As you plaited the harvest bow
You implicated the mellowed silence in you
In wheat that does not rust
But brightens as it tightens twist by twist
Into a knowable corona,
A throwaway love-knot of straw.

Hands that aged round ashplants and cane sticks
And lapped the spurs on a lifetime of game *****
Harked to their gift and worked with fine intent
Until your fingers moved somnambulant:
I tell and finger it like braille,
Gleaning the unsaid off the palpable,

And if I spy into its golden loops
I see us walk between the railway slopes
Into an evening of long grass and midges,
Blue smoke straight up, old beds and ploughs in hedges,
An auction notice on an outhouse wall--
You with a harvest bow in your lapel,

Me with the fishing rod, already homesick
For the big lift of these evenings, as your stick
Whacking the tips off weeds and bushes
Beats out of time, and beats, but flushes
Nothing: that original townland
Still tongue-tied in the straw tied by your hand.

The end of art is peace
Could be the motto of this frail device
That I have pinned up on our deal dresser--
Like a drawn snare
Slipped lately by the spirit of the corn
Yet burnished by its passage, and still warm.

Yesterday was a rotten one
For Donald Trump. What a shame!
In desperation Trump has jumped
Out of the frying pan into the flame.

His friend and former campaign manager,
Paul Manafort, was convicted
On eight felony counts, although
More convictions had been predicted.

Then his lawyer, Michael Cohen,
Pleaded guilty on eight counts
And implicated the president
In a felony, as the tension mounts.

Trump is an unindicted co-
Conspirator in a federal crime,
According to Cohen--something that many
Have suspected all the time.

Also, an early supporter in Congress,
Hunter Duncan, was indicted
For the misuse of campaign funds.
Do all who touch Trump become blighted?

Meanwhile, Omarosa says
She has many more tapes to play.
It almost seems as though the president's
Teflon coating is wearing away.

As Trump's Republican defenders
In Congress flat out refuse to condemn
Trump's actions, people wonder,
"What does Putin have on THEM?"

"I always hire the best people,"
Donald Trump would frequently boast.
Stay away from Donald Trump
Or you, too, are going to be toast.

-by Bob B (8-22-18)

The Harvest Bow

As you plaited the harvest bow
You implicated the mellowed silence in you
In wheat that does not rust
But brightens as it tightens twist by twist
Into a knowable corona,
A throwaway love-knot of straw.

Hands that aged round ashplants and cane sticks
And lapped the spurs on a lifetime of game *****
Harked to their gift and worked with fine intent
Until your fingers moved somnambulant:
I tell and finger it like braille,
Gleaning the unsaid off the palpable,

And if I spy into its golden loops
I see us walk between the railway slopes
Into an evening of long grass and midges,
Blue smoke straight up, old beds and ploughs in hedges,
An auction notice on an outhouse wall—
You with a harvest bow in your lapel,

Me with the fishing rod, already homesick
For the big lift of these evenings, as your stick
Whacking the tips off weeds and bushes
Beats out of time, and beats, but flushes
Nothing: that original townland
Still tongue-tied in the straw tied by your hand.

The end of art is peace
Could be the motto of this frail device
That I have pinned up on our deal dresser—
Like a drawn snare
Slipped lately by the spirit of the corn
Yet burnished by its passage, and still warm.

by Seamus Heaney

I am the friend in between
Who will be summoned to take a side
When one will be less than keen
And save the other from a landslide.

It will be unconceivable
For me to give unbiased answers
If one were to ask for advice and counsel
Presuming that I can pick a winner.

Though reluctant to take a step back
There is a reason why I am against
My judgement will never be on track
By getting involved in this case.

I am implicated in some way
Even if it is not my story to tell
With luck, it was Cupid I had to play
Because being a referee will not end well.

a plain poem (the first time I came in you)*

a plain poem, light and effervescent, a flim-flan tasting,
plein de absurde rimes, full of nonsensical rhymes,
a lattice of criss crossing pastry sugary lines, the ones,
cannot, struggle to deduce, induce, reduce
from my constipated vocabulary

oh well
~
the first time I came in you,
entered, bidden welcome,
suffused a bridge between
the party of the first part,
the party of the second part,
sugar lightness airy nonsense,
two spirits dancing the singular
pas de deux of their finite lives,
a performance unbeatable,
unrepeatable,
lost to the perfection annals

Shockingly, Surprisingly, Summarily,
did not compose an ode,
don't mine a new vein of ore,
even write a plain poe poem

as best can recall,
at the candle melting of the
sealing wax of the deal,
gave an honest speech,
instantly falling fast asleep
with nary a grunted word

ever since l,
cannot write of plain love plainly,
so she makes me pay with a
new living elegant elegy daily,
a quatrain, what a pain,
this iambic panting meter
love poem writing

jeez louise,
how I wish could write of
roses red and violets blue,
get back to sleep,
oh well then,
back to work

got to make those sad moans,
hers, go away,
so please excuse me

near ten years later,
still paying the dues of the
initializing error of my way

she rumbles-mumbles in her
pre-awakening dream state,
so please excuse, got to go, think up
some implicated complicated  
verses to soothe away
her simple poorly hidden anxieties

you see,
I am happy paying
on and on,
writing like the devil furious,
she is stirring, coffee soon,
cafe au lait
if you get my meaning,
but still cannot beat,
repeat, re-alive
that simple plain living poem notated,
when first I came in her*


<•;)

9/24/17 6:49am ~7:17am

it is wonderful

just by existing

to be implicated

in a vast system

that delivers

my tax dollars

in the form of

bullets to brown

children here and

abroad

merry death

& no taxes

black masses arise!

Caught in the middle of someone’s mind game

implicated, not taking the blame

I say that but for three nights haven’t slept

with disappointment I have wept

friends can be wierd creatures

smiling, welcoming features

but with knives sharpened

and words honed

they can cut to the bone

now not anymore
the Island that isn’t
a loneliness but
Choice without being
There we were sitting and
The Sea was coming and
We (me and you) – a gorgeous staple,
Hooked,
were creating and
we saw him (after years and years) how
he was entering
like a rainbow huge
unattainable and
slow
brown – like a beam
(to hold for it)
nonpoetry - the other one is breakable
when the meaning they wave –
a hand of an insane man before a mirror
nongame – the game is dead
after Joyce and like a child is screaming
for the sandy tower after an adult
(a cynical stone) carelessly and with no reason
forded through
the dolphin is a life vital
and his existence aside of the genesis
and whole in the sea and whole
is reflected
nonliterature – the literature is dead
implicated into shape and ad of
the language but
where is here the Rapture
of the dolphin – glamour
oh forgive me I am entering
a someone else’s territory
I am not a ventriloquist too
I do not practice knowledge
there’s nothing new here each
new is unnamed
a vital place without a place
in a movement moveable
smooth like blue
fused in a deep bare
white

By: Cedric McClester

Hatred decked out
In free speech finery
Isn’t opaque
It’s clearly binary
Give us a break
‘Cos we can see
How it’s directed
At you and me

On the surface
Hatred would appear
To have an objective
That's not very clear
To anyone other than
Those who might share
In the ultimate goal
Of its puppeteers

By another name
Like free speech
It's hatred no less
Listen while I teach
Because it's a game
That must be impeached
By those who'll make the claim
That it’s only free speech

Hatred is subterfuge
Which is implicated
By how it is used
It's easy for us
To become confused
But it's still a tactic
That's often abused
Think of it as a convenient ruse

Cedric McClester (c) Copyright 2015.  All rights reserved.

The day's inertia grips an old, cold body.
Too dangerous to doze while ice melts.
Early morning commotion at the brain station.
An unnamed bird tweets but lacks followers.
Gesticulation of unknown parts. Shake the
waking brain: dissolve the haze of logic.
A Day Of Decision: to shave or not to shave.
Curse all the rules you learned in schools.
The difficulty of simultaneously breaking out
and in. White boys with hoodie-heads clearly
ignorant of color wheels. Each word waffle
in the mind meaning means. This craft makes
crazy but air and fire clarify these lines.
Poets voluntary outlaws in American eyes.
Who needs shrink wrapped verses? You are
implicated in whatever you choose to read.
Do not interrupt and demand exegesis;
we do not deal in scripture or litany;
you may only get the interpretation of wolves.
Only this blinky moment of alphabet unites us.
You are changed by this reading
if you get my memeing or not.
Armageddon is your beard to scratch. Have at it.

.
to Emilia,
you are the method to my madness

I will cry my heart out now
for every hypothetical tragedy.
I’ll break my heart now
so I don’t have to— in another life,
or a life yet to come,
drown myself in some apocalyptic loss.
Unceremonious

departures. Haunt me for life.
Mourn you for all the ways you’d die.
Prepare myself for inconsolable grief
in a simulation of a graveyard.
Tombstone upon tombstone:
Dug, prodded, buried, sunk.

My dear,
to my dismay, you are but a mortal,
implicated in the immortality of love.
In the book of all conclusions,
written in an indecipherable tongue,
your name engraved in feeble marble,
an expiration date in bright, blinding red.

How can we cheat Oblivion?
How do we defy Death?

You shrug with a confident nonchalance.

What is Death to Love Imperishable?  
What is Eternity of a moment to Oblivion?

We are in the dress rehearsal
for the season’s première and the grand finale.
The Universe has been on our side all along,
it’s poured every blood, toil and tear into
years of conspiration and orchestration,
for our one delicate point convergence.
One chance against all odds.
One intersection against all parallels.
So come what may—
Take my hand and break a leg.

Powder erupted around the wheels of
the careening steel.  Many questions
remained added to the enigma,

the empty wreck.

Glances over the deployed air bag
indicated that the zeppelin would not
fly, wrinkled, as it was, by the impact
of the road.  Limits implied, in advance,
that the wheel could be expected
to break off of the parked vehicle, not

as often as a blue moon.  This warning
did not reach the pilot deeply immersed
in an adventurous dream.  A tree
arrived to confront the day without

troubles, and, from the leaves, a mistake
was coaxed into being through the use
of incredibly attractive and accented
meanings always intended to provoke an
event, the stormy scene which exploded

in a shower of sparks from the clattering

steel.  A long wait resulted in a deluge of
water across the green strands of hair that
were floating implicated by the color and
the formal presence lofted so easily into
the sky.  In this fashion, they were able to
send passengers far out into the universe,

entering the deep space, where cats became
stable creatures, and the long neck of the
new dinosaur was reaching through the door
of the hay loft asking to be allowed this
journey into the green rivers, which painted
hair, wherever they could be found.  The

stare of the eye, in this storm,

had a memory of endless days spent
manipulating aggravated spirits to create
trivial, game points.  Although winning did not
matter, discovery was losing.  It could not be

escaped with a simple misdirection.  The
crisis was in the middle between departure and
arrival.  The bewildered animals discussed this,
thoroughly, before deciding not to participate.
They were lucky when allowed to watch

quietly from a nearby star system.

Balanced on two wheels, the bell chimed
periodic lengths to extend the race sleeping in
chests in the hall.  It all related to experiences
floundering in relation to news events and
plans to engage in safe travel, indefinitely.

One is alive the other is dead
First one's the lie,
the other was not heard,
don't go to F State,
don't let your kids out at night
     unless they can outrun a bullet.

you know
you are
in a bad
way when
that       happens.

So a jury of his, fears
the truth, because
a lie was told,
an investigation botched,
what else could six people do,
you might want to rethink that law
or orange state might pitch and yaw,
to get through
this, imbalanced scales, lifted high
while peeking from behind the fold
with one eye,

but have her ears gone deaf,
then every voice rise to speak,
because one voice was not heard.

cold-heart
Ice Just In
twisted inside out and backwards,
you might figure it out.

No, no, no, no, no, no
social justice
can fix
Ice Just In,
I don't want to do this
and stay polite,
wrong is wrong,
who stood for the others' rights?

Fortune is already there,
fame and a book tour,
no time to spare, oh
don't look for blessings
       ya'll were messing
with one of God's innocents.

don't you just hate it when one
person can make a whole state
look bad?  And don't call him a patriot.
From a place that is an aggregate,
                    how can this happen?

This just so complicated,
really the systems are implicated,
so many walk away brushing
the dust off their clothes, like
here was a waste of time.

His hand seizes no brush,
What he has is dish alone.
There came a deluge –
A surge of days
With lovely clatter of voices.

Eggs tousled,
There’s a perplexed question within.
Amused by her doll,
That little one.

His weeks-old pant
Now rowing incessant,
Famished for something.

A trance of canvasses stretching,
Where there’re outlines
On ocher-soaked linens,
Earth-dug umber, sienna, yolk yellows,
Wet, oily and waiting to bleed
Thick and gummy from the brush.

In his veins,
The scent in ether enthralls him –
He was lightheaded
leaves me lightheaded,
Daubed and anointed
By the deity he has filched from.

Now the baby cries,
Sodden, smells like a milky cotton
Sopping every minute up,
Those implicated hours.

He’ll spill years
As the earth alters his faces.
Greens of summer,
Tarnishing into autumn..
And in winter, the north light;
Grasping firestorm
In the braids of the medium’s hair.

(9/10/13 @xirlleelang)

girls
who blur my edges and kiss the sharp lines away
have no place in my heart
which they've teared and cut into a worn ornament
i'm nothing on the outside
and i was cold before you cut me open
but now i'm numb

and when i'm not,
i notice all the blood
down my chest
down my arms
under my eyes, there is nothing flowery
or frivolous about this pain, love
except in your twisted eyes

you're not really in my heart anymore
because girls like you
eventually move onto bigger,
better things
but i'm never the same as i was
you broke me beyond repair
and i have no more breath to invest in loving you

please;
go back to where you came from

Reassigning bits of me
to true consciousness-
A dream within a dream
A twisting landscape
Of implicated creations that morph
With the induction of elation and
The interpretation of intrepid behavior.

I see skin sparking,
Natural electricity, lightning
Blue cable veins bleed
There is no oxygen here
No need to seal the wound
No space to dissipate into.

The ceiling pushes up from under us
The floor spins in cultivated madness
The sky swallows me whole
And i sink into the sea,
Swollen with seductive intention
Clinging to fragments of reality-
They have no home in this realm.

At the helm of curiosity
Drifting through vagrancy
away from complacency.
spindling through fever dreams-
placid plastic landscapes.
I know not what I create,
Yet again and again
I meet my fate
within the metamorphosis
of melting clay and
The soft whir of the interstate
that stirs beneath me.

I know the soft rustling
of a rusting heart within me
Shifts the focus from fantasy
But nomadic irrelevance
has always been a decadency
Lest I leave too soon
and forget its places within me.




C.e.M. 8-9-16

Self destruction imploded,
explosive is the emotion, when corrupt and tainted,
and salvation is stagnant, dismembered and disassembled,
as it resembles a black heart that relinquishes it's broken wings,
and surrenders to complication in frustration...
A device used that's suffice to sacrifice what temptation,
made sacrilegious, a viscous disease plagued by the relic feelings that are negative prognosticators bringing induced nostalgia
that only comforts til the attachments make it arbitrary.
It's a condition that foreshadows eminent manifestations
that makes justification unequivocal, so indestructible is my problematic depression,
my depression that im stressing is what causes my stressing,
only stretching once pressing so im guessing
that self destruction is a blessing as im confessing that my lifes abusive like im a possession
and thats when i question my suicidal state
and why i wait, causing my seld destructive ways to mutates into a plutonium powered, steroid fuelled monster
that contributes to the inadequate feeling projected in my low self-esteem filled consciousness ...
until the residual given the variables is nothing short of pathetic,...
An astronomical spectrum of failure,
tears and insecurities that resonate to perpetuate the amplified undeniable confinement that nihilism builds....
Irreparable, so I reprehend reputation and release stigma,
but alas reach to accept what I cannot change,
changing the things I can and staying perplexed in differentiating.
The only respite I have is the lethargic hope that I will be terminated immediately,
til then redundant is the regretful feeling resulting in me halting
living vicariously through dead individuals visual
but your imagination cant comprehend it,
as it is declared gratuitous with the exemption of acting as a wrecking-ball to shatter my scattered and battered dreams
as demolition makes extinct the instinct to continue my pursuit for happiness that my gps can't seem to locate for a destination point,
so implicated is the uncomplicated conclusion that most concur as apt.
I contemplate collision to refute, but refuge I seek leaves me like the head of a seek, wrapped in a turban of the tangled web of lies I weave in a post freedom epiphany
that dictates to fall in line and pay taxes,
which contradicts freedoms theory and questions it as if to challege a democracy our hypocrisy sold out,
so before I implode as an introvert would,
I say as an extrovert to divert and dodge the bomb
made of self pollution society helped bond to my suicidal notion to instigate what is now destiny,
... Stand back...take cover...TNT + me = my carefully calculated subconscious desire...
Calamity that brings Armageddon ...boom!!!
As I yell goodbye before the dramatic, and traumatic ******...
brains blood and guts erupt, to help conduct
and orchestrate the witnesses who are now throwing up

By: Cedric McClester

Hatred decked out
In free speech finery
Isn’t opaque
It’s clearly binary
Give us a break
‘Cos we can see
How it’s directed
At you and me

On the surface
Hatred would appear
To have an objective
That's not very clear
To anyone other than
Those who might share
In the ultimate goal
Of its puppeteers

By another name
Like free speech
It's hatred no less
Listen while I teach
Because it's a game
That must be impeached
By those who'll make the claim
That it’s only free speech

Hatred is subterfuge
Which is implicated
By how it is used
It's easy for us
To become confused
But it's still a tactic
That's often abused
Think of it as a convenient ruse


Cedric McClester, Copyright (c)  2016.  All rights reserved.

We house intimate thoughts built upon contrasting poles. Echos of raging laughter; scratching against crystalline memories. Halted ache. Stagnant sorrow. I lay awake. The dimensions of my head sinks into the pillow like a solvent. Dissolving. A chemical combustion. As time lapses depression becomes me. Self-implicated torture. We negate apologies for a decadent virtue.

Reflexion can bring depression
When reality is perception
predicated on a view of deception
Leading a manifestations progression

That shatters the complexion
Showing false feelings that lessin'
With the realization, or implication
Your aspirations are now lessons

That leave you less than copacetic
As dissipating is how impressive
You thought you were but pathetic
Is all you are, and so poetic

Is justice, and just this embedded
Is enough to make one emasculated
An epiphany, that's description be
A prescription seen to mask u hated

By the you subliminally traded
When morals and ethics do not
Seem to grow lessons as possessions
Show no imperfections, but got

Ramifications, that stand complaisant
When complacence seems apt
But that impatience, is now a patient
That's not embracin your thought

Until aspirations and inspiration
That was on vacation comes back
With inflation for the duration and is
Stationed threatening to smack

A reality check, as fallacy sets, at
The front door, on the door mat
As Persistent without resistance
As a fiend imprisoned by a crack

Addiction, that conditions the track
Of your life, filling its path
With inept regret u once had swept
Under the carpet for a debt that

Haunts the future, so u adapt
Or stay learning nothing and lack
A vision that helps position what
The collision causing impact

Has now been givin, so just collapse
Or accept the challenge& fight back
So you can disappoint and appoint
A future controlled by u or fact

Is that every hater who laughed
Every person who said u lacked
Can eat the **** given when their vision predicted there isn't a hack

Or given to counter act
The retardation of ur handicap
So my mission, is to take what I'm given, and make a livin that has

Something that pride can intact
Remain, as a brain shows the dead
Can resurrect like a man whose ***
Lets him be ***** after ****** past

Symbolizing that in fact
That a comeback before an end
Is possible and is plausible,
More so than Christ rising again

No I'm not anti religion but when
It's time to be brave, what'll aid you
Is not a multiple layer of prayer cuz
Despair, can only repair and save you

Not Jesus Christ or Buddha in life
Cause respite and redemption
Can only be implicated once infiltrated
Is the integrated affection

That failure uses to comfort you
And lead you to ultimate denial
So you believe the deceived, that convinces u what u achieved is vital

When it's minuscule and limits you
To a pity fool it's pitiful
So it's time to leave a mark, not a ****
Cuz a stink left as a residual

Leaves only a bad smell no visual
Be a man who's original
Don't follow footsteps, and hook left
Like u cook **** for a digital

Scale that weighs the individual
Not just the drugs and it states
That you are exactly what u will be
An expendable person who makes

No difference, cause indifference
Leaves you equal to pigeons
A scrub who only gets love from those who can't get above their addiction

Either that or your in a prison
Built by your bad choices now left
To be a constant reminder of how
You are blinder than a finer kept

Lemming, who gave away an ending
Full of purpose and worth
For possessions with no progression
Givin no lesson, a birth

Made in vain, and when the pain
Strains and stains your life
You'll remain in with the pain
You slowly obtain and might

Be susceptible to sleepless nights
Unprepared for the endless fights
But when insights not a set sight
You relinquish the potential unlike

The one fate expected in spite
Of the ignorance, saying "psyche"
As it takes. The bliss it Gives,
Cuz likes a ***** when despite

The chance given for flight
Glory, greatness but it's height
Is stumped when even Forrest Gump
Succeeded when less than bright

Was he, but resiliency, invites
And provokes a hope that lies
In Every man that believes he can
Execute a plan, that dies

When you accept all the lies
That insist incessantly, ur trail
Will never lead or proceed to a day you'll exceed or hail

So when the greed impales
With desire, and greed, it's salt
Will cost you the dreams you tail
Prognosticating the reason u fail

Grow win groan… mark off/28jul2022, upgrades check…
I  said I would, if I believed I could, gain, that actual
ever interest turning every fifty years, on unpaid
Jubilees among the feeble minded,
all of the people, some of the time.
- Interesting times, since ever I was aware
- compounding mistakes as hates, oy vey
- Travail, travel, wanderer drawn away
- Covid positive
by an un-listed wind,
an anomoly
on a nano
scale
- not that either, I lost count, yes
weight as value - {always} a war making ideas heavy,
salt thirsting from inside the wall, the system
makes the body drink so I may think, all is well
with my soul.
Weight-wise, I am alive,
worth then is measured
in might as might may prove choice of - el, yes, well
el, we all nod, we find the sound early to disting-wish

so. way say it, we are right our way, we drink
from our own wells, tanks we make, when we may.
We save on the surface the sheen, squinting eye tech
see in snow pieces of eight,

right
-- self assembling nano tech with a
built
in
programing language. But, I add, in my mind
but, on or off- but on, in breath
the living things are
running programs
built. Built in ifery ever, if the system forms,
the system must be activated or nothing occurs
to you to
bring
life
--- I'm not clear, is right conscience or conscious, with use
of science sense signals set
to know
when
intentional design is a tribe ID-word.
- we designed this thing we are in, or on, or about/
- maybe
(rules against saying intelligent design rule the teacher,
not the peacemaker, being minded to know all the magi-tech,
and more, when it comes to rules
in love and war, life,
per se, ain't fair.
Pay the piper and the mind that tuned the whistle
in my denture
to this peculiar signal)

morought-othephic resonance vector infection- Þ
check
genome editing crisper- thorny issue
check
Þ
humanizing pigs, honest.
craig ventor lifemaker?
He is known
for leading the first draft sequence
of the human genome
- using a mind formed after the bomb.
- there is a mark in time, for each first time.

tools, yeast synthesis, is this a war?
Physical war being planned
against our eukariotic soul mother, brother

is this
from Wonderbread,
an antibiotic problem or mere remaining wrong ideas?
Is it like…
cancer - or Chaucer in the shade, as the lackeys towed that
barque, 'n'**'st that bale, bo andoncha know
nobody steals a $400 bale o' good Montana hay for no reason…
there was a needle in that role,
a piercing maddening cross-referrent occurrence implicated
as interference pre'ferencing prefer not all you wish,
pre-referencing the author's op-own imagined experience…
meaninglessness is hard to market.
- I already read the writing on the wall metaphor
- I know the names I'll find, I just
- can't remember those two.

---checksums all the way down if/then/else
find a way to live.
Identify the man you were, read him in.
When he's his old, he'll seal the exploit.
Cancer decides, for itself,
that's all I can make from the confusion here,

there must be some kinda way outa here

You recall, said the Joker, to The Thief
meaningful work.
Guiding to death.
Shall I solve your meaningless ness, or my own?
Or might I

find the meaning built in,
that black box with the built in
programing language that
Singularity University guy said is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that


… interest, drew me, what drew you?
compounding
Life. Me, too.
Divine interest in life, especially the mortal aspect,
as pertains to life and godliness and all,
that came with this acceptance
of dominion, within the bubble I am pre-pressured
with somewhere
- so excited- jumpy-ohshit-spot
- runs
between plumb and puredy **** sure.

Having entered again the as-if realm, that m on the end of real

means money maybe maybe not knot ex-acted
see
a door? a narrow way few see? mmmm
Follow or flee, ennui, as for me,
I believe I've heard treasure is truth.

I dare be, yond all I ever knew, to make answer-able
prayers. I be for no other reason my reasonability
allows, but to trouble the water and watch it settle
- silver screen in the thymus meme-ory device
Sno-globe meditation technique, practiced in secret since…
who knows, but crystal ***** did do something.
People can look at sno-globes for ever,
and never grow weary of the novelty.

For some, simple is good, good is simple.
God is light.
Where light is…not
nothing is.
Evil thing in my mind, you have been certified nullified.

Wind war? I inherited the wind.
I know why the broad Sargasso sea is so still, willo'mywinds
whisper
Peacemakers come from homes troubled in the making.
The fecting up of the Peacemaker, protrudes
effective peacemaking is more
preclusive
unsettling,
Dear Rhea rumbling at more
pressure boiling for her to loose some
air.
Cultures sharing antibodies for old evils.
Once the evils men imagine are exposed,
refreshen the air. Take another hit,
message accepted,
we can handle those
acting-as-if the losers won,

but none need lose, for life, per se,
in the realm of mega-we,
life is seen
most precious by all men.

Some men may dare to despise their own flesh,
(despise means not look at, spek means look at, in many tongues)

however,
never shall life despise some men and look kindlish at others.
Salt, be salt, water, water, you, you
-insert Markov blankness
life has proven itself in you. Be or not is not the quest.
Go, be more alivening, is the quest.
Be a little leaven, a viral bit of peace,
just past understanding,
well within reach.

Be alive, and where you live, make peace so life may
may -be empowered to- make peace so life may
dub thee Troen Ridder
truth-be-told, teller
maker-of- peace so life may
increase abundantly good forever
for no better reason

than if you had your own way we would be friends.

Search for a video of sanctioned war in germ terms
eleven days from minimum

survivable dose MSD

to total ******* and

destruction of both sides, unless
the bubble of all they have learned can be

pressurized, from the insides,…
Thanks, yawn. stretch, sneeze
Pop.

I heard about Alamogordo. Thanks for that, too.

rightnow. what does fear of not knowing a known

feel like, suffering wise, scale of 1 to 10?

How about (odd phrase, eh) we suffer, instead,
the fear of the un
known

Nova Sanctorem sorta stuff. Book learned
spells mispoken by orphans

sifting through the ashes of all that went before,
enchanting, if one child finds a drum,

safe from the fire in the secret place,
child strikes the drum one time

wait
echo

Did your home place echo?
During day, or during night?

In my desert, it is both.
- go to where stories lie at rest.
With this drum and my echos,
we may finish your migration

Walk a mile with me, let me help you
with your bag,
your thing, trip, scene

Remember then?
Enchanting times with different echoes

Ancient, old as dirt, snake clan secret
extreme mental challenge trials.

Now. What's the missing or broken
ness you all are murmuring

how about? May I?

May I understand comprehension of perceptions
in the interest of interesting times,

which, when I was told that

"may you live in interesting times", is
alleged, an Imperial curse,
which, first,
by then, I had all ready taken if-that for
granted as good will toward me.

I considered it diligently
I sought the sweet influence of Pleiades,

I did. Lucky Luciano and the Polish word Lekka

Luck is a factor if luck is originally
onto logical epi stem strateg-ic
clear light, magi-tech-wise.

There is evidence. The rocks bear my significance
-in 2022
If I can, try sign if I can, and no sir not can sir
but breathe sir
censor, sweet sense or else

the most benign of the self-righting models
to embody
the six spins in one bubble.

could stumble and fall and have no means to right,
get the signal, right itself, per se,
if wrong fail of function better next time…ping
we wer- yea, verily ver-ifity confirmed
it-ify-ing evil, first
really.
Life in mere terms,
words live here, we know
Intentional wrong precedes right
in my experience of living while waiting for you.
but once you have a grip on evil
as a thing in your own realm,
under your dominion;

then, don't miss a wink.
sleep tight, don't dis-integrate and wake up crazy.

When Ezekiel saw the model, if he saw the model,
he'd, he 'ould have been well and truly
amazed, aclaimin', in awe, I saw

"wheels within wheels within wheels bubblin'
bib-lin' bubblin' in my soul"

banjo and fiddle, painful for an orphan
yearnin' to learn ttdrr drum that drum

My drum. The drum I found in the secret place
I knew was there, after the fire.

-----
Ah, Christmas, the message with its own,
built in medium to grow in with no competition.

The least suspected are all infected.
That Usual Suspects, all those sick social memes, as if

the war of numbers was a game for cannon founders

Krupp and whom, Red Shield in the ghetto?
I don't think that makes
all the sense in the world.
who was Warburg…{question or mark of timing}

-- we had things between scenes, glyphs, right
let's have a gliph,if we edit- I am this-Þ, as an after thought
Þ is the th sound among certain ancient tongues,
deafness separation and blind singers grown wealth in wine.

The act has formed another wedom,
and we have joined them on fi, okeh, fi-semper
in fiduciary, and rests, in truth compressed
Trust. On the dime
flip. Truth rests.
On this page again, a different me,
indeed, as different time, I'm
certain, fluidity of space, currents

swirling up three dimensions, six ways
measured from now at the center, once,

now at the edge, stretching one point,
to a pivot,
turn around and wonder what we do,
we mortal watchers, consuming life to live…

questing questions ion-
state, condition, or action, quest
quaerere "seek, gain, ask"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=quest>

Can you think slowly? I can. Several volumes back,
we, discovered Jello-timespace, blinkable
and rubbable dry bubble eyes, murine
is accessible, state conditions or act

as if I were a maker of peace,
on the grandest scale,
would I fret living
for no reason
but one I made up, from bits of others,
made up from matters cogitated to troubled
state conditional actions
made up, fantasized, built to imagine going past,

a mountain of a man, big bad Yohan,
mean, mean, mean man,

I mean it, always.

6-19-2022 2200
- not so long ago, then
Father's day, lotsa laughs,

little error allowed, the fineness,
sorting racist fear from awareness,
the culture does produce to patterns,
common genetics, tend to produce
select models of all the options,
over and over and over again,
a loss
a complete misconception of my reason
able faith, applied, no lies, only big stories,
yes, I cannot remember what was real
and what was what I would have done,

then I remember the gun, I did tell that
guy with the gun
to stop. And he did.

Then the other guy, the one with the
shot gun, he has in my face,
and I am ready,

see, I say, to me today, I am ready

if I were you, you would think nothing
p-- I am too
tired and slightly drunk to care,

of course, the course is parseltongue tested,
listen, hiss, you know, the warning,
I own this space this time,
the serpent says to me,
I laugh and stomp it,
I made that snake,
it was not real.

You know how I feel,
daring, don't give a dam
gonna do another show,

rock and roll reality, believe me,
we have the Sisyphus's, happy
engine wound up and ready,

but Sisyphus quit.
Got to the top and said, that's it
I quit.
And time stopped in that sector.

Go look.
Nothing changes and Sisyphus
is happy as Hell to have nothing to do.

I want something cooler, reader five,
blackbandit-double-ought shot
pick a sigel jelly sidgil  sign damint spel chek
you know what I mean, magic it sigil -right
I guessed that.
My son in law cringes at my cultural crassness.
I think jews come in more recognizable patterns
than cultures that abandoned the marriage restrictions.

"At least --- did not marry a ------" Oy, right, mix race,
half-breed
race as a what, eh?
what we weigh is race, we do not know,
they said we know, but we don't so, no more, race
is a wrong idea,
not right.
The flavor, the leaven and spices and plagues of
cultures, idea - a we of one earth
- call Covid leaven,
- we all been co-leavened
- we all share simbionts,
- earth is our home and our calling is to be good.
- Spirit inspire expire ssssssss
that is a people, idea that shapes a people
cultures, symbiosis chimera are we, carriers
post all we all survived, we are carriers of all it took.


Quiet, the ride, holy silencio, yohan let it be son,
grow old and burn your pages/
slow skip staged events…

Okeh, from the beginning I am the auth-oth- or that
maker up, of my faith, author and glosser, shiner, finisher
on elements at work in melody and har,mmmmoney
echoes, eeeee
we agree, that is no reason to dare see it so,
we are all, by nature's god, double-minded,
doubt not is a trick of the trade,
ɤ thistledo-find a phoneme that fits kid
unify, un yonder run un if un if un if I die I knew
you know, knowing good and evil, was the plan,

nothing was a secret, once in a life time you may know.

Causes and effects,

implicated in something --


like the One and All.

Ah, you must be Alice, call me old hatter
My ears have been ablaze with implicated chatter
I just can't seem to ration out my rationale in a rational manner
And secondly I've lost all the firsts that I had gathered

There's the door
Please do come in
I won't let you
leave again
this door won't shut
the way winds through my head
I'm growing so tired.
we are not going to bed

Ah goodnight, Alice, you're back
I left you a note and it came out so flat
I put the wrong end in front
so only you may see
I tried to be blunt but it just isn't me

Baby did you hear that the sound of the world confused, hungry babies crying no distribution of food. The media distracts us with evil to hide the truth, moves are implicated too un inspire the youth tightening the noose making it rational to just lose.

Sometimes i think of fighting and taking everything back, something has to be done and we have do it fast, arm ourselves with hope because we might be the last, the devil laughs at the inspiration i have, but it all adds up so people just do the math.

By: Cedric McClester

To just sit back
And let it happen
Means she was derelict
Or otherwise jus’ napping
In either case
They’ll be no high five slappin’
For giving away the city
In a bow and wrappin’

It’s clear to me
Her capacity was reached
She allowed the decorum
To be breached
In contradiction to everything
Dr. King preached
What that says to me is
She needs to be impeached

Now some or y’all will say
Give the sister a break
But my question to them
Is how much does it take
For her to stop sleeping
And be shaken awake
So it’s time that the sister
Got hook or the rake

I wanr the name of genius
Who burned down CVS
Someone who doesn’t live there
If I had to guess
But it’s nothing but ashes now
Nevertheless
How come the police stood by
And watched it digress

Looters and burners
Are clearly implicated
But they’re not the only ones
It must be stated
So can someone tell me why
The mayor waited
For her city to burn
And only acted belated

Cheese & rice Jesus Christ; Jesus please us; Jesus, He's us, ergo: No matter how smart we believe ourselves to be: a 3-pound Human brain is inadequate to the task of fathoming the universe. That's why: Shoplifting a sheet of plywood is impossible as concealing it in your trousers expands the shape of your *** to four feet by eight feet. That's why: I.Q. tests are for people stupid enough to let the government grade the worth of their intellects. I've only reciprocated against the **** congregants haunting Internet poetry venues.

After years of thought on the matter on whether or not it matters.

Implicated complications frivolities and such.
Demand my time and suffrage, a very gentle touch.

I seek to find a reason for these things I don't control.
Why must these things happen? I tell you I must know.

Does karma as it does hold a certain sway?
Or do the gods themselves decide on judgement day?

Perhaps I'll ask Ganesha, he should know of what's become.
Maybe I can trade if I tell him where he's from?

Do I have to leave my mortal coil to come upon the truth?
To finally hear my dark side speak, no matter how uncouth.

To **** the nature of anything is really quite obtuse.
Failure to understand this thing, doesn't mean it's of no use.

Your beliefs my friend have failed you, there lies no right answer.
Ignorance prevails again, like an existential cancer.

I think I'll stick to thoughts and leave my mind open.
It seems to be the fairest way and easiest with coping.

I hope you find your happiness, your illusion be it good.
Me? I'll just keep hanging on and let it be as it should.

Walking down the pale blue corridor
Framed doors line the sides, knowing what lies behind
Each door has two buttons, one light, enter or exit

Old victorian furniture, flickering candle light
seems to light the walls, the last door on the left
open waiting my arrival

A lump forms in my throat, my eyes water uncontrollably,
trembling as I gasp for a normal breath
Family look and talk to me ,here nor do I see them

At first, I only dare to see the flowers on the gray casket
my heart races
The bangs on top of her forhead every hair in place
Catholic cross, collar lace, her body out of context
to her personality and soul for those living in the world of their make-believe

They made her into what they needed her to be
to absolve them from any wrongdoing,
her family never understood her
They paid their final respects with hidden emotions of
guilt and shame

I reminisced  of a childhood adventure
implicated
concluded with a smile
Strange what I chose to remember
In the mist of my sorrow

Overwhelming  bewilderment
places left unseen ,words left unsaid  
Funerals are for the living not the dead
through moments like these
one finds inner strength
Tribute to MOM

One thousand dogs laugh
while the innocent and the condemned
share simultaneous dance.
They worship the rattle of the snake
beyond the frontier of human decency,
which poses the question,
"is god's love above the navel
or somewhere below"?

Though still a saint, I am the enemy of the common public
implicated during this sordid scandal.
I arrive promptly at the hour of the counter clock,
because same as you, I am in the midst
of the struggle for love, and I am suffering.

this is not love
but a fetishisation of
drowning and dying breaths

don’t try and tell me this is how it should feel
that the lack of blood on your hands
somehow makes you innocent
you are implicated through the slashes on my heart,
love, there is no getting around the fact that you wielded a knife
and recklessly stabbed at me

to say that you loved me
is to say you fell in love with how bloodied you left me
don’t misunderstand,
i am not the pain you embedded within me
love is much too fragile for you to understand
or even recognise
and if there was ever any trace of love between us
that would let you blink for a second
and touch me softly
you murdered that

the distance remains, and the empty space helped me see
you are twisted and dark, love,
and i could never fall in love with you
or even look at you

don’t try and tell me i’m broken
i am, but not because i love you
you arranged the pieces of my heart
into ugly slurs that made me feel so worthless
how could you love me, or even pretend you did?

this is not love,
but the residue of the unhealthiest of attachments;
calling you love is kind and caring
and you deserve neither, love.