"essentials" poems
I have been going to the track for so
long that
all the employees know
me,
and now with winter here
it's dark before the last
race.
as I walk to the parking lot
the valet recognizes my
slouching gait
and before I reach him
my car is waiting for me,
lights on, engine warm.
the other patrons
(still waiting)
ask,
"who the hell is that
guy?"
I slip the valet a
tip, the size depending upon the
luck of the
day (and my luck has been amazingly
good lately)
and I then am in the machine and out on
the street
as the horses break
from the gate.
I drive east down Century Blvd.
turning on the radio to get the result of that
last race.
at first the announcer is concerned only with
bad weather and poor freeway
conditions.
we are old friends: I have listened to his
voice for decades but,
of course, the time will finally come
when neither one of us will need to
clip our toenails or
heed the complaints of our
women any longer.
meanwhile, there is a certain rhythm
to the essentials that now need
attending to.
I light my cigarette
check the dashboard
adjust the seat and
weave between a Volks and a Fiat.
as flecks of rain spatter the
windshield
I decide not to die just
yet:
this good life just smells too
sweet.
9k
Pocket watch, I tick well.
The streets are lizardly crevices
Sheer-sided, with holes where to hide.
It is best to meet in a cul-de-sac,
A palace of velvet
With windows of mirrors.
There one is safe,
There are no family photographs,
No rings through the nose, no cries.
Bright fish hooks, the smiles of women
Gulp at my bulk
And I, in my snazzy blacks,
Mill a litter of ******* like jellyfish.
To nourish
The cellos of moans I eat eggs --
Eggs and fish, the essentials,
The aphrodisiac squid.
My mouth sags,
The mouth of Christ
When my engine reaches the end of it.
The tattle of my
Gold joints, my way of turning
******* to ripples of silver
Rolls out a carpet, a hush.
And there is no end, no end of it.
I shall never grow old. New oysters
Shriek in the sea and I
Glitter like Fontainebleu
Gratified,
All the fall of water an eye
Over whose pool I tenderly
Lean and see me.
3.7k
Goldilocks Paradigm
this soup is too hot this soup is too cold
this chair is too big this chair is too small
this bed is too soft this bed is too hard
this world is just right at least for most of us all
scientists say that we are lucky to be alive
that the forces of nature balanced just right
at least in this universe we manage to survive
a perfect balance of day and night
if the gravitational forces were stronger or more weak
if the temperatures were much hotter or cold
if the air was too thin or thick at its peak
all these essentials more valuable than gold
in the multi-universe theory this one is just right
blending all the cosmic ingrediants just so to fit
for life as we know it with our imperfect sight
these 3 fuzzy bears packed neatly in a kit
I try telling you stories of science that make sense
sometimes hard finding words meaningful that rhyme
words not about love or hate or feelings so tense
that fit nicely in the Goldilocks Paradigm
David Nelson ....
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 6:24 PM UTC
So sensuous is this piece of clothing,
Barely covering her bare essentials.
If she lets it fall to the ground,
Visible are her melons so round.
And what to say of her crevices,
Up & down both are so smooth,
Juice-filled they are the milk booth.
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 6:06 AM UTC
The week has to have a weekend
Days have to have a tomorrow
And goodbye to yesterday’s/
In turns will bring the months to an end/
What do we have to face
moving forward setbacks and more
worried looks in the bystanders eyes..
When all is set and done, we have to say grace
We have to look up every morning and whisper to the skies.
The news broadcaster’s never speak of genuine love,
They only wishes to be littered,
While, begging folks to do their part
The cooing of the dark lonely dove
a symbol that there’s is no more love in ones heart
during the these stressful day/
Ten o’clock curfew at night,\/
Essentials workers must only be seen at dawn/
No more than ten to twelve people on sight/
And large outstanding gathering must be gone/
Black Friday’s deals, window shopping strolls
Everything seem on hold, the biggest black hole of 2020/
And nothing spoke to me: not even a 60 inch flatscreen TV/
Let’s take a page from the Jewish customs
Bury the dead in the next seventy two hours/
All November traditions is limit/
Thanksgiving Day a Tic, tok
All Saints Day, All Souls Day, Mischief Night, Bonfire Night
Once you take down the statues, of useless figures
Would History of the injustices will be erase/
Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 6:58 AM UTC
WHISTLING AND SNIFFING SIMULTANEOUSLY
Whistling and sniffing at the same time
Can’t hold hands or rather get married
United and collaborative in any case
This duo may perhaps land into the life of some person
The kind of man whose who acts,
Performs duties of the shepherd on the flock.
Like his initial master,
He condemns wickedness,
Goes against what is religiously evil,
And exults the righteous.
But he soon he craves for another pair of his robe
For he does accumulate an avalanche of resources,
His eyes are soon blinded.
Would his robe evade being soiled?
Co-operative sniffing and whistling,
Can hatch into temptations to anybody,
Even the half-human, half God
Did he not get tested in the wilderness?
Our big man opens his eyes one day,
Finds himself campaigning and competing for,
Trying to woo for citizens’ keys,
Essentials for serving the people in a wider circle.
Perhaps his whistling guides his path.
Brings him in the companionship of
Other servants of the people.
Any devoted service present in that house really?
Brotherly whistling and sniffing,
May make one’s conscience slither backwards,
Two or more steps into mud.
He is now influential,
A famous societal figure.
His fat salary seconded with some allowances.
Or even thirded with public developmental resources,
Guarantees him total luxury.
Is this not an opportunistic opportunist?
Our Sniffer and whistler is contended,
Complacent with his success.
Jubilant with him servant is his ‘first Master ’
For keeping to the ‘sacred’ scriptures.
The vehicle which carried him straight,
One way to heaven gets crippled,
It can’t manage to hit the road
Like its American, British and Chinese counterparts,
His sincere promise goes unfulfilled
Unmet due to his pretentious pretence.
His ‘second’ Master gets extremely mad.
For loyalty and faithfulness denied.
And furiously plucks him from glory.
Simultaneous whistling and sniffing,
The ‘initial’ heaven can’t simply put up with them.
A wise servant of the masses
A true leader should only whistle at a time,
Sniff at a time.
But not sniffing and whistling simultaneously.
May 6, 2013
May 6, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Goldilocks Paradigm
this soup is too hot this soup is too cold
this chair is too big this chair is too small
this bed is too soft this bed is too hard
this world is just right at least for most of us all
scientists say that we are lucky to be alive
that the forces of nature balanced just right
at least in this universe we manage to survive
a perfect balance of day and night
if the gravitational forces were stronger or more weak
if the temperatures were much hotter or cold
if the air was too thin or thick at its peak
all these essentials more valuable than gold
in the multi-universe theory this one is just right
blending all the cosmic ingredients just so to fit
for life as we know it with our imperfect sight
these 3 fuzzy bears packed neatly in a kit
I try telling you stories of science that make sense
sometimes hard finding words meaningful that rhyme
words not about love or hate or feelings so tense
that fit nicely in the Goldilocks Paradigm
Gomer LePoet ...
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 4:40 PM UTC
We miss the differences.
Not because we don't notice,
more because we become too accustomed to them.
We don't notice the nights getting darker till we feel the chill of Autumn.
We notice spring when the low morning sun blinds us, not when flowers bud.
We see our childs first steps, yet fail to notice a grandparents last.
It is as though the important things trade places with the essentials as life overwhelms us, we miss transitions as we age.
We so often don't see when someone who was simply **** becomes beautiful, when we should scream it out loud before love becomes lost.
What we once admired we often despise and yet have no measure of when one emotion became the other, it probably didn't have too, we missed the change.
We loose touch, make new friends, we age but also become younger in so many ways. Lovers hearts, our hearts have the ability to do that, if we notice, yet we seldom do until we loose a friend and the news hits us hard.
For we simply miss the differences.
We just get eroded by lifes daily chores, Work eat sleep repeat.
So step back and look at the differences.
Look at what you have or what it is you need or need to change before it's to late to say it.
But don't miss a moment of it wondering what if? Should I have or I wish I had. Because even if you're wrong, it's right.
Hug your kids, your parents too and show someone how you feel. Even if it's just with a warm smile or just being there. Or something daft
It may be the only smile they see today, or the difference in their life that keeps them going today.
I once bought a welshman a little dragon in an egg. He collected dragons. He was so excited by it, it was like he was a little child for a few minuites. That's how I will remember him. The child like smile. Those are the memories we make.
So be the difference not the differences. No matter how small, to someone it could be all
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC
In geometry we learn how to measure the distance between things
The space between things
The empty space between lines
How long is the shadow cast by a branch on a tree if it is two o’clock and the branch is east facing and 7 feet above the ground
A train departed Madrid in rush hour at 5:40pm and arrived in Barcelona at 8:15pm it went 63mph for 50 minutes how fast did it go the rest of the way if it is 386 miles between the cities
A trove of treasure held 300 cubic inches of gold and had a six inch square face, how long was the box
If it takes 3 seconds for my phone to chime after you send a text message and it takes 2 seconds for my brain to recognize your name on my phone how long will my stomach flutter if I’ve loved you for a month
Assuming my stomach flutters for that long and you ended our burgeoning relationship yesterday to stay comfortable in your current surroundings and we both don’t want to give up how real it all feels, how much silly putty does it take to fill the empty space in my chest
If Wal-Mart sells silly putty for $1.36 per package and each package contains 4 oz. of silly putty and I work for $13.51 per hour and $13.30 of each hour’s wage goes towards bills and other essentials how long will I have to work in order to save enough money to buy all the silly putty required to fill my chest with it, assuming I live in Oregon where there is no sales tax and that I only drink one six pack at $8.99 a week
More importantly though
If I fill my chest with silly putty, will my heart bounce back after it’s dropped next time
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 11:39 AM UTC
For Helen
who wrote it first,
who wrote it better,
and in doing so,
makes me see more clearly
the why
~~~~~~~~~
no poem should ever be untitled-
every face needs a name-
every poem needs just
one read for completion
but more than that, it is
a orphan still,
deserving of the due,
the entitlement to be titled,
a parenting of sorts
what was the thought that born it-
what was the emotion that conceived it-
what was the sight that demanded sharing?
this is the age of summary and synthesis,
140 and not one more,
so give direction, enable me to make
snap judgements, with so much on my plate,
we must predigest your concepts,
my multi-tasking slowed to levels unacceptable,
so I can adjudge you,
you worker poet,
before or never reading
after all,
why read anything untitled?
more than this however,
for the few who chew
each morseled vowel,
ken each constant consonant,
celebrate stanzas that halt the breathing
and then,
god bless the whole child,
flaws and all,
they more than anyone deserve
your consideration in return
for the title is the essence spark
of you-
and all the more so,
of what you have chosen to share,
your essentials honored
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 6:33 AM UTC
I see you
I see others
I see everyone
And, I see you again
Time after time,
I ponder
What lures you apart?
Is there something?
Is there anything?
But time after time
I conclude
That cloning has surely begun.
I deduce
That no man is diverse
No woman either
No children, no parents.
We’re all similar
We’re all striving to be identical
Indifferent to the essentials of our soul
Indifferent to the necessities of our individuality
We endeavor to be parallel, analogous
To be the flock
To be the herd
To be the pack
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 2:50 AM UTC
I would scorch the end of the cork
and score bags under my eyes
if the black of my tired spleen
was not already weighing
Like the luggage of the ******
packed in haste, always in haste
so that essentials are oft forgot
like health, or peace, or dignity
As it is, the cork stays unburnt,
but out of the bottle
as a gentle **** the lot of you.”
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 12:20 PM UTC
i tried to prove my worth to you, show you i was a good choice, a good mate
i took care of you when you were sick, when you had a bad case of the flu
i pulled my weight, cleaning the house, doing laundry, grocery shopping
i provided, making sure you never wanted for essentials, little luxuries
i protected, getting into a fight, when a guy harassed you
i did all these things to show you i cared and loved you, but it wasn’t enough
it’s been a year, i still find myself, missing, hating, loving you
my heart was broken, it’s slowly mending, still painful to certain memories
i am angry, you let me live in hope, in bliss, you knew you were leaving, that you were going to break my heart, destroy my world, my life, my soul
of all the women that i have loved, met, you are the one i wish i hadn’t
your actions shouted louder than words ever could, but i was deaf
you made other plans, building a new life, in another land, rekindling an old flame
like the phoenix, you destroyed everything in our lives, so you could rise, to love another
i am still in shock, still grieving, slowly recovering
you are no longer mine to nurture, love, take care of
like a passing training, no longer visible, i can still hear it’s whistle
my love has faded, but you left a mark, on my heart, that will never disappear
Apr 6, 2019
Apr 6, 2019 at 10:51 AM UTC
It was well said of him,
“The clothes bespoke the man”.
Yes, he stumbled in the mud.
Yes, his reputation soon was stuck within the stinking sludge
and, granted, it was all of his own making.
But surely you remember how he'd been so impressive.
Once I said, “You're spotless as a manikin”
and shared a hearty laugh with him.
Be we also had some serious conversations,
discussing what he meant by “loveliness”.
That was all before the storm that hit us
with the force of filth from continents and generations.
It reminded us, again:
not every love is innocent;
the finest gentlemen are capable of
(some say inclined to) monstrous crimes.
After, no one spoke of him.
He tried to hide behind his usual accoutrements:
the matching tie and handkerchief;
silk shirts;
his feathered hat and crimson mackintosh;
the smell of musk.
But he was tainted, spotted once the news was out.
As the headlines had it:
“Gilded Lily Withers – Roots Exposed”;
“If clothes have made this man, they're now irreparably torn.”
“Patent leather ******* now well scuffed.”
God knows what his publishers had to put upon his jacket
to sell off the remainders.
Yet even from the darkness of his prison,
he seemed to think he could rely upon
the persuasiveness of beautiful adornments
- “Always envied; often copied; never matched” (his line) -
trusting it would make him seem attractive once again, even clean.
He died the 23rd of May, 2007.
They say that night he'd tied his shirt a special way,
with a feminine flamboyance,
but it failed to impress as he intended.
In some dark hall (we don't know how) they caught him,
stripped him to the bare essentials,
leaving him undressed and cut, an ochre ugliness.
What were his final thoughts,
when all that he had left was soiled and bleeding?
What we he really needing?
Still, I'm glad I knew him,
Still call him friend, and miss him.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
Didn’t you ever
Hear the Saints of Night
The way they lingered and whispered
And took away all our fright.
That one brusque evening
You looked into eyes
Stars spelled wisdom
And burned away sins
All the skies.
Akin to my demons
My fears spelled the plight
Of virtue and forgiveness
How did you make it all right?
Drunk in a café
Under the beach house
At night.
You smiled like it could
Last and that is why I sighed
With hope that this moment
Could freeze but you turn
To tell me: it’s over,
The hard part has begun.
We danced on shattered glass
As our feet bled to bone
But happy, oh, I was
I didn’t have to be alone.
The moonlight shone brightly
And razed all my homes
Of free falls and train wrecks
The silence choked me more.
It stung, the common sight
Of being apart and far off
The shore.
I swore I could plunge in
Deep and let go.
It purged me of essentials
To let my memories
Out the door.
But conviction that held me
Urged me to get off
The floor.
The friend that I needed
Was killed in a war
Of preposterous vulnerability
That I couldn’t evade
Even now.
I searched and I failed
Till one night I saw
I didn’t need my friend
Or an image for someone
To draw.
I slipped into a rabbit hole
That I knew held the key
To a place if I entered
I would not flee.
There you stood with shoulders
So broad and so sure
If I was in a crisis
You’d do more than just cure.
Now we’re back to the Café
The beach house
At night.
It’s stormy and ravenous
Of destruction tonight.
You’re talking and slowly
Your breath means more
Than the humour that escapes
Your perpetuating aura-
Let’s elope.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 2:19 AM UTC
Learning and unlearning
Goes in full circle
Learning is the pathway anybody is supposed to take
Nowadays information is packaged in the way to us
That unlearning has also been one of the essentials
Learning neither has a start
Learning nor has an end
The learning to unlearn
Is a most nowadays
Unlearning
A kind of learning too
Learning is a process
A never ending process
But one supposes it to be an effect
Hence we aim learning
Supposedly has some destined milestone
So we take a step to learn
A scenario
Not perceiving that learning is a process
But a destiny to achieve
Leads to a controlled way of knowing
Only limited things
That we already planned to know
Here we know things
But only that are predestined
But don't learn about what is going around
And not learn what really learning process is
The controlled way of such learning
Leads to limited perspective
And limited ways of thinking
A scenario
What was to be learned
Was gathered previously
Hence the accomplishments such ways
Brings about the sense of pride
And oneself attaches to it
The attachment now leads the learning to stop
Gradually within oneself
As the long awaited accomplishment is achieved
There may not be room for further learning
As hard work has been done already
Creativity tends to vanish
Ego sets to feel in and within.
The time passes on
Some years go by
Time's they are changing
Oneself is in the same state of knowledge as before
No creativity endures
There resides the gap of the learning and knowledge
Brings about the gap in understanding
Now it demands to having the before learned unlearn
This only sets the room for learning
In the present and the time to come
Hence, a full circle
Of learning and unlearning
A fresh start
Trying to learn
Now the learning goes on and on
And on and on
It does not have a destiny to accomplish
It goes on to eternity
The true learning begins
The oneself now feels no pride
But humility and kindness in learning
Is the sole path of learning
A sole path to awakening.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 11:10 AM UTC
We will fulfill LOVE's promises
The sun, the moon, the stars, the night
We will fulfill LOVE's vows
The flowers, the clouds, the breeze, the birds
Our LOVE will remain like this nature's bounty
When fate made us meet
We met at the horizon
Where the sky meets the earth
When LOVE happened between us
The BLUE became red, yellow and orange
We've experienced a blissful heaven
Where all inner-flowers bloom
And our heart-bees hum
As if we have found our SOUL
Made for each other
We became each other's
Candle and light
Moon and stars
Clouds and rain
Sun and sunshine
Sadness and tears
Joys and happiness
Our souls-connect awakened
All colors of dormant LOVE
Like a single rainbow of VIBGYOR
Come and let us become ONE forever
Let us fulfill our LOVE's promises
Let us fulfill our LOVE's vows
Even as strangers -
Our LOVE recognized each other
Our happiness and sadness merged
Into LOVE's joyful tears
Our LOVE story shows the world
True LOVE never dies
True LOVE lives forever
Such mad and true LOVERS
Like Romeo-Zuliet, Layla Majnun -
Our LOVE re-creates LOVE's essentials
How much ever the mind tries to reason out
"Oh heart, please do not LOVE"
But...
Like the moon glowing
In dark sky of the night
Like the sun shining
In the blue skies of the day
Our LOVE could not be hidden
By any human practicality prisons
The heart where LOVE flames are ignited
The coals catches the ember glow
Is the sanctum of LOVE's idol
The molten lava of LOVE
Melts the life's hardened stone-rocks
Let our life take us any where
Unaware of the journey
And/or the destination
Let it not change our LOVE a bit
In attempt to live life
Seeking "Spiritual enlightenment"
Let us worship with devotion
Our LOVE's divine blessings
Because...
LOVE is our NIRVANA
Our bond of LOVE is strong
As strong as nature's permanence
We will unite in ONE-LOVE within our core
Like two galaxies merging into ONE Black-Hole
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 11:41 PM UTC
How exposed are you,
all that lies in your heart?
All the pains and hurt it knows,
all of what you are.
To the naked eye of I,
I see in you a spark of fire.
As it longs to see you exposed,
but not when you remove your clothes.
Save that for later.
Let out your emotions,
leave them bare.
The bare essentials of you,
the deepest parts of your soul.
The battle scars carved throughout,
all that you've fought.
All that you've conquered,
all of which shows me your worth.
I'll make the effort worth the time,
awe-inspiring, for you're so sublime.
But it only gets to be as such
if you really don't mind.
My naked scars on display,
a showcase of my being.
We could be naked together.
Jun 8, 2021
Jun 8, 2021 at 4:18 PM UTC
~for you~
me you and this here
writ somewhat clothed
pretty **** imaginative
words, six-pack abs,
sheathed in black lace thigh highs,
a verbal escapade to reality
lick the screen
dare...
lick yourself,
dare...
only fair,
words so fluid, so sensual,
when shared...
best, stupendous
commemorative
come to my bed,
come inside my tablet
thrive on pleasured kisses,
exchange of the essentials
bean~genes of threeselfs blended
what glory glorious
that moment,
can relive it,
with eyes contacted ..
where to here now hereafter,
when to here, poem return come once more
knowing we have jointed,
acknowledging the creation of a
co-memorizing-tionary diction,
recycling this one poem,
our commemoration coin
that only goes up in value
I love you...
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
It was well said of him,
“The clothes bespoke the man”.
Yes, he stumbled in the mud.
Yes, his reputation soon was stuck within the stinking sludge
and, granted, it was all of his own making.
But surely you remember how he'd been so impressive.
Once I said, “You're spotless as a manikin”
and shared a hearty laugh with him.
Be we also had some serious conversations,
discussing what he meant by “loveliness”.
That was all before the storm that hit us
with the force of filth from continents and generations.
It reminded us, again:
not every love is innocent;
the finest gentlemen are capable of
(some say inclined to) monstrous crimes.
After, no one spoke of him.
He tried to hide behind his usual accoutrements:
the matching tie and handkerchief;
silk shirts;
his feathered hat and crimson mackintosh;
the smell of musk.
But he was tainted, spotted once the news was out.
As the headlines had it:
“Gilded Lily Withers – Roots Exposed”;
“If clothes have made this man, they're now irreparably torn.”
“Patent leather ******* now well scuffed.”
God knows what his publishers had to put upon his jacket
to sell off the remainders.
Yet even from the darkness of his prison,
he seemed to think he could rely upon
the persuasiveness of beautiful adornments
- “Always envied; often copied; never matched” (his line) -
trusting it would make him seem attractive once again, even clean.
He died the 23rd of May, 2007.
They say that night he'd tied his shirt a special way,
with a feminine flamboyance,
but it failed to impress as he intended.
In some dark hall (we don't know how) they caught him,
stripped him to the bare essentials,
leaving him undressed and cut, an ochre ugliness.
What were his final thoughts,
when all that he had left was soiled and bleeding?
What we he really needing?
Still, I'm glad I knew him,
Still call him friend, and miss him.
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
I don’t ****
With the farm life
At these pharmacies
Affecting brains
Like the mad cow disease
These pills
CVS deal
Like the new
Dope man
Dopamine can be
As mean
As the M and M’s
The doctor prescribes
Dropping dreams
For a little bit
Of “rest at ease”
While the rest
Of these fiends
Lie
To themselves
And me
Meaning
The mean green
****
Killing machine
Can extract
The euphoria
You make yourself
By resting eyes
On your family
Your fam would be
Much happier
If you were
Happy
For yourself
More water is
Fine
I don’t need
No help
Championship ****
I don’t need
No belt
Pants sag
Like the bags
In grandma eye’s
Cries
As she tries
To pry dope needles
Out a dead man's hands
Handing himself
To the Devil’s food
We put on
A pedestal
Meanwhile stools
At the bar
Spin like the
Mind
Of a man with little time
Left
Right in the eyes
Of his children
He makes
A short trip
After one more sip
****
I guess
It boils down
To the bear essentials
Bear the bruises
With the heart
God gave you
Don't let them fool you
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 1:02 AM UTC
non-authentic self
~~~
you have
never seen me,
I have never touched you
so ask me
am I
authentic?
am I based on facts,
accurate, reliable,
purposive & emotionally
accurate?
drill a core sample
into my essence
test it for
contamination, nutrients,
purity,
values on a scale measuring
human essentials
then throw all the results
in the garbage
if you want to verify my
authenticity,
*drill down deeper
into my
poetry*
Sep 23, 2015
Sep 23, 2015 at 6:35 AM UTC
the things physical we could not live without,
the objets d'art that decorate the tapestry of
the primary bones of our existence
each of us differing,
each of us, a different list,
utilitarian is beauty,
thus our individuation
distinguishing and distinguished
a trash can,
purposed for our wastrel wastage,
and yet, beloved by waves of utilization and
discard
only after much usage, kept nearby as a token of
our appreciation, only to be dumped unceremoniously
when the
memories grow overly fulsome
Why you think I reference the common kitchen garbage?
*No, no! why it is our brain,
that be cleansed nightly,
leaving only the wisps of life aprior,
that reruns in wisps, only sometimes,
for better or for worse*,
recycle-able
Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 10:00 AM UTC
Remove the mask
Strip to essentials
Remove the ballasts
A crossroads
An intersection divine
Don't rue the darkness on a boulevard of light
Lucifer's here
Will the deal go down?
Or are you hedging on up?
Flying in on the back of truth
As an agent of change
Write your own contract
Be just and align
Oblige yourself with Self
'Be like water my friend' (Bruce Lee)
Fill that vessel up
To overflowing
A soul is pedestrian
An overflowing soul leads to changency
An over~soul (Emerson)
Define your cosmology
Uninitiate is a good initiation
You have to strip your house down
To ensure true pitch
Attuning for those forks
A hollow reed
For a river of truth
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 8:41 AM UTC
everything in the physical world ages.
this is the oil of the essence of the physical,
we are born, created, exist, cease and desist
and always,
the essentials exit
stage left
and yet, the met-aphysical has,
no markers visible to the keen eye,
no surface tension to it, neither does time rough hew its edges,
or pebble age it to silken smooth water borne baby skin consistency
with uncountable tongue lickings,
and lay two stones
side by side upon the beach,
fellow travelers,
arrivistes from differing paths
so lets us count.
have we ever met?
no, we have not.
will we ever meet?
perhaps, but no one counts the random< unimaginable<accidental,
for man's plans are more destined to awry then be planned away.
but how long have we known each other?
since the sun rose this morning
and every morning before that
when it rained,
and the drops rode down the window pane, and
two drops became one,
thus, since
a million millenniums before time was recognized as measurable
when the flower blossoms in the garden,
am I not the descendant of the first bee,
and will not our progeny,
ever propagate?
so I have known you for all time
have honored you for all time
and will do so again,
when I metaphysical choose to,
in a manner unknown and yet to be
chosen
perhaps when the earth circumnavigates a distance of 365
days and nights,
or perhaps, when the need is keen and well felt,
a poem in a breeze, very well hid,
shall caress a cheek, and
that will be an honor arrived,
when next the "time" counted by heartbeats
says
due.
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC