We Shepard children,
we raise them on farms.
When it's time to ask them for identity, they form into clouds.

How can we ask them to identify self in an overcast?
Can you see an adult when they experience rain?

I see children in coats holding hands, Staying in line.

I see the Shepard staff,
Still at large.

Automated to wind by reaction.
Punishable and feared.

Straight line children
Along the fence

Straight line children
Group project: independence.

A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.
Ecclesiastes 3:5.

long, long long
have I known
the contradictory meaning thereof,
for I authored it,
time immemorial

till the day came
when understanding parted,
left for another prophet,
another poet,
for this how the world's words go,
round and around

left me
re commencing
re imaging
re imagining,
new era words,
newer versions,
new heards
newer mergings

stones and embraces
ha!

"Two of my favorite things"

no, that's been done...

"Let's go get ****** and..."

nope, that's been done

So,
spark sublime divine
give me a second chance,
compose me a vision
that gathers these
mutual funds of
contrasting similarities
in a bow tied connection
singular, worthy of
song and daily recitation!

her embrace was a stone necklace
around my throat,
sackcloth was my shroud,
to the sea bottom was impaled,
by the stony apparition
of the unrequited embrace


Ugh

My beloved's embrace,
cracked the stones that surround
my uncaring register,
the cold still waters that hid it
now boiling from
her gathering me in

better.

one last try before I repent

embrace the stones
that obstacle the journey,
gather them in, together keep,
for they are the markers,
you have used,
you have been,
you have exhausted,
so long after the body ashed,
these words will trace for
those that follow the path
you marked with
these same stones
you gathered in
olden days of
simple joyous embrace*

this will,
must have to
do,
for the stones of
the angels of sleep have
arrived and undeterred,
upon my chest have,
inscribed and placed,
while bidding me adieu,
tucking me in,
gathering me to my rest,
a closing eyeing embracing,
in drowsy voices half clear:

sleep prophet,
the work done,
the words piled,
the stones now
mark your the
you final resting place
upon them ecrivez,
In The Future,
Keep It Simple Stupid

One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.

One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.

'Twas the way she said,
...be sure to call me, don't forget...
then turned off her phone,
3 days net

I cast her a line
will she bite or let free?
readily lost from mind
the bait was me!

Oh mused from her loving
her plaything, her joy.
I spat out love poemz
Less haste did annoy

Lifted kindred spirit,
no more wobe-gone for me
was but a lie from a Strom
too blinded to sea

"You and I are going to have
a great love affair."
Should have been warning
Foundeld on note in sunlight morning

I asked the project wood
It for-told me, "Why Bother?"
Alone in my room, to ration or despair
Ignore nature's warning,
'tis up to me, I declare.

Sealed my fate...
I'm strong, been here before,
I'm ready for this...this...this time winning!
FOOL
Her's unslaved, mine unscathed
night,
was just the begining!

Oh the joys,
Such sweetness up to the edge,
but not quite *****
As promised her lore
THE everything abash
Irie romming back,
gonna get IT,
this time?
Maybe mohr

The musing doest stop,
genuine dost frey,
Lovings subside
Betrayl dost pay

"It will melt your mind"
Were the last words I herd
all in due time
her torture, my absurd

Communicate?  
Communicate she says?
Why were not those words
so heards
Whence whining and pining decays?

Hypocrispy so blatant
it must be ignored,
and the melt of the mind
gets restored

For it was up to me
All along on this journey
The most painful part
Is I always did see

This dance with the devil
The game of fairie,
My loves lorn lost
To the leanhaun shee

One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf 
Became dog.

there is the world so much i think i have felt it

have felt by it
and by it felt

so much it
(the world)

who in droves presses ugly Spring against me
who in heards comes dying and immortal
who in sleeping flowers laughs most
(the world

by sting invisible
impulses each rotund death
of lungs upon heaps of dying
to go out and wear more gladly it

it girls laughing
it boys sweating to be first
it arcuate of hips
it thundering of industry
it of millions tinly each


each pointless
each fathomless
each more than last
each next than other
each the other than the next

i think and i have seen by it
and have i?
way north over the barn where goes the winter
when in neatish crimson hulking ****** comes

first small coming

then steadily gargantuan

Summer

in deep veins of failing gold
only to brittle
only to fold and tousle
only to rubble and quake

alas

and i have thought

alas

and i have read

alas

and i have felt so proud to get at the meanings of poems

) but ever have i known it?

No.

i have not been my feet to push of it a million splendors

i have not been my throat to scream so loud my body shook

i have not been amongst its people

i have not tasted

i have not been by the skinny bank of a winding stream in the middle of Summer when the cool water tickles across the span of each toe the wholeness of being

i have not kissed so long to love

i have not breathed so long to speak

what then can i say?
but do i say it?
of course

i say it by hands between quick thighs
uncurling hurting bruises of hot sharpness

i say it in the hunched play of a girl's wetness

i say it in the calm stroke of a withered dog's scalp

i say in quiet moments as in loud moments

i speak(and i always speak)

and i think i have the world so much by it felt as to know it

and i think i do not know it

and i think it is not so much

and i think i have not felt it

RECORD: ****** KILLER
FROGMAN: TALKING HEArDS

. . . He went down the steps and walked backwards into the desert;
three-tree places, two-tree.
The back door of The Lab Tor open and they foiled out.
He cried out.
They fell in squacks,
they fell crackwards,
they tumblrd over The Word into the data.

The instruments were empty and they chortled at him,
trains-frogrified into a thought and a mind,
and he stood . . .
his body far away and absent,
letting his words do their re-inking tic.

Could he hold up a hand,
and tell them he had spent ninetbeen thousand years learning this tic
and others,
tell them of the instruments
and the words that had tested them?
Not with his mouth.
But his read
deadhead could tell
its own blue taile .

[. . You do not thrill with your mouth.
One who thrills with their mouth has forgotten the cage of their selfse.
You thrill with your throughts. .]
-- Stephen King, Frogman

. . I realized I was Laughing. I had been crying all along . }
-- Roland Deschain, Tacky Frogman's Frogman

Magenta: You thrilled them?
                But I thought you shneeded them.
                They shneeded you.

Riff Raff: THEY DIDN'T SHNEED ME!
               THEY NEVER SHNEEDED ME!

STOP: TURN THOUGHT

One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.

One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.

.
One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.

Six months of unberable heat
and dry stubble have taken its toll,
The weak have perished,
strong survived and
heards have been culled

Wildlife in the throngs of death,
in anticipation of the forth coming rain,
huddle under dreary trees-
that loom above the coarse harsh terrain,

Clouds wildly swoop in to cover the bright sky-
frantically diminishing the presence
of the scorching sun's rise

Clouds pregnant with hope burst open
to the rumble of thunder,
Lightning dominating, illuminating
announcing the birth of new born water

The Savanna is in finally in her high season...

One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.

I am so disconnected, but equally as in touch.
I believe in everything within me, but still do not believe in much.
I understand if you wonder how that could be.
Maybe you will never know, detached from my frequency.  
I used to see it as an emergency when I would bleed these things
and no one would hear me.
My heart would panic like a manic depressant;
I was a maniac that didn't know how to stop second guessing all of these lessons.
I suppose it was my pride that halted me from living life alive,
instead of merely existing.
Things that kept on insisting, I kept on resisting.
I used to wonder why I was exhausted and still only desired to sleep...
Until I realized that my dreams were the only place I felt I could be free.
I was a dead tree living in the middle of a forest of blooming leaves...
And then the day came where I gained inspiration through the branches of the the trees
that were reaching out for me.
My dreams began to sleep on me;
So now, when I bleed, I want to give you something to read.
Then, maybe, you can see me times 3, as I reflect off a deflection of what you see me to be.
I mirror myself as the third person through these words.
I am even and odd; disproportionately birthed.
I roam with the heards,
but I fly with a flock of unheard birds.

This is my world...

- L.G

.
One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.
.

6:00 am
My eyes open, as I look around the room.
The through of school fills me with gloom.
I stand up, and I get dressed.
I keep thinking "I hope no one notices that I'm depressed."
I brush my teeth, and grab my bag,
As my mom begins to nag.
About how I'm gonna be late, but I don't care.
Id rather be anywhere but there.
As I get to school, and walk through the halls.
I find a place to sit and stare at the walls.
My mind racing about what was due
But then it happens, and I see you.
Perfect as ever, flawless as can be,
All I can think is "why won't you notice me?"
But then I realize, that's to good to be true.
I could never get someone as amazing as you.
From what I understand, I'm not good enough,
You can have who ever you want, that's no bluff.
The bell rings, and I head to my first hour,
Heards of kids walking a mile an hour.
Me thinking "this is why I hate school."
"You walk as slow as a **** mule"
And for the rest of the day, all I can do,
Is sit there, space out, and think about you.
The one good thing I sorta have in my life,
The one thing I'll think about before I sleep at night.
And when I wake up, tomorrow again,
6 am, here we go again.

All voices carry a message
People carry baggage
Words combined offer thoughts
Our minds are traps and get caught
Ears are tuned to know
Emotions, Fears, care and vibrational flow
Unwind, flatten out your Ego
Open heart,mind, and let Go
Listen closely, follow words
get yourself free
So we all return in Heards’

You were my entire book.
Binded in sweet sun-kissed leather,
every page, all 913 days, made my heart skip.
Even if I never even left a chapter
in your table of contents in life.

My Chapter One-
Mini golf and Rocky Road Ice cream on the tip of your nose.
Walking in the sand along the immensity of the world.
Wine and chemistry kept us warm and fuzzy
like the socks hospitals give the ill.
The moon guided us to turn the page.

Chapter Three-
Lust bonded our heards
by  the quilt of the heavens
blanketing the dirt road lit up by the constellations.
Each fabric square a new dream for the future,
Libraries and Burgundy kitchens.
You kissed my third eye,
paralyzing me to the rhythm of your soul.

Chapter Five-
“I love you”
You whispered in my ear
to the background of Gary Allan's “Your Man”.
Swaying with the crowd,
Budweiser flowing through our veins,
I let the world shut down.

Fast forward: Chapter Twelve-
“Marry me?”
You knelt down and asked
Holding the little black box as if you held the Universe in your palm.
“You’re my blessing”,
floated in thick smog in my head.
I loved you with all 206 bones in my body.
Every muscle tingled towards “Yes”
but nothing came out.
Eighteen is too young to say forever.

Chapter Fifteen-
Broke me, stomped on my heart, stabbed me to nothing.
“It didn’t mean anything”, “I’m sorry”, “Forgive me”,
vomited from your lying lips.
Eighteen years of collaboration.
Eighteen years of sharing.
Eighteen years of providing.
A lifetime bond formed in a tiny vessel.
Yet forgiveness masked my crumbling heart.

Chapter Seventeen-
Broken in between the pages of sorrow,
navigating on the false love squeezing me dry.
You became obsessive, overprotective, overly guilty.
Blue and red lights lite up that night like something from a sad movie.
Never meant to contain this content, wish it could be unprinted.
Jail- Jobless- Homeless, Sticking around gave me paper cuts.
But the wounds were never enough to shut the book.

Chapter Nineteen-
Addiction.
Abuse.
Infidelity.
Each page screamed “Help!”
But the words hide between the lines of your lies.


Chapter Thirty-
Became the final chapter of us,
I had to say “The end”
Goodbye was hard but so was continuing this destructive nightmare.
The final pages are not regret
but understanding and forgiveness.
Acceptance in the ending,
preparation for a new book,
one without you painting the pages.
The final chapter closed the door of forever for us,
But always a memory of Once Upon A Time.

words in heards
birds little
flocks of sheep
silly play
mindful mines
horses neigh
nonsensical lines
of little meep
frolic to fros
ahhh eeee
I.O.U.
you do?
vow els ems ens
*** ohs!
constant ends
twaddle
twiddle
fiddle
******
shape of mouth
little tongue
flick
t - t - t- t -
make sound
stick
mind bending
never ending
better working
over shirking
linger
languid
language
lover
over
cover
covert
©
coven
­hocus pocus
locale locus
abra cadabra
shallamazoo
eni meni miny mo
it's you!

J.C.