An empty boat glides through a tide-less sea
Echos of thunderous silence reminisces the rowdy sailors once on board
Without fear they sailed across the dark waters
Without the knowledge of forthcoming doom they kept the spirits high
Navigation impaired by the wrath of silence, their abominable gaiety and preposterous hopes were muted for eternity
Life drained, flesh rotted, bones crumbled to dust, and the boat was filled with peaceful death
Though without an inhabitant it still continues to drift towards a predesitned chaos
Its calm trail behind disrupted by an impatient tranquility
Its still path ahead disallows all animations with an unfluent time
Yet it moves forward

Holding on the Status Quo
Disallows the mind to grow

We came from the forever sea then we walk the land and after certain days we are again called
To The sea as the natural sea it is vast its waves its ceiling dazzle the eternal structure pulsates
Mesopotamia encompasses the land between the Euphrates and the Tigris rivers that again
Depicts life it rests between all powerful rivers these natural rivers have their head waters in
The mountains of Armenia in modern day Turkey our head waters are in the ancient spiritual
Dwelling of all power and glory we don’t live in yesterday or tomorrow we live in the moment
These special moments when we embrace touch cheek to cheek this releases waves of love and
Emotions I live then as no other time the faraway doe’s crash on our minds as great water from
A powerful waterfall we feel delirium our knees weaken we press hard against one another
Forcing more exhilaration we draw back and look into one another’s eyes we are subdued by
The beauty we behold with abandonment we plunge into these deep waters created by the
Special and completeness of one another it contains a slow swaying an engaging wonder
Develops its boundaries are from your head to your feet I touch your hair it is finer than silk my
Fingers tremble my voice is filled with exaltation golden words flow paying you homage they
Course through a heart filled with love at that moment I am capable of feats of expression
Drawn from my lips by the truth you seek silently I am attuned to the depths of your soul
Without voice you make demands that I know only in dreams and the essence of cherished
Thoughts explode over head true riches that can’t be exploited hear my cry hear my sigh it all
Bleeds together I stand before you I put my hands to my face I speak and **** frost appears I
Kneel I ring your feet with it as a garland where your heart goes my whole being follows
Yearning to be close what is life without you in my eyes you are dressed with crest and plume
Of sea birds exotic the beauty of sun and water hold you transform you into a vision that is
Mine alone your soul is as chimes that bear the sounds of angel wings all the glory that they
Brush against music divine holy utterance makes my mind go blank you stand silent not
Disturbing this awe filled space it all leads to a kiss it’s not just the pressing of two lips its hopes
Robed in bliss you have a treasure the last steps is only to surrender let go of all fixed points
Immerse your all to one another in this act you have mastered life and all questions I thank you
And I am beholden to you with my whole heart if I see the day that your life is at its end and it is
Poured out back into the overriding sea my heart will always wonder the sea shore its
Completeness disallows total destruction I cling to those moments and they will rise like
Peaceful waters that rush into my soul they will have such realness of you I will for brief
Moments know unbroken joy you continue to hold my heart in your hands without end

you know about as much about copyright laws, as i do, about shoelaces; what's the word... oops?*

and what did i decide to cook today?
oh, just some hungarian goulash sauce -
extra paprika - pork -
served on a potato "pancake" -
mixed potatoes with flour, an egg,
salt & pepper, more paprika -
fried onions & bacon, and, would you
believe it? brussels pâté...
i was desperate: there was no lard
in the house...
   served on two grand leaves of
col lettuce: yummy as a sunset glazing
a hyacinth;
and no, on a flower it's called
caramelised butter effect,
   it's not actually called photosynthesis
at those moments.

i'm still bewildered by these people who
"just happen" to dictate a "reality"
by calling the dasein of events a case of:
on the internet, vs. the real world.
utterly bewildering...
no, i'm still bewildered -
let me tell you a little story...
do you know how much mail
i get through the door each year?
perhaps 4 letters...
        reality check: the b.b.c. is broke,
it's actually the broke broadcasting corporation,
the british bit flew out the window,
they're airing shows from the years
MMXV & MMXVI primarily -
oh look who's coming with the surprise -
no, it's not *pacman: the ol' jolly roger
by the name of jimmus savillius -
****** broke the bank with his antics,
not the b.b.c. is a dog with three legs,
broke! ha ha!
             there's still something
bothering me... what part of "reality"
are these people pushing, that can't see
the duality, instead choosing a dichotomy
of the existence of the internet,
ah, either they're too young,
or the internet itself is too young,
and they haven't seen the shredder impact
of the internet on the high street...
when was i at a local high street?
honest to god, heart on my shoulder,
hand on my other heart singing the regional
anthem... can't remember...
if you only get 4 letters through the post
a year, and even less emails -
unless of course you tell people your email
address...
   either i'm the biggest loser, or the biggest
winner in this fiasco...
   i get as many emails as i get actual,
post-office letters...
    **** me, lucky you if it's a handwritten
letter, without an electronically generic
signature, you must be santa claus!
ah, pretty pretty, esp. since it was written
in green and purple crayon...
     get in there my son, you're bound
to enter the major league of *******
and *** fiddlers: just make sure you mention
the black component preference,
like, you know who.
           i can't believe they're coming for these
people, i swear to god, if someone working
class was to read the saturday or the sunday
times supplements, they'd go gargamel
bonkers... as i once explained the smurfs to
a scaffolder and his girlfriend walking
from an off-lice, as we both joked:
   she's short enough for the blue...
god, her reaction as impeccable:
heaven sent no hell apart from a woman's
fury at being either scolded or joked about;
works every time,
  so, gentlemen! can we return to our
drinking?
                  and they said in pop culture that
grief was an aphrodisiac - twice down
the shoot, thrice with the shakers as **** it is...
as it turns out so is male humour is a gemini
with grief...
     the furious vagi... and i knight her:
            n'ah...
                        i still don't get where
or when the reality check will take shape...
how much of "real" life on the internet
is not mere commentary?
... ... ... ... i'm giving you some time to answer...
whatever happened to the intricacies
of the "real" world and the internet?
what about those hacks, what about
internet banking,
   what has suddenly become so unreal
about the internet?
oh right, so we can hold a welsh f-u f-off (V)
to the publishers, and bypass their
bad taste in prose?
          thinking about it: i think it is...
oh sure, we'll earn a few collateral badges
of those who fell with weak psyches -
but to say, the most splendid, known
to man, ever imagined ******* -
well... you'd be a fool to distinguish
the internet as a wachowski construct...
listen mon, you're saving the amazon,
pixel by pixel by pixel alone...
   but you've also woken the eyes of
beelzebub -
          and the irish are pounding -
and the russians stopped drinking for a month -
and the poles decide:
it's our time to march with the gob!
i still can't believe that people can't
fathom a simple newtonian calculus
of integrating two entities -
     and making them as one -
      personally?
i'm an impatient person, or, rather:
i don't like people wrestling with me over
copyright, copy what? what?!
there's only one page on the internet
that respects copyright laws... wattpad...
no other page on the internet disallows
the ctrl c through to ctrl p...
not one... ******* if you think anything
about "copyright" laws in the 21st century...
one page, one page out of a billion,
that respects copyright, and what do they do?
they kick me off it, because in
privy i asked a girl where she was from,
to get the feel of what inspires her...
like in that film the passengers -
where the girl says: i could write all day
with a view of the chrysler building...
  well then... UP YOURS!

r
                      R      E  
A         d   D               A     e
                        M
                        M
ensconced
m­agically transforming everything i am
shrinking pungent times that shock
a jolt that makes apparent the
          I      
L       lies       E
         S
the tragic muse she swells and fills
                                                        k  ­            p
every sense that confuses and  s            i               s
drawing blood with every breath
a hurt that transcends the depth
of sanity
the boundaries that fate decree
a dwelling that disallows the free
                 R
a      T     rap      A
                  P
until all i do is go round about
a confusion that deepens
the maze that thickens
a black-red ooze that congeals
and seals
the burial grounds of dreams
that steal
the memories of a deeper psyche
that swirl and swarm in our midst
the ghosts of a beaten past.

Vijayalakshmi Harish
23.08.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish

'Hopes and Dreams'...explores the limitations of perception in more than three dimensions plus time.


I

Uncoupling hopes from truth sometimes reveals reality
Which is hard to bear
According to Eliot.
The difference between hope and what is real
Is sometimes the basis for laughter
Or tears…..
In equal measure
Depending on the deficit
Between reality, and the reality of hoping.
Two sides of the same coin
The masks of theatre,
Comedy and tragedy.

Yet reality is what we face day to day
Uncoupled from hope
An atheistic vision of what is true
In which dreams expire.

Hopes, dreams and reality
Congregate in theistic minds
As a woven integrity
But is the congress true?

Atheist and theist in perpetual conflict
One offering only truth,
The other hoping that belief is true
But, to what ….?
In this world caught in three dimensions
But do not forget time that marks when
We are born and when we die
According to Ecclesiastes.

The atheism of truths of a certain kind
Confined by the question asked
And who is asking, and the way of asking,
Atheist and theist talking at each other
But not in conversation
A dialogue of deafness to other points of view
An unbridged chasm for all of human history.

The certainty of truth is one problem,
Because certainty brooks no other view
But remember the constraints of truth’s
discovery and then assertion
In three dimensions, and do not forget time.

Unwittingly Carl Sagan made the point in flatland
A place of two dimensions,
Breadth and width, but no height
Infinitesimally flat, thin
Flat and thin, so that an apple
In its plump three dimensional roundness
Made its visit, announced its presence
But left only an infinitesimally flat, thin
Impression of its visitation,
With its announcement seemingly coming from wherever,
Infinite confusion.
For flatlanders who perceived a visitation
Without explanation
A mystery within which we experience
The determinism of truth
Not qualified by the dimensions
In which it’s made
Or defined
To the confusion of those who question truth,
If truth means the assertion of certainty.

Was it for flatlanders first cause?
Just like Paley’s watchmaker of the watch
found on the heath,
Each trapped in their respective
Two dimensions and three dimensions
Limited by their dimensionality
Of what they could see or imagine.
Not yet liberated by many dimensions
That liberated Tennyson to understand
That more is achieved by dreaming without limits.

Tennyson said…
That more things are achieved by prayer
Than this world dreams of,
But what are dreams?
Visions of hope, or the darkness of damnation?
But can we imagine these visions
In many dimensions?
And find new truths which we cannot perceive
In the day to day.

II

Dreams can be suspension
Between what is real and what we hope for,
Or ……
A plunge into an abyss of horrors
The nightmare’s nightcrusher
That reflects the fears of our experience,
The fears of Fuseli’s nights
Of grotesque creatures that taunt the hopes
Of our tomorrows
By revealing the layers of yesterday’s experience,
A past that haunts the future
In the day to day.

Yet redeemed by intentions
For the good,
And honourable to the nature of humankind,
And lifekind with which we share organic ancestry.

Dreams release the mind to find another place,
Another dimension, where what happens
Can happen and more than we can suppose
According to Haldane.

Limitless possibilities that dreamtimes
Expose what we do not own
But instead we are a part of.
Land, sea and air fused with the spirit
Of peoples that inhabit distant shores
Where they are one with the place
Where they are, were and will be
For all time.
The dreamtime of Australia’s
Original peoples.

And so the plump apple
Becomes a part of the experience
Of those who live in two dimensions,
Carl’s flatlanders experience their
Dreamtime of first causes
Because the missing dimension disallows
Their understanding of what is real.

So conflate the idea to many dimensions
And you can see what I mean.
Imagine the unimaginable
That cannot be seen
Because of the constraints of three dimensions.

And do not forget time
Perhaps the portal for imagining
What cannot be experienced
In spacetime warped and curved
By the embrace of gravity.

We sail in this cosmic sea
Not seeing its possibilities
Because we are not equipped
To see through a glass darkly
Or so Corinthians says
But to half see, dimly see
Love
And the truth of black holes
Where physics is sundered
Perhaps allowing passage to other creations
To us mere visions of what we aspire to be
And understand
Just as Blake saw heaven in a wild flower.

III

To perceive the possibility of many dimensions
Is to free the mind
From superstition
From the prejudices
That blight the landscape of our thinking,
And the landscape of dreams
When we perceive self
As if disembodied
Floating on the ceiling looking down
Detachedly on what we do
And what others do in the day to day.

Doings driven by the limited framework
Of width, breadth and height.
Width and breadth and height
And do not forget the passage of time
In which our doings take place.

One is singular in mind and body
Meaning self in the day to day.
To be beside oneself is joy and anger
The Janus faced self
Somewhat like the masks of comedy and tragedy
But of emotion and not theatrical circumstance.

How many multiples of
Space and time
Are needed to be beside oneself
In a quantum universe?
Or universes where to touch would be
Annihilation of self
Tracked as energy pure, and as simple
As the dreams of our disembodied self
Looking down from the ceiling.

IV

Is hope the delusion of optimism,
Dreams its manifestation of unreality?
Who can say because analysis
Is limited within the context of our perception.
Perception influenced by prejudice and misunderstanding
Because we are limited by what
Can be understood
In three dimensions,
And do not forget time
And gravity
And the failure of its resolution with dimension
and time
Limiting understanding.



But……
If we acknowledge the limitations
Even if not understanding the quantum context
Then, given we are prepared to accept the
uncertainty
Described by Heisenberg,
Then we are mentally equipped
To understand that truth is provisional
But with verity according to experience
Accumulated through the continuity of history.

We try to resolve contradictions
Because resolution anchors us into
the certainty of
Our present experience,
And certainty is comfort, allowing us to live
Day to day.

David Applin, May 2013

Copyright David Applin 2015

.of all days, but esp. a day such as this,
so little must happen,
  but at the same time so much can happen,
and it did, later in the day i watched
the magic at wimbledon: cori "coco" gauff
went into the 4th round -
     clinging on to reply with 2 match
points against her...
    coming back in a tie break in the 2nd
set, winning the 3rd 7 - 5...
    and... as ever, of all the grand slams in
tennis... wimbledon is always packed...
fancy seeing a full crowd at either the u.s.
open or roland garose...
   which makes for ****** viewing...
you really do need the crowd there,
the commentary doesn't really matter when
the crowd is there: the crowd and subsequently
the atmosphere... which is a delight
for t.v. viewing...
       but prior?
               the unadulterated pleasure from
physical labour... notably gardening in this example...
mawing the lawn...
  and then cutting down my grape vine:
poor ****** died somehow...
  many a good bottles of wine it did provide...
i'll miss making my own wine...
              but more importantly...
a rekindled sensation i once associated with
physical labour...
   after the work was done...
to sit, smoke a cigarette, have 3 sips of coffee...
and just feel a full-embodiment
without any necessities of thinking,
of the mind,
    to have invested so much much in the body
and so little in the mind...
   physical labour has to be the most
gratifying aspect of life:
    i'm jealous of the men in trades where
physical labour is required...
   how they can block thinking,
while perfecting their physical deeds...
an act of physical labour eventually outstrips
any gratification from that mollusc
    slouch into intellectualism:
esp. if there is no worthy opponent and you're
performing "intellectual" deeds solo...
what permeates from physical of labour
is a clarity of mind,
   esp. in the realm of horticulture...
       but i remember it was the same after
an honest day's work on a construction site...
there is no superior feeling:
not even during or after ***...
                           the body disavows the mind,
it disallows any bothersome minor existential
crisis to enter the foray of man's immediate
circumstance...
    almost all "intellectual" excursions can be
so ****... unsatisfying -
                   it would appear that physical
labour is more rewarding than any
intellectual "labour"...
                         since after the work is done...
both the body and the mind rest...
     unlike the opposite:
         where the body is perhaps at rest,
but the mind continues its "perverted"
                         distaste for a sense of completeness
and its furthered inability to sway
away from prodding abstracts or concrete
observations;
shame about the grape vine...
     making your own wine is probably
the most rewarding part of life -
   well... it was for me.

what made the Freudian question more penetrable is
what made it obvious - asking the same question
whether a housewife needed a kettle
was like asking a bricklayer for trowel -
only the rich payed for the meaning
of dreams... ****... the poor were just given
the fact that, we do, actually dream -
unless it's some over-worldliness or
exacting the unconsciousness of the heart
keeping rhythm to the brain's break from
thinking in the cranium cinema -
ah yes, hierarchy; hierarchy hierarchy hierarchy,
no Saddam Hussein then to bother?
ah ****, there was. too bad, make more mistakes,
that'll be a fine excuse for being human,
given the fact that when waiters make mistakes
we turn blue with rage and call for a happy meal -
i don't know what women want,
and to be honest, i don't care -
if a house is an extension of a woman i already know
the perks of wants presupposed -
man wants sea, Norse, man wants desert, Arab -
there's nothing worth noting for him to
simply settle down and watch television or
become a gamer - there are dinosaurs about with
that theory - beware.
Big Benjamin will be hushed for a year -
just recently renamed Tower E -
but what's that? glory be to Darwin in the highest?
championing Darwinism to simply speak
a valid point will make art suffer -
it's not longer Charles II with a cravat but
fur - plus it's impossible to start from there,
better to start from a deviation like from ****** into
wholehearted matrimony - choose a negative and
improve on it, why bother a positive chimp variation?
what progress comes from that? Gorillas aren't exactly
harassed by felines in the thick jungle, or if they are,
no more than Africa-Americans in their own cars
without guns but with gun permits - which means that
Americans are more likely to own gun permits than
passports, forget the fables of ***** Dancing and
the hopes of a Roman Holiday... it's Iowa-time right now...
gonna get smaller by the day -
existence via the bungalow - and a society where there's
a friction concerning not-having-read-philosophy
and having-read-philosophy, but it won't change for either
faction, both will be diagnosed as mad for the sake of
leisure activities continuing and pharma selling.
Denmark will flourish and Iceland and
what Darwinist scientists should have concentrated on:
shorter time-frame, evolution of Scandinavians -
what the Chinese already done and the Blue Indians tilting
the earth's gravity east with their 'made in China' #madeinchina...
but in a country that regards reading Kierkegaard
as allocating the diagnosis of schizophrenia...
you beg to differ and turn dialectics into warring -
this is England 2016 - by god man, don't read
books! read seagulls regurgitating chip-mush via
the media! don't you read books in England! don't!
i warn you! and remember that the internet doesn't
exist for journalists, esp. those writing opinion pieces!
it's not reality for them (the content) - a computer is
real, but anything on it isn't - thank you very much
for the social aspect of the internet coupled with
globalisation and the non-existent village or neighbour -
thank you... it's just a defence mechanism,
the internet is without authority - the printed press
has authority looming over it - the best time to write
a load of ******* not bothersome about money.

p.s. i hate the argument from the perspective
of exercise... i see exercise as pointless...
working, doing something, goal orientation
within the confines of one organism to another,
losing weight is such a vain goal /
purpose to execrise and all that scientific jargon
about releasing your... this receptor,
that receptor, this chemical that chemica...
*******...
     mawing the lawn and cutting a grape vine...
exercise... but more importantly:
a very organic end goal.

Pale blue gray

colored her eyes

As a soft feeling

starts coming back again

But like with

every rule

Of this, the longest of roads to

travel

It can never, completely

bring back

that lost

loving feelin'

Oh,

That would just be another left

and let to cross over

that one, forbidden

white line

But don't you want that revenge

on getting even with that

warning sign?

as here it comes again to not better

your remaining

days

And tie you once again to that

Boxcar laden, one way track

that disallows you

from ever coming back

Or

to feel...

and only leaves you to try and steal



This, the bunting red

that you will try to pretend

is what you can never

really see



Ooh. that true color of

that everlasting love

that can no longer

help you up

or set you free...

Amidst life that speaks in tones of everyday normalcy richness can get lost beauty can be taken for
Granted the first awareness that you created was mellowness but at its center was diffused beauty
The earth did stand still nothing sees so keenly as a heart that has been opened and stunned where
You were standing all things fled to a distance you were left alone a sacred hollowness surrounded you
Love creates the environment in an instant when it sees possibilities a life is being proposed a union
For life is conjured a story of place and promise runs in all directions only the night breeze can speak
These things with perfect eloquence tender embrace surrender that creates trust takes and binds all
Fear lets two souls become one in incomparable measures perfection known in no better terms two
Forms elegantly expressed they move in emotional storms that lead to discovery of what each has at
Their core and they find with amazement that they are truly mostly identical what a rush when you find
Your other half glory starts a dance that only ever widens to matrimony and the significance of life
When you produce a life that is yours can any other sky be so delightful where else can such tenderness
Spring when they coo a song that says were family the magic that was confirmed with a kiss now has
Reached the flood stage of bliss little arms **** in that motion there is a telling of a bond that was stirred
And began when eyes met and promise silently spoke and triggered a path that opened unseen but love
Guided on the captured hearts that were meant to share a life it might be lived in ordinary days but still
When you look at one another longing still stirs time has only made the shaky early days into a fortress
Built by caring sharing esteeming the other what a grand opulence pervades seen in heavenly climes
Stained glass windows depict your life truly the prince and princess of fairy tales are there depicted
The prince in blue the princess in a white gown a small cottage stands in the distance there are no
Greater fairy tales than when love works itself out in human life one line sums it up they are thrilled
By each other’s touch or I fall at your feet with weakness you lift me in your own powerlessness
Our spirits as a vacuum then allows grace to flow it surges it disallows all selfish acts a fire unquenchable
Burns with purist burning its blazing leaps in the dark night it shows for all to see a great love is being
Consumed and lived fully I dedicate this to Ivy on her birthday truly love never dies

Ciao to the world. . .my hand is free. . .
hope to penetrate all your misery. . .
stand on beside you feeling my glee. . .
what them can't I can't see, we both can just be. . .
Happy and free. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .where do you see?
Unspeakable motions relenting through notions. . .
That you are the world and I am the world. . .
Ride up beside planted come tree. . .
Choosing to sense, what life doesn't chance. . .
If was so easy to speak without kissing the *****. . .
Learning together, binded by teather on unspeacable measure. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
What pleasure do feel?
Sensations at leasure, stranded by seasure.
What is so pure then to run with a cure, of being you just you, and I just me. . .
When it doesn't matter. . .
For we are and can be, and always I sensed that, friends with the power to smile on the world. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
Do you smile on yourself?
Getting it clearer, this sense that's titer so nearer. . .
so great of a mystery as to what cost it in history. . .
What paused it about among,
domeneering a crowd. . .
that ****** on that history and made life this lost mystery. . .

Ciao to the world.. .
It's so great that I see you. . .
Peeling your skin to taste on your roots. . .
Feeling my life has strapped on its boots. . .
what is so moving,
Is something no one can keep you in life from disproving. . .
For this is the part that always puts on the spot,
what idea is given as the source of this proving?

Ciao to the world. . .
Why we need for such pusher, who can't but press on for the moocher?. . .
And feed to the world what we don't aspire,
some even becoming blind to how life truly feels.
Because of what shameful desire it instills. . .
so they take flight to the hills, running their bills,
killing the time without the conception that people of each one's own doesn't need redemption from such a parole. . .
Derived from an old point of a hunt for the dead sea scroll. . . .

Ciao to the world. . .
Where in these hills do we ever tumble under strains,
put down under mockingly with such assumptive pains?
Who in the **** disallows what we all grow so heartedly to cherish,
and then take on to fight against what we don't embellish?
For sake of each one our own, blown from where we inspire,
life is but for pleasure and desire, for, to in happiness respire.
There isn't but hell in this place, in which we feel to replace. . .
Bit by bit, but always making it harder for in this pace, it's such a miserable and unfortunate case. . .
Of greed in its haste, molding most souls into waste.

Ciao to the world. . .
Where in the hell did you go in this haste,
loosing the sense of what built you in the first place?
Not God, nor feeble men,
but love for certain aspirations of good to make this world an ease for many admirations.
For centuries to come, where we behold on in under one world of pleasant desire to fullfill all that we were fighting for,
mirror image of what freedom by hearts could implore.
Sincerely we never need be, for some it's just an ease,
to want always please into the self, stand on top of the shelf like a beaten up trophy headed for disastrous catastrophy.. . .

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm sit in Jardin du Luxembourg. . .Where life is full of smorgesbourg, all we are so different, relenting to one thing of beauty of the peace and quite that we want always beside, be.
How this little part of the world in larger then life city of Paris,
won't stand all around for a day say on the other side of the planet,
because some would want for it to be a glamour for riches drowned in their clamour.. . .

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm sit by a stranger. . .Do you think I feel danger?
Do you see what's even a mistake, life is something not quiet so fake, even when you give a chance to let one other have the better miser dance,
given the glance with such bitter pretense is worth even to chance?

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm gather on all of my new experience. . .Better perciever then most think im deceiver. . .
When who is better then being the deceiver?
Is one getting by, the best of the deceiver. . . .slaughtered at the mind by vivid perception,
because in all case life has taught nonsense ridden by selfish perception of ones own misdirection. ..

Ciao to the world. . .
I'm satisfied to be pleasant without the need for so much in life,
all but to gather on what life is so abundant,
all the smiling faces passing with haste paces, from so many different places. . . . .

Opulence
Amidst life that speaks in tones of everyday normalcy richness can get lost beauty can be taken for
Granted the first awareness that you created was mellowness but at its center was diffused beauty
The earth did stand still nothing sees so keenly as a heart that has been opened and stunned where
You were standing all things fled to a distance you were left alone a sacred hollowness surrounded you
Love creates the environment in an instant when it sees possibilities a life is being proposed a union
For life is conjured a story of place and promise runs in all directions only the night breeze can speak
These things with perfect eloquence tender embrace surrender that creates trust takes and binds all
Fear lets two souls become one in incomparable measures perfection known in no better terms two
Forms elegantly expressed they move in emotional storms that lead to discovery of what each has at
Their core and they find with amazement that they are truly mostly identical what a rush when you find
Your other half glory starts a dance that only ever widens to matrimony and the significance of life
When you produce a life that is yours can any other sky be so delightful where else can such tenderness
Spring when they coo a song that says were family the magic that was confirmed with a kiss now has
Reached the flood stage of bliss little arms **** in that motion there is a telling of a bond that was stirred
And began when eyes met and promise silently spoke and triggered a path that opened unseen but love
Guided on the captured hearts that were meant to share a life it might be lived in ordinary days but still
When you look at one another longing still stirs time has only made the shaky early days into a fortress
Built by caring sharing esteeming the other what a grand opulence pervades seen in heavenly climes
Stained glass windows depict your life truly the prince and princess of fairy tales are there depicted
The prince in blue the princess in a white gown a small cottage stands in the distance there are no
Greater fairy tales than when love works itself out in human life one line sums it up they are thrilled
By each other’s touch or I fall at your feet with weakness you lift me in your own powerlessness
Our spirits as a vacuum then allows grace to flow it surges it disallows all selfish acts a fire unquenchable
Burns with purist burning its blazing leaps in the dark night it shows for all to see a great love is being
Consumed and lived fully I dedicate this to Ivy on her birthday truly love never dies

Facing an eternity without you
dispairingly weeping at every moment alone
heart sharded a thousand painful jaggered pieces
forever loving you to the bone.


Frozen in a collage of ghastly images
your final suffering my head disallows me to forget
I feel so guilty for the choices i made
So much love entwined with so many regrets.


I Hold on tightly to the final remnants of you
as heavily hearted i try to climb this thorny hill
the memory of you eternally engraved in me
living with an agonizing hole which will never fill .

I am sorry
I wish I could make it easier
This is not a test
We both know the truth
I have you in my heart, I want your loving real
I am sorry
The love we could conjure is just that-
An indescribable illusion, masterfully crafted
But
It is not grabbable
I will not spoil my mind
Only to starve my body, heart and soul
The sight of you brings light into every essence of me
But it is torture
It is pain to parade our minds in front of my lonely body
I am sorry
If your mind disallows you from understanding
I am sorry
I love you too much
I treasure our true love
Too much
Too much to denounce it to the space and time and viewing of so many
Our love is special
Our love is true
Our love is deep
Our love is wonderful
Our love is electric
Our love is illuminating
Let our love be real.

Opulence
Amidst life that speaks in tones of everyday normalcy richness can get lost beauty can be taken for
Granted the first awareness that you created was mellowness but at its center was diffused beauty
The earth did stand still nothing sees so keenly as a heart that has been opened and stunned where
You were standing all things fled to a distance you were left alone a sacred hollowness surrounded you
Love creates the environment in an instant when it sees possibilities a life is being proposed a union
For life is conjured a story of place and promise runs in all directions only the night breeze can speak
These things with perfect eloquence tender embrace surrender that creates trust takes and binds all
Fear lets two souls become one in incomparable measures perfection known in no better terms two
Forms elegantly expressed they move in emotional storms that lead to discovery of what each has at
Their core and they find with amazement that they are truly mostly identical what a rush when you find
Your other half glory starts a dance that only ever widens to matrimony and the significance of life
When you produce a life that is yours can any other sky be so delightful where else can such tenderness
Spring when they coo a song that says were family the magic that was confirmed with a kiss now has
Reached the flood stage of bliss little arms **** in that motion there is a telling of a bond that was stirred
And began when eyes met and promise silently spoke and triggered a path that opened unseen but love
Guided on the captured hearts that were meant to share a life it might be lived in ordinary days but still
When you look at one another longing still stirs time has only made the shaky early days into a fortress
Built by caring sharing esteeming the other what a grand opulence pervades seen in heavenly climes
Stained glass windows depict your life truly the prince and princess of fairy tales are there depicted
The prince in blue the princess in a white gown a small cottage stands in the distance there are no
Greater fairy tales than when love works itself out in human life one line sums it up they are thrilled
By each other’s touch or I fall at your feet with weakness you lift me in your own powerlessness
Our spirits as a vacuum then allows grace to flow it surges it disallows all selfish acts a fire unquenchable
Burns with purist burning its blazing leaps in the dark night it shows for all to see a great love is being
Consumed and lived fully I dedicate this to Ivy on her birthday truly love never dies

Life Without Resentment

Nearly everyone has stored
among hardbacks and paperbacks
or dusty mental drawers
resentments, gathered incidentally
unintentionally or
by rubbing shoulders
with ingrates and other
irritating souls

Meeting her, she exudes
an excitement for what is said
while displaying an openness
a self-reliance
that disallows any acrimony
indignation or animosity

No bitterness is harbored
nor rancor secreted
among the ruins
of her disappointments

Not long-suffering
the past is forgiven and forgotten

Not apprehensive or perturbed
she treads in this moment
with the power of living in the present
no longer feeling victimized
She lives refreshed, restored
without resentment

I see things through
Astigmatic eyes.
These peas percolate
But exhaust our supplies.
If you blink I will see,
The energy of light dies.

So, as I consider the atrocities
Of my mind.
Release the emotions
That bind.
Maybe through your character
You will be kind.

There is no thought to
My reasoning,
And our link is something that
Needs questioning,
It will allow possibilities that are
Always repositioning.

I do not know my feeling
Or emotion.
You do not show any knowledge
Of internal commotion.
We will not bow down to the social
Concentration.

Remember your idealism of humanity,
If I become uncouth.
It is because I am unstable at times
Of tongue and tooth.
You are the only one that disallows
My smooth.

This is not the beginning
or the end
of a life-long journey
it is a meaningless act
a silent scream
like a rain
knocking on a window
before it breaks
or a rib cage so tight
it disallows breathing
how far can you fall
if you lay on a ground beaten
so take your dull wits to play
in hall of colorful emotions
you have no reason to stay
on a day of fine frenzy

helpless wandering
my back falls against the post
I sit here pondering
words to collaborate
to help elaborate my sense of mind
is it worth the work?
is it worth my time?
scrolling through yesterday
I found my self amazed, occupied and interested
in the ideas of what it would be like
temptations arouse my conscious
until my conscious kicked in
reminded me of my restraint
my shackle of freedom
my consequences
but how stupid am I to believe them
I sit restless,
it's obvious where my mind is at
it's obvious where I would like to go
it's obvious I'm clueless
my only ability is so put words together
like a wordsmith of some sort
people accept my words on paper
because they seize to believe it's true
It lacks the physical person
the voice matching through their ear
leaving behind a sense of legitimacy
but truthfully I'm speaking the truth
I do not lie to say I'm tempted
I would not lie to say I want it
But a sense of resistance disallows me
to exercise what arouses me
a restraint on one wrist
and denial in the other
the only way both will be freed
is reliance on one another
until the restraint vanishes
slips and falls loose
the denial will become acceptance
collapse and forgiveness
craving for more
aching and pleading
like a fix of *******
until I succeed it
until I give in
until I provide
it would crave and curl up
upon the darkness in the atmosphere
it would obsess until I say yes
so in sympathy to provide
and empathy to aid
she would dream wish and crave
me, the man of infinite words
the man of handcuffs and strait jackets
the man of wombs and catacombs
the man tightened up and tucked away
and she fails to realize
by saying no out of morality
she fails to get what she wants
as I remains shackled to my poor excuse
I seem to call my reality

• Sometimes you need to discard the complex and return to the basic… how you’ll be amazed to find the answer there!

• Don’t seek truth where there isn’t, otherwise you will spend time on things of no value.

• Do not ignore that which nags your heart, solve it, and peace and happiness will quickly spring out.

• It is true, the path of goodness requires sacrifice, and thus your willingness to sacrifice reveals your desire for goodness.

• [To those who are perishing, this is useless (but can be life-giving)] The recent conviction in your heart is a sign that ‘Hashem’ calls you… If you have ears may you have heard! No more will I continue with this…

• The rich man tries to ignore it, but the soul of a man shall live forever and ever and ever. He has chosen where it shall be but he may, and I hope he does, misplace it.

• Man runs to anger or loneliness for security, but he knows not that this is the highest pride, where you even deceive your own heart.

• Your repulsion towards him or her is not because they are wicked; they simply bring forth emotions that compromise your security.

• The desire of the past is the regret of the present and hope of a better future.

• To be a limited being distresses and therefore man ignores He who is unlimited, out of envy to fulfill [such] wretched desires.

• The realities of the world are pitiful, how painful they are!

• Love conquers all, even will-power bows to it.

• Now I know why the father of lies [and sin] is called a snake, how sin [and its condemnation] wraps itself around you.

• Beware of that sin that lingers, for soon you will tolerate it and it will send you to the abyss.

• The beginning of exceptions is the wind up of [progress and] stability.

• The urgency unseen leads to the vanishing of dreams.

• Sometimes the silence speaks better than words and the wind comforts better than a friend.

• There comes a time when a theory must be put into practice, where the [false] security it gave you will escape as water through ones fingers, and only its execution will set you free…

• Maturity is a river which like the Mississippi, disallows retreat.

• In the quest (or desire) to move forward, the former must be broken, that greatness may emerge.

• A woman’s weakness is her strength

• A woman’s weakness is her strength, and no man can deny a woman’s strength.

• Here’s a teaching; never cut in line as you wait in that test of patience. To cut in line is to insult all those who are behind you.


• Ignorance is not bliss, even when [the] reality is painful.

• Don’t look for faults, for in this fallen world you’ll always find them.

• The needs of a man are not physical, but spiritual.

• What is [the power of] hope? It is the reason to continue fighting.

• Beauty does not equal value or worth.

• Love is not a sign of weakness, but of strength, for not all are willing to humble themselves to it, or Him.

• You many never understand what this means, but perfection is liberated.

• There are three stars that all nations seek to achieve… These are: freedom, honor and prosperity.

• Humility will give you a name, a name the Most High will give to you.
  
• When the clouds cover the sky, and darkness falls upon the land, it doesn’t alter the fact that the sun is still shining. Again, regardless of the circumstances that may engulf your capability, the Son still shines.

• No one understands… It’s not that they can’t, but they can’t.

• Do not grab the bull by its horns, it will dislocate your arms and trample you down. Invest in a gun rather and shoot it from a distance.

• Words have the power to hurt more than sticks and stones. They have the power to wound and dislocate the soul.

If only…
I could find the words
My lips desire to say;
I know
… this pain would leave…;
But, my mind
…will not relay;

Can I be…
Who I am?
My heart…
Disallows.

How do I get around this…?

Where, …
Do I go now.?

Reaching out
… I touch you
You,…
You are already gone?
My little trace of glory;
My…
Tender little song.

Tranquilly of a heartbeat
There is… but silence now.

How do I get around this…?
Where, …
Do I go now.?

Teeny hands
Soothing breath
Now, your life is through.

The only words
I can say…
My precious girl
Is…
I want to be with you.

I've wanted to draw Native American Art
On your etch-a-sketch canvas for two decades,
And now given the opportunity
This spectacle I'm immersed in
Disallows me to master the act of this ecological connection.
The water behind me whispers, slowly,
The words necessary to ****** me.
My fingers slide along the slanted planes of sand,
Memorizing each blemish
Created by the ceaseless power of Earth.
Every tree stump boasts the bust of a woman,
Tantalizing in its mossy negligée,
But ashen by the blade of an angry flame,
Stripping them of life.

Superior's Two Hearts tends to my
Earthen love affair
As a fishing lure guides its victims-
With careful precision
And a predetermined purpose.

I have meandered onto the patch of land
By following that drum beat
Of the blood-flowing waters.
Graced with the flower of fruit,
Blueberries, the crooked banks become
A whole cosmos of wonder embedded in soil.
So I fill my mind with the swirling waters,
And my stomach with the periwinkle nectar,
To finally pick up my pen,
Not to draw pictures of your beauty on sand,
But to write words of your wisdom on paper-
The strength you have given me to
Become something other than a blank page.

Ha!

Human (rat) race doomed!

Foregone conclusion hashtagged,
linkedin, predicated, et cetera, cuz
overactive derrière of yours truly
(no names mentioned, nor fickle
finger of fate pointed), and writer
of these words and one among many
riders (he adores) on the storm –
referring to brewing, looming, and
quaking potentially severe economic
fallout shattering The "debt ceiling"
or "debt limit"recommends ye dear
unknown (anonymous) readers bid
thee toodle loo  to civilization
and its discontents.

So much for hyperbole!
    
How axiomatic, ironic, quixotic, zoologic
that thee unavoidable ****** urge occurred
while in the midst of writing about that
vitally important ****** function, which
for any other Tom, **** or Harry would
be safer endeavor at least within their home.

That margin of err rear harmlessly doth
NOT exist within the rented domicile
of this twenty six plus years a married
(lighthearted) middle aged man.

What requisite non-forceful,
essential, dutiful call visiting
the ***** to purge the body electric
of supposed waste matter
(quite efficient machine ****
Sapiens anatomy), regarding
said expelling solid, loose, liquid...
thru **** ought to rank as
minimally risky private business.

Imagine matter of fact saunter
to the loo fraught with Uriah heaps
of danger that could imperil
the very existence of (in this case)
myself, and the rest of humanity.

Upon attempting to amble
very short distance, (perhaps
half a dozen paces), an
immediately deleterious,
hellaciously luminous, and
perilously serious threat
(unsurpassed even by hooliganism  
signature destruction forever
enshrining Gothic or Vandals –
if such peoples lived today and
occupied this apartment unit),
loomed as a far more impossibly
harrowing mission any combination
of maximum strength (Excedrin
would be superfluous) supposed
major natural disasters all rolled
into one frightful maelstrom.

Oft times the powerful need
to relief thyself disallows any
preparation H(abiliments), thus I
am forced to make a quick dash
to the toilet, BUT between
the cozy comfort of this easy
chair and the durable material
designed to suction even the
baddest, biggest, boldest BM
belies a trail and mountain
far more of wicked bewitched
crossing then say the now defunct
Fukushima Nuclear Power Plant.

Though this comparison may seem
like an exaggeration, the higgledy
piggledy hewn heap of fetid foul
fermenting faecal matter poses
dangerous, death defying diabolical
(DO NOT ENTER) dump.

No other option existed for me
to eradicate, expel, exorcise, et
cetera potential ***** matter except
to strike out toward barrier reef
of noxious, odoriferous, pestilential,
queasily revolting sky high (declared
SuperFund Site) to  enjoy simple
pleasure, whereby Gluteus Maximus
dispenses with human toxins.

The urge to let loose a stool sample
overrides any time to pen loving
note to surviving family members,
which (two darling grown daughters
seem like foreigners (or survivors
on a desert island) as each precious
Punim pursues autonomy countless
miles, whereby the eldest then
a Junior at The University of Pennsylvania,
and the youngest offspring plane
and simple sailed about seven
years ago to become
seasoned student abroad.

Though a tenant at this subsidized
(and quite agreeable accommodations
nestled within Perkiomen Valley,
Pennsylvania), no exaggeration necessary
to describe daily cataclysm perchance
spelling doom and downfall of this
dry husband and loving father to deux
progeny, who would hate to leave said
special offspring behind under
the sheltering sky.

Thus every onset to traipse
so few feet to flush out
thine flotsam and jetsam,
(when stream of ***** sprays
like a hose) to pay obeisance
and homage to modern
plumbing, the flash of mine
lxiv years zips thru me
memory, particularly when
carefully, gingerly
lumbering ridiculously slow
(lest mishap finds ambulance
siren wailing destiny of this chap
(most likely pronounced
dead on arrival), whereby tell tale
sigh of turgid tummy
would automatically inform doctors
that obstruction preventing quintessential
rear supply tubby
undisputed venal wickedness.

Tis at  unstoppable twitches
to defecate, (which sharp
saber rattling ****** spasms)
denote common urgent irrepressible
need arising within bowels),
when mental gallows humorous arises.

Such an embarrassing ending
(post eerie er) demise re: conclusion
to my rather ordinary life – (visa vis
being constipated, deprived
or hindered freeing offal,
would put to shame “windbag”
i.e. google as  proof positive
of blocked means to eliminate waste).

Also in tandem (though very
slightly tangential to above
distressful horrible likely presentiment,
this xMan bemoans being
swept off my yam bic pent
tam meter feet (literally)
by gigantic hands of she
(thee divine Gaia, who now
scatters defecated detritus
damning ability to access
commode constitutes reflection
on remaining Norwegian
Bachelor farmer from Lake Woebegone.

How trajectory of one measly
mortal primate webbed
whirled wide eyed schleps
along boulevard of broken dreams
(he may as well live planets,
galaxies or universes apart
worlds) ever shared
an intersecting vector
with another continues
to confound this crossword puzzler.

Again that sneaky sobriquet
irony doth mettle with
steely goatherd drivers
goes Pasteur ****, where gin
till lit tee lives.

Long story short described below.

Circumstance found this then
quite content solitary
son of the soil invited
to admirable, estimable, inimitable
estate listed as “Glen Elm”
within  National Registry of
owned properties within
Collegeville, Pennsylvania.

Garrison Keillor slated guest of honor.

He possessed je nais se quois
ability to tell tall tales,
whereby audience members
became rapt with seduction,
usurpation, and wide eyed yearning
to lean in so as to hear the suspense,
which increased in magnitude
in direct proportion as
his home spun voice became softer.

Unbeknownst to this
poor country bumpkin, when
he took bathroom break
during impromptu intermission,
a gal in her mid thirties
livingsocial with her parents
within the Mainline
(very wealthy enclave of residents
within southwestern Montgomery
County, Pennsylvania)
agreed to follow Jewish tradition,
asper prearranged marriages.

Though neither of  Semitic peoples,
nor the least bit familiar
with one of the oldest Religions,
thee family, whose youngest daughter
hinted of spinsterhood, their
open minded kindred ideas
generated exception to  
dictum remaining steadfast
to pinpoint “a nice Jewish
Kosher Boy”!

As frequent attendees
at this Leiper Mansion and
storied magnet for literati,
the accidental chance encounter
found thyself and unfamiliar gal
(fate decreed as thy bartered bride)
happened to be awaiting use of water closet.

As tends to be the predilection
of so called fairer gender ***,
this petite and attractive dame
introduced herself, which subsequently
found us becoming more
curious about the other.

The natural order of two
heterosexual individuals
(one male, the other female)
allowed basic instinct of
attraction to engender
fledgling friendship, that quickly
leapfrogged into
a sexually intimate dalliance.

Without any precautions
qua birth control inevitable
outcome of hitting
the figurative bullseye linkedin while
listening to the rhythm method occurred.

This reality determined
tepid reception courtesy
future parents in law to marry gal,
whose youngest daughter's
future child I fathered.

Even from this fairly commonplace
getgo dynamics wildly described
along seismograph of 10.00 earthquake,
one category 5 hurricane,
and an F5 tornado thrown in
for good measure for measure,
these tidbits totally hyperbolic,
thus equal much ado about nothing relative
to the interpersonal juxtaposition
of our quite rapid tête-à-tête,
that continues (to much lesser degree –
analogous to subsiding
storm of the Century 21) to this day.

After surviving approximately
two and a half dozen plus years,
(the marital inflictions
unquestionably more harrowing,
strangulating, and threatening
life and limb) battle scars
(many broken bones begot
by innocuous shuffling to
bathroom) populating neary
every square inch of this
ordinary chap deserves a medal of honor.

Accursed human species
case in point Vladimir Putin,
who strikes terror across globe.

Don't underestimate his hell bent
zeal to attack United States,
one blood ******* infernal
predacious **** sapien
mercilessly bullies, interrogates,
threatens... with zeal.

Considerably less mortifying
constitutes wrathful ordeals
exhibited by adults who treat
thine wife with indecorous jibes
like punks who sat back of bus
or classmates at Methacton
High School, mine alma mater.

No different than typical mean kids
many crotchety residents here
Highland Manor Apartments
majority residents aggrieve the missus
though said counterpart (thee spouse)
exudes standoffish poise
countenance dons and
nonverbally trumpets scowl
body language broadcasts
social graces be ******
easily interpreted as snub

engendering hostile imprecations
cruelly fiendish provocations
undermine capacity to experience
peace of mind
exacerbated by her
figurative cold shoulder
propensity to flip the bird
notched, ratcheted, torqued... tension
courtesy miss prissy heiress,
daughter, she secured management role
albeit (hats off) to nepotism

guarantees lifelong job security
issued thee missus warning
rental stipulation disallows
overt ******* flashing signal
emotional entanglement ensued
yours truly tasked
to pursue more favorable environment,
yet scant finances (mine)
and poor credit
two strikes against
locating affordable living situation

since sole family income
social security disability
direct deposited monthly
buzzfeeding checking account
regularly near anorexic,
cuz additionally I pay
costs of living expenses
cole king avoiding being homeless,
thus this penniless
among dime a dozen
day late dollar short

low income bracketed
(marching with madness)
mister casts quandary
couched as poetry,
no great expectations,
nonetheless cathartic to communicate
(hoop fully understandable)
present tense plight
projected as plotted trend
fat and/or slim chance
fate will curse me as lottery winner
pipe dream teasing
this word plumber flush with ire,

who feels nsync and drained
scraping hand to mouth
bemoaning apathy, dismal
effort, gross indifference
toward self sums (mein kampf)
plus academic struggles
proffers grim forecast
as coxswain at mercy
rudderless ship of state
edges closer to his waterloo.

An excerpt taken from a lengthy tome,
written courtesy a favorite poet of mine.

Paraskevidekatriaphobia  struck within a blink,
I swear yours truly never took a drink,
nevertheless he witnessed
and falsely accused of being a rat fink,
when everything but the kitchen sink
instantaneously disappeared in a wink.

A quick moving flava flav lava flow
quickly rapped (like a snoop doggy dog tune),
swept, and twittered predominantly
(this only the beginning phase
of Armageddon clobbering debacle),
where nature nymphs, sprites, trolls, et cetera)
decked out with tartan kilted
Scottish residents comprising
the moral majority population
within bucolic community of Harrisburg,
(yes the same place name and Das Capital
of Pennsylvania) before swallowing
(as an itty bitty, teensy weensy
hors d oeuvre), a healthy
barley noticed portion of planet Earth.

Faster than a speeding bullet
lubricated with greased lightning,
and one rather extremely uncommon phenomena,
the devastating, instantaneous,
and outrageous volcanic activity,
(that forged the Allegheny Mountains)
unexpectedly goose-stepped,
doggedly catapulted back to life
after a bajillion years of dormancy
entombing, hotly freezing (in perpetuity),

and guaranteeing, limning, and ossifying
unchanging lifelong livingsocial abode
of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum
at that juncture (of happy and healthy)
within the space time continuum
4 after Midnight, (when Christine
came down with severe bout of misery
qua writer's block), and sponsored
by Plexus, nexus Lexus Wilkie Buick,
who guaranteed their

handsomely crafted automobiles
(specially designed with an app
to weather fierce blistering,
pelting thermal withering geologic events,
sans natural catastrophes)
included extra durable crushed bougainvillea
(allegedly beefed chromosomes)
deftly effected fortified (gluten free)
genetically housed immensely
jimmied, kindled, lionized magnetized numbskulls.

The volcanic magma seemed to possess
an uncanny intelligent, eerie ability
to discriminate among bias,
die hard extremist stances, liberal take
on hot button controversial issues,
political ultra factions, hence the eye catching,
shining, yet confusing moniker
"Smart Ash" soon codified, fructified, indemnified
with the reputable, musical, and inestimable
qua personae non gratae prodigy Sam Ash".

Actually, there did seem to appear
some natural likeness in violent temperament,
resonant penchant, and nascent lambent
Jill Saint John habiliment
between former magmatic material,
and protean Primate prehensile prattling Simian,
who (as a sidereal stellar story teller)
happens to be yours truly.

Anyway, due to strict
parochial Lutheran hackneyed dogma,
no iota of boasting, flattering, nattering chattering
allowed from this anonymous,
hip po' eponymous, harmonious, industrious,
innocuous, judicious, loquacious, marvelous,
querulous Norwegian bachelor farmer.

Ponder with scrunched furrowed brow
in a serious effort to expound at large
this incredulous nebulous,
shape shifting (than compound
an understandably mixed up notion),
thus now tis a noteworthy opportunity
to point out divulging the name of this scribe
would immediately necessitate notification
of Non-Coms, who would forcibly usher
this lapsed long haired pencil neck geek.

This action (not newsworthy in the least),
would thus mocks nix notorious nauseating, nasty,
never-ending nonsensical noodling.

How sad, hence tis not wise tune hip
virtual thorn in the dark side.

Rather best bet would be to buffer end
this figurative bud dee **** encased
within corpus callosum.

Though identity guard disallows revealing namesake
of this nincompoop, the most information
told about this little known author
can be reduced to one word.

That abridged version would deprive
any subsequent reader a brave attempt
to interpret convoluted spaghetti writing.

Despite ambition to bob and weave continuously
(creating a conglomeration of ever increasing
virtual loose threads),
one final capstone concept begs to be conveyed.

Thine ziggurat severely atilt rivaled
(sorry tubby cheesy),
but the Leaning Tower of Pisa!

Asinine argot acquired bilious berserk baggage,
which stakes no claim nsync with
longevity, magnanimity, notoriety, et cetera.

A series of unfortunate literary,
lickity-split liberty unintentionally
left a prose ache wake.

An honest to dogness attempt bedeviled crux
displaying evident fiasco.

Slinky circumstances, sans synonymity,
synergistically, and synchronicity
yielded a feeble effort at fame.

Birth thing a complex mental edifice
begot aborted aspiration foray zing
grateful, mindful, and respectful characterization.

About four plus weeks after
frazzling fiasco from friggin fraudsters
white knight still mourns swindled money
Lynne Costello Senior Civil Investigator
(assistant to Philadelphia attorney general)
unable to recoup forfeited funds.

While holed up in castle keep,
(albeit fetchodit fuming father
cursing out blimey scamming creep),
I replay nightmarish scenario
that disallows me to sleep
inconsolable tears yours truly doth weep.

Though secular humanist,
nevertheless yours truly (me)
beseeches a higher power
something in the order of

voltages ranging from
115,000 to 230,000 VAC
Voltage Alternating Current
or Extra-High voltages ranging
from 345,000 to 765,000 VAC.

Courtesy malefactor left me bereft
cyber criminal shrewdly,
meticulously, hucksterish antagonistic
online criminal with deft
once again revisiting series of theft
designed warp and weft
traitor to the cause of honesty
wove webbed, whirled wide net
pounced (visualize yourself analogous
recipient of lionize) de León.

I implicate myself aside from bogeyman
being submissive at financial havoc
fake Macbook Pro wizard
posturing as legitimate
Apple computer technician did wreak
more than laptop malfunction, he did tweak.

Any number of "red flags"
clear as day in retrospect
stand out like a sore thumb
with self reproach
and attendant emasculation
"how could I be so dumb,"
not ready to concede desperation
to scrounge around
for every little monetary crumb
when "Que Sera, Sera
(Whatever Will Be, Will Be)."

Resultant severe emotional grip
courtesy financial fallout
fantasy thought arise
regarding being cursed with
purchasing winning Mega-million
and powerball ticket,
hence the following fantasy.

Lucky lottery winner
…and the super powerball
and mega millions jackpot winner is…
from Schwenksville, Pennsylvania.

No way.

This must be some off-season
April fool and/or Halloween trick or treat.

Yea right.

In my dreams.

A voice inside urges
“take another look.”

Yet upon frenziedly staring
(for what seems like an eternity)
at the matching numbers
(per tickets for both
record breaking sweepstakes)
no denying that every numeral
exactly the same as those randomly drawn.

I don’t know whether to cry or scream.

But, if held at pen point and forced
to splutter out how such winnings
would be managed (from mine mouth
to God's ears) such fantasy will be elaborated
within literary exercise
(just for the purposes of this writing contest),
I now let finger flit to and fro,
hither and yon across qwerty keyboard.

Though a pauper, no ambition
could goad me to live like a king.

The immediate step would be
to seek professional top-notch guidance
from a sterling gold reputable investment banker.

He or she to be a staunch advocate
of wise management
sans such substantial windfall.

Consent to be given for a chunk
to be divested into high yield
money market funds with a modicum of risk.

Other dollops off currency denouement
elected to be doled into
on demand personal funding accounts.

A suitable proportion thence hedged
toward monies for thee spouse and
two darling daughters.

Said wife would be awarded ample chunk
to meet her present
and future financial needs and/or wants.

Since she tends to be tempted
to spend any cash on her purse (son)
plus pose (on bended knee) plaintive pleas
for this husband to drain his meager resources,
a ceiling limit incorporated
within said deposited arrangement.

Each progeny (both charming young women)
established with academic, catastrophic, exotic…
healthy portfolios.

Upon reaching age of twenty-one
release of full access to aforementioned bonds,
dormant fiduciary interest bearing,
known, noteworthy
Yankee Doodle dandy legal tender.

Even though total claim to do as they wish
with apportioned denominational millions.

A caveat will include disallowing banal,
flagrantly haphazardly spent (even though
exercising a spending spree not illegal),
the contractual obligation affixing
each offspring will witness the forfeiture
from fathers’ instantaneous famed fortune.

Self imposed restrictions viz electronic mechanisms
(probably at least one computer software application
(probably dashed off by kindergartner during recess)
will bar this fanciful papa
to blithely act frivolously,
yet a predetermined
monthly allotment made accessible.

No spending spree will occur sans yours truly
until bulwark of allocation, dedication, gratification…
securely settled analogous
to digital electronic gatekeepers,
which strategy (affording truckload of dollars
to appease capitalistic cravings)
still replete with common cents paid out
to select charities and non-profit organizations.

These agencies to focus on animal welfare
of genus and species besides **** sapiens,
eco-friendly.

Environmental utilities, educationally
non-discriminatory colleges/universities,
and other copasetic, democratic, ecologic,
holistic, non-partisan opportunistic
politically welcome think tanks.

the durability, longevity, and tenacity of **** sapiens,
after screaming headlines report one after another atrocity.

How did the human species manage to survive
with many means
of self destruction at their disposal?

Atomic stockpiles nothing
but ticking time bombs,
and prior to advent regarding
weapons of mass destruction,
the histories of civilizations
replete with one after another
ingenious modus operandi
for opposing forces
resorting to horrendous
feats of killing each other.

I especially mention after reading
(for the second time)
This Hallowed Ground,
(which would probably
be banned by Republican party
of Florida governor Ron DeSantis, a
subtle plug for aforementioned book)
written by Bruce Catton,
a prolific author
whose specialty constitutes

American Civil War era;
both antebellum and postbellum,
the latter a radically
transformed geographic area
of thee contiguous United States
begat twenty first century
disenfranchisement between
descendents of Northern European settlers
and persons of color African ancestors.

Fierce internecine warfare
(impossible mission for
yours truly to comprehend
such ****** hatred between
Northerners and Southerners)
infused each Yankee
and so called Johnny
with unimaginable vitriol.

Structural racism born
linkedin to manumission,
which institution of slavery
(the bedrock of king cotton industry)
divested plantation owners
their chattel (persons of color)
as purported property.

Hierarchical caste system
(of the down) of sorts
alive and well from sea to shining sea,
where gerrymandering disallows
representative government,
which invariably means
ways to sabotage opportunities
for people of color
and other minorities
reduced to an inescapable disadvantage.

Blatant inequality (and/or ambiguity
promising select subsets
of the original thirteen colonies
life, liberty and pursuit of happiness)
baked into original
Declaration of Independence,
and Constitution, fomenting
violent upheaval tearing society
four score and seven years

after the founding fathers
sought autonomy severely testing
nearly fracturing the fragile
then still nascent republic
experimenting with democracy
mainly for the vested gentry,
an exclusively male club,
even further limited to
land owners with sprawling plantations.

Some Anti Abolitionists (more prevalent
north of the Mason-Dixon line)
verging on the extreme as
"bleeding heart liberal"
longed to foster freedom for the oppressed
whose shrill voice expedited
impacted (my presumption)
chain of events that triggered
vis a vis expansion of human beings
with noticeably more melanin in their skin
concerning the territories
that had not yet become states general,
and salvo of first shot at Fort Sumter,
Charleston South Carolina in particular.

Quite a few generations elapsed
since the bloodiest carnage
until the first World War,
(and subsequent global mortal kombat)
wrought a death toll
exceeding 520,000 American fatalities
presaging the Civil Rights Movement,
yet even today (June 16th, 2023),
a great disparity of privilege
more or less guaranteed
to Caucasian males unless
an individual representative
(outside that arbitrary skin color)
gifted academically, artistically,
athletically, et cetera.

Witnessed courtesy the following poetic sight
especially when dark shadows foretell edge of night
twilight zone expanding
into outer limits of width and height
obscuring webbed wide world
subsequently where black tentacles alight.

This poetic prologue feeble exercise to encapsulate commonplace frustration experienced by fledgling author evidenced by spurious poem dredged up below decks foregoing full sentences, which will resume reflections being hobbled to cobble words together, when yours truly tries his darndest to re-captcha fleeting idea or sentiment.

Minimal productiveness
as hands of time issue silent tick tock
resultant rhyme without reason mere schlock
conceding intelligence on par with rock
consanguinity quite evident
versus key difference
when affliction named agraphia doth lock
stock and barrel creative juices
resounding, resonating, and resolving

into echo chamber with hollowness when
upon noggin of scapegoat bully doth knock
impossible mission to fend off badass ****
whereby yours truly envisions
fanciful day dream lazing a boat on the dock
carefree mindset disallows watching clock
repudiating, spurning, and thwarting
thee dilemma of writer's block
deliberating calling ghost writer ad hoc

One former bohemian rhapsodizes (and a young bare cub at Antioch to boot), now prosaically expounds courtesy lengthy epistemological expressing difficulty to craft complex literary edifice applying building blocks of English language in a fitting manner that does justice to said lingua franca giving liberty to leaping lizard thoughts that dart to and fro, hither and yon within the windmills of my mind.

Rather than censor or edit, I pour out at rapid fire rate, the notions (ala kingly brainstorm) that flit thru me  noggin when first staring at the black and white screen, sometimes eyes remain closed to help initiate the process to summon forth this, that, or another just barely perceptible concept; the task less difficult when the topic provided, which preconceived subject narrows focus into figurative box.

When provided specific issue to write about
the effort still arduous to gather plethora of
disparate points aware near infinite number
of directions discourse in question
could take this, that or another route,
whereby any path could lead to a dead end
with impulse to yank inkwell and spill spout
all over manuscript,
a Rorschach work of art to tout.

Countless trials and errors entail exploration
to the near state of physical exhaustion
where each logical conclusion finds pensive
fellow inextricably entangled within his own
thicket of unprintable verbiage.

Would you dear reader believe a/or accept
eureka moments arise stealthily as cats crept
unexpectedly and inconveniently when I
get situated on toilet and whole paragraphs
tumble into consciousness pell mell faster
than bowels expelling ****** waste matter
from derrière except
Macbook Pro in other room kept
safe and sound against accidents
if mishap occurred resident Kuni Lemel
would be convulsing with grief as he wept.

There is part of a system of thought that says every time you dwell on the thought of people or things you lose sight of your self.  It makes sense because thought, its being an ephemeral, comes in and goes on to another at the speed of lightening. Where is the you in that moment? A you that is essential, the you you want to find out about, go into at will and stay for longer than that lightening.  

     The habit of thinking about people and things disallows that, discourages that, waters down the ability.  Result?   One is spending hours of the day reaching out to an illusion, a passing evaluation, an ever changing object.  Time wasted.

Entrapment videre licet fiendish
gnarly hustling scheme erector -
sent me to the poor house, where alms
not forthcoming to ease financial affliction,
where yours truly money matters still stymies
ways and means to relocate
to a two bedroom apartment
courtesy low income housing.

Eleven months ago to date,
I fell prey to the wiles of a scam artist,
who initially managed
to hack way into the Macbook Pro
rendering same computer I use now
such that impossible mission
to allow, enable, and provide
any process to be completed.

A gofundme page
once again set up courtesy yours truly,
which honest to goodness attempt
to bolster substantial forsaken funds
(essentially thieving joint
nest egg of mine and the missus)
deftly hawked pack of lies

blindsiding me to surrender
hook, line and sinker
practically snagged and bled out
these lovely bones mine every red cent
squirreled away as a quite paltry
monetary security net.

The spectre and haunting existence
of Harvey Specter
(the alias cyber spatial highway robber)
still riddles the psyche of this joker,
who continues to chide himself,
particularly when realizing
combined lost assets
lock, stock, and barrel meant that though
poor as a Unitarian church mouse,
I can not provide succor

(in the form of American currency)
which penury disallows us
to dole out for our second born
and youngest daughter,
(who at age twenty five
shares an accommodation
in Bend, Oregon -
with another twenty something gal
a bajillion miles
from dear her ole papa and mama -
located in southeastern Pennsylvania)
paternal nor maternal capital to ease
her own woebegone challenged situation.

Said unnamed progeny, and her oldest sister
(by about twenty six months difference)
feel shortchanged by parents,
whose bereft checking and savings accounts,
plus truckload of
mental health issues contributed
to a dysfunctional heartache

living poisoned ten year decade of misery.
I admit unintentional grief
heaped upon the souls of deux innocent lives
which two offspring begat
courtesy a virile birth father and fecund mother,
whose joint home economic pennilessness
(even prior to letting the pang of procreation
run to sow wild oats)
set at least one figurative strike against us
when embarking to journey
(as a super tramping foreigner)
upon the family way.

Utopia for wretched wordsmith
would constitute enough disposable income
to relocate within a place like Lake Wobegon
"Where the women are strong,
the men are good looking,
and all the children are above average."

Its city motto is "Sumus Quod Sumus"
("We are what we are").