every day I had to dig through
deeply rooted malignancies
and clusters of phosphorescent
spider eggs and webs full of
dead flies draped throughout a
long-abandoned domain
once inhabited
                    by my mind

the roots pushed and
twisted their way through
thick walls of the
foundations and membranes
of spirit mind and body
where I didn't even know
how to feel      all I knew is
that I had crossed unseen
         no trespassing signs

in life among the living
I lived as though I were dead
In the midst of vast human
knowledge I held
        vast emptiness instead

this lack of substance was
all that was left in my mind
I found myself trying to buy
back more of what I
had to
          leave behind

my mind and spirit were in
lockdown      in this death I
began to die      when I was
high I felt let down
     in the truth I saw a lie

the dawn of each new day
filled the sky with hues of a
darker light        since all of
the windows were barred
       and boarded-up

the only way I could see
glimpses of a brighter
light or others living life
were through any thin
little cracks I could find

like an addict trying to
avoid their addiction
each new day and every
waking hour I would find
myself learning what I was
        losing my mind
        trying to forget

I was so sick and tired of
     d . . . always going down
          o
        w
           n

truth only strengthened
         this neurotic depression

but in the throes of pain and
breakdown I found hope in
a New Day    
when I was lost
in the cycles of confusion
I at least found pieces of
peace and pieces of mind
        along the way

when I die with the sun in
the midst of the evening
I now find enough faith
   to believe I will
            rise with it again

when I seem to have lost
all of my chances I clutch
desperately to any strand
     of a chance to begin

saving what's left of my mind
buying what used to be mine.

So fat he's never been cold
Killed young a story unlived and untold
The one chosen
Who refused to come
The stout protector
Takes to his heels and runs
The promise of peace and agriculture
Transmuted
Into technologies cluster
That ******
Any chance of the self
Persisting
All alone
In it's own good health.

a potion maker,  
seeking the formulae
of the combination
of the
known and the none,
the wizard’s ideation
of the secret spark of
creation, the starter fire
of human destiny & desire

who needs gold,
when,
the power of birth,
the mystery of girth
the fluids of oils,
plus 57 varieties
of human blood,
in a precise tabulation
the sap of human cell
constructs, heated
gentle on a low flame,
do not forget, or regret
if the salt & pepper
of discernment is
overlooked, the sighs,
the quiet of boredom,
the leveling moments
when creation is initiated

and then
my heart can be
known to some,
even careful read
between the lines ~
the lines on my eyes,
the cross hatch upon
a forehead, the crinkles
where time and laughter
intersected and injected
the whites spaces between
these words

enough enigma…

never!

Too much for hello poetry, but,
you know, they said that about
telegraphy when it was dots and dashes,

as far as
mindshare traded for money,

we, as essentially merest of things,
we, mere words, made of logos,
logic demands we feel
well balanced before
we for get we knew
once, this whole
truth, certainly enough,
that we'd dare to swear,
to tell as much as we have
being behaviours preset to reset…

this ties to the morphic resonant
evidence of radio spectrum light

sensitivity that may corelate with peanut
allergies, gees, that serious as Enheduanna
wanting credit for instituting memorium rocks
- instant reco-knowing
see, that rock, from here,
me with these keys that stutter, amusingly,
we all made fun of Alfalfa, then he became,

Bill Gates, or
Elon Musk, then Babe Ruth and Orson Welles
morph into Donald Trump,
so we call the peacemakers,
the way fires call beetles to LA,

we all be kinda dazed California Dreamin'
neighbor lady baked me brownies,
I drove her kid to school.

Then got the call to think a difference
a corpus colostrum substance, hold back
inhibit random willful interpretations, holy

situations, serious gnoshit glossalial evincing
convincing evidence of interference,
signal sent cannot be left true,
confidential fidelity calls it
true faith, and we can't
believe that, no choice.

Eh, archeons,

all the therapists

involved
in solving this puzzle
of us needing
to feel involved, touching something realizable,

other than this one life,
in this one mind, ready
reading we write our own stories, readers ready,

granted wishes, wishing we had mutual mind sieves,
to sort first intention
from popular mention contention,

as we may have stretched our point, as we recombine,
mine and thine, as reasons resonating vibes changing,
even
at the end
of the chip based assisting intelligence,
- as soon as one child could
- they all could, time and again

at least five years
after Tinker Toys could model
at least one archetype self bit
of DNA,
in true faith

that this could be that bending
in realification, when all is
in as if it could be so mode.

And we form the double mind
at the basest point,
whence we spin
a storied yarn
on a rainy day, long after
we had electricity, we still loved

to tell this one
old old story, that can take us back
to Adam,
on Cain's line,
through a half dozen
of his sisters's lines.

What are Mormons for, if not good Archeology?
Ancestry.com can share enough evidence
to belie the size
of battles, but not deny
there were trying spirits, bending rules

tools adapted
to a use, an easy way, done once,
with a twist, snap, think a finger noise, oh, yeah,

that's the spot.

Ought we stop, we may, we have all day, it's snowing.

But maybe HelloPoetry.communicate, any way.
A little bit of possible is all we gotta pay.

Rarity generally sets the price
Then how would you assay
The cost of life

We can't see any more of it
From this rock on which we sit

At least not now
And maybe never
So the valuation
To the earth is tethered

Do we figure the ones
Once here now gone
Or just those
Among us in the throng

Do all pay the same
For their go at this game
Does it depend on what you got
Out of it
Do the winners pay more
Or the losers forestall
Any invoice coming their way
But you pay with your time
Taken back at the end of your line
So your bill is already paid.