Essenntial love
Essential loveAugustus said I found Rome brick I left it marbleI find myself vile only through loving Jesus can I be righteous
What happened there was a time I encountered angels read his word ate what I read with a physical sensation I could feel in my
Heart just like I feel when I eat naturally somehow I flipped back to the way I was before these wonders were real I told before
How the love of God as a spear flew off of the record turn table from that moment at seventeen with a lapse of years from
Five to seventeen I lost a holy life because my parents turned from God went back in the world taking me and my sister with them
This is what the spirit said about my parents when he gave me a promise I also told I hitchhiked to camp slept with the cows in
A pasture a hill over from the main camp site this troubled the Illinois district superintendent but God spoke through the camp
Speaker this is what God has to say to someone to identify he said this and when he said it my aunt and uncle setting across the
Auditorium turned and looked directly at me you’re here your mother is a harlot and your dad is a drunkard a month later a
Camp speaker made the same promise but with this stipulation you can change the hands on the clock but you can’t change the
Time that has been forty one years ago it is still true God is not a liar but after the record player I did start back to church all
The time I would seek God to be filled with the Holy Ghost with the evidence of speaking with other tongues no success and then I
Was drafted far from home discouraged I quit going to church this went on for the two years God remained silent humanist try
To tell you can improve all by yourself see if this sounds like improvement one who tried to live right now grass and alcohol was my
Lifestyle if you asked me about it this is what you would have heard Wolfman Jack was our hero for sure when he was forced to
Broadcast from Mexico after violating FCC rules as a DJ and he never sounded as good as when you were high the alcohol altered
My mental state I could think deep brooding thoughts only problem you couldn’t be around me because of self loathing I was like a
Mad bull I was destructive and self destructive that came from self loathing I knew my parents record I got in enough trouble
drinking twelve percent by volume slow gin I can’t stand the taste so I would force it down you drink a whole bottle of anything its
Lights out well it like the lost weekend I came back own leave with grass and alcohol I was a disgusting freak to kids I use to lead on
Jefferson St I found out at a get together at the park that I was the cause for one of them getting drunk the first time there no shame
Like that well except for this there was more but I will just give you the high lights it was night we were all in the barracks I was in the
Latrine standing there doing what boys do well I was holding onto this board up over my head inch wide it was nailed at about four
Feet intervals to these poles behind them was corrugated metal making the wall well I wondered what happened if I yanked on
The board nothing happened except it came off with a terrible crack again no big but is was a big thing to thirty bunk mates
I heard a commotion so I just looked around the door all of them were scared straight or something because they were all trying
To get out of the door at the same time that’s funny when Archie Bunker and Mike did it on all in the family but they thought
They were next on the list I got them calmed down I feel I made up for it when I stood up for them I called a bully outside to fight
That was making every bodie’s lives miserable just like all bullies he was a coward and ended up throwing his arms around my shoulder
Wanted to be my friend I know he was a coward because as I said before I are one next one more dangerous not for whom you would
Think I sent the Sarge to go to the NCO club and get me a bottle of slow gin they had a quart not a fifth but it was without the volume
I took care of the volume and the day room with it one hundred and twenty proof in the middle of this I called one of the saints back
Here well I can’t tell you much but the saint talked to me when I did come home I believe when I hung up the phone thats when the bull
Rang in anyway a Jewish kid was said to have run down the company street screaming a wild man was tearing up the day room it was
Made out of aluminum siding and I only drank half of the bottle if I had drank all of it I would have torn it down not up well trouble
Breeds trouble one guy was write one was wrong well that weaved in and out just like myself I came to myself and in front of me was
My pal from class that I was in Jose Torres an MP sorry but one of the ugliest Mexicans anywhere not just in California but he was
Fired up with that Latino blood he wanted to fight evidenced by the forty five he was waving in my face in that brief moment of
Knowing what was going on I reverted to the primal beast level if you get in a fight you become intensely aware nothing is hidden
I could see it in his eyes he could taste it he wanted to pistol whip me oh contraire my friend I was fifteen and me and two other kids
Were watching tables for the refinery pick nick the next day well six idiots show up drunk drinking beer that was alright but when
Duck tale white under shirt jeans engineer boots stooge started throwing beer on my friend’s dads navy sleeping bag I asked him to
Stop when he didn’t I stood up holding a cow boy belt with a raised horse head on the buckle in my hand for protection well bright one
****** it out of my hand and slapped me in the face with it remember I said bull he was two years older than me but I was big and all
Muscle then I threw my head back and when the blood rose through my eyes I was blind it didn’t matter is was black in the large
Pavilion I couldn’t see only red just before that I was in danger I have seen what a pack of hounds can do to a **** on the ground
I was the **** all were getting ready to rush in but when my blood hit my brain the volcano erupted on his sorry self I picked him up off
The floor then he needed protection God was there if he would have gone down on the cement floor or into the picnic table how they
Are made his back would have been broken but I threw him across the table two feet to the table over the table another four feet
Into a red fence that was stretched there one pole to the next he was going head first about four feet off the ground that fence
scrapped the floor then when it got to the two points those bolts snapped it sounded like a high powered rifle going off he and the
Fence continued two to three feet off the edge of the floor then three feet out in the grass where it folded up around him the fight
Was Over the others wouldn’t even acknowledge him lying out there groaning the fence had become his safety net the next day the
Dad who owned the sleeping bag looked at the two of us and asked what happened to you two I couldn’t see my face but he had three
Deep imprints of the fence stakes plus the twisted wire was plainly visible the marks were up and down you can say they lasted a while
so I looked at this pistol waving clown and just laughed turned and walked down to the MP station I did thirty days clerking in the
Headquarters office for rearranging the day room to the way I wanted it messing with the army is Childs play then God came on the
Scene not so fun I experienced the same thing that happened to a guy that I worked with at the refinery when I knew him he was
An old man I was seventeen but later when he was dying of cancer his neighbor who was in our church set with him and as she did she
Prayed for him until God spoke to her and said don’t pray anymore he rejected me when he was young now I’m rejecting him the story
Behind this was this man was driving a truck back then they had to go out and literally pull him out of the cab his hands were like claws
His nerves were gone that’s what happened to me the only reason I didn’t use lsd was the kid used it all and then the angel had to step
In before salvation came again I was unaware of this but I went to the fire house I set down at the desk next to this other kid and he
kept smiling finally I had enough I asked what’s so funny you don’t remember no remember what last night you ran in and stood at the
Top of the steps six seven feet up out of the office I ran in said the MPS didn’t catch me I then hollered I’m superman and I did a flip
Down on the cement floor I did remember laying on the floor hollering at the fire chief as he slept in the back room off of the office he
Finally told someone to take me back to the barracks so stupidity was running rampant but I was the crew chief and I did my job
And then it happened just like my friend in the truck that had to be pulled out I lost it I was a basket case I couldn’t think straight
Minor jobs that were simple overwhelmed me when that starts you start looking for answers it didn’t take me long to know what was
Going on this rebels running from God had come to a screeching halt I finally had the boys take me to Monterey and let me out I threw
Away the cigarettes checked into a motel a few blocks from the church had to literally cry for God to let me have peace so that I could
Sleep and in the morning dressed went to church as I walked by the windows I heard the congregation singing the songs of Zion a
precious peace settled over me I was home where I belonged.

This is long and serves as a starting point that I want to continue up to Christ’s day of Christmas if it doesn’t work out least you know
my testimony and you can see what God has done for me but I want to try and renew my life and maybe touch you along the way

Essenntial love
Essential loveAugustus said I found Rome brick I left it marbleI find myself vile only through loving Jesus can I be righteous
What happened there was a time I encountered angels read his word ate what I read with a physical sensation I could feel in my
Heart just like I feel when I eat naturally somehow I flipped back to the way I was before these wonders were real I told before
How the love of God as a spear flew off of the record turn table from that moment at seventeen with a lapse of years from
Five to seventeen I lost a holy life because my parents turned from God went back in the world taking me and my sister with them
This is what the spirit said about my parents when he gave me a promise I also told I hitchhiked to camp slept with the cows in
A pasture a hill over from the main camp site this troubled the Illinois district superintendent but God spoke through the camp
Speaker this is what God has to say to someone to identify he said this and when he said it my aunt and uncle setting across the
Auditorium turned and looked directly at me you’re here your mother is a harlot and your dad is a drunkard a month later a
Camp speaker made the same promise but with this stipulation you can change the hands on the clock but you can’t change the
Time that has been forty one years ago it is still true God is not a liar but after the record player I did start back to church all
The time I would seek God to be filled with the Holy Ghost with the evidence of speaking with other tongues no success and then I
Was drafted far from home discouraged I quit going to church this went on for the two years God remained silent humanist try
To tell you can improve all by yourself see if this sounds like improvement one who tried to live right now grass and alcohol was my
Lifestyle if you asked me about it this is what you would have heard Wolfman Jack was our hero for sure when he was forced to
Broadcast from Mexico after violating FCC rules as a DJ and he never sounded as good as when you were high the alcohol altered
My mental state I could think deep brooding thoughts only problem you couldn’t be around me because of self loathing I was like a
Mad bull I was destructive and self destructive that came from self loathing I knew my parents record I got in enough trouble
drinking twelve percent by volume slow gin I can’t stand the taste so I would force it down you drink a whole bottle of anything its
Lights out well it like the lost weekend I came back own leave with grass and alcohol I was a disgusting freak to kids I use to lead on
Jefferson St I found out at a get together at the park that I was the cause for one of them getting drunk the first time there no shame
Like that well except for this there was more but I will just give you the high lights it was night we were all in the barracks I was in the
Latrine standing there doing what boys do well I was holding onto this board up over my head inch wide it was nailed at about four
Feet intervals to these poles behind them was corrugated metal making the wall well I wondered what happened if I yanked on
The board nothing happened except it came off with a terrible crack again no big but is was a big thing to thirty bunk mates
I heard a commotion so I just looked around the door all of them were scared straight or something because they were all trying
To get out of the door at the same time that’s funny when Archie Bunker and Mike did it on all in the family but they thought
They were next on the list I got them calmed down I feel I made up for it when I stood up for them I called a bully outside to fight
That was making every bodie’s lives miserable just like all bullies he was a coward and ended up throwing his arms around my shoulder
Wanted to be my friend I know he was a coward because as I said before I are one next one more dangerous not for whom you would
Think I sent the Sarge to go to the NCO club and get me a bottle of slow gin they had a quart not a fifth but it was without the volume
I took care of the volume and the day room with it one hundred and twenty proof in the middle of this I called one of the saints back
Here well I can’t tell you much but the saint talked to me when I did come home I believe when I hung up the phone thats when the bull
Rang in anyway a Jewish kid was said to have run down the company street screaming a wild man was tearing up the day room it was
Made out of aluminum siding and I only drank half of the bottle if I had drank all of it I would have torn it down not up well trouble
Breeds trouble one guy was write one was wrong well that weaved in and out just like myself I came to myself and in front of me was
My pal from class that I was in Jose Torres an MP sorry but one of the ugliest Mexicans anywhere not just in California but he was
Fired up with that Latino blood he wanted to fight evidenced by the forty five he was waving in my face in that brief moment of
Knowing what was going on I reverted to the primal beast level if you get in a fight you become intensely aware nothing is hidden
I could see it in his eyes he could taste it he wanted to pistol whip me oh contraire my friend I was fifteen and me and two other kids
Were watching tables for the refinery pick nick the next day well six idiots show up drunk drinking beer that was alright but when
Duck tale white under shirt jeans engineer boots stooge started throwing beer on my friend’s dads navy sleeping bag I asked him to
Stop when he didn’t I stood up holding a cow boy belt with a raised horse head on the buckle in my hand for protection well bright one
****** it out of my hand and slapped me in the face with it remember I said bull he was two years older than me but I was big and all
Muscle then I threw my head back and when the blood rose through my eyes I was blind it didn’t matter is was black in the large
Pavilion I couldn’t see only red just before that I was in danger I have seen what a pack of hounds can do to a **** on the ground
I was the **** all were getting ready to rush in but when my blood hit my brain the volcano erupted on his sorry self I picked him up off
The floor then he needed protection God was there if he would have gone down on the cement floor or into the picnic table how they
Are made his back would have been broken but I threw him across the table two feet to the table over the table another four feet
Into a red fence that was stretched there one pole to the next he was going head first about four feet off the ground that fence
scrapped the floor then when it got to the two points those bolts snapped it sounded like a high powered rifle going off he and the
Fence continued two to three feet off the edge of the floor then three feet out in the grass where it folded up around him the fight
Was Over the others wouldn’t even acknowledge him lying out there groaning the fence had become his safety net the next day the
Dad who owned the sleeping bag looked at the two of us and asked what happened to you two I couldn’t see my face but he had three
Deep imprints of the fence stakes plus the twisted wire was plainly visible the marks were up and down you can say they lasted a while
so I looked at this pistol waving clown and just laughed turned and walked down to the MP station I did thirty days clerking in the
Headquarters office for rearranging the day room to the way I wanted it messing with the army is Childs play then God came on the
Scene not so fun I experienced the same thing that happened to a guy that I worked with at the refinery when I knew him he was
An old man I was seventeen but later when he was dying of cancer his neighbor who was in our church set with him and as she did she
Prayed for him until God spoke to her and said don’t pray anymore he rejected me when he was young now I’m rejecting him the story
Behind this was this man was driving a truck back then they had to go out and literally pull him out of the cab his hands were like claws
His nerves were gone that’s what happened to me the only reason I didn’t use lsd was the kid used it all and then the angel had to step
In before salvation came again I was unaware of this but I went to the fire house I set down at the desk next to this other kid and he
kept smiling finally I had enough I asked what’s so funny you don’t remember no remember what last night you ran in and stood at the
Top of the steps six seven feet up out of the office I ran in said the MPS didn’t catch me I then hollered I’m superman and I did a flip
Down on the cement floor I did remember laying on the floor hollering at the fire chief as he slept in the back room off of the office he
Finally told someone to take me back to the barracks so stupidity was running rampant but I was the crew chief and I did my job
And then it happened just like my friend in the truck that had to be pulled out I lost it I was a basket case I couldn’t think straight
Minor jobs that were simple overwhelmed me when that starts you start looking for answers it didn’t take me long to know what was
Going on this rebels running from God had come to a screeching halt I finally had the boys take me to Monterey and let me out I threw
Away the cigarettes checked into a motel a few blocks from the church had to literally cry for God to let me have peace so that I could
Sleep and in the morning dressed went to church as I walked by the windows I heard the congregation singing the songs of Zion a
precious peace settled over me I was home where I belonged.

This is long and serves as a starting point that I want to continue up to Christ’s day of Christmas if it doesn’t work out least you know
my testimony and you can see what God has done for me but I want to try and renew my life and maybe touch you along the way

He burnt away my eyes,
he said it would make it much easier,
to beg, so I traded it for fear.

I was a little above five, wandering,
on streets a motley of black,
may be not, but my eyes couldn't distinguish the lack.

People would throw coins into my glass,
burnt eyes led to anticipated pitying,
towards the miniaturised cauldron of the dire I lived in.

I went to my master’s garage during my perceived evenings,
my hands felt the swerves of cars and formed shapes in my mind,
and before I departed, I would leave my glass behind.

Blitzed, he would hit me at times I didn’t collect enough,
I wouldn’t run away, the known seemed less horryifying,
than to trip against invisible, in the trying.

I survived each day, stayed thankful for life,
unfair as it may seem, my other senses were in poise,
and I learnt to see through reflections of noise.

He took away my eyes, my dreams stayed invincible,
so I left into a world, incognito,
my master waited for me that night, never to discover though.

I couldn’t steal, so I continued to beg,
I hitchhiked to stores, for a loaf of bread,
but God resolved to bless me with a stranger, instead.

He put me to work, for food and shelter,
little did I know my pay was in kind,
the kind was love, against everything left behind.

Sometimes he read to me, stories with happy endings,
he bid me goodnight before he would move on,
a word I recently learnt, to not be an oxymoron.

He taught me to read in braille,
being blind is no excuse he adjudged to me,
he couldn’t return my sight, so a vision he gave me.

Every night I cried myself to sleep,
for the choking in my throat helped me to believe,
believe in my angel disguised, so I cried myself to sleep.

He gave me fortitude against the vice,
he gave me words, and the power it imbibed,
and he taught me to live, when I just survived.

I lived through it,
The up and down times
When I sold ***
And did other petty crimes.
I was there when
Hot girls were really guys
Hiding floppy secrets
Between their nyloned thighs.

I loved through it,
Saturdays that started
On Tuesday morning
When I first departed;
Two packs of cigs
And a week’s doobies,
By then a value
Almost that of rubies.

I laughed through it,
A **** *****, your jokes
Were so funny if
You were providing smokes.
I flattered and flirted
Whatever it would finally take
To score a bit of ****,
Even the skimpiest shake.

I lolled through it,
Lying buck naked in your bed
Or with your guests
Whatever you originally said
Because you scored,
You were the source of dope.
Without your patronage
I didn’t have a moment of hope.

I hitchhiked through it,
Long trips back from Malibu
When I had worn out
My welcome to the world of you.
I hope the ride might be
Another adventure; more ****,
Or some food and drink
To satisfy my every begging need.

Here I have heard the terrible chaste snorting o hogs trying to re-enter the underearth.


Here I came into the curve too fast, on ice, and being new to these winters, touching the brake and sailed into the pasture.


Here I stopped the car and snoozed while two small children crawled all over me.


Here I reread Moby **** (skimming big chunks, even though to me it is the greatest of all novels) in a single day, while Fergus fished.


Here I abandoned the car because of a clonk in the motor and hitchhiked (which in those days in Vermont meant walking the whole way with a limp) all the way to a garage where I passed the afternoon with ex-loggers who had stopped by to oil the joints of their artificial limbs.


Here a barn burned down to the snow. "Friction," one of the ex-loggers said. "Friction?" "Yup, the mortgage, rubbing against the insurance policy."


Here I went eighty but was in no danger of arrest, for I was "blessed speeding" - trying to get home in time to see my children before they slept.


Here I bought speckled brown eggs with bits of straw ******* to them.


Here I brought home in the back seat two piglets who rummaged inside the burlap sack like pregnancy itself.


Here I heard on the car radio Handel's concerto for harp and lute for the second time in my life, which Ines played to me the first time, making me want to drive after it and hear it forever.


Here I hurt with mortal thoughts and almost recovered.


Here I sat on a boulder by the winter-steaming river and put my head in my hands nd considered time - which is next to nothing, merely what vanishes, and yet can make one's elbows nearly pierce one's thighs.


Here I forgot how to sing in the old way and listened to frogs at dusk make their more angelic croaking.


Here the local fortune teller took my hand and said, "What is still possible is inspired work, faithfulness to a few, and a last love, which, being last, will be like looking up and seeing the parachute dissolving in a shower of gold."


Here is the chimney standing up by itself and falling down, which tells you you approach the end of the road between here and there.


Here I arrive there.


Here I must turn around and go back and on the way back look carefully to left and to right.


For here, the moment all the spaces along the road between here and there - which the young know are infinite and all others know are not - get used up, that's it.


(c) Galway Kinnell, The Past

I

top of the valley
))) showerhead & birdsong,
the womanlike apparition
of previous nights,
  confession buries its warmth within fervent tangerine sheets (where the day is hot and the future is formless)

I approach the dawn
in naked repose/horns repeating/soft a hares tail is
spotted with freckled water from Lands End,
youth & ideal kiss-image lost in bedsheets/
  eyes are painted with creekwater
  
to impermanence, guarding the stones we left there
  drying away/I miss you already
  
  (the island which reconciled my heart to that of a lambs infant noise)
  
  all worry and expenses vanished at the throw of an axe
  
     haze/fire/italian wine/the stirrings of March brought forth for inspection
     in the dim glow of our ashes/butterfly asleep/carved dragon
     draped with the fury in your kiss/

I stand naked before the valley, an initial warmth fills its features. A smile stems in the garden loosely protected by wire, I am temporarily innocent of day/
my restless behavior now soaked into a wooden platform

     Clothes placed on a nearby log, I now cloak an inevitability to my skin, one of a whisper, mute in the heart as yet,
     heavy (molten lead) to the rest of me

(questions starve in my mouth,
  for the sake of any dire simplicity/animal truth in tongue/awakened from its hibernation)
  I am gripping the mothmask
  helpless & drawn instinctually
  toward the fire which
  hurts me
(the witch unafraid of being burned)

  stumbling in black of later-spoken confusion/divided tones/two worshippers of the same trickster idol-

-only promising the subdued rising day,
where you monastically
prepare (with such grace) the next meal of bananas & hot tea, cupped with mint leaves, meanwhile,
Ethiopian rhythm fills the trees with a land who's taste they'll never know

      (& suddenly I am the forest)

II

(out of sight)

-hitchhiked home & let out here, a brown ivory-trimmed wood church hardly the size of a house a little ways down the road, myriad
insect conversation & the dry, eclipsing valley, carrying with me a simple liberation of spirit, one I can't let go of by necessity-

-my shoes are scuffed with loose dirt at the sole, I must pantomime the Sea, now more than ever

(without intervention)

-my clothes clean all things considered-

(darling time acts in accordance to nothing but its own divine & careless will)

-as if ingrained to me by the Summer heat, & the earned sweat on my back.

"Life needs to be lived, not to be solved" - Osho

Light Shows

Wafting up this hill
From the town below
The fetid air this morning,
Whispers sleepily.

We sat here with a crowd
Last night, anticipating
The finale of the Fourth of July,
Expecting colored fire
And fierceness in the sky
To erupt above the lake
As a flotilla of boats,
White and green and red markers glowing
Took their bobbing places
Too far from us to see expectant faces.

The morning grass lies matted,
Littered with bits of celebration:
Candy wrappers,
Bottle caps,
Crushed cans...

Only the motorcycle and I
Overlook the restless trees and water
Uncertain in the morning breeze below....

The fireworks this year amazed us all,
Arcs and constellations
Shattering the air
Drifting off to die in smoking trails,
Whistling curlicues,
Weeping-willow shreds of gold,
Strings of blue and white and red,
Cacophonies of power,
Echoing and echoing again.

And yet, again,
God won the show...
Sent a humble lightning bug
To fly across my grandson's path
And captured, captivated his attention.

While thundering explosions pinwheeled overhead,
An insect blinked his tail,
Walked up young Parker's arm,
Disarmed the bombing of the sky,
Attached a young boy's quick affection,
Earned the title, "Sparky,"
And hitchhiked home
To be released alive and well
On my front lawn.

A  Articulate
C  Christ
D  Demon
C  Challenge

The writer group
session Australian
Hard Rock Lion
Rebirth Laptop
All grouped in
The City
Singer she thinks
her style of the pick
Raw sugar on me
The Taylor Swiftly
Her wings of
gravity
No  Ladybug  
Patriot Brady Bee

A group meeting
Got stung doing the
jitterbug
Jazzy lounge Bearhug
Music notes of Junk
Whole marriage records
So group me in
((Single))

Signed rotten Platinum
fink
Miss the concert line
Jibb
Jibbering
Riveting
Jive Five
The tribe
all feathered
Group( Kiss)
Dark eyes vibe
ACDC
the King of rock
You shock me all night
Elvis ain't nothing
hounded hitchhiked
ACDC-Money Talks
50 shades of the Greyhound
Those twin singers
Tinker Bell Groupies
Now it's the
Hells Bell
The four letter word

F--K_
F---K E Fake

What a ***** of
the light finger
The bands became
AARP Old Rocker
chair
What a **** in her
rocker pants

Drum roll
Headlights
Rock and Roll
Tour group of

FRANCE F- Friendship  R -Remain
A- And N- Never C-Can E-End

ITALY I- T-Trust  A-And L-Love Y You

ENGLAND E-Every N-New G-Guy L Leaves
A-After N-Ninety D-Days

The world in
Eighty tight money Days
Group 8 days a week
ahh I need
your love girl
I guess you know its true
And when you're Pregnant
Hey we are Rockers
we don;t have a clue
I phone fingers do the
Hard rock Art of music
strumming
Please no old
folks snoring

Days so long belly
stretched
The canvas
one-day creation
The car broke
her water broke
Due date
280 days
Group Pregnancy
pays

The mechanic
charging by
the hour
(Midas--
That Callgirl
not interested

Age of the rush
Pinterest pictures
Poison Ivy itching

Slower age Envy
To crush *******

And going back
Forever modern age
Hey world be clever
ACDC

We are all  a group
linked
My jackpot
My baby
most blissful
Inked in Pink

Deep within the sadness,
                lost in the great abyss,
Fighting for survival, searching for true companionship.

Be gone oh dark passenger,
               you have hitchhiked far too long,
I am no longer the weary soul, I have become too strong.

Once I made friends with you,
               that was a desperate move,
Can’t believe I walked that path, had nothing to prove.

The tears that roll in the silent night,
               are not fueled by the pain,
But by the false hope, the promised sunshine in the rain.

Cold , clear creek water hitchhiked from Alabama , caught a thunderstorm
just the other side of Anniston ..
It rode into Palmetto at the stroke of midnight , jumped off a wall cloud and hit the ground running !
Straight down Main Street taking everything it could carry .. Pine straw , old newspapers , bubble gum wrappers ! Oak leaves , bottle caps and fast food napkins !
The storm came and went , city life returned to normal  , a hundred gallons of well travelled transpired water now has it's eyes set on the city of Savannah ..
It'll bide it's time in the heat of Palmetto , laying in a storm sewer waiting to be called skyward ... A one way ticket on the 'Evaporation Express' ,
riding within an eastbound thunderstorm , dropping in on another little city to clean and cool the street , meet at the bottom of a hill to start the journey all over again ..

I had a dream the other night
That I had found a window
And that window revealed to me the entire world
I could see everything there is to see
I could see the sun set in one land
As it rose in another
Nothing could hide from the windows gaze

I could see kids in public parks
Late at night
Staring at the dark, foreboding trees
Hallucinating the majesty
Of the way the branches moved in the wind
And upon reflection
Were called into the forest
By the sinister shadows inside themselves

On the West Coast I saw a girl
Separated from her Midwestern friends
And her Midwestern love
(Whom I have not met)
I see as her mind is split
Cross country style
And her thoughts fall
Like the raindrops on her window

I see a single match being lit
In the basement of an East Coast hospital
A young boy has traveled many miles
(Hitchhiked across the country
In a time where the Cassadys and Kerouacs
The great heroes of the road
Have all died out
And the road is home to the carcasses of a million dear
A thousand raccoons and a hundred skunks)
The boy lights a second match
And with the match lights a candle
Then he pulls out an old dusty guitar
And begins to play

The boy,
Born too late,
Journeyed to this hospital
The hospital here his hero stayed
While his hero’s mind decayed
But now there is no one around
The hospital is long empty
So he plays a tune to himself
The guitars’ celestial strings sing
Echo through the Empty
But with the window I see the boy is not alone
The spirit of the boy’s hero
Smiles down upon the boy from Heaven
And with God & Saints
Bless the boy
The song
The guitar

Miles away
Out west on a lonesome prairie
In the cover of night
I see a man sit at the bar of a diner
The warm glow does not penetrate far into the solid darkness
The man is alone
A fry cook stands in the kitchen
But is not in the man’s view
The hostess is out back
Smoking in silence
The man is left with his thoughts
Along with his rancher’s jacket
And ***** ball cap
This man wears an air of sadness
I can’t hear what he is thinking
But in his silence I can feel the weight of that sadness
I can almost know all his troubles
The man finishes his coffee
Puts money on the counter
And leaves without saying a word

As the dream ends
And I can feel myself begin to wake
I can see all those faces staring back at me
Each look through their own windows
I see the man stare through his car window
And the window of hope
I see the West Coast girl
Stare out the window of a plane
And the window of longing
I see the boy stare through the window of time
And finally I see the children in the parks
Staring through the window of Nature
And the window of the soul

Number  One  reviewing

Bath powder on your *******
That I caressed
You felt like silk

So surprisingly timid was I
Our first time you so gently
Helped lead the way intently.
Did you hide your experience
While letting me seem victorious ?

We parked so many places
We could have used a valet  

Win Schular's was class
But mosquitoes in the Michigan woods,
They made love bites on my ***
No room in the canoe even for that

That house I hitchhiked down to
A warm bed of your softness
Football weekend at a brothers place; times too few
Where your scent lingers after you

Memories are sometimes fleeting
But not your first love
I cried after you.  ........  still needing

After ten years strong and vivid
After two decades still exquisite
After five they begin to fade
Just flashes here and there
A whiff of your scent somewhere
A lingering synaptic flash decayed

Copyright 2013
Richard L Ratliff


Win Schular's is a famous restaurant in Michigan

I need to tell the story
about how you came to me
you floated by the Milky Way
out past the galaxies

You  were playing with the Stars
when you heard me call your name
And in a lightning flash
my soul was not the same

You grabbed a shooting star
And hitchhiked past the Sun
and landed in my arms
in a blanket made of cotton
My sins and cares lost instantly
and everything forgotten

I look at you now
and you are the most beautiful of creatures
I'm glad we have the chance
to be one another's teachers

I wouldn't change a thing
my Indigo Blue Daughter
You're right where you belong
in my earthly living waters

I see you in the Springtime
in the Sunny Daffodils
The sun-drenched clouds above
and in the rolling pastured Hills

In see you in the mountains
of our home here in Vermont
In the passing vacant barns
that your Spirit seems to haunt

you're here in summer grass
that slips between my toes
and the crystal clear blue water
from the mountains that it flows

The birds that come to visit
in their lovely feathered styles
wink at me in passing
with familiar frozen smiles

You are the leaves that change
in fall time gloried color
In the faces of our neighbor
our sisters
and our brothers

You are the unique snowflakes
that kiss me on my face
You are everywhere I am
in every single place

We've had more than our share
of Earthly troubling woes
you always try to smile
and you barely let it show

I never have to wonder
we'll always be together
regardless where we are
no matter what the weather

This night I Lay My Earthly body
down to take a rest
to dream of all the things we've shared
inside my sleepy nest

I'll be waiting for you dear
my door is always there
A place for your sweet little heart
to rest your Earthly cares..

I Wait.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

It has been such a Long time since our last incarnation such like reassembly.

We’ve been scrubbing our United States
and leasing places
as scarification and other humans‘ faces
of stories,
to bless or gargle foreign.

We’ve been to the Neptune’s Fountain to find Young Man Hogan’s bench situated within all those loners’ speedy extroversion,
and catch the Saint Petersburg bell that hitchhiked the church there

to make a glimpse of urbanism and the world’s history replaced
by just one journal
and one fella’s pencil
swerving greatly‏.
‏
Still,
the words are still trying,
flexing,
to fit their whole ends
into shoes they should have taken off
already, a long time ago,
and that‘s this somewhere
where we could say:
crossroads decide their fruition.

And it comes to realisation:
faces,
screens,
bruises,
droppings,
chilling entries,
work,
how I remade the word “naked”of one thousand and one nights
under my tiny silky
cloak
-
it has been nothing but a play
for the day when I’ll write,
and the Life,
that will take on my own skin
one way or another.

One paper corner will meet with the other.

Departures are all eventually just fun geese’s bump in another flight of a night.

Epigraph:
LET CONVERSATIONS CEASE;
LET LAUGHTER FLEE.
THIS IS THE PLACE
WHERE DEATH REJOICES
IN HELPING THE LIVING.
— Inscription at the entrance
to the New York City Morgue


She was just a little girl,
and she tried to make the scene,
but they threw her down and she died —
broken on the pavement,
naked and alone,
with her beads around her neck.


She had these amber beads,
and she wanted to “make the scene,”
but it was the wrong scene
and the wrong time
and nobody loved her,
and nobody cared,
and she died there, on Mott Street,
with her beads around her neck.


From a little shabby house
near a cornfield in Ohio
with a barn
and a horse that died
and a couple of old trucks out back —
She wanted to be “where it's at.”
She was only playing a game;
they buried her three weeks ago —
she would have been fourteen today.


It was a hot night in July
when they hitchhiked to New York.
In Washington Square Park
everybody was making it
even the mosquitoes were making it
and they bit her as she slept.
But she wanted “kicks,”
so she went off with two men.
And they found her, broken on the stone,
with her beads around her neck.


Her parents, they worked hard,
and they ate their bitter bread;
her father, he drank and he fought —
he'd been in trouble with a girl
and was in jail last year.
It broke him, too.
“I felt like I just got
picked up and dropped,
broke like a glass.”


They buried her three weeks ago;
and Death cannot rejoice
that she made his scene, —
for she was just a little girl,
and they broke her and she died
with her beads around her neck.

SHE WAS JUST A LITTLE GIRL



TACEANT COLLOQUIA
EFFUGIAT RISUS
HIC LOCUS EST
UBI MORS GAUDET
SUCCURERE VITAE  


She was just a little girl,
and she tried to make the scene,
but they threw her down and she died —
broken on the pavement,
naked and alone,
with her beads around her neck.


She had these amber beads,
and she wanted to “make the scene,”
but it was the wrong scene
and the wrong time
and nobody loved her,
and nobody cared,
and she died there, on Mott Street,
with her beads around her neck.


From a little shabby house
near a cornfield in Ohio
with a barn
and a horse that died
and a couple of old trucks out back —
She wanted to be “where it's at.”
She was only playing a game;
they buried her three weeks ago —
she would have been fourteen today.

It was a hot night in July
when they hitchhiked to New York.
In Washington Square Park
everybody was making it
even the mosquitoes were making it
and they bit her as she slept.
But she wanted “kicks,”
so she went off with two men.
And they found her, broken on the stone,
with her beads around her neck.


Her parents, they worked hard,
and they ate their bitter bread;
her father, he drank and he fought —
he'd been in trouble with a girl
and was in jail last year.
It broke him, too.
“I felt like I just got
picked up and dropped,
broke like a glass.”


They buried her three weeks ago;
and Death cannot rejoice
that she made his scene, —
for she was just a little girl,
and they broke her and she died
with her beads around her neck.

where did she live?
nobody's sure.

was she nice?
sure, the nice that borders naivety.

did i ever meet her?
maybe once or twice.
but you were far too young, and she was too far gone by then to have remembered.

what was she like?
a lovestruck ghost.
a runaway drunk on stolen scotch and romance novels.

what was his name?
we stopped saying it.
he gave her hell, and then some.

what else did he give her?
envelopes postmarked "Vietnam"
then some from a prison in Vermont.

did she have kids?
yup, your cousins, Amy, Tab and Brandi.
she never knew them, though.

did she miss them?
she wrote songs, then hitchhiked to Nashville.
sang all about those girls of hers, but never really said a thing.

did you miss her?
she wasn't the missing type.
she was always moving, we were always guessing which side of her we were meant to love.

what was her favorite color?
never thought to ask.
but she wore lots of patterns, kinda like a mask, i guess.

what about holiday?
life itself was just one long day in her world.

were her eyes brown like ours?
probably.
but too wide and dim and glazed to spot much resemblance.

do you think she was lonely?
probably not.
she had him to chase, wherever he wound up, whenever she wanted to.

so she really was in love?
since she was thirteen, she claimed.
just a kid, and we told her she was crazy, but she didn't believe us 'til it was too late.

how did she die?
with his name on her lips
biting her tongue until she bled to death.

what was her name, again?
well, she called herself "Lacey Maye."

I set down my well traveled backpack
next to the sign which read,

            No Pedestrians,
            No Equestrians,
            No Bicycles or Motor-driven cycles
            Allowed Beyond This Point.

Thus confined,
I stuck out my thumb
in a well-defined gesture
specifically designed
to catch the eye of a
friendly motorist
just passing by.

The traffic was light though
still in quite a frenzy.

Alone and content,
on the side of the road,
I was watching the drivers
as they breezed blindly by.

Each had the potential
to give me a ride.
There on the roadside
I waved them good by.

The man in his Benz
and the lady in her bug,
the banker, the waitress
and an old pickup truck

Each one was equal
as they passed down the trail.
Barely a gesture
or the meeting of eyes.

The time right then was not important to me
but all of the others had somewhere to be.
Getting along from A to Z
was all that mattered to little old me.

Patience is a virtue
for those who wait.
Along came a trucker
with a load on his tail.

He pulled up beside me
and bid me “get in.”
                                  -- So I did.

The engine revved up and we took to the road.
Right past that old sign that kept me confined,
we took up the hum of that asphalt trail
and measured our distance with the passing of miles.

Lost on the road with the corn rushing by
I'm free -- I’M FREE and that is why
I’ll come back again
For one more try.
The lessons I’ve  learned will help me get by.


I hitchhiked thousands of miles in my younger days. The opening stanzas were written on the side of the road nearly 40 years ago.

4/14/17

The orange tulips had a short run,
you could ******* disappointment.
The daffodils hitchhiked life a little longer.
Spring came too early,
and confused the season
and now we wait for summers grandstand.

The ground seems to be heating up,
at times caught short by the morning airs.
The Bluebells their defy age,
Pale like wading, waiting to flourish
in the sometime soon

no... no former interest in the Finnish: kieli...
hmm... let's compare...
Finnish... Estonian... Latvian... Lithuanian...
Hungarian... what's zunge: tongue in each?
the Suomi say: kieli...
            in ******: the closest approximate is:
klei: it glues together... klel: glue...
well... the tongue does just that...
    hmm... no bewilderment here:
Eesti say: keel
           Latvijas says: mēle
                                   slightly off the chart...
Lithuanians... immediately all the prior
languages drop dead...
because the translation is: nicht zunge wie in
                     glied... körperteil...
               aber zunge ist sprache...
   since...
liežuvis is tongue: tongue proper... the waggling...
ice-cream licking bit...
(lje-ju-vis) the ju is Fwench: from je suis...
             but... oh what a dear word...
   KALBA... that's language to a Lithuanian...
the young Huns use: NYELV for language...
i'm not even going to bother finding the word
for the waggling part of: irritated teeth...
          this almost feels like a 4th Jemminah revelation...
can i possibly scare women?
are they sort of, like... almost... sisters?!
they don't want me finding them in a bad mood?
in their casual framework of relexation
before the television?
        mind you: yeah... that would be boring...
if i became a domesticated animal...
even though... i'm sort of domesticated...
but... when *** is involved...
              oh right... i hold the joker card in
my Texas hold-up game of poker...
    i've spent time with prostitutes... so...
box is box... kasten ist kasten...
                 i must have scared her...
                         i was willing to become a surrogate
father to her child... the penny dropped
when i read the boy his poem back to him aloud...
and said: wow... and it was a literal wow...
or when her dog was licking my ears
and my self-inflicted cigarette burns on
the knuckles... until i started bleeding...
      that i brought her a banana loaf and asked
if her boy had any nut allergies...
           the self-made wine... cloudy... so i bought
a bottle of franziskaner weissbier (also cloudy)
so she wouldn't think she was drinking poison...
    then come Valentine's day i dropped off a bouquet
of flowers on her doorstep in the middle of the night
and dropped a card inside...
   well... she did mention that this guy was trying
to "court" her... but... yeah... this part...
it took him 20 years to gather the courage...
   when i heard that... the time we came back in
the same car... and she feigned tiredness and put her
elbow on my leg... and sort of relaxed...
   right: *****-head on... i'm driving this one home...
i.e. i'm going in for the ****...
   in warfare it would be called Blitzkrieg...
in casual social relations it would be called
the: juwelansturm... charm offensive...
                   esp. after some time you learn that...
at least 3 single mothers are scouting for...
for... i don't even know what at this point...
                  oh man... and she even had a vinyl player
and i was like: can we meet in a few days time...
i have this record i'd like you to listen with me...
   backstabbing reality: she's a tarantula mummy...
she'll eat the male in order to raise her offspring...
                           safety in the brothel...
                                    to be honest... she was actually...
generous... because she let me go... ghosted me...
blocked me from messaging me... even though...
      i've already seen her, twice already... when cycling...
once at night: her face beaming larger than the moon
with... i don't know what it was...
another time... walking with...
the most unremarkably looking man...
   just a little bit taller than her... and i'm guessing she
was... at most... a 5ft3...
              but not when the same love interest
is spreading rumours on her first day at work
about you being drunk on the job...
              well: i do know that i drink to excess...
i do have drinking ******... i tend to drink for about 4 people...
but when i need to be sober:
i'm sober... why do we need to be sober...
i will never know... but...
            eh... therefore? the charm-offensive had
to be put in place...
   as i told one of the other co-conspirators:
there's this ****** proverb...
           lies... or is it liars?
    lies don't walk on stilts...
        lies / liars have short legs...
                 lies are not longshanks...
         time... all it took was time...
                                but at the same time...
it's so frustrating... i'd love to **** a single mum...
i mean: her libido must be... exponential...
   shoom! a ******* comet!
                  esp. if she's raising a boy rather than a girl...
i should know... Khedra... the *******
i have unprotected *** with is a single mum...
but she has a daughter... prettiest **** thing in the world...
and her libido is a rave... a rage... a... a...
don't go there... i mean: i go there...
but... yeah...
                          and Jeminnah was this petite auburn
ginger **** good looking "thing"...
what Rodin sculptures i could have had with
her in the bedroom...
                                   ugh... it's sick... it's truly sick...
framework... just to ensure the boy isn't there...
but she... actually behaved rather admiringly...
she... actually... spared me...
   all the disappointments that would inevitably
come... if i went... no... if she went forward and
made herself more "available"... ***-friendly...
                 i still don't know why i like writing about this...
it sort of sooths me... or i'm having trouble trying
to write about something new...
therefore i regurgitate this little event in my head...
because i'm trying to find explanations
not excuses - certainly not dejections...
   or harbouring a resentment for women...
           i think she behaved... like a doe would...
     and i have actually run with doe and their young once...
at a traffic junction... there was no stag...
they became lost... traffic mayhem...
run them back into the woods...
                seriously: i can't even be bothered
to imagine **** anymore... life's as it comes... and goes...
so she did behave like a doe...
        frightened little thing...
              well... if you come across a guy and your
dog finds him irresistible...
  your little boy wonder becomes sort of scared
of an authority figure... or rather:
doesn't look at your boyfriend as an older brother...
like my neighbour once said:
better jerking off in heaven
than ******* in hell... i guess she should know...
****... better change that term juwelansturm
to... reizkrieg... yes... much better...
              but i still don't get it: how socially backward,
lacking any sort of introspection / self-awareness
must you have... to... do a Mr. Bean move...
knowing how cut-throat women are against
each other... to... have about 4 women gather against
you for slandering someone: you just met
and are working with?
            maybe i have a mind the size of pigeons...
but... at least that sort of brain size allows me
to have a Sat-Nav implant...
   i still can't get over how much drama i just avoided...
i was about to step into a hot pile of ****...
i truly was willing...
           how she allowed her former boyfriend...
well... her son's older brother... by my take on things...
to run her in over £10,000 of debt... implying she lost
her credibility to work in the financial sector...
i have a square head... i'm trying to fit a rectangle into it...
it's not going to work...
   and i'm not even solipsistic / autistic...
(a) why would you tell me your life story so endearingly,
   while also slandering me...
(b) why would you tell me your life story
and not something you enjoy doing... the music you like?
(c) women mature faster than men?!
   you're kidding me, right?
    that's like that Egyptian fwend i once had...
absolute ***... even the Pakistani said...
we're supposed to meet up for the movies...
no... forget fashionably 15 minutes late...
  sometimes... an hour late... **** those sort of people...
waste of air... never mind time...
but i'm the sort of person that is: in love with the idea of love...
in liebe mit die idee von liebe...
   but i was truly treading on egg-shells while walking into
a SHAMBO'H... szambo = septi tank...
           - mind you: self-deprecating humour does help:
a lot...
    while the only use of the diminutive tense in English
i was able to find was, associate with... making nouns
ugly... "nouns" well... like Matthew becomes Matt
Peter become Pete... Anthony becomes Tony...
Joshua becomes Josh... Samuel / Samantha becomes
Sam... it's ******* ugly... it's diminutive "diminutive":
just ******* lazy... like do not becomes don't...
Pakistani becomes ****-,
               at least where i come from: diminutive is
diminutive: i.e., it's endearing...
because something smaller is always cuter...
you want to tend to it more...
KACHKA'H (kaczka) becomes kaczuszka...
drzewo become drzewko (tree, little tree)...
tygrys: tygrysek (tiger, little tiger)
jabłoń: jabłonka
   it's the diminutive but it's also... refreshing:
lying about the thing's temporal quotation...
which also makes it a funny reading into history...
that **** Germany thought of themselves as
Aryans...
    yet... the ******-lack-lands further east entertained
the infusion with the Sarmatians...
an Iranian... Aryan tribe...
        and we are... "we" are... i am... very *******
refreshed to defend my mutterzunge...
sure... i'll keep it subdued: if i had a keyboard that
would allow me easier access to the orthography...
i don't think i'd write in English...
probably not...
         even Charles Dickens can't call it orthography
whether it's weather or little or litle...
   there's no orthography where they are no diacritical
marks... akin to U contra Ó
   or epsilon contra eta...
                 mind you: the Byzantines are hyper-sensitive
to γλώσσα - even now... upsilon, omicron: omega...
why need to stress: give the omega the acute
accent? i know it's gloossa... shouldn't that accent
be put to better use in order to make the English
looking proto-Germanic ᛋᛋ (schutzstaffel)
disappear? too many ******* consonants in ******...
i heard that argument before...
    too many diphthongs in yours... or at least lacking
one: IE... that ought to be a diphthong...
aye... i... die... dye... different... dynamic... dip...
where's an affirmative-iota in... the last three examples?!
surely you don't say: dype... when you write: dip...
do you?
             all of U in you...
                             yes... i do feel linguistically superior...
but it's not a superiority of: "my" people write
language in a... oh ****... now i remember...
the best comparison comes...
like this project of twinning towns...
Havering was twinned with Ludwigshafen...
the ****** language... lodged between Russian and
Deutsche... neither... the best alliance
is with... the clarity and sensibility of: Japanese...
that's the closest i've come to compare my mother-tongue...
Japanese...
   it's the clarity of syllables... of actual letters...
sure... Japanese has restrictions on its consonants...
since they have to be coupled with vowels...
except... why is N no ******* unique?
i could understand H... from the Hebrews...
since... that's a vowel catcher of sighs and eh?! conclusions
and a vowel generator of: ah ha ha... i.e. laughter...
so... what?! the Japanese laugh akin to...
Ini Kamoze's: here comes the hot stepper?
na'h na'h na'h?        oh: wight... no trill of the R...
no rattle-snakes back there...
i guess you could laugh on a Na (sodium)
and No (know very little)...
      next time i'll catch myself laughing i'll ditch
the H and borrow the ン (N)...
but... hmm.. weird... Sejong the Great might agree with me...
something's up...
i'm itching... now... Korean makes more sense...
to hell with the Chinese skeleton... x-ray...
hieroglyphs... ideograms... brick wall:
too much memory gone to waste...
        no phonetic clues... just enough geology...
pressure... time... erosion... to memorise...
   not going to happen...
  that's why you're never going to invade China...
but something is up in Katakana...
if N (ン) has such a unique place among / apart from
other consonants...
that it has the same sort of status as the vowels
(ア) A or (オ) O...
海 - kai... ocean... phonetically dropping the ideogram
("emoticon") you'd get: カイ...
but if N is so uniquely placed as an A...
why... would you require...
       to merge this unique consonant with the unique
vowels?
      why do you need this?
ナ ニ ヌ ネ ノ: na, ni, nu, ne, no?!

isn't N unique like the vowels that it can stand uncoupled
with vowels? so... if it can't be stand-alone akin
to vowels... why keep it: "unique"?!

ン   ア   イ   ウ   エ   オ

   fair enough... i'm far from Japanese... but i still don't understand
why you need to disfigure the unique N by a vowel...
and i'm trying to figure out the logic...
how, for example:  ン + ア = ナ...
since... exactly... since...
                         there's no equivalent to the N + A = NA
for any other consonant in Japanese...
there's no R + A = RA... since... there's no R!
no really... let's see... RA: ラ... ア (A)...
              so... what's the R? it's almost like a diacritical mark

laughter in "anime" / ******: ハ ハ
) (                   close enough... but if the H is invoked...
how does A morph in "opposing" chiral, mirror?
   ア? ア + ? = ハ: ha... ha ha... ha... eh?
and the obvious restrictions... consonants take the lead...
when fused with letters...
you can't find AN or an AM or a AT in japanese...
you can only find NA MA and TA...
- if i'm going to become prone to dementia in old age...
sure... then... i'll travel to Amsterdam and
juice up on some chew of a handful of magic
mushrooms... a reiteration of how fungus hitchhiked
the money brain... but not until then:
i'm good... on this linguistic plateau, for now...

- lessons from yesterday... H'american women are
insufferable... apologies...
i can understand tight yoga pants... flick of the hair...
exposing... or rather... exfoliating in one's peach
*** physique... but dressed...
it really makes all the more sense to align oneself
with the Muslim women... i truly: truly abhor this
current... libido insomnia... which implies...
by the time i get some: i don't want it...
which means... the pattern of going to the brothel
to get a hard-on... i need to exercise in short exhausting
bouts like a boxer... i need to ******* without
actually ******* for a few rounds...
and i need to drink an aphrodisiac like white wine...
and then i'm good to go...
    
we've been so overtly sexualised we've become...
sterilized by overexposure...
i'm serious... perhaps the NIQAB is not so much
about female oppression but...
to ensure the male libido is kept intact: focused...
since... men become easily bored if there is no
existential stress... we tend to ******* and pursue
**** like: geometry... linguistics...
yeah: "bored"... no... we find alternative avenues
to cope with life...
       and by a common demonitor:
we're no adherents to the doctrine of Darwinism...
most of us would **** for the Copernican focus
of reality... but... this whole idea of passing on
our genes? sorry...
even i see what sort of men pass on their genes...
passive men... mediocre men...
humanity has made Darwinism unnatural...
**** Germany tried the orthodox method
best associated to Darwinism...
why did it fail?
  like that Matrix quote from Agent Smith...
people... people... just enjoy misery...
it's what makes them thrive...
populus... populus... fruor miseriae...
                                                    in miseriae illi vigeo!
i tried... to accomplish "something" worth the dignity
of calling it: human... personally? i can only attest
to... mengelegeschrei! kinship...
                  it wasn't worth it...
                  trying to love people is one thing...
it's so disturbing doing such a feat...
the whole inclusivity project...
   when you don't have exclusive rights to one person...
maybe only swans figured it out...
but... it's so... ******* chimp-sour...
so psychologically backwards...
             i'm not even irritated, disinterested or... stressed...
calmly, collectively... backtracking...
i'm getting bored of this libido insomnia...
   what if i were to showcase my underwear bulge?!
that would be deemed as ****** harassment... wouldn't it?
i've seen messages on the tube...
LOOKING... ooh... you look at some in a lecherous mood!
handcuffs! handcuffs!
               TOUCHING! can't i... touch you on the shoulder...
so you might... move aside... while i get off the tube?!
handcuffs! handcuffs!
      this society is beyond rotten...
rot is rot... it's... fermenting... into something
that... whatever propaganda the Soviet's would have
envisioned to throw at it... couldn't...
it ******* self-imploded...
   no no... this is a full-on self-implosion...
         you wish there was some post-Soviet involvement...
there was: zilch...
          
what was once the Soviet Empire... is not modern Russia...
oddlt enough...
   i'm so thankful that i spent over a month in Russia
and never once switched on the t.v. mind you:
i was in a "relationship" with a girl who told me
her grandmother was her mother..
and her mother was her sister...
   and she was still bangng her ex... with ties to
the government... blah blah...
faking having a period... but i thought *******
a woman on her period was all bonus?
fleshy crumbs on the ******...
   fair enough... i'm not sick on the sickly sweet bits...
i'm like a crab or a crow...
i pick up leftovers...
             but my eyes truly dim... the iris and the sclera
disappear... all you can see is the pupil...
when... libido insomnia over-exposure kicks-in...
i just stop thinking straight.. usually my mind is built
for vectors... geometry... but....
when i'm getting teased too much...
this is teasing... let's face it... and... i can't get a hard-on...
what would most do? a violent cause...
i don't think we're asking for nuns....
      we're asking for Black Narcissus types...
the tragedy of overtly sexualising men
into a future of impotence...
  while... deeming women: overvalued and...
            doomed to an existential failure of
single motherhood...
              it is a failure! there's no romance to speak of
if... she has a girl or a boy token!
and the socialism... the Soviet propagandists would
have never envisioned such an easy future of
argument....
capitalism will not fail out of ideology... if it is going
to fail: it will fail out of biology...
men will become so isolated from women
that men will... as men do: stop spending...
because they will not spend money on women...
why would i want to spend more than i already
spend on a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of pepsi and
a packet of cigarettes?
why? huh?! eh?!
                 i don't need to look "pretty"...
                   i'm already ugly...
                       reality dissonance... it's vibrating!
it's ******* vibrating! it's like: hum hum hum... humming...
insect wing flutter... coupled with KEISHA's song BLOW...
well... because the last time i cited
listening to
  COMBICHRIST... the girl blocked me...
      sent to destroy... it's such s nice... song...
  well... manner... tastes... one can't oysters all of one's
life... whoops... which is like: whpe + slippery + oops + i slipped...
ah ha: ba n'ah n'ah!

ad mors facio tuus venia!
   toward death: make your pardon!

My grandmother died when I was 13, she was the only grandparent I knew the last one…
I remember at her funeral everyone was crying,
I hated myself for not being able to cry.
By then I was numb, I was a victim of child ****** abuse and I didn’t even know it but I felt every bit of that nothing if that makes sense.
I remember how my entire family looked at me like I was crazy for not crying, I was immediately judged as the official crazy one.
I remember while the churchy part of the service started I went outside to smoke a cigarette from the pack I stole from my uncle.
Any kid would’ve been terrified to be found with an actual lit cigarette at that age,
As I stated before I was numb I really didn’t care.
The following years until now, I am still numb.
Middle school was interesting,
I ended up enjoying ditching but I’d always ask my teacher for my homework anyway.
Even though I spent most of my time in the hills on the walking trails behind my school I still passed 8th grade with straight As and a 4.0 GPA.
I got bullied like any kid did, actually shoved in lockers, beat up in the bathroom by Mrs Gallegos’ history class.
Met some friends of course, by then I was good at playing happy.
High school was full of adventures,
I joined the JROTC & they recommended that I go to West Point,
I was athletic, captain of the raider team(that’s the JROTC physical fitness team) captain of the drill team and the color guard. I excelled there.
I was battalion commander by my sophomore year, in charge of the entire class for our Army Inspection where they came to see if we were in tip top shape,
That year we had the largest battalion in Bobcat history, and I was in charge.
My sophomore year ended and summer began,
That was the summer my mother wanted me to have a boyfriend so of course I wanted to gain her love & favor I dated one guy.
He ended up ****** me in the back of his best friends bronco at the county fair.
I turned 15 that cool summer…
15 & pregnant, I was terrified.
I never told anyone, I had to go back to school and I wanted to continue to be involved in JROTC.
So what did I do?
I punched myself in the stomach repeatedly , that wasn’t working so I ended picking a fight. (Yes I know what you’re thinking Why Didn’t You Just Get Help! At the time, I learned that I don’t get help because there’s nothing wrong with me at all or so my mother always told me. I had to figure it out on my own because of what people would think of me, yes definitely don’t ever do this because it was ******* stupid of me but I didn’t know any better)
I picked a fight and let myself get pulverized,
It worked.
I didn’t realize that the hell I would go through mentally physically emotionally after that miscarriage…
After that I was truly never the same.
Looking back now, that’s when it all really went downhill.
I shut down, everything didn’t matter.
But I had to play the part of being a happy kid so once again the mask.
Junior year I didn’t care for school so I never went, didn’t even care about JROTC anymore.
A girl came into my life, we dated.
We became the most popular couple in school, everyone knew who we were.
We ran smokers corner, bought a car and ditched with the money we made from selling cigarettes.
My mother found out I was dating a girl and dragged me out of the car slamming my head on the ground which led me to the hospital to get stitches for the **** on my head.
I moved in with my girlfriend at the time,
That was when the suicidal thoughts really started kicking in.
That was when I started pills, drinking & partying.
We broke up 2 weeks after I dropped out of high school because i found out she started cheating on me when I left.
I moved back with my parents and the physical violence never stopped because I was gay.
The suicide attempts, trips to the emergency room, rehab more suicide attempts and the glorious psych ward.
This was when I learned how to lie to get out of things.
I made even the therapists cops everyone believe the words I said.
Eventually I got away with a lot.
I just turned 17 when my dad slammed my head into the concrete floor of my house, my mother kicking me and my dad pinning me on the ground,
All because I came out of my room to get a water and apparently I rolled my eyes.
I remember tasting blood and looking out of my left eye was like looking out of a red window, I used all the strength I had left to get out of that pin.
I remember barricading my room with the dresser I had and calling the police.
My mother beat me to calling the police, she told them I was assaulting them,
But once Officer Largo arrived on the scene and saw no bruising or any sign of assault on them he asked me through the door, that was literally keeping me alive, come in my room if he could come in.
That’s when he took me into the bathroom,
I looked in the mirror and saw the reason why that look of horror was on his face.
My left eye was red, busted blood vessel, the blood running down from the left side of my head, busted lip that wouldn’t stop bleeding, broken nose. Bruised all over my arms.
He called for backup requesting a female cop,
Officer Benally saw the bruises on my back and and the scratches and bruises on my neck. The EMTS said I had 6 broken ribs, 3 of them never healed properly to this day.
I remember Officer Largo handcuffing my dad and my mom.
They were screaming in terror, truly acting like they didn’t do anything wrong.
I remember telling the cops over and over to let them go that I deserved this. It was my fault.
That was when I learned that I don’t have a say in my life.
I spent that week in the ICU.
No family came, my parents were in jail.
I didn’t have anyone, I sat in that cold room watching Reba on the tv eating my jello.
I snuck out of the hospital and ran,
It hurt like hell but I ran.
I hitchhiked home that was an hour drive away,
Broke into my own house found the keys to my car put clean clothes on.
Cleaned and waited.
They got home and acting like nothing happened only that they hated me.
I went to work like any other high school age kid
I was a little ****,
High or drunk all the time.
The rest is a blur until I got semi sober after getting my first DUI at the golden age of 17,
My mother continued hitting me throughout all this and I kept telling myself I deserved this.
I turned 18 and ran as many times as I could but always went back home.
The lesson I learned, I am nothing I am no one.
So **** it

I was twenty,
  and you were nineteen
  that day along the mall

When I heard a guitar
  from deep inside
  that round auditorium hall

Up on stage with legends
  Son House, Muddy,
  Johnny Winter too

A red haired, freckle faced,
  blue eyed girl
  commenced to sing the blues

You started with an apology
  saying you were outclassed
  and over matched

But once that voice
  left your heart and flew
   ….in nothing did you lack

I followed you out
  that afternoon
  in the late State College Fall

And after fifty years of looking back
  every moment
  I recall

I walked you to the bus
  as you said:
  “We’re in Harrisburg tonight

“Why don’t you come,
   it might be fun
   from there I catch a flight”

The bus was full,
  my eyes looked south
  as I hitchhiked down #322

Fate unexplained
  life forever changed
   —that special gift from you

(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2018)

I hitchhiked up to Limbo
  to await that final toll

But lost my way when Siren’s called
  which led me to the shoals

My thumb went back inside my palm,
  their voices soft and low

No closer to those pearly gates
—this darkened undertow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: February, 2018)

in the memory bank of a jellyfish:
that little microcosm of life
per se

this undisturbed avenue in evolution
kindness
electric pulse
in aqua

light travelling in no stretch
of posit
an origin E = MC (speed of light cubed,
speed of light cubed
speed of light cubed
as static, posit,
speed of light cubed,
evidently this implies
the other two letters being changed
but if there's an equation with
the speed of light squared
then there must be an equation
with the speed of light cubed...
if there isn't: or there never will be
an equation with a:    "E=M"C³

        regardless of ENERGY and MASS
but there has to be an equation
with a C³... the speed of light cubed...
if there isn't one
i'll call it yet another Dead End of Darwinism:
then clearly our intellect has
no evolved to compete
with the Insect Lady and her Talking Mushroom
Lamp...
or the Dinosaur grandiosity
brought down to lizard and bird continuity
it's as if there was no meteorite
just the ******* madness of the moo! moo!
moooooooon and seas and tides!

lost the plot of emoji and "forgot"
to place it on canvas:

thinking aloud painting
that's what poetry is
i need those symbols

like the Star of David and the *******
those drool assigns
i have

             tick tock... tick tock:
  
    卍 (tilt: // to the side: clock! clock! twist!)
because i need a reference for:
     Schläfli symbol...
                   a hexagram is not the star of david
a hexagram is not the star of david
tilt the star of david and i'll show you
a hexagram:
an opened book
and reading on a square of camel hind
in a desert
wish there were stones in a desert
and mountains
but poor me thought the deserts
were missing hills so raised mountains
blindly following love
and all purpose throughout meaning
of this shared earth: hearth...

                    at least one H in the equation
if seriously:
all these Jews want to remain post-genocidal
insecure about what's no longer
mysterious then we can flood
Europe with as much post-colonial hangovers:

but i swear: the downer comes
with: but i am stronger and of more prided
intellect than others
and for no fault of my own
am i to tell my father: hey! you!
yes! you! colonialist!
*******! **** the right: off!

         obviously the war in Ukraine
is not of the English persuasion of concern
those lax dods and sods of the "intellectual"
class not kings
not the privy council the lazy liberal ****-whats
i mean those newspaper folk
those scribblers and cobbler-wannabes
i mean those bunch of people
how mammalian flesh alight in the heat of
an argument...

smoked a joint that's marijuana
and tobacco
drank a shy whiskey sharpshooter
that's 2:1
of whiskey to coca coca
cola the ancient Indians of Paraguay
are talking
about La Bambino Bamba

in an "alternative" reality there is a journalistic
script that says:
the Euros 2024 did happen
and i saw a populism in motion
in nothing like an echo chamber
can't make the Coliseum into an Internet
Meme Echo Chamber
have to be real bro: shitz hyphen and *****
twitch at the ***** erotica of
a volcano

in an age where homosexuality is
as the supposed degeneracy of cis fibric
frombosis: phrombosis: thrombosis:

F: Fulvark: hawk: bee: buddha:
fly...
the German police were imploring
the English fans to smoke a joint
rather than drink too much beer
hey! mate! license or no t.v.
your superstars only won
a sly / shy

victory over the moon and the mood
of the Serbs:
like the victors France against
the AXIS power of the Eastern *****
and i believe
that Nietzsche a German
was adamant about what the Germans
did to the Prussians
and what the "elsewhere" didn't do
about the Estonians and the Finns
and the Lithuanians

just saying: France superstar also won
a minor victory just
a one nil
against the Eastern *****:
the Austrians are the only people
known to the Slavic people west of the Oder
and i implore you to not justify
that Darwinism has dead ends
if this supposed fixation on evolution
and then the geniuses that brought
down Pluto
i can't contest intellectual prowess to keep
feeling less and less amazed
less and less and less in awe
i just think about bread
oh and dough
and yeast
and i think: i think that i think, i think...
my soul is shattered
i have no internal breath of a coherent narrative
the German police implored the English
football fans to not altricate: articulate
the budding Serb hunger for violence
this amazing South *****
of Yugoslavia
and big boy language: i have a hairy chest...

POWER IS BLACK
POWER IS THEN GRAVITY OF NOTHING
yes, not the: that's not a misspelling
but a continuation in CApital:
power is that a drawing nearness of death
prior: impediment

in the memory bank of jellyfish:
bells of eternity - a dream of a song
of actually enjoying music
like some telekinetic hypothesis of an itchy brain
whereby a Mushroom donning a Venetian
Carnival Mask
is playing me primitive... "tunes"...
the jellyfish and perhaps our organic history
stretches into the dinosaur realm
of existence
that felt because HAD endoskeletons
but the dinosaurs didn't die
but evolved into miniatures of birds
and great hawks
and our mammal father the WHALE

but as i was smoking and drinking
an unlikely companion:
i never thought flies to be nocturnal insects
but there's always one
super-freak Beelzebub Bob and my pierced
ego my pride like a flickering light
a honing of an idea to another idea

but even if this earth once entertained
giant insects
and talking mushrooms
mammals and reptiles are pretty good
for extending our consciousness
i'm talking pre Bible imagination
much further
from Dinosaurs
that became birds
Holiest of All the Crows of Odin
and the Swans of Athena...

there was a time of giant insects
and giant insect brains
or rather the microcosm organic history
a history of body
not of stone

then i wandered outside the garden of Eden
into the Land of Ende (no, not Ened)
there's already the Den of Ned the Flander
in some Simpson
O what dark day i imagined
myself with a child watching Sunday afternoon
t.v. not able to trip out
with a scribble with a doodle not hallucinogenics
please
this ardent father

so i wish to become

so in a time of fervent homosexual pride
me loving a single mum of 55
no better *** than menopausal love
no seriously just watched how people
ugh: flake under the puppet skeleton
some flesh of 16 year old ******* proofs of
*** that are girls:

with enough perspective of time
i can speak concerning being:
there are just too many dead ends in the theory
of evolution!
you can't see the evolution of a spider
into a over-spider of an ant...
i must have brought in at least five this week
walking through the garden
they hitchhiked on my ears
into a death surface reality of moon
walking on a toothbrush and a sink
not Schindler's bread and butter emanel:
Immanuel Immanaeul:
You'll...             You'll...        and You'll Do This...

a serpent uncurled from around
the tree of knowledge
and having given birth to the fruit
in an insomnia of winding
and travelling from start to star
wriggled forward in time
ate Sisyphus
and started to clutter with a Hieroglyphs and
Chisel:

but those talking mushrooms
and giant insects would leave no traces
except for the moisture in the air
not like dinosaurs and pressed hard
black olive oil of locomotion
but instead
from such a harsh environment
with salt for water in the seas
these creatures left us
breathable air!
Nitrogen in abundance
but only enough sanity for 20% of air...

pre-dinosaur times...
   if we're going as far back as beginning
the universe...
religion can't compete, unless:
it get's a psychedelic booster JAB...
a language usage imprint
of said USER working with AI...

but if we are really going that far back:
i can look away from
belittling humanity as the currency
of NOW:
there is a currency of NOW: realistic interaction
there's the currency of ONCE:
there's the currency of IF
and the currency of...

       evidently too much Joyce... just thinking:
maybe aloud...
but certainly tripping on alcohol and marijuna
and before i die
and i'm at the stage of two hydro-cells on the brain
like Martin's like two watery
eyes
then i will create an advent of mushroom
tripping
and open my other 2 and 4
of seeing
since the eyes are an *****
unthinkable before kidney failure
or to think of eyes
are nostrils because there are 2
to think of the mouth as eyes: sensationally...
preposterous...

     ugh... but before the Dinosaurs
there were the talking mushroom overlords
and insect people
who left no skeleton proof
because they had mush inside and strength
outside
         so just the moisture in the eye
and time capsules messages
they left us hallucinogenic mushrooms
to travel back in time
past the eons of admiring those unlucky sods
the reptiles that weren't given slack
like Satan
because from dinosaurs to birds
couldn't devolve from short T-Rex hands
big mumma FI thyes thyme black girl running
so the bible is a word
from the reptiles via the mammals to
the insects and talking mushrooms
we got hit by a meteor!

           those ape mummies are toiletry
such idiots
chaos ensues no natural set order
this will not continue i'm sure of it
how warm the intellect
but what if lizard people had a chance
to boil water in a kettle... too!
but we are just their locomotive juice
to ******* UBER their groceries
from 100 meters away!

there are dead ends in Darwinism
just to clarify
thanks for collecting all the species
but let's put the Lament Configuration
back together:
these are: dead ends... don't you think?
will an ant evolve into a super ant?
will man evolve into a superman?
will humanity ever congregate at a major
sporting event as a count
of individuals or as a disintegration
of rigid formula that might disqualify
an ethnocentric identification process:
of evolutionary scrutiny
of not seeing the details in bedtime stories
something to scare the children with?

dead ends: static: evolution is not exactly
dynamic:
it's a Dead Science...
biology is as much a study of stones
in the miasma of mountain
but still minerals in the blood
and the pulling and pushing apart: toward
a together...

happiest so: alone...
regressing: so my love is bad but two
men and a third by himself
crossdressing to X his mother
and that's mammalian grip is
insufferable
but if history begins with volcanoes
and Dinosaurs
maybe i don't want to think about
a shortcut via the Sumerians
because: apart from the Egyptian
phonetic encoding
sharing Europe with Africans
is like: calling the Neighbors of the Continent:
Slavs the stupid Inquisitors of Communism
of Yiddish Intellect
not Hebrew not Israeli
maybe the Bilingual Monstrosities of the Yids
had to be stamped out
for the raising of Israel...
maybe? don't you think?

well it would certainly help some
countries to get on the Bilingual Ladder
like it would be great
for America to become a Bilingual Nation
a grander Switzerland
a bigger Canada
a marriage of Spanish and English
would only cement a superpower
while we could have a marriage
of the Slavs with the Germans
since the French and Especially the English
have outright rejected the Germans
at least the Austrians could soften the blow
and i could too...

my my how i love using such big words
relating to people
but mind you i was hypervigilant
on the point of paranoia
at the Champions League Final
talking to German Secret Police
at Wembley...

and that's a true story
i was also outside the one talking to youths
when the cordon on Spanish Steps
was put on by the bettered
coordination of Police with Security
Staff...
the soft police can you imagine
a police officer writing a poem,
would anyone read it?
perhaps thinking about the Club of Fetishes -
some time to relax
but i just want vanilla and juicy
and plump of plumb...

that's my girl: right there...
and like a ******* at a gay pride parade
let me do my:
Uncle Paradiso:
          Sam Smith'oh Unholy:
in the vinyl store i just heard: BAHBYHLON:

mommy don't know...
yeah: i was at the "£ body shop £"
paid £130 for giving a 20 year old
Romanian ******* a massage
after she was spanked to a glitter of blueberry
on the *** with rough love rough love
lion love i am the crab: pick up
soft spoons soft metal

happy to ******* a priest...
happy to ******* a priest...
happy to make a priest a Hashem: Kosher: Halal...
happy to make a priest a kosher
ooze: then some SALT!

salz salz! and the piper of pepper!
salz salz! and the piper of pepper!