight to the sweet memory
        of you loving  me)'

What is it about that elusive word?
I will throw my arms around it,

          --if it could only  become
                   tangible  to me.

             Children sit in families..
(and there was bonding from the beginning)



I don't know what that means


I don't know  how that feels..



I   don't..


                                                    ...­            



                              I ...   don't...


                                                     kn--....



    ...





                  I ..       .



                                    ....

I am tired,  and just now laying down
in my bed.. I can't believe I can finally
get some rest.

What a day, sweetie.
You were on my mind  all day
and I could  feel the tender-hearted
sadness and vulnerability welling up in you..
So very interesting that it has gone
this route.. and the gates open back up,
but with a well-oiled  swing this time...
And you are wondering if there is
really enough love available to  truly
save a person..  And you gasp out loud
as I pull you  close to me,
as if you did not know that was something
that could even be done in this world--
my hand to the small of your back
as my mouth presses  softly
to the side of your face..

and I whisper words of warm,  loving support,
           deeply into you--
  tears..  streaming down your beautiful face
    as your whole body trembles.

"This kind of world is so unfamiliar to me,
I don't even know how to be right now..  
And just as much..
   I have no idea how or what to feel.  
I've been crying a lot--  over all the
things I've had to face..
along with all of these changes.
And when I told you that I missed
you.. I really meant it.  

    ..But then you hurt me bad.. real bad"

You are angry and still hurt.
but you can't stop pulling at my shirt--
clenched in your hand, at my chest..
so much  that you are about to tear
my buttons.

"Why do you do that to me
when I need you so much..  
why.. when I open up and trust  

    and need you the most,  
            why do you do that?"

You are shaking me with both fists  now
but there is still the look  of deep
love in your eyes..  and as they look
directly into mine, your tears of anger
and hurt  give way to the overwhelming
desire to press  up against me..
and have me kiss you   deeply.

    Looming overhead
    is my cloud-incased,  need
    to  not  cast a vote  on the
    current status-quo..

     ..To  not  call today--
      'everything we've worked toward
      until today,  is enough'


"You will  end up
in my bed, beautiful girl..
and we'll be together--
pushing forward,  pushing  in to..
   everything that you have taken in,
   so far..
..But I am scared shitless  of the
ever-limiting nature  the
threat of mundaneness  brings about
by complacency within the inner-self..

..And so with you, my beautiful..
I light a skyrocket under  that
gorgeous, sweet *** of yours..
    And throughout  the cosmos
    And into the Realms  you shoot..

.. But am I not  always  the one
who catches you before you fully fall--
scary as the unfair launch into the sky is..
I have always, always  caught you."


"You have, Paul.
I'm going to fall in love  with you
harder than I ever have in my life
because of who you have
been to me throughout the years..

..But one day.. I'm gonna stand up
and punch you--  right in the nose..
   ..then leave..

   because of  h o w  you  have 
   been to me throughout the years."


"Damm right you will, Babe.
Now get the ****  over here       
      and give me a kiss..
      ..And you
      have to pretend like you like it, too.."

"I'm still mad at you Paul..
and you're such a pervert.  But I
know how much you love these,  
so I want to show them to you"

--As you gently  pull on your  cute,
flowery black dress's belt.. it slowly
unwraps  and falls down, onto the grass..

My eyes are staring at your beautiful body..
     that absolutely perfect skin..
those lusciously-gorgeous  *******..
the curve of those hips,  the shape of
your thighs..

    "Do you like what you see?"


"Ah, Babe..
    more than I have words for."




(but you see.. there's still this thing I do..)

My sweet, Forever-Beautiful..

I am flying out to Port Angeles Washington  in a few weeks
to see my Mother  who is 92 years old and dying.
My middle sister and her husband live there.
My Mother is in Sequim, which is the next town over.
She has her own apartment but will be moving in with Elaine
by the time I get there.
She has been fighting cancer for almost 20 years now.

This is what I want to say to you, sweet-one..

My trip out there is where the rubber meets the road  within
all that I have been saying to you throughout the years..
and without what I know will happen there once I am with her..

       my love is not Awake and Alive,  
       but only the empty ramblings of a deranged man.

My father died suddenly in 2013 at 83,  but spoke to me  on the
phone for two hours just the day before he passed. It was one of
the most magical two hours I have ever experienced.
Most of his dying wishes were for myself and my sisters,
and all of his grandchildren.. that we all would be able
to carry on in peace..  free from the pain and chaos,  
which was all we knew when young. Momma needs to know
that not only is she forgiven,  
but that while she  remains here with us on Earth..
    she is the light and Joy of my life.
She is my Momma, sweet friend.  It hasn't been easy.
She (and my Father) no longer have a hold on me  
they once did years ago.  I am going to go out there
and kiss her  and my sisters  and thank them all for my life.
I am as a hero in the eyes of my three sisters, who have
not all been as fortunate in the overcoming process,
but have all done well in the process  of getting well
  and sometimes, in just trying to survive.

I love you, sweet Beautiful.  I always have.
You can do this, girl..  you can  feel and become  the freedom
of all of who you were placed here on Earth to be..
and you will become able to do it   fully and completely--
in full relationship with all of who it is that you are
within your own, beautiful self.
I came across you for a reason.  You were the most defiant
and mischievous of all, yet have turned out to be one
of the very best souls I have ever known.
I will never let you go from the place you hold in my heart
   and I will never stop believing in you.

       I'm gonna be with my Momma soon.  

I have never-ending  kisses for her.  She told me recently  
that I am the most special man she have ever known.
Those are much different words than the ones  I had hammered
into me when I was a little boy.. so many years ago.
You and I have much in common that way.

She's from Denmark. She would have truly loved you
within the magical aura that surrounds you wherever you go..
had you two ever met. She got into the 12-step process  after
her and my Dad split up when I was 13. By the time I was 25,
she was a completely rehabilitated person.  But even now
she carries that deep horrendous, soul-killing darkness in her.

                I have kisses for her.

I will gladly take that darkness on  so that she can feel..
even if for just one moment, what a world of peace
and freedom  truly  feels like.

   Darkness has no hold on me, beautiful girl.
   I am no longer that little boy.. who by her choice,  (to not)

         .. was made to wear it--  

         over.. and over.. and over again
         until I had become  completely broken..

                                                    -- Completely.

    When I was young, I unknowingly  carried  for her
                     what she, herself..  would not.
    Now that I am a grown man--  through volition alone,
               I will  gladly  for her, take that **** on
           so that she won't ever.. ever again,  have to.

                                     .. Gladly.


    I love you more than you may ever know. 🌾🌾xox

.. fully give it a try;

Why not  just
fully lay it all down

    and roll them bones?

They say,  "God, in us"
  and "God,  with us"

but does anybody  really
believe that to be true?

What if it is simply this--
That in order  to save us
the image was placed  in to us
         of  Pure  Being
   .. and you wonder if there is
   enough of it  within you
   for you to give it a try,
   so I say to you, this--

There is enough of the Absolute
within you, not only to save you
but also  the whole world, entire..

--A whole world that is filled
with all of creation  that each
has within them   enough
to save not only them
but the whole world, also
   in its entirety

It is not outside you
it is not  of  you..

         .. it  is  you.

and also in you  is
every single part  of you
(or better said,
the you that you 'think' you are)
which is the parts  within you
  that refuse  to
  get out of the way
of a Power  great enough
to save the whole world..

that resides wholly  within you.

You want to be more powerful
than that intense of a power?
   You can.  

   Through the freedom
   of autonomy. .    Boom.

..Until the end of all things;
when your  current
power here on earth
becomes  no power

whatsoever,


  at all.

Arms outstretched ,

her awakening spirit--
  Stardust-clad,
within the celestials..
These pirouettes,  bourne
on nothing but air--
   ((free air..))

She is beginning;;
and as she does
her spirit stretches back
to a time  before creation;

..as she Unfolds
as she  maintains
underneath  this blanket   of Love
   she  now  feels.

And like  a hen
that gathers her chicks;
her newfound  wings
pull all the  pieces  of her  own heart
back to her self..

Back to her-self


       (( back  to  herself. ))

There is a responsibility, borne
within an online conveyance
   of the heart
when it comes to publicly posted poetry..

For within the conveyance of words
released into the Universe..
(words once residing  within
the inner linings of heart and soul..   words..
now made seen and known  to all)
is the deeply embedded DNA
of the author,

wherein lies the accountability;
when those words,  bearing
genetic imprint
enter into the heart of another.

I write  specifically
over things touched within me
But try to convey it
in a sense..  Universally

so that it might be taken  in
by any and all

.. That the benefits of Love's beautiful ways
may find access into the parts of the heart
that need it most..
sometimes, sneaken in  and finding root
before the receiver is even aware..
bringing, inside the recipient's skin

    healing

     But also the potentiality
     of becoming hurt.


I am sorry.

You
(and most everyone else in the world)
rarely, if ever..  talk to me.

But I watch you just the same
solely  by what you write.
My existence causes pain.

     That..  I know.

I love you more
than you will ever know.
I would stop writing,  but I don't know how
There's not a 12-step group
for these things

I dream of one day being killed
for who it is that I am.
I dream.. and then I smile.
But I do not smile at all,
the times I see that you are hurt.
I have real arms,  
   ..within this poetic world
   that is so very intangible--
When you cry,
they could not truly show you
it's okay

They cannot show anyone
that it's okay
Everyone's afraid of me
like I'm some kind of perpetrator
So I will die alone..  judged
for things I have not done


So I am sorry, my Beautiful--
It really is all my fault
for ever truly wanting to see.
   All I ever wanted to do
   was become able to see

and overcome the  hurt
that  long ago so horribly hurt me

You've become hurt
by my ability to see.

I'm sorry.

"A 'sociopathic perpetrator'..
we will ghost him  forever"

But what is this  thing
  she feels..

Why is the picture  painted
so very  different
   from  the  one
   she now  remembers?

"We will help her to forget."
            .      .      .


The saving of one's soul
from that which would steal
is not done  in violence
   (Though it still   feels
   that it should be)

It is done in patience,
and in reminding one
of who it is they truly are.

     Tell me,  world
     of who you think
     a father  should be

And watch  me laugh
my mother-*******  *** off.
Tell me all about it,  world.


  And I will show you all
      what truly saves.

Imprinted   in to the  fleshwall-
linings   of my very spirit
resides a photo of you--

(staring at your computer screen)
      with a genuine look  of shock  
        and disbelief..

..And before I could even yell Sam
I was receiving     by you
the most horrendous,  publicly displayed
****-kick  I  have  ever  received.

It only stayed out there for a short time
but online, a "short time"  
            ..is exactly as an eternity;

       So I pulled back  in self protection.

I had been dickin'-around  out there
in a whole 'nother poetic-realm..
playfully finding words and verse  comparing
my wildly-passionate virility

    to that of a well-honed precision,
    high powered performance engine

And two clear babes  showed up  in the comments
   and let me know
how impressed and affected they were
by what it was they were reading.

   So naturally,  me being a single man..
         I responded.
    I never knew them before, or ever saw them after.
    End of story.


                    ..Almost.


Young,  beautifu­l Wildling--
I never knew you even gave two ficks and a ****..

Until I saw that picture  of you..
staring into your computer screen
in raw,  disbelief--

      ...the wind,  fully knocked out of your sails.

So..  clearly you buried yourself
in  multiple two-fingered  snorts
of your favourite "spurned lover's"  little helper happy-juice..
and once you reached   the intended goal

     of full-blown,  *******--

You performed some of the most Machiavellian-****
I have ever seen in my life.  

           (But it fell short of its  intended goal.)


Nothing can remove you  from the love  of you
                                        that I feel in my heart.

What you thought was destroyed,
was immediately forgiven
   Solely because of that picture  of you
   that is now,  forever mine.  Solely.

   There is a dream,  beautiful girl

   ..And nothing  you can do  
                  can make it end.
                  (The restoring of you   back to you
                  is such a central part of that dream.)


    The restoring of you, young beautiful..       You.


            
            Mm.

    Shhh....   listen..

You are absolutely beautiful--
Immersed within  this magical-Unfolding
as music  mates to words
Fingers, strumming now

Now finding their perfect placement

     ..On the keyboards
     of her newfound freedom
     A beautiful spirit   now returning
     to a once-little body,   beaten

     for being her beautiful spirit's  home.
     Now with headphones  on ears
     there is a  restoration

     of years and years and years,  
          locust-eaten

...Of those years, and years, and years.
                   .      .      .

Tell me about pure Joy, churches..
the nice cars in your parkinglot,  
    aint showing

The look on her face, while untethered

     tells me everything
     You can only dream of
      ever knowing.

This is true Church--
This beautiful  Sunday-mornin' glowing
This spirit-infused flesh

A perfection of music
momentarily, flowing.

From hidden cloud
her flesh-infused  spirit
is my one chance
at pure Joy, knowing..

My love  for her,
continually-growing..

     In heart,
     tarred-n-feathered..


     In Art,  all  hers
     I  am  become

       Untethered.

Sure..

Stand there...      wait
Don't stand there...    breathe.
No..        
Wait..
don't breathe...    just feel

Nah.   Yeah..
Ya-sure...  breathe&feel

Or wait...   no..
Just-remain-silent-and-say-nothing..


Ah,  there it is...    Yasss.    Good girl.

A polite smile,
a wave..

And everything,  unknowable
is made so flowable.

Thus is the world.
Thus is your world.


I will choose to die in obscurity
unknowable, too.  No gravestone
No memory.

Nothing.

Thus is my world
created by a world

so intentionally, unknowable.

   The killer
came crashing down
smashing,  thrashing through.

What is tender's  tender
       so  for itself,   to do?

        --As it runs
        right over the top of her..

       This taker.
       This killer.

In the black,  
now in between;
so lightless and thick..

        blotting out  all screams.
There is an annihilation  here.
A void.

A terror.
To stay, means certain death

      but to leave  
      also means certain death
      So the  d is m e m b e r men t   begins
      as she is ripped, completely into half

And those halves,  into half..

.. into half

--into half..
        into half.

     And still it tears.. rips..  shreds--
Until all,  in between
is nothing  but black.

A black it can now  pretend to fill
with all of its empty promises..

and all of its counterfeit, everything.

..And then--  just up and leaves
once it is fully satiated.
     And for a while..
     the black had something.


Clinging to the rocky crags
on either side of the unlit valley
are now  the pieces of her--
war-torn and shuddering.

Terrified

Of the black, black   empty.


Of what is now  fully
     and  completely   dark.

      ~       ~      ~       ~


Timmy  ain't real tall
but look at his stature,
as his majestic strings   dialogue
the introduction.

And Warren's gotten so fat
See him now, looking so dearly,  back
at his half-pint of Chunky Monkey--
picking it back up,  for the fourth time..
scraping... scraping.. scraping..

But watch his eyes  light up
as Timmy looks up--
  over the top
of those wild-man RayBans

And with a gentle nod,  it all begins..


-- as our Warren  now digs  deep
into his Gibson's beautifully-wanton  ways..

    identifying.


    clarifying.


­    Rectifying.


Clarence, the Magician..
Stephan--  Humble, Unparalleled
And Dave's  so chill
he's part Creole.. I just know it.

So great a cloud of witness:
surrounding you, my beautiful..

coaxing  you.

    Identifying it all for you.

Don't you understand?

--The back-pasture fences, lay down
Opening up to more back-pasture, grasses
u n c o n t a in e d,
by fences,  laid down..

     only to be surrounded  in the distance
                 by more, back-pasture grasses..

And yes.. my beautiful Beloved--

       with its fences  also, laid down

You are a Thoroughbred, love.
Within your  gorgeous succulence
lies the open-field,  

of  beautifully-unending grasses,
  succulent.

If we're  "just friends.."

Then why  is this
Magnificently-warm,  pre:***..

    flowing  down my thighs

    Every  single  time,
            I think of you.

******* ****** demons.. they're everywhere.
And I've known it about this site
for so ******* long.
And the witches..  Jesus Christ--
control freaks,   every one of you.

What..
do you think your creativity 'substantiates'  you?
They're   just   *******   words.
Your creativity comes with an accountability
but you won't have any part of that..   will you..

If your demons are so ******* powerful,
why do they hide inside of you?
Like a pathetic  excuse of a man, stepfather--

Using..  using..  using.. his wife's beautiful daughter..
over and over and over and over again.
It is no different with these Unholy shitbags also..
(Oh, but don't I gather the most followers with my words?)

It's just empty ******* babble, Babe.
In the Realms,  it means nothing.
Absolutely.   *******.   Nothing.
The *******, inhabitor is just an extension of your
empty, ever-controlling..  soul stealing Mother--

    It's an extremely-closed loop, Lovecakes.
                End of ******* story.


******* ******* demons..
the pathetic ******* are everywhere..

When love beckons to you,  follow him,
though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you   yield to him,
though the sword,  hidden among his pinions
may wound you.

And when he speaks to you  believe in him
though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you  so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth,  so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height  and caresses
your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
so shall he descend to your roots
and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn  he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you  until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge,
become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear, you would seek only love's peace
and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness
and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
into the seasonless world--
Where you shall laugh..  but not all of your laughter,
And weep..  but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught, but from itself.
Love possesses not,  nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say,
"God is in my heart,"
but rather,
"I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires,
let these be your desires--

To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart
and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart
and a song of praise upon your lips.

~Kahlil Gibran

You have to stop giving it so much 'power'
beautiful girl..
It only knows   to do
what it knows how to do--
(And be, what it was formed, to be).
And if you go  through life
never feeling  the deep value
of your beautiful,  True core
In the end, you will not
be held, accountable...
--which is the very reason
for your current 'squatter's creation

..I see you.❤

In Love,   I watered it
With care.. I adored it;

This  ten.. by ten,  patch..
just outside, the wire--
at the edge of my fence-line,

daily  I gave  without, tire

There's a country-side
of wild prairiegrass
that lives..  and thrives..
just  beyond my grasp

This grass..  it don't need me
in order to survive..

    And all this time
    I thought  that I was
    keeping it alive

Carefully-planted tufts--
windblown, as I sleep
uproot from this patch
that I prayed
the lord would keep..

And on some distant, hill
across these  natural
waves, of grain
Uprooted..  becomes, naturally
rooted, again--

    Forever,  naturally-watered
    by a Forever-natural,  rain

Maybe, now
I can finally  leave
a world  that has
never, truly needed me

Why  do I  still
so much,  believe?


I believe....

I believe.

"I'm lying in my bed, the blanket is warm
This body will never be safe from harm
I still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal
Touch my skin to keep me whole

If only you'd come back to me
If you laid at my side
Wouldn't need no Mojo Pin
To keep me satisfied

Don't wanna weep for you, don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so

Oh, precious, precious silver and gold
And pearls in oyster's flesh
Drop down we two to serve and pray to love
Born again from the rhythm
Screaming down from heaven
Ageless, ageless and I'm there in your arms

Don't wanna weep for you, I don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so
So, so, so

Oh, the welts of your scorn, my love, give me more
Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more
Well it's you I've waited my life to see
It's you I've search so hard for

Don't wanna weep for you, don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so, so
Black, black, black beauty"

~Jeff Buckley
Tim's beautiful, beautiful boy

Parading through these beautiful Hills..

--You, and your entourage of a mixture
   of dog-like,  well trained, egostrokes..
   and also of men..   whose tattered boots
   you are unworthy, of even tying..

Traipsing across the Badlands--
your long  red hair, flowing..
giving off a stance, (as if)..

--You, and your entourage of a mixture
   of dog-like, well trained, egostrokes..
   and also of men.. in tattered boots
   that you are unworthy, of even tying..

Raining down havoc,  on the Beautiful People
simply for their having  within them ;;
  
Faith:
In the Great Father.. and Substance of Spirit;
Neither of which your cowardly Egostroke
will ever garner,  or ascertain..

But oh, you could steal..

And pilfer..
And destroy.

You will pay, oh General *******-boy
Your long, curly locks..
will take on a whole new color,  red
There will be a gathering..
A showdown..

A Holy Reckoning--
In that Montana field,  between the Hills
Along the Little Bighorn..

The River of all Beaten-Down  one's, dreams