On Sunday, my S.O. and I
Drove to see Chorus Line
At the Stratford Festival.
A matinee. Beautiful day.
We left the Refineries of Sarnia
For fine entertainment.
The Avon flows gently
Buoying white swans gracefully.
Blah... blah... blah.
All very real.
You can see why it's called, Stratford;
There could be no other name.
A good choice.
Best Shakespearean Festival in N.A.
She explained all this to me on the drive.
If contrary people suffer
From low self-esteem, I didn't help
The situation.
As we drove through rich, green farmland,
Grazing cattle.
She asked why some barns
Have ramps leading to the barn doors.
Well, says I,
The farmers, because of the economy,
Have to sell their livestock in parts,
So the ramps give easy access for the animals
Back to their stalls.
Huh, said S.O.
That's so thoughtful!
Timing is everything.
Sincerity in voice, critical.
Hurry on to a new topic.

Someday, for sure, she'll tell someone, somewhere
About the considerate farmer.
She will.
Timing.
Like the kick line.
Like a *punch line.

The now has left my body.
My mind is emptying
Of all thought of today.
The moment is receding;
I feel my feet lifting
My arms are floating
As if in a pool of light
Like water, buoying me
With untouching caresses
Lofting to evanescence
And I know it is fine
This feeling of pleasance
Of no worries in me
No hurrying to be done
Nowhere I have to be
No reason to run.

I am centered in this,
A feeling of completeness;
Of needing nothing else,
A spiritual sweetness,
A relaxing kind of comfort
Surrounds and enfolds
By singing unheard songs
Deep into my very soul.
I am happy here, smiling,
Somewhere in the self
Where not even I can see,
That I am someone else.
I am someone loving
And kind and caring.
I love this feeling so
I wish I were sharing
The sense of a world
Where everything is right
And everyone is floating
In the same golden light.

When my body is broiled with the crispening macabre glean of anxiety; I imagine myself to be a buoying loaf of cornbread in a torrent sea of acid.
my custard colored crust being licked away by the ravenous maw of the current, this is no terrain for a loaf of cornbread in the first place.
Ludicrous.
Perhaps if I joined the sun swept crystal island of idealism, I could be drenched in honey and bound frivolously in nectarous orchard fields.
But then, even here, I suppose a Raven may  spot me and adorned with a vulturous sneer gobble me up in my blissful state there.
So where shall my pappy crumbling loaf of an existence reside?
In the trenches of unbridled realization, lapping me up in a despair riddled prison?
Or the land of beatitude and glee unfettered from the brutalizing truths of reality...
Perhaps there's some bridging ground between these two polar opposites...
but how should I know?
I'm merely a cornbread I can't declare cognizance.

I have found it.
That certain
circular way of being
I was looking
                for it,
                     so hard
my soul in turmoil
one slight scratch
under smiling surface
and I would become
a sculpture
made of wax
                melting
at the slightest
wisp of breath
burning ,
               mercilessly
at certain words
                forming
from your mouth,
your mouth—
that has placed
itself upon me
so many times
on our mutual
faraway cliffs
that no-time-zone
meeting point
above stars,
in other universes
     and believe me.
Nobody can
live this way,
suffering for
the want
of an uncontrollable
urge to be
          so
            very loved
So I have found it.
My way back
to balance
it was in your voice
and my own
together mingling
clear lines of phone
cut through soul tingling

I now take this lotus,
planted in my being
since birth,
and hold my stance
prepare to
               perform
the sacred dance
a mandala-painted
halo around my crown
a holy stone
in each hand,
          buoying my spirit,
anxiety down
stones I will never
cast upon you
because you
are forever me
             even as I
take my heart
with two hands
and return it,
still aflame,
into
           my
                 chest

Dealing with OCD
is like losing your mind,
You can be in a room
full of people, yet all alone,
Noone can ever know
when the horrible thoughts
will come and what they will be
you just feel a buzz, a hum, a drone
in your head and you try to block it out
but like Sony Xperia apps
running in the background,
they are there, infernal
consuming the bandwidth of your soul
there is a fine line between delusion and sanity
a clutching at straws, a search for help
pleas and pleas fall not on deaf ears
but endure it you must
until it runs its course
tunnelling on, pushing you to the edge
straddling the fine line buoying
bobbing, dancing, fleeting-
drowning you in its wake as you gasp and gasp
OCD is horrible and misunderstood
why it hit me, I know not-
when it came part of me, I never agreed
I just woke up arrested, paralysed
by the most unutterable thoughts...
I suspect it happened when I met
the thin woman with the one eye-
I have known no peace since then
Paranormal paranoia rules my brain
and I am mooted, glued in the vile filth
of guilt, shame, anger, helplessness-
like a generator running on fuel,
incessant the tyres do not stop burning
alone, sometimes, I ask myself
why? why me Lord?
the cup is too heavy for me to bear
and ghouls have made my mind
an open playing field and I cant break free
at times I wake up and its gone
I smile and dress up-
try to think normally, eat and sleep
but itchy insomnia rages on my skin
beads of sweat and shaking, my mouth is dry
I am afraid, frightened and I cower
OCD is crunching my life, slowly
and sadly noone knows...they just dont know
why I say 'off' things sometimes
they suppose its the preoccupation
of a busy mind, and busy I am
wallowing, silently, stewing in the prison
it seems there is no escaping this

Sitting, waiting, contemplating…
Is it time?
I watch the waves roll up as they kiss the sand.
A sizzle escapes into the air.
The hot, scorching fire put out
Hushed, quieted.
I’m dying…
The clouds float in the water, the sky
The gulls swim, fly
My skin is pink, my energy drained
The sun greedy, taking, stealing away
I’m dying...
I resign, no hope, gone. It’s gone.
I walk ankle-deep
The waves grab at my legs, tugging
“Come” the waves call “Come” they whisper
So seductive, tempting, easy
Knee-deep the wind rushes around me, tussles my hair
The water, cold, numbing, driving my senses
I’m dying…
It pulls, tugs, pushes up to my thighs, my waist
The cold, I **** in a breath, calm
Calming, the rocking, the swaying
I hear the whispers. The wind calls. It beckons. It’s hungry.
“Let go”
I’m dying…
It’s easy. I float, I surrender
The waves sweep me away, buoying me up
I feel light, weightless. It’s so simple.
Beautiful, the waves reach over me, embrace me
The cold is gone, no the heat rushes in, burns
But only for a moment
The dark comes, consumes, soothes
Nothing more, never more…
Finished.

My heart is cold and empty,
Love has sapped me of love
In all the right places, rooted in me.
Time nourished me.
And it would be lonely for you there.

Scars bridged all fate I have,
Altogether. My poems--
Buoying me to the river
Of my mind, and out to finding you.

My heart is cold and empty.
So bring the world with you.
Your dream, your soul, your pride.
Bring the photo of your dearest smile,
The pallette of your eyes, that is
Also water, and sun, and sky.
Your discoveries and doubts--
Dear, take them with you,
For there would be many, there,
That are not. All is shadow within,
And burden, and gravity.

You would know what its like
To be the light or the feather,
A star, or hope
To one that is hopeful.
You would feel what it is
To be one, and being one,
And being all
With me.

You would kiss, as though
To love yourself. Embrace, as though
To set one free. And journey,
As though to settle on my heart,
Realigning all that is whole
With all imperfect pieces.

Now, live,
Love in faith.
Go after dreams,
And silly things,
Fail. Learn. Act.
Feel.
Drink coffee.
Sing Karaoke.
Be crazy.
Ignore poetry.
Believing,
That way,
Somehow,
You are loving me.*

© 2014 J.S.P.

We were Impervious:
Two perfectly poised bodies buoying each other through the **** of life

Then the mass Conflagration:
A fire consumed and incinerated what I thought we could be.

I should have realized worship isn't a vessel of transcendence , but a ship fettered in servitude eagerly waiting to drown me.

Once in a while I wish I could dial
The day back to right where it started.
I’d then reconcile with things that did rile
And left me despondently-hearted.

It isn’t the norm but some days just swarm
With episodes rank and annoying
And in such a storm, it’s hard to transform
A dejection into something buoying.

Still, all things must pass and greener the grass
We will spot on our side of the fences.
We’ll relinquish the crass and begin, smooth as glass,
With a fresh start when morning commences.

I hate to admit it, but I want to feel special.
I entomb myself in the reality of mundane dribblings but truly my heart is wrenching as it can smell the fantasy.
The thought of someone wanting to know my favorite movie and memorize it like their sacred duty.
I'm soft; a kettle brewing with pang splintered yearning.
I want the waves of people to pander to me surrendering at my feet collapsing with poised beauty whispering "you are worthy"
I want to feel special, yet I know that I am not. I am amongst the innumerable flesh ridden boats of existence buoying about in angst and desperation.
I am alone and am pleased in this pod of solace.
But a broad stroking mansuetude hand that may caress my face and help proliferate the love I hide within myself.
Well, I guess that may be nice...

Every story requires that character.
The zany tenacious fellow brewed so fervid in the condition of human.
Their genuine existence so present it almost feels incompatible in our world so driven by the lacquered shell of "image"
As I watch the corners of your lips lift in fluid motion, my body is splintered in waves of awe.
You are the broth that adds substance emboldening all the buoying ingredients amongst it.
Unbridled by the delusions of society you make the simplest things ignite with magic.
You are the character enchanting my story.
You are the character who is teaching me how love can flourish organically.
You are teaching me to become the scintillating character I want to be.
Thank you for helping me accept the unadulterated character that is me.

The Last Bed We Buy

Grateful not to find myself
disembodied hovering high above
this stark cake of soap, gazing down
laboring to put names to faces, the couple
so familiar, side by side, palms down, still as

miller moths displayed on pins, I drift off  
to the drone of Bill or Ted, rumpled as
a morning after motel king intoning
soft or firm versus memory foam
or pillow top, hypoallergenic …

the last thing I hear before we fall
fast asleep spooning on a plush queen,
not too soft and not too hard, but just right,
satiny raft to ferry us the last stretch of river.
Waving like the Queen we float past the last new

roof over which we will preside, nod in solemn
recognition of our high efficiency gas furnace
apt to burn on years after I’m gone, applaud
politely what jolly well may be a farewell
drive north through the Tunnel of Trees

some biting October afternoon, weep
softly for our old squirrel chaser sawing
soft imprecations to hips gone tender some
blustery April night dog years from now, blow
low Bronx cheers in a fond adieu to life mediated

through screens. Even Bill or Ted knows that grace
lies just ahead around the next oxbow, leaves us
to dream, two dormice cupped in a leaf, rills
and eddies bearing us seaward, buoying us
downstream on softly rolling shoulders.

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/l8njruxa73yee9b0jzmhd/The-Ultimate-Unabridged-Guide-to-Esoteric-Working-English-2.docx?­rlkey=kunoar7ghpfkb7fjk5xkdgx95&st=i84ornny&dl=0

^Decipher my words by using the above reference material^


DAVERING DIPPYDOS CONCEALED IN THE GELID WAME OF THE WANCHANCY OF SPODOMANCY RETICULATED AROUND QUESTIONS OF INTERRAMIFICATION WE COULD PROVIDE IMMARCESSIBLE CONDITIONS DELIMITED IN THE FORMANT MATHEMATICS OF OPERATIVE DURESS THAT QUANTIFY AND QUALIFY THE INDIVIDUAL CONSTITUTED PREROGATIVES OF CLADOGENESIS ORBITED AROUND CALVOUS CONNIVANCE THAT ITCHES IN YEUKS OF BEADLEDOM THAT THE SURMISED APOTHECARY WEIGHT OF THE SUPERLATIVE DISTILLATION OF BANDOBAST GUARDED IN THE BARRULET WHICH IS SYMBOLIZED MORE CONCRETELY BY THE INTERTESSELATED DETAILS OF THE SATARA OF A FEW KEY PIONEERS IN EVERY ORBITAL FIELD AROUND ORGANITY THAT THE UNSEELED PROXENETES MIGHT DEVOUR THE IGNOVIMOUS DETAILS OF EXTENSIVE BERLINE DIATRIBE EMBOSSED INTO CIRCULAR ACCLAIM. WE FIND THE FISSIONS BETWEEN THE SPORRAN ACCENTS OF INTERDIGITATED SEGUIDILLA THAT EXERT A LOLLOPING MAGNANIMITY IN CECUTIENCY OWING THAT THE OLASIN EPOCH JUST BEGINNING OF THE CELLARERS CAPACITY TO UBIQUITIZE THEIR KNOWLEDGE AT HAND TO EVERY ORPHANED CAUSE THAT WE MIGHT KNOW THE CHEVET AND ECHARD SIMULTANEOUSLY OF ECCLESIOLATRY AND WHEN WE SURMISE FIGURES OF APPROXIMATE RANGE WE AMOUNT TO A PETTY PRIVILEGE OF 7-9% OF CULTURAL CAPITAL. WHEN WE DIAGRAMMATICALLY SEJUGATE THE CASTRAMETATED NOOSPHERE WITH AN ETAMINE PROCLIVITY TO AVOID THE LAZARET OF ELASTANE BROMIDROSIS SURREYED IN THE SELCOUTH BURROLE OF CHAMOIS FILIPENDULUOUS IN CERTAIN DIPPOLDISM OF CURRYCOMBED VENDETTAS OF BOLAR VERSUS BOLTROPE AND THE NEGENTROPY OF AUCUPATION THAT YOU MIGHT ASSIZE A NEW EXPEDITED AREINEDAN ZEITGEIST WHERE FORMULARY EQUATIONS ARE HYPOSTATIZED INSTANTANEOUSLY TO THE LEVERAGE OF SATELLITE SARANGOUSTY EXLEX PROTECTORATES SORDORING THE CATHEDRA ONLY TO THEN CONCEAL IT IN A TACTICAL NOYADE OF DELIBERATE BASCULE FROM WEALTH TO PENURY OFTEN ASSUMED AS THE GOAL OF THE WALLFISH WALLETEER BECAUSE THE SPUTUM OF RADIAL GREAVES OF GRAVID IRONY DEFLECTS VERY NOTICEABLY THE CURVATURE OF KYMATOLOGY IN THE DIRECTION OF PRECISION ONLY IN THE ARBALESK VERNACULAR THAT IS SUBLIMINAL TO THE FUNDAMENTAL RUDIMENTS OF DISCURSIVE PATAVINITY OF ORRERY OROGENS OF ENNOMIC DISCOVERIES THAT HARK THE ELOIG N BETWEEN FAMIGERATED DISTANCE LAVEERED AGAINST THE PROGENY OF PETULANT CONTUMACY THAT FEWER HYPERTROPHIES AVOID IN SIMPERED MANNERS OF RHETORIC. WE BELONG TO A HISTRINKAGE GENERATION WHERE THE BRONCHOS OF NEURYPNOLOGY WAGERED IN NEUTROSOPHY FOR STANNARY NEVES OF NIVELLATION NIDDERING ON BATHOPHOBIA FOR SUCH A PROTENSIVE AND INDUCTIVE RIGOR AND ARDOR THAT THE TIRESOME TRAVAILS OF DEBUNKING THAT WEGOTIST HAUTEUR BECOME EXHAUSTIVELY CONCLUSIVE BY THE EMBROCATION OF THE FLUIDITY MATRIX DESIGN OF A SYNECHIOLOGY SYSTEM DEVISED TO COMPUTE THE PANMIXIA EVEN IN CONDITIONS OF ANTIPANGAMY THAT THE CYBERNETIC TORQUE ON THE SYSTEM IS THEREFORE INHERENTLY BINARY AND GRAVITATED IN SUBLINEATED CARDIOGNOST CAPACITIES IN A STALWART COUNTERCLOCKWISE DIRECTION TOWARDS A HETERONORMATIVITY BECOMING BASELINE RATHER THAN INVERTED. THE PLAGIUM OF AGES IS THE CARNAL QUESTION OF CIVILIZED DISCONTENTS BECOMING PROSTHETIC SPHERES OF PRISMATIC UNITY AMONG THE SIDEREAL ACTORS OF THE ABATJOUR OF THE ESSIVE ABERDEVINE CONSTRAINTS CONTECKING THE CONSTRINGED STRIFE OF MAGNALITIES SPAWNING ROTARY REACTORS OF ABREACTION THAT FUEL A GARBOLOGY THAT BORROWS HEAVILY FROM THE GLAMOUR OF THE PROGENY OF CENTROBARIC ******. WE THEREBY SEIZE WITHIN CARAPACES OF WOOLD SLOWLY IMMERGED BEYOND THE RANCOR OF JERQUED JERKINHEAD JANSKY FOIBLES OF PARASELENIC GERONTOLOGY THAT THE SENICIDE OF THIS AUDIENCE SKEWS CONTRARY TO THE BATHOPHOBIA WHEREBY IT IS BEING SCRUTINIZED IN STRABISMUS AND THEREBY THE BODACHES OF POINTILLISM MISS THE SUBTLE IRONY OF HOW GENIUS IS JUST INTERLOCKING CRACKJAWS WITH GOBSTOPPERS IN A NEVER ENDING TEST OF THE FINESSE OF THE SACCHARINE TRAITS OF THE CREAMERY OF CIVILIZATION. THE BATTALIONS OF STEEVED BOBSTAYS JOGGLING IN SALTUS BETWEEN PERIODIC ORBITS OF ZERO MECHANIZATION BUT FULL AMPHIGORY THE CHURNED COILS OF HYPERTROPHY YIELD A RECTISERIAL STRUMPET ECDYSIAST TYMPANY IF FUNNELED THROUGH THE ALMAGEST OF FORMER IMMARCESIBLE KNOWLEDGE THAN THE INQUIRIES OF MANKIND WILL CONVERGE INTO A CONCLAVE THAT THE SCORIA WILL ENUMERATE MORE THOROUGHLY IN THE WADMALS OF ALL WIDDERSHANCY AND THE INTERRAMIFICATIONS OF PRODIGY INTERPUNCTED BY THE ALBENTURE OF WILDING IMBREVIATION OF THE STRICKLE OF YARNWINDLE OF EXPERIENCE WE DISCOVER A BLETTONISM SO MAGNIFICENT IT INTENSIFIES THE IONIZATION OF THE AURORA AUSTRALIS JUST AS MUCH AS THE BOREALIS BOTH YEUKING FOR THE BETHEL OF ESSIVE ABATJOUR IN THE JURYMAST FOR CONCRETE STEPNEYS STEPWISE IN THEIR SCABERULOUS PLOTS OF DECISIVE INGLENOOKS BURROWED IN THE FIGURATIVE MOULINS VERSATILE IN POSITION AND MERCURIAL IN THE SPRITES OF THEIR TABACOSIS OF AMASTHENIC WISDOM MIGHT WE ENDEAR A GREATER GENERATION OF ARENOIDS THAT EXIST TO ELABORATE AN ARETAICS OF BALANCED ORTHOTOMY AND ORTHOBIOSIS GROUNDED ON BIOTAXY IMPOSED THROUGH THE STRIDULATION OF THE FEW GALVANIZING THE SUNBITTERN MOON AT A GLANCING ANGLE OF PRISOPTOMETRY THAT WE MIGHT FETCH THE DIRIGISME FROM THE DIRIGIBLE. IN A NEW HUMAN AND HUMANE FRONTIER WE ARE IN A SORBILE POSITION ANCILLARY TO THE SUPERPOSITION OF SUPEREROGATORY SEDIGITATED SEDERUNTS OF NEMBUTSU DOVETAILED EVENLY EVEN WHEN DISHEVELED IN CACOPHONY THAT THE BEHEST OF THE ALVEOLATE MELLIFEROUS PLANGOR OF PLANKWISE CORSAIRS IN THEIR SUPREME PRIMACY THAT WE MIGHT EARN THE TITLE OF TEACHERS AMONG THE LITTORAL ALLUVION OF DYVORS OF SUBDICOLOUS CONDITIONS IGNORANT OF THE SCORBUTIC YOUNGSTOCKS TRIGGERED BY YESTERTEMPESTS AND YOUTHQUAKES THAT JOGGLE THE SUBSULTUS OF SALTUS FROM BRITTLE BRICOLAGE OF PRESTIDIGITATION THAT IS INTEGRAL TO THE MACARISM ENVELOPING ALL ENVIED SOULS THAT ONE MIND MIGHT EMERGE AS A MAINPERNOR OF A JURYMAST TO ACQUIT A CORRUPT SYSTEM OF MONGERY FOR ITS MINOR MALVERSATIONS AND MALCONTENTS. WE THEREFORE BELONG TO A NEWER HIERARCHY WHERE THE SUBORNED PREDICATE PROPOSITION OF THE BARYEICOIA IMMANENT ESPECIALLY AMONG TIMES OF ESBAT AND CELLARER WE MIGHT DISCOVER THE FATE OF OLMS OF ELFLOCK THAT THEY MIGHT NOT EVAPORATE FROM THE TURGID ROLLICK OF A UNIVERSAL MAGPIETY THAT ENSURES THAT MACROPICIDE IS AVOIDED SO THAT THE DENATURED TWINGES OF PROPRIETY LIONIZED BY CREDENCE IN REGARD MIGHT ORBIT IN ELLIPSE AROUND THE OBLONG ORBIT OF ITS MOST PRONOUNCED FASCINATIONS AND PERVERSIONS AND LESS AROUND THE SUBROUTINES OF THE MALADROIT FRUSTRANEOUS ECHARD OF LONGEUR SLIPSHOD IN TIME TO EDGE ITSELF FURTHER UNCIALLY IN ANGSTROM AGAINST ANGST. THE CREDENDA OF THE DOCIMASY OF SQUAMATION MANDATED BY MANY URCEOLATE ARCEATE ARBALESK COVVENGERS MIGHT SEEM SUITABLE BY PRESUMPTION BUT THE MALCONTENT INHERENT INTO A SYSTEM OF SOURDINE AND SORBILE SORBEFACIENT INDIVIDUALS INTERRAMIFIED IN CODED LETHOLOGICA DUE TO ABORIGINAL EMOTIVISM SIPHONED FROM THE LAVADERO OF THE IMMARCESIBLE MIGHT BE A DOWNFALL OF STREAMLINED ****** TOWARDS A HEGEMONY CAPABLE OF THE TORQUE NECESSARY TO SURVIVE THE HEYDAY OF HESTERNAL PROCLIVITIES GOVERNED BY A MASSIVE ACYESIS AND ACYANOPSIA WHICH EVENTUALLY MIGHT SUBLIMATE THE GREATER BARASINGHAS OF WHIPSTAFF AND WILLIWAW ABOVE THE BRONTEUM OF BEREAVED COLUMNS BENEATH TORPID SKELETONIZATION OF SEJUGATED SOCIETIES THAT CRUMPLE INTO ABREACTION FASTER THAN THEY CONGEAL INTO SOLIDARITY WHEN THE POLLARCHY IMPETUS IS STRONGER THAN THE SODALITY OF COHESION. WE NEED A SOCIETY GOVERNED BY NOMOTHETIC NOMISTIC LAWS ERECTED BY THE NOMOGRAPHY OF A WORLD WHERE NOMENCLATURE PLAYS A PROMINENT PART IN DISSIPATING NEMBUTSU AND ARRAYING THE NUMBATS TO SURVEY THE GAMUT OF AVAILABLE ENDEAVORS OF ENTERPRISE SUCH THAT THE FINITE ALEATORY PROBABILITIES OF AN ARCEATE ARRECT SOCIETY MIGHT THRIVE EVEN WITH UNEVEN VOLTINISMS THAT THE LIMITLESS RHOMBOS NEVER BECOMES A CURGLAFF BECOMING OF A FAINEANT GENERATION OF ABSTERGED STATISTICS BUOYING A SPATTEE OF SIFFLEURS THAT SUSTAIN SPECULATIVE BONANZAS ABOVE THE PITFALLS OF URMAN PIRANHAS THAT ENCAGE THE DEFT CALCULUS OF IMMISERRATION AMONG THE BAILIVATION OF WROX IN WROTH. WE NOW KNOW A SOCIETY THAT ONCE GOVERNED BY ICONOPLASTY OF VULPECULAR GAVELKIND ALLOYED NEVER BY A SEMPERVIRENCE OF MAN BUT BY A STRIDENT APOTHEGM OF SCIENTIFIC SOTERIOLOGY THAT THE KYMATOLOGY OF INTERTESSELATED SPANDRELS ENVELOPING THE DIMENSIONAL ATROPHY OF SPACETIME PARAMETERS THAT WE MIGHT OBSERVE A CONGENIAL URGE FOR BONHOMIE TO ERUPT NOT INTO A BONFIRE BUT INTO A SOLIDARITY OF PURPOSE FOR GREGARIOUS WEALTH AGAINST THE LEVY OF THE PURPRESTURE OF THE MUNDANE SYNERGIES OF CRYPTODYNAMIC CHRONOBIOLOGY YET DISSATISIFIED BY THE HYPE OF YAFFINGALES OF YARNWINDLE OUTSMARTING THE WOODSHEDDERS OF SHIBBOLETH WHO POACH WITH TAXIDERMY THE ESPALIER OF HUMAN ENDEAVOR MULTIPLIED BY THE CURRENCY OF ALL FAFFLE MEETING THE FRICTION OF ALL RUDIMENTARY REVOLUTIONS AGAINST THE FORWARD PROPULSION OF A SOCIETY OF GRANDEUR GROWING IN PROPORTION TO THE STRENGTH OF ITS MAGNATES THAT IT MIGHT COMMEMORATE THESE HEYDAYS OF THE ZEITGEIST OF ZANYISM AS A ZABERNISM OF GROWTH AND HYPERTROPHY FOR THE SYNECHIOLOGY CONSTRAINED BY MORTMAIN OF KYMATOLOGY AS A FUNCTION OF BIOCENOSIS AND THE FIELD OF MACROBIAN ENDEAVOR VISIBLE TO THE VITRAIL OF ALL LORE AND LEGENDS SPRAWLING THE ANCIENT PAST AND ENUMERATING A PRECISE FUTURE BETTER THAN WE EVER DREAMED.

(pronounced – u jai yah)

The following haphazardly cobbled together some few years past (initially as a reasonable rhyme), nevertheless sustained discipline yours truly mather of fact doth cotton metaphorical gin still spins (yarn not gonna believe poppycock) within livingsocial as outcast of poker flats pun gent, whereby I strive to meditate successfully daily upwelling groovy sensation some hours doth last balloons within me buoying airborne courtesy spiritual blast.

Approximately three plus decades ago, I became ambitious to learn Yoga Asanas blow pesky mind chatter away (postures) despite inflexible body non coe whopper rating adamantly refusing to bend doe like (no just at the knee), but essentially flow wing stretches, while uncomfortably seated go wing to floor.

Mine physique experiences non Joe veal extreme difficulty involved simply seating stiff - NO can do sitting, whence, bony **** versus slightly more addy Poe posterior padding (viz junk in trunk) at present. The status quo mutter hoof act honest to dog cross my heart ambition roe bust lee expended to do more than sit on floor. Even slow lee sliding downward muscular flexion quite, a temporary restraining order i.e. TRO figurative and literal stretch.

Nonetheless, this persevering Lake wobegon soul lowered slender body, (when eye attended class) at Yo Yo ma intentional community within Sumneytown, Pennsylvania named Kripalu Yoga Community, where residents adapt macrobiotic diet under too till edge via auspices of cherished founder (Amrit Desai, i.e. Guru Dev).

Before entering sanctified space everybody removed their shoes often (now and again) guests welcome to partake regimen at said rue **** men tree idyllic retreat offering general public an opportunity true lee worth effort to experience this alternative lifestyle.

Though “U” might already be a pro unlike me, who didst barely progress as aye re: view memories toward greater flexibility minimally made one lasting whew benefit constituted of deep breathing asper you dull lies segue-way into light trance intended meditative zooming into mindfulness away from rat race. Even to this day, an effort gets made to set space aside time to transcend cares and concerns trace sing worry lines from uncertain future, and vase a versa if conditions favorable induce lightness – erase sing major concerns of being if perchance, face shill contortion asper body doth trite hoo easy and grace full flowingly, gently, harmoniously, indubitably lace limbs one into another - joyfully, kinesthetically, at comfortable pace.

Ewe experience lambent maneuvering naturally, optimally, peacefully, quietly, surreptitiously, et cetera into deep sleep of a hilly Edenic mirage tenderly controlling inhalation, and exhalation might seem silly, sans breathing hopefully remains sustained.

As a novitiate practitioner with ***** Wonka, this magical, modality (qua zee moat *** modus operandi) regarding, striving toward ultimately vast wrestled xfinity, yielding zestful fling away global concerns all the while grappling dutifully attaining jingling mystical state of consciousness, (perhaps mental experience a king dome all to itself, similarly venerated, vis a vis basically comprehend ping pong per positive phrases analogy, asper anyone who reads and understands this ring gull ling communique) as I attempt to describe mesmerize zing, mindset mosaic explicit words seem da fish hint.

Thus analogous self induce hypnotic cerebral deep minted experience possibly more clear to envision without stinting the reeder. Nonetheless, the conscious, deliberate guided “high” kickstarted courtesy Ujjayi breathing, which tint head breath comprises breathing technique employed in different
variety of Taoist and Yoga practices.

In relational mash mich hug gun flint sparking neurons to ascend Yogic exaltation, where mindset doth glint within casting glowing countenance whispering the ocean breath.

The length and speed of breathing aid did, controlled by diaphragm, strengthening braid did mental fiber which purposefulness of ujjayi without being fanatical, an effort gets made daily meditation teasing envisioned in laid within wafting warm waves (comprising grade “A” leased half hour, but no more than twenty four). If time constraints un war rented ala limited restraints disallow currying pour forth, the course fostering, inducing limned score arching relaxation merely practicing to open a door slow prolonged breathing bonjour can deliver (pizza pie) energizing feel akin to flying like Icarus above urban jungle roar.

Lodged squarely upon corporeal property
(i.e. necessary soft tissue)
of Amelie Beth Harris-McGeehan
mine eldest sister,
when medical technician informed
aforementioned unpleasant tidings
earlier today February 25th.

Utmost grievousness grips
analogous to invisible
strong hands strangulating
"I can't breathe"
while grappling trying to process
apocalyptic forebodings
(impinging on mine corporeal
fifty plus shades of gray matter).

Impossible mission
(insync with absent impetus),
thus renders feeble attempt
crafting poem,
yet unbridled (hyperbole
employed to accentuate emotion)
regarding brotherly love
upon being informed
most unpleasant tidings.

Laughter and sunshine
eradicated in one fell swoop
absolute zero peace of mind
until fortune teller
peers into crystal ball
and invokes divine intervention

whereby life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness
buffets thee along
countless additional Earth orbits
around the sun
granted second lease on life.

Auspicious signs of
early birds taking wing
(in an effort to feast
upon diet of worms)
to celebrate advent of Spring
will be uber twittering
glad tidings of your
clean bill of health
ditto chattering squirrels
buzzfeeding unearthed

soil, mushrooms
and animal bones,
while yours truly delights
reading within partially secluded
outside triangulated nook,
(a favorite alcove of mine)
to bask under sheltering sky
feeling restoration of vitality
courtesy Herculean strength
of Mister Sun's powerful solar rays.

PostScript: my humblest apology
if word first choice constituting title
caused undue agitation,
cuz only genuine expression
courtesy unwavering optimism
insync with sixth sense intended
to trumpet Taj Mahal high hope
buoying your body,
mind, and spirit triage.

Forty acres and a mule is Rueben’s stake,
in sandy-soiled pine-country
by a stream fed lake;
There he plants cotton, corn and ‘taters,
a patch of melons, beans and ‘maters;

Centuries of struggle landed him here
through rough sea-voyages fraught with fear
to endless lost days of pain and tears
brought at the hand of cruel overseers;

Freedom now is the clarion call,
a trumpet resounding
down Congress’ hall;
A chance to prosper in the un-chosen land
and to raise a family by his own sure hand;

With joy and goodness he buries the hate
unloading his burden and buoying his fate
beyond sheltering pines and the wooden gate
of a cozy house he’s built of late;

Children freed from that forbidding plight,
help with chores
and play with delight;
while Mother loosed from unspoken shame,
nourishes them there like warm summer rain;

Plow and plant, then nurture, then reap
skills developed when labor was cheap
are now built-up in freedom grown sweet,
as the tide of change begins its neap;

Wily carpetbaggers with big cash to spend,
use guile and trickery
the rules to bend
twisting men’s minds toward vile obstruction
while ****** the Law of Reconstruction;

Rueben prospers in this miraculous scheme
there in the forest by the fresh water stream
revering each day a freedman’s dream,
then wakes one night to a low, anguished scream;

The scene is horrific outside the front door,
his mind gropes madly
for a safe sandy-shore;
so he shuttles his family to the woods out back
while listening to the sounds of an awful attack;

Horse-mounted specters with torches ablaze
set fire to the barn and trample the maize
then gallop a-whopping as his old dog bays
at a burning cross where the dead mule lays;

They hide in the pines through a dreadful night
allaying kid’s fears
and the old dog’s fright;
Then return to the farm under a red morning sky,
to find the promise a smoldering burnt lie;

Jesus suffered again on that cross, it’s plain,
as sure as if Pilate had taken rein
leading hate-filled men on a satanic campaign
‘neath fear’s hood and white sheets of shame;

Madmen imagine their cause to be just,
leaving innocents moldering,
mangled in the dust;
With swords blood rusted and Bibles in belts,
they shout fiery sermons, as small worlds melt;

A hundred years flash by in slow fury,
history being written with no trial or jury,
It’s the same baleful, sorry old story,
thems doin' the tellin' gets all the glory;

But history sometimes reshuffles the deck,
And deals a new hand
to ruffle the stiff-necks
of modern raiders who race to the fore
to stanch the tide of progress once more;

Blind to their trail of ****** mistakes
and ignoring slimy vipers let loose on the take,
They go scape-goating—thrashing for snakes—
in sandy-soiled pine country, by stream fed lakes.