There was a day

Yes, we all imagine we remember that day, but

now it is as if it never

really-- every y must be just if ied or it is never
a requirement

it is a re less
quirement

not every story has been pointedly
taken as granted,
even, oddly,
once
Quire a quest is a matter of motion,
hear, and there, time and all that,

Now, next has never, as in non-realized as realizable

up to now.
told ere un. That may, is. law, an untold tale is never twisted.

between the reversible nand gates of our augmented imaginations.

once,
upon a time lonagone, which were common (or come on)
signals scrambled at this depth, but pressure proves

the point. We are past all that for now
by reason of why

curiosus curiosus our imaginary guide, once

all the imaginations in the hearts of men were only evil,
continually

Then Noah or some storyteller, or prophet
caught wind of a sweet savour

roasting on a fire tended by Tubalcain's daughter,

Naamah, last named bearer of Cainish flavored genes
never set, epigenetically beyond the woumb

Mito-mom,
she coulda been, some wombed man was,
you know, we all share mito-mom,

science of some sorts can't lie. Take that as truth.
If I could believe it,
I could swallow it,

maybe
you can, too. Oh, the myth we model on matters little,
the boys and shoemakers who sniffed the glue,

they loosed some wild ideas

got all tngled with stories from ever

where in the world
have you been?

You just got outa jail. I'm right. I can smell

well,
near as bad, but it was then, a mere made up monent
meant now to hold a point

pon which a story longer than I have ever told may stand and

be told, the king
s story teller stutters in his sleep.

haha
that.
okeh, this is not pre posed as funny,
merely odd,
one ish in a realm of twos and threes and fives

spinning into etern naughtity, empt un-null-ift possibles.

Naught me less press on, find a vortex, flow,

we are peacemakers stranded upon a time of war, scabs. we heal.
don't pick on my inflexibility in matters

of duty. Leaven has always been the means of re pair ideology.
Quarkish insistence on duality from the ***.

The augmented ones are getting better,
as a choice, they see how good
ever works,
some fix what evil broke, some make new ways around the lava
and
balance, spin, lean, wobble, no place to fall here

we gotcha. Gravity and light, those are givens.
this is life.
make something of everything you ever imagined possible.
then die to see if it works.

But wait. Don't die early. It makes grief, which is
what fills the slough of despond.

We are draining that. Birds that nested there all died,
it's frogs moved to Florida, bugs and molds say they can make it any where

so, we are watering the desert. We grow Panama Red. Who eats roses?

Critters manifested as ideas that never linger but in the miry clay,

Most of those went north.

Deserts served and deserved have I claimed as mine
from horizon to horizon, all I see is mine to see serve and
de-serve, I served and am served and
sometimes
often,
I de serve and see as free as I may imagine

bodys are not bearers of light. There is hope. Right is known,
you know right, and you know good, and you know evil

Spike Jones had the hermit wiseman say,
Do the right...

self-evidently not a clue. we thought he got on at nano nano

Hung himself. Why do they do that? Why display dis paired
re-alification.

It resonates, dead end. turn back, Sylvia Plath warned you.
Don't die without knowing

we, me and you, we are nothing with out you.
This touch of word to meaning,
this is in time, mate, we
made a ripple in
material reality past all limittions of time and space,
in a word or two packed with ancient ideas,
which always spill,

whenever we open them, dust in the wind , a ditty from
some A.M. experience, on the way to now

we sing a song of six pence worth, and settle
with a jug o'rye.

Death drives fast in stolen car
Pursued en mass by cops afar
Down motorway of he and she
Who drive in innocence, legally.
Colliding in cascading mess
Of debris, dust and huge distress.
Face down upon the tarmac now
Handcuffed with glock at bleeding brow.

Whilst winding through a country glade
An opulence of deep, green shade,
A confluence of peace and quiet
Where nature’s art, in beauty, riot,
Where squirrels dart and rabbits munch
In turquoise grasses, lush, for lunch,
And sunspots sparkle in the shade
This place where poetry is made.

Juxtaposed, the concrete hash
Where ranting politician’s clash,
Where each, determined to be right
Adopts inflexibility's fight,
To hold to ransom common sense
Whilst seated stoically on the fence,
Committing all to farce and pain
Whilst pointing to another’s blame.

White waves wash the pristine sand
Where in Bermuda shorts, I stand,
Soaking up the tropic sun
In holiday, now just begun,
Far out I see a distant sail
Which tells a fascinating tale
Of opalescent crystal seas
Caressed by mystic scented breeze.

Juxtaposed, is terrors threat
Caste worldwide through Islam’s net,
Despite the protestations made
By Clerics, genuine, dismayed,
Permeated far and wide
Through violent death’s perverted pride.
Causing misery obscene
Whilst rinsing hands in blood till clean.*

Hark, a lark on yonder hill
It’s song, so clear, enduring till
It ends in silence… so pristine,
That tears stream down my face, so lean
And gaunt, so filled with joy am I
With gift of lark song sung to sky,
A gift, so sweet and clean and pure
If juxtaposed, it will endure.

Marshalg
Portraiture of my yin & yan in this day.
4 October 2013

within my own inflexibility My rigidity deteriorates me
circumstances are changing
these are potentials I’m afraid to correct
I become carried away when I identify with stimuli
I’m boundless I know no restraints

I’m extreme in reaction though I regret my severity
I’m alert to the patterns instincts fail for the need of harmony
I align, my emotions with awareness
an enchanted form of perfected grace
loyalty to doubt lack of power to concentrate
focus perceived illogically
spontaneously conceptualizing
determination leads to recognition in a position of influence
but only when recognized for being in the right place at the right time
the bitterness in rejection when overstimulating the mind


Even amongst the greatest of decadences
spirit warrior has no polarity
in nature of truth blessed this innocence maintained regardless
analysis of personal actions and effects
in an extreme state of self consciousness
self deluted irrational focus on what’s already passed
this inspiration that a rational concept can be established

lack to continue intelligence to endure
persistent re-evaluation
indecision in times of transformation
a deep and profound need to self express
materialism disrupts creativity at best
attracting loyalty as a gift
leadership sanctioned in times of crisis
a natural position of practicality avoiding conflict to keep security
alert to patterns of inferior elements
creates cooperation and results in management
the most successful action is powerful and extreme reaction
a boundless energy which ignores awareness
no restraint puts spirit at risk
balancing principals with energy leads to expansion
and properity
securing identity through careful consideration
opposing restrictions with determination
ignorance of innocence betrayed by action
when finding yourself in a negative position
the success of restraint lies not in abandonment
but caution expressed as a social experiment
instincts may fail for the need of Harmony
yes establish conditions for collective mastery
self deluted transformation reassed inspiration
to omit retrogression would be the sin of omission
to justify these time would be to mislead the mind

the acid green numbersof the digital clock surge
flickering indefinitely against their black-board canvas
Symbols in a constant flow of rotation, here where our circadian rhythm dances, 
stepping forward gently into the grace of each hour
You taught me to move my feet,
I passively glide to her lead
as she guides my hand
tilts up my chin with the night of her finger tips
into the sea of the sky my moss marble eyes sink
clinging to the vast, black, uncertainty of it all
a weight off my shoulders,
now chained to my ankles
no better than a corpse, within the hold of gravity’s grasp
flooded airways
who had just met an unknowing last breath
which had escaped silently into the innocence of reflective bubbles.
And if still waters run deep,
is it wrong to tread them blindly? Shattered as the seashells scattered across the frantic ocean floor
is the state of the sanctuary
that I used to know as my mind.
Cement side walks still cracking in encounter with life’s forces
sentenced by it’s own inflexibility. 
But with the willows i’ll bend, 
swaying silently with the sureness of the traveling breeze

If I always seek other’s approval
I’ll make myself a slave
Believing life’s a struggle always brings
Obstacles in my way

If I never surrender my ego
No security or peace
If I keep trying to control others
Enlightenment can’t be reached

Refusing to turn over a new leaf
I’ll never stretch to new heights
Only feeling my separateness prevents
My connection with all types

If I never face things that are difficult
I’ll never see easy times
If I always project blame on others
I’ll live to deny my crimes

If I cannot acknowledge my mistakes
I’ll never feel forgiven
If I am governed by intolerance
I’ll always be fear-driven

If I always must make the first move then
I won’t learn to wait or stay
If I always compete just to win then
I won’t feel the joy of play

If I act like I know all the answers
I won’t know questions to ask
If I pretend to be somebody else
I won’t know myself at last

If I always insist on the last word
To prove the points I defend
I’ll never be someone’s beloved or
Ever earn respect from friends

If I love clinging to my possessions
I’ll never learn how to lose
I hold fast to inflexibility
With only my way to choose

If I never laugh spontaneously
I’ll miss out on how freeing
A good belly laugh is great medicine
Re-charging my whole being

If I can’t feel life’s pain and sorrow then I
Won’t feel comforted or soothed
If I hold back feeling vulnerable
I’ll never feel deeply moved

If I don’t expect my voice to be heard
I’ll never know true expression
If I never define who I am then
Who will plot my direction?

If I never speak up and go along
Always swayed by a stronger voice
Losing a piece of myself one by one
And making no choice is a choice

I’ll be sold down the river easily
Without values life’s a waste
Avoiding all struggles I’ll never know
There’s no problem that can’t be faced

Always charging through life at breakneck speed
Living like push comes to shove
Staying a slave to accolades I will
Confuse approval with love

Off balance, I avoid helping others
Never jump in with both feet
If I never embrace this life wholly
I won’t know when times are sweet

I refuse to cultivate tenderness
I hide my feelings with lies
I’ll never learn the blessings of failure
Being so brittle, I’ll die

Life is born without shape.

****** out from one to become none

Fresh clay to be cast, spun, and molded

Folded in mother's arms she begins to give  form

With a kiss from the source the little form is claimed and a wrinkle above the brow is creased; the maker's mark.

New movement comes in each day stretching out the raw material and shaping more detail.

A mouth of questions spoken to fill in the scrawling words written inside. A hidden design with each learned answer

The world takes a turn. The work  is carved, scraped, and left scarred but still more beautiful in the details.

It sees others begin to set dry becoming stuck in their ways. So brittle now in their inflexibility.

Defiant to the end instead of being baked jumped into the water to become something new.

What Einstein wrote is at the very heart of Zen-- logic and rationality is inferior to insight and intuition as the latter cuts through the limited thinking process as it is seamless compared with the rigidity and inflexibility of the former.

becoming solid with inflexibility
a mind slowly dies, slowly, dies

How Many Fools?

How many fools must fall to end
This war, this endless, ****** trend?
So many more — for Russia’s reached
The depths, where all the souls are breached.



---------------------



The Pendulum

The pendulum is broken now —
The rhythm fades, no steady flow.
Maybe I’ve just run dry somehow —
A hack, a scribbler — don't you know?



---------------------



Substitute Line

A hollow verse, a foolish rhyme —
Come on, you clown, it’s your time!
Go ahead, oppress the weak,
Make your mockery complete.



---------------------



The Poet’s Futility

The poet's work — a fruitless fight,
In fear and madness, lost in spite,
Of lies, of greed, of all we’ve lost —
A world consumed, no matter cost.



---------------------



The First Rainy Season in Moldova

Rainy season —
A subtropical place...
Pour it down,
Let chaos fill the space.



---------------------



Kaleidoscope

A little is enough for thought —
A kaleidoscope of books, of plot.
But oft it serves to pull away —
It fills the heart with empty sway.



---------------------



Social Realism — A Crude Shift
A super-concentration of mind,
Not for fascist-communist drift,
But to drag the "minds" to the grind.



---------------------



Hear! I Crave Wonders and Spectacles
Bored to rot in cracks and holes,
It's rashism that takes its toll —
A wonder of madness, dull and cold.



---------------------



The Writer’s Absurdity

In the madhouse of deceit,
Publishers reign, with endless feet,
Of sheepish novels scattered wide,
Where truth and sense are cast aside.



---------------------



"The law is harsh, but just indeed"
It traps the fools, and makes them bleed.
For clever, sly, and cunning fish —
This is the world's inevitable wish.



---------------------



"Once Upon a Time," or What They'll Remember About Us...

"We lived," but never were —
To Hell we sailed, in lies a blur.
Conquered fears that drowned the light —
Worse than death, these endless nights...



---------------------



It Doesn't Matter How Many Foes
For paper tigers, fierce they show,
But in this world of fools and lies,
Their roar is hollow, their strength dies.



---------------------



The Futility of Effort

The fruitlessness of all we try,
To pass through lies that twist and vie,
In tortures built of deceit and pain,
We struggle on, but all in vain.



---------------------



"Inflexibility" in Personal Ties
And patience with the rules of Night —
Blind to all the ****** lies,
The nature of a goat "in flight".



---------------------



"You boast of a pure past, you swine?
Once a ******, now a ***** in line..."
Politicians always stand apart,
But they're tainted from the very start,
With dirt and lies they’ve carried long —
A mark of filth, a tale of wrong.



---------------------



Foolish, Futile Hopes

“Hope is the dream of the waking.”
— Plato

Dream breaks through the fog of Lies,
That people proudly call their "mind."
It’s hard to shout a clear "deny!"
When truth is something none can find.

Dream, Lie, and Madness — hand in hand —
Have wrapped the world in shadow’s dome.
And if you're Tender, you must stand
Alone — serve Soul, not Mind — and roam.



---------------------



Doom

Doom’s drawing near — no way to stall.
The crowd still stumbles through the Night.
Just few attempt, if so at all,
To keep their sanity in sight.

The mind is under fierce attack —
This age, the final, seals our fate:
Fear, filth and lies — a rising stack —
And man dissolves beneath their weight.

A puppet takes the human’s place —
CowID made that crystal-clear.
"Great changes" wait for every face:
Shame masked as kindness, pride as fear.

In rabid haste, the beasts parade —
They crave to strike before the Flame
Consumes this world, so wrongly made,
In Fascism’s all-consuming name.



---------------------



Lawless by Design

"Who told you that there are laws to which our behavior must conform?"
— Arthur Schopenhauer


The BEASTS are drafting laws again,
The masses nod, applaud, comply.
They’re chains disguised as rules for men —
Decay is what they justify.

Obeying BEASTS — the only creed
That now defines what life should be.
But is it life, this sham, this screed,
Where thought is tossed in lunacy?

Their minds are loops of prefab clips,
No spark, no soul, no conscious thread —
Thus drunks and psychos, full eclipse,
Become the norm, just as they’re bred.

That’s what the BEASTS have always sought —
A world of rats in legal snare,
Where laws mean: "Crawl!", and truth is naught,
And lying’s breathed like common air.



---------------------



Creation

Boredom’s ***** won’t ever find you
If your craft and fire bind you
In this world of rot and madness.
Else you’ll drown in lies and sadness.

Lies are rampant, wild, insane.
But if art is clear and plain,
It can clear the mind and senses —
Laziness just dulls defenses.

Strain is needed — real, not hollow,
When your questions you must follow.
There’s no other way — delusion
Rules the world in full profusion.

Earth is racing to the brink,
Not much time is left to think.
Make your mark — ignore the glory,
Even if no reads your story.

They won’t notice, they won’t care —
But so what? It’s in the air.
That cliff is near. The end is tight.
Create — while you still have the right.



---------------------



Mock-Haiku

A slug crawls slowly to the height...
Yeah right — that slug won’t make it far.
It’ll find a "reason," sure —
The slimy herd knows why they are.

Don’t be a slug — forget the mold!
Don't creep — just fly, ignore the rules!
The slime will call your flight too bold.
Don't trust the slick — fly past the fools!



---------------------



Instant Nonlocal Ties

There are ties beyond all measure —
Instant, distant — Nature’s thread.
But the ****, in blind displeasure,
Chop what never should be shred.

They defile what is united,
Chasing joy in soulless ways.
With wild howls, the press, excited,
Drives them straight into the blaze.

Yet the End comes — fast, revealing,
Truth breaks through the howls of lies.
Few stay honest — more appealing
To the world where spirit flies.

And the rest? To Hell they’re driven,
Not the old one, dressed in myths —
But a fresh one, newly given
For the fools with hollow "ifs."



---------------------



The Dignified Frog

A frog leapt in a *** — quite grand —
With water cold (at least for now).
She sought out joy, a promised land —
But got the madhouse life allows.

They boil her slow, with lies and steam,
Just turning up the heat each day.
She hopped in proud — lost in a dream,
Till truth — and reason — slipped away.



---------------------



The "Straight Path"

When brains are rare, the crowd s in luck  
A  path  is pitched, so bold and bright.
The fools line up to join the ****,
Its end is called   pure dread and fright.

But through the Fog of Lies they march,
In tidy rows, with cheerful face.
And when they reach that final arch  
They re fed more nonsense, just in case.

They'll call the horror a "mistake"
And sell a new "straight path" once more.
The lie gets tweaks for lying s sake  
It works on minds with broken core.



---------------------



The Straight Path

When minds are scarce — a common trait —
They offer up a "straight" way through.
And fools line up — they take the bait,
Not seeing where that road will skew.

The end is wrapped in Fog and Fiction —
They march ahead in tidy rows.
And once they reach the grim affliction,
They toss in fresh confusing shows.

They’ll call the horror "just a glitch"
And chart the "straight path" out once more.
The lies don’t change — not even switch —
But fools still flock, their minds unsure.



---------------------



Negative Selection

Selection now goes in reverse —
A law that Darwin never knew.
The liar thrives, the thief does worse —
He climbs, while noble men are few.

The wise, the just — they're cast below,
Their strength of spirit left to rot.
No chance to let that power grow —
The **** selects a lesser lot.

A newer breed is rising fast —
Of servile souls, with vacant eyes.
They dress up lies in modern masks,
Call chains "free choice," and truth — "disguise."

The final shame — a bright facade
Of "freedom" in a wired disguise.
This path's a sentence, cold and odd —
And once it grips, no one will rise.



---------------------



The Horror of Swinish Ways

Torments of passion?
Reject the obsession!
All’s twisted and hollow —
No truth left to follow.

Your Spirit’s a rover —
No home to take over.
So seek in that fire
A higher desire.

Let Mind serve the Soul —
One self, whole and whole.
That’s oneness — the key.
All else is swinery.



---------------------



Executioners of Mind

"Steal the Volga — send it West!"
That earned ten years without protest.
The nation’s best were crushed and maimed,
While mass delusion was proclaimed.

And now — the same. Just change the dress:
CowID made it clear — no less.
The ghouls remain, their aims aligned:
For centuries — a war on Mind.



---------------------



April First

A day for all the Earth,
Where nonsense fills the air,
And like a blight of mirth,
Man falls in dark despair.

Transformed by foolish schemes,
To slaves, they’re made to bend.
And all are caught in dreams,
Where devils find their end.



--- Total 28 poems. ---