Eyes set for journey,
Downy flight, round hills, meadows,
  .  .  .  Us naked in bed.

Eyes set for journey,
Downy flight, round hills, meadows,
  .  .  .  Us naked in bed.

Mr Green:

Mr Green, or whatever it may have been
Was last seen, across from mine (allegedly)
Pleading with some suits in a Greek parody
of his own life’s tragedy
begging for a Parlay of more time

I know not what, nor if your smart, and your no part
it’s none of your business anyway,
not that you don’t care for the man over there
He was just the spectacle for the day
or at least, originally it seemed that way.

Shouting always carries on the wind, especially if it’s angry,
More than laughter or nice surprises, I’m afraid to say
Roaming hounds were all some place else or had the night off
No engines revving juvenile celebration of joyriding
Another car chase at the end of another day

Mr Green, or whatever it may have been
Next morning was found
Face down to the ground
Crumpled, bloodied and broken.
Lips open
As if still holding onto those last words
In a motionless magical speech bubble which cannot be undone
Leaves him left unspoken
Leaves a Mother to bury her son

Eyes set for journey,
Downy flight, round hills, meadows,
  .  .  .  Us naked in bed.

This is long, but go through it.  It’s worth it.      it was originally called "Words That Changed Our Lives", being inspired by the  connection between pandemonium and pandemic.  

           Pandemonium

Words that show lives but a tribe:
There to scribe, describe our lives.
Words that come from health or sickness: mind and body:
Prowess, fearless, speechless, endless;
Dangerousness, selfishness, childishness - nothing escapes;
Sowing seeds of mental shapes
That come from mind-to-mouth.

Now’s come the time to learn some new:
Epidemic and Pandemic,
Plus another word to view: Endemic.
Just a few, but whew!
Hoping that it’s not titanic - the Titanic!
Let me help you.

First came epidemics:
Measles, smallpox, influenzas…
How to conquer, name and aim,
How could and could we control the sum?  
Sometimes.  Some.
Coming back to hit us all the same,
But vanquished?  Germs and viruses not dumb -
Survive  anti-biotically (the foe of symbiotically).

Year twenty-twenty,
Epidemic now pandemic,
Plentiful and more than plenty;
Too, too many - far too many.

Struck by the invisible;
Questionable, susceptible,
Humans daring not to touch,
Wondering, asking when will it become too much?
And thus we come to the last word:
Endemic: background sound
Though underground many a year
Alive and well and waiting for…
Pandemonium 5. 14. 2020 Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Experience; Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin

pandemonium | ˌpandɪˈməʊnɪəm |
wild and noisy disorder or confusion; uproar: there was complete pandemonium—everyone just panicked.
ORIGIN mid 17th century: modern Latin (denoting the place of all demons, in Milton's Paradise Lost), from pan- ‘all’ + Greek daimōn ‘demon’.
pandemic
(of a disease) prevalent over a whole country or the world.
an outbreak of a pandemic disease: the results may have been skewed by an influenza pandemic.
ORIGIN mid 17th century: from Greek pandēmos (from pan ‘all’ + dēmos ‘people’) + -ic
endemic
1 (of a disease or condition) regularly found among particular people or in a certain area: complacency is endemic in industry today.
[attributive] (of an area) in which a particular disease is regularly found: the persistence of infection on pastures in endemic areas.
epidemic
1 an epidemic of typhoid: outbreak, plague, scourge, infestation; widespread illness/disease; Medicine pandemic, epizootic; formal recrudescence, boutade.
2 he's a victim of the county's joyriding epidemic: spate, rash, wave, explosion, eruption, outbreak, outburst, flare-up, craze; flood, torrent, burst, blaze, flurry; upsurge, upswing, upturn, increase, growth, rise, mushrooming; rare ebullition, boutade.
adjective
a widespread occurrence of an infectious disease in a community at a particular time: a flu epidemic.
• a sudden, widespread occurrence of an undesirable phenomenon: an epidemic of violent crime.

Fire should frost
But the smoke dissolves your lungs
The alarm works well, even in the sticky heat
Professionals visit the keyless lock
Liquid extinguishes the flame
Strength is key
Heat drives you
Cars swivel
Too late

The tricks we try to use against parents most never work.
They been there and done that just like us.
Trying to change clothes to fit in at school.

Trying to sneak around with that love interest.
Eventually get caught by one or both parents.

Trying to sneak out to only realize they caught onto it and locked you out.

Yes, they been there and done that.

Joyriding around without approval.
Until the police pull up on you.

Trying to skip school until you notice by others you not there.
They been there and done that.

Well, maybe not all of us.
But a few of us.
Which makes some of us greater parents.

You said you wanted flowers,
Thrown at you from the highest towers,
You wanted this, you wanted that,
You wanted a rabbit pulled out of a hat,
Of the sun the moon & the stars,
You wanted it all while joyriding in cars,
You hoped for everything,
Yet you never asked for anything,
All I heard was the wet of your tears,
As they drizzled down through the years,
Because you were never happy,
Never satisfied, always ******,
Had I failed so miserably,
At giving you my all? Very probably,
For you love was not enough,
Because of this you made the going tough,
My affections could not quench;
Your wanton desires powerful stench,
So I've left you to your own devices;
Having enough of my sacrifices,
There is no cure for your want of material things,
I waited long enough, now the fat lady sings...
© okpoet

I was fifteen,
Jersey boy, displaced
from green suburbia
to a sagebrush sea.

I tried to drop my accent,
got a job at a horse ranch
shoveling ****,
wore cowboy boots.

Finally made a friend
in that dirt road valley,
taught me to sideways slide
and countersteer,
joyriding his mother's car
down rough roads
we shouldn’t be on,
sparks flying,
rocks bouncing
off the undercarriage.

And he had guns too,
pistols and rifles.
We hiked up into the hills,
shot at rusty
abandoned cars,
empty beer cans
or anything
that crawled
slithered or hopped.

Killing that jackrabbit
was a lucky shot.
I got him right through the eye
with a 22, on the fly,
just for fun.

We laughed
and high fived
as that black crater
in his head
did not stare at us
from the dusty ground.

I was in.

An Autumn like day (August 28th, 2021)
found me and the missus venturing
along unfamiliar roads.

Said spouse manned wheel of automobile
courting entering land of the lost,
nevertheless experiencing zest
she drove as I determined,
whether we went north, south, east or west

her purposefulness deliberately linkedin
delving off course to test
comfort level, interestingly enough
not experiencing feeling over stressed
possibly because place names
(an abridged version follows)
Green Lane, Perkiomenville,
Sumneytown, Upper Salford,
and Zieglerville somewhat familiar,
thus any uneasiness
(straying off the beaten path)

got put to rest
regarding moseying along
our spontaneous quest,
cuz I trend toward anxiety
(and most likely
would suddenly turn gray)
at prospect of trekking into
hinterlands not many miles
away from the place
the two of us call home.

Joyriding not something we
(meaning said married couple in question)
indulge since cost of fuel thee
cannot deny nearly cost an arm and leg
as one who drives regularly can see
the folly spewing gasoline exhaust
tooling around within 2009 Hyundai Sonata
for no rhyme nor reason unnecessarily re:
leasing gasoline exhaust pollutants

into the atmosphere whereby eco police
unlikely accept me to cop a plea
one garden variety ******
a bloke who strives to exalt glee
crafting poems, and reading as well
ranking his significance no higher than flea
common name for the order Siphonaptera,
dear unknown aforementioned comparison
ye might not agree.

Angels do not follow where it is I dare to go, dark is the deadened cold place inside my barren soul. How I got to this low point I don't even know. I jump right down every rabbit hole. These drugs I'm on taking their toil.  Listening to loud rock and roll. Just kinda rocking this bowl.
Because of the trauma I can't let go, I often find myself just as i start losing control. That much colder and more corrupt the older I grow. Emotions pushed down deep so they don't ever show. So **** incomplete don't know how I would ever feel whole.
Here hidden in these shadows of sinister dark, I stab myself with jagged bits of my broken heart.
I am going to do just what I want, I Don't give a ****. Sitting here spitting out the pieces of my broken luck. I am out reaking havoc, I Just run amuck. Joyriding all over this one horse town in a stolen pick up truck. I hit the ground in a manner that's quite abrupt Tearing down these walls I'll soon have to reconstruct. It's just a process that I can not interrupt.. it's another sign that sonn i will self  destruct. In this addict mindset I am struck. Im already out in the open like a sitting duck. Might as well wait a little longer til I become thunderstruck. Even better do exactly as I instruct. It will be a twisted ride, so better buckle up.w
I am the definition of disorderly conduct. Like a valcano my temper sometimes does errupt. I let my hopes just slip from my fingertips, a rose silvered here in the moons eclipse.  I prepare myself for the likelihood of the coming apocalypse. This addiction firmly holds me in it grip. Time for me to take a little trip. I blast off like a ******* rocketship.  I know the pain and suffering this lifestyle inflicts, maybe you'll get out alive if it does permit. The peace of mind I constantly seek it contradicts. The very root of so many of my conflicts. Again and again, out of my chest my heart it rips.  So many things in it's bag of tricks enough to keep you in the mix. Just feast your eyes and let them transfix. If you're going to do something better do it quick. Not that I really think that I am slick but there is a puddle on my pipe that's thicker than a brick. I will smoke it down and you'll never even hear my lighter click. Sick and tired of being tired and sick. Its time for me to flip this script. Showing others the truth this disease never does depict. I am alone in this world of **** trying to force myself into places I just don't fit. as I begin to vanquish demons that reside within. I now know this is a battle I just must win. I writhe around uncomfortable in my own skin. Thankful that mightier than by no swords of sharpene byd steel, is my little fountain pen. I am Tarnished, Silver's evil twin. In full circles I spin and spin. One day perhaps  I'll stop but I don't know when. I hide myself a way in my world of pretend.Go ahead and notify my next of kin. im a washed up has been headed for the ****** bin.
I am lost and confused with a woeful story I couldn't tell. Another basket case burning in their own private hell. Praying I won't fall into these worlds somehow parallel. I turn and turn on this carasoul. Until i start feeling rather unwell.  I tried so **** hard it was an epic fail. It did no good. It was to no avail. Far from this side saving grace I have fell. Skin like that of the living dead just as pale. In my coffin hammer the very last nail. Push me off into the sea help me to set sail. Don't cry for me i bid to you a fond fare-the-well. I just another disturbed character killed off in this demented fairytale.
What have I done. I'm a cause that's so lost. I can't pay the price because I can not afford te cost. I left complete devastation in my very wake. From me this addiction did take and take. My life it did complicate. Compounding every situation I did create. Breathing to life the things I ofen contemplate. I am not the captain of my ship nor was I the mater of my fate. To save me from myself it's now to late. Tripping over things that don't even relate. A perfect **** up perfectly ****** up to this very date. Isn't addiction just ******* great. My soul these demons did ransack. I've done a lot of **** i cannot take back. That's no brag that's just fact. Never knew this would all would cause such  a deep impact. I didn't make it out unscathed integrity intact. I was a dying vessel with a shell so cracked. That it broke all to pieces when I wa attacked. I've moved on now and I'm never ******* coming back. For all purposes now I have faded to black.

i felt like going over the mark
of the two ciders tonight
i had a taste for *****
and writing
and i know the Pope is dead
but all i had in my head
where:

ground control to major tom
ground control to major tom
take your protein pills
and put your helmet on

and i know how the English
make you think other people don't
exist how somehow you are
apparently universal blank man
but this is only my res cogitans
interacting with the res extensa
and the world is so magically
telepathic i wonder
i wonder will the Norsemen return to cAtholicism
and be fearful of the Christianity
of Russia
because i am afraid of the Christianity of
the Orthodox
and half way between Protestantism
is a little Billion Island of Catholicism
but the intellectual catholicism
outside the concept of nation
there is a clear distinction
between an Irish catholic
and a Polish catholic
and certainly the Spaniard
and the Italian:
the Pope died
no Icon
no Queen
something weird happens because i don't
know a place beyond the family
i allow to grow
and i don't live in a family
associating with figureheads of the public
realm:
perhaps as a last resort
and that's not where Edie is with the Pope
i am with the Pope right now
but am i to belong to a people
like the Polynesian display of tribalism
lost intellect
bot the symbolism of the tribal war
against the waves of the surf
of the Pacific:
among the heights of the tallet mountains
of mountains that take root in the sea
and peak from the Pacific bed
like a lazy teenager girl
and i'm away and playing video games
like she is playing ROBLOX
constantly but aware
like she has these eyes that speak
and they speak a language first learned
by intuation
she implores me
don't make me lose it
this language:
R baby: you will not lose this language
but it's up to you how you continue
to work with it...
you have to work with this language
of the... eye is an *****
the complexity of the eye
on equal footing with liver and brain
and heart
then by seeing alone
the other senses are confiscate to appreciate
the "religion" of the Pentagram...
i said i'm keeping vigil with the Pope
we are waiting for Charon
until Saturday morning...
the bus driver got drunk
or something
or was a spare time poet who didn't get paid
for writing poetry and didn't care
to be paid:
was paid by heaven upfront:
working on comission...
if only i keep my focus on the clock
and go to bed by 12am
midnight
i will have done much than drinking
the bus driver
to sleep and joyriding with the bus
because i feel like
i need to overcome the space of lost
spatial awareness:
boxed man
man...
i'm used to bicycles and horses...
i'm not used to getting used to using
a *******: TANK...
Islamic State Tank Brigade into a Crowd
and Pillow:
a weak thankfully: the numbers start adding up
and then "someone" dies...
i know his role was diluted by the presence
of what extends beyond the mind
the squire and the hive
of the family
and all sacredness is lost
on politics
and not a thing of brothers and prostitutes
and mothers:
finally wives...
but how i have been cleansed from the realm
of *******
it was like playing video games
and nihilism with a tinge of solipsism
at least Nietzsche talked of nihilism
from the perspective of the res cogitans extending
into the res extensa
and then coming back from the COGITO
after the death: post-mortem...
that's when the COGITO replies
the COGITO = I THINK + GOD THINKS
i think we forgot to reply
with: beyond all traits
and unfathomable currencies of will
that there is a god
and he cherishes the same freedom
we cherish most:
that he thinks and he doubts
and we keep forgetting that by ascribing
the omni- litany of aspects and
thus: non-existence when compared
to the inertia of the res cogitans with
an animanite thing...
therefore the Sysiphus is spawned:
to think beyond the menial task...
escape the crowd...
then comes focus and abruption from this
deep desire implies this thread
of thinking will preserve itself until
tomorrow night? i don't think so:
the spike... in what felt like
what could have been a writing desk
and a different spine
instead of the position
of the laptop being on the bed
and me kneeling before the bed
almost half dog:
yes: the Sphynx position of Writing
when one writes from the edge of the bed....
the Sphynx position of Writing
the Human Head on the body of an Animal
is where Anubis comes forward
and tells all the animal godheads
to come down an answer from individualism
borrowed from petting
by anima primo: man...

but when the queen died
i was somewhat dismayed
but the new currency came with the visage
and i just felt a slight
chill from the wind
of wonders and whispers
as it came and carried me away...

Nathanel... i hear the word:
who knows what it means...
by now 20min feels like 4 hours when
the conversation is alive
and no one is dead left kicking
to open up the coffin
and turn this world into a catacomb
of how grey and mobile zombie wording
it has to become painting
i think perhaps leave some
direct language
i just think of the ***** eye
like kidney
but since there are two eyes
there are two lungs and two kidneys
and i much prefer that
lyricism of the schematic
away from the brain the heart and the *****
i much prefer
the schematic of the eyes the lungs
and the kidneys
i don't like the pseudo buddhist LSD myfriends
type of gargoyle crayon
drawing of energy
from the mind the heart and the *****
in a yogi pose
pretending to meditate
whatever that means:
mediate yes: understanding...
for that i need
the three twins
the eyes
the lungs and the kidneys...
i need those three and

just her driving at night
and listening to
Bread - Guitar Man...
and i think in her sleeping queen sort
of dynamic but probably
not
we were listening to something chilling
and she was worried i wasn't friendly
and i just wanted for us to stay apart
at a concert
i think we went as a couple i think
we talked about music
and that night you gave me the best *******
because it was a 16 year old's show of affection
coming home from a concert
yet not magnifying the trust
into coercing each other
but the reality breaks into full scheme of the steam ahead:
aww...
     so maybe cooking breakfast
for a sleepover blonde Slipknot
queen and a dad *** with a chequered shirt
but my bad is kind of a bookworm
and he likes relaxing
by sometimes stressing about making
a perfect meal
and i
now and all that sentimental breath
because if i were paid for something else
and perhaps if i wrote without heart
if not being paid
then at least investing an honest spare change
of thought to let someone
find themselves and my little gnome of gnosis
i wonder perhaps
but of course that story only works if
we say goodbye to the riddle of the countryside
and the question of cosmopolitanism...
and we have to question
that in the confines of London
about New York...
we can all ask the New York Question
when we live in Paris,
London, Berlin, Warsaw...
we can ask that psy q
having lived here for over 10 years
and perhaps these restrictions:
but the envy of the hope
is the fear is respects...

   but the envy of the hope
is the fear it respects...
because it leaves us solidified in the conflict
of water and earth
and the water fighting for us to return
to air...
because we were not born of the earth
and to earth will will not return
we were born in the air
from thought from a whim
we all share with the gods of whims...

how the eyes are burried in the realms
of organs
yet try to escape with thought
on the two pairs of ears
like wings
imagine us Men as Angels with Ear Wings
imagine us the **** Tier with Demons
as Dogs and Cats
and Horses and Pigs
we Eat we love petting Animals
we Eat more than we love petting Animals we don't
eat...
we love petting animals we eat
more than  the animals we pet and don't eat
and that's all VEGAN PROPAGANDA
i trust the news when men write
tiny columns...
i trust the news when only men write
tiny columns on
the first 10 pages of a newspaper...
the rest is cannibalism...
and vanity fair...

Catholics less minded than Muslims
in England
imagine...
Islam is catered to England
more than Catholicism...
but that seems organic and almost
a bit: didn't i say so?
i think the Jews are rightfully excused
from the conversation
but in England
imagine a catholic reconquista and you'd rather
imagine
Islamic multiculturalism
outside the realm of Mecca
and later the Emirates
and i wonder the buffer zone is equivalent
to givin that place the biggest G of O'clock...
like Mike Mike Mike Mahoney
and McGuire...
and all the other Macintyres...

            because in the last resort i wonder
how much of ethnicity is rumbling
when the nation-state goes away
and little pockets of the tribal man
once in the wild now
the tribal man in cages
and i believe in only one truth: god thinks...
therefore i don't need many gods
i only need one god
and one truth: god thinks!
**** all your omni- litany
and lack of free will!
people like that... even if atheists!
are imbeciles!
they argue from the perspective
of there being no free will
when they have so sparingly exercised it!
ugh... conversational pay child
i do wonder...
but for all the gods
i'd like only one god
and one truth: god thinks
and that instead of
so complex the simple details...
i think
              i don't say i thinks
in pigeon...
     but god is a pronoun
and nothing is a pronoun
and by now you can say
god thinks
and nothing thinks
because you can't really say
god think
or nothing thing... there's than plural continuum
sorry you're not special
but you are special
as you make yourself
however tender you want to stay
in a harsh world and cushion
satiate away...