—It seems a day
(I speak of one from many singled out)
One of those heavenly days that cannot die;
When, in the eagerness of boyish hope,
I left our cottage-threshold, sallying forth
With a huge wallet o’er my shoulders slung,
A nutting-crook in hand; and turned my steps
Tow’rd some far-distant wood, a Figure quaint,
Tricked out in proud disguise of cast-off weeds
Which for that service had been husbanded,
By exhortation of my frugal Dame—
Motley accoutrement, of power to smile
At thorns, and brakes, and brambles,—and, in truth,
More ragged than need was! O’er pathless rocks,
Through beds of matted fern, and tangled thickets,
Forcing my way, I came to one dear nook
Unvisited, where not a broken bough
Drooped with its withered leaves, ungracious sign
Of devastation; but the hazels rose
Tall and *****, with tempting clusters hung,
A ****** scene!—A little while I stood,
Breathing with such suppression of the heart
As joy delights in; and, with wise restraint
Voluptuous, fearless of a rival, eyed
The banquet;—or beneath the trees I sate
Among the flowers, and with the flowers I played;
A temper known to those, who, after long
And weary expectation, have been blest
With sudden happiness beyond all hope.
Perhaps it was a bower beneath whose leaves
The violets of five seasons re-appear
And fade, unseen by any human eye;
Where fairy water-breaks do murmur on
For ever; and I saw the sparkling foam,
And—with my cheek on one of those green stones
That, fleeced with moss, under the shady trees,
Lay round me, scattered like a flock of sheep—
I heard the murmur, and the murmuring sound,
In that sweet mood when pleasure loves to pay
Tribute to ease; and, of its joy secure,
The heart luxuriates with indifferent things,
Wasting its kindliness on stocks and stones,
And on the vacant air. Then up I rose,
And dragged to earth both branch and bough, with crash
And merciless ravage: and the shady nook
Of hazels, and the green and mossy bower,
Deformed and sullied, patiently gave up
Their quiet being: and, unless I now
Confound my present feelings with the past;
Ere from the mutilated bower I turned
Exulting, rich beyond the wealth of kings,
I felt a sense of pain when I beheld
The silent trees, and saw the intruding sky.—
Then, dearest Maiden, move along these shades
In gentleness of heart; with gentle hand
Touch—for there is a spirit in the woods.

there is warmth only in shadow
for there alone
do I find you

the glare of sunlight
pushes against us
and we are forced
to part

in the brightness of day
as the world luxuriates
drawing close to the radiance
being brought to life
I am stung by winter’s breath
shivering in the brilliance
of a summer afternoon

only in the darkness
is there life for me

only where the stars do not see
am I completed

only there
do we exist as one

hidden
from all the world
we shun the day

and embrace

mantled
in the welcoming
shroud of night

I become gluttonous
on solitude,

the way a person luxuriates
in furs and silk,

Italian leather,
diamond rings.

The finer things.

What can possibly be finer
than silence?

Chocolate soft melted mouth
addicted dream time comes around
once again my tongue luxuriates
taste around my teeth and gums
licking sticky traces, a kind of heaven
extracted from a lowly bean.

During I was cogitating
I felt something silently booms
A spark bubbles it is, vellicating my desire.
I let down my hands collapse
but, constantly merry scared was I again
by a sparks' silent booming in front of me.
Purple, violet, pink and colour mandarin.
Glimmer, maddling, melting.
A sparks' shy bubbling coy blink
Blue, turquoise and diaphanous white.
«Stop this transcendental dance,
you'll subluxate yourselves», mentioned I.
Soon an exhilarated game overtook the chamber.
«Your tingling tickles me», said I and they scattered thorough in the air.
«You should run fast», uttered I, «for I'm going to pursue you» and bit a rose betwixt my teeth whilst rejoining them, dancing tango with extempore fashion.But having been besides them, they vanished letting me hit with my shoulder the window, looking down my blunder, grimaced contemptuously by their blundish.
«That's the matter: you are immaterial» murmured I whilst removing and throwing the rose behind me without looking back.
Thus, looking down, letting a sigh flew in the air, I laid my hit shoulder to the window and turned left my down-bent neck, letting my hair cover my face.
The sun it was, bathing the chamber, cheated by the black clouds.Its departure's time is coming closer but, early tonight.«How deluxe» murmured I schematizing a grimace of a half smile.The sun didn't see it, for only my unshaved chin was obvious to him.
«Hmmm, the dawn is inexorably amaranthine for those accomplished the impossible» I sighed turning away my indifferent sight.
I was heading immodesty to my comfortable armchair.But the sparks' bubbling, squeezing my three-days unshaven cheecks, plopped me to the sofa, dancing like a ballerina.Dazed by the intensity, I fell in a prone position on the sofa with my legs bending to my back, my eyes covered by my hair and my coat's tail covering the rest of my upper body.
Soon, yellow, green and grey, I fell ill.
«Yyoouuu vvanquishedd me luxuriously» I murmured and closed my eyes.
Having them opened I observed the rose on the floor, being bathed by sun's last beams.
I tried to catch it but, it was farther I optimized.
I looked at the sparks, who were dancing more vividly and playful.
I blew my hair,blinked and looked them again, with my eyes begging artificially whilst they passed it to me, continuing their dance.
«Oh, benevolent you are», I murmured having a contemptuous half smile.I blinked.Then my coat were fixed and my hair parted by them.
A rose, I was deliberating.
«I have to be arose» sighed I a blow against my hair, slightly.
A rose red as blood and gold of fade.
I couldn't get up.The mesmerizing fragrance couldn't be interpreted.
Then, I resume my deliberation, with my body fixed, facing the ceiling, bringing my fingers' distal phalanges together at my lips whilst the spark's bubbles were trying to lull me.
And I closed my eyes.

A spark bubbles, tickling the incessant intensity.
Intensity forever stultified.
We are neither savages, nor can become salvages nor slaved.
But we belong amongst, amidst sparkles shadowy.
Touched like vellicated babies by a bird's song.
«You are ossifying the world, please stop».
«Others melt by feasts, why don't you call them beasts?».
Who then luxuriates the corpus?
Who embellish peace?
Lotus by whom are distributed?
It's a piece of blast threshing what can last.
That neither yield nor bend.
What trending is throwing hope inside a spring's bottom.
Becoming immediately a dried hollow which billows.
Billows spitting dust and gold.
The dawn is inexorably unforgettable for those accomplished the impossible.
Constantly, purple red and pink,
glimmer, maddles, melt.
Neither calamity blooms.
Nor clarity booms.
Are we then, not all abiding.

made fibrous threads...constituting heavy blanket
(crocheted by the missus)
on a cool Autumn like morning...

to stave off experiencing getting
chilblains, goosebumps,
or subjected to the blast of cold air
wafting thru the opened bedroom window
on a frosty early August morning
about a month before official start of Autumn.

Quite refreshing the brisk temperatures
courtesy a cold front
that allows, enables, and provides
a harbinger and foretaste
when those hazy, hot, and humid, languid
and torpid days of summer quickly forgotten
as the lazy fox jumped over the brown dog
the latter slumbering
after weathering triple digit temperatures
record breaking heat waves
for the history books.

Though generally prone to being tired
subsequently driven to be a caffeine ******
unable to swing from trees like me monkey
forebears, I get energized
after an early afternoon siesta
in tandem with the missus
unwittingly actualizing, employing,
implementing, and underwriting
Sir Isaac Newton's first law of motion
also known as the law of inertia, states
that an object at rest will remain at rest,
or if in motion, will remain in motion
at a constant velocity
unless acted upon by an external force.

The above immovable status of one body,
albeit human an ideal synopsis of yours truly
all throughout his doggone life, especially
when a student (at the School of Hard Knocks)
remaining deaf, dumb
and mute to the webbed wide world:
if asked a question responding with
my quintessential shoulder shrug,
which characteristic inherited
courtesy our youngest
and second born daughter.

Cold winter days
seem closer on the horizon,
when yours truly sequesters,
and cloisters himself with bad company -
not by personal choice -
i.e. those pesky fruit flies riddling man cave
within four walls of apartment unit b44
for seven long years of penal solitude
(denuded of cell bate)
unlike conventional Norwegian bachelor farmers
living social during their Neptune salad days
and a side apertif of powder milk biscuits.

Ungroomed hair on head and face
found my mother back in the day
when I unfortunately lived under the same roof
as an emerging adult
with mother and father;
she resorted to hashtagging me
(her one and only prodigal son)
as a member of the Ubangi tribe,
the name of peoples
who live in the Congo River basin
to the west of Mossaka,
while the Binga Pygmies and the Sanga
scattered through the northern basin.

Being demonized, humiliated,
lambasted, psychologically
like totally vilified et cetera
(courtesy mommy dearest,
who referred to me
when a little boy as her monkey)
kickstarted inferiority complex
and a love of bananas.

I ofttimes consider myself the missing link,
a hypothetical extinct creature  
thought to be an intermediate form
in the evolutionary line between
modern humans and their ape-like ancestors
scraping his knuckles along the ground
as he ambles along
the boulevard of broken dreams
******* primal grunts and groans
essentially the mating call
inevitably invoking ribald hyena like guffaws
from uber hominids within the human jungle,
who managed to lyft themselves
by their bootstraps.

He is fair and he is tall
With slender arms and shoulders broad
His hands tremble when reaching to me

But oh, how kind and gentle is his touch
My body luxuriates in such delicate tenderness

His nervous nature causes quick, exciting eruptions
But then he kisses me again - softly, sweetly
And I am tangled in his long limbs once more

Ideally yours truly prefers
a she/her who never got prosecuted for a felon,
yet who most deaf fin knit lee  
possesses sound blinding killer instincts
think miracle worker Anne Sullivan
signifying rendering phenomenal success
with one female named re: amazing Helen
exhibiting discerning admirable qualities
constituting intelligent witty male
despite his/him sports haunch size of a melon.

I gently beckon inspiration
for dalliance with mother tongue
English Language, each
singular lettered manifestation
familiar to yours truly symbolized
by panoply, sans twenty six letters,

whereby this patient wordsmith
luxuriates, when writer's block
yields sudden gush,
nee burst of creativity
dissolving impenetrable wall
mental log jammed impasse,

discourages literary ambitions
dashed exerted forcefulness
'pon cerebral terra incognita
counterproductive grip locks
figurative drawbridge begetting
utmost frustration allowing egress

and ingress constituting obstructed surge
temporarily disabling free and clear
transmission between ****** fount
barricading abundant bajillion ideas
silent at loggerheads clangor and din
analogous between unswerving enemies

prepared to fight till the death,
exhausting mental energy expended
attempting armistice with futile results,
hence quixotic oft repeated
time tested metaphor
i.e. deliberate pressure foisted

upon seat of aging cerebral matter
inadvertently coloring fist sized *****
at least fifty shades of gray,
versus unexpurgated brainstorming
linkedin with unfettered restraint
breeds favorable prodigious ideas

jotted/ typed stream of consciousness fashion
modus operandi favorable to engender
receptive access, asper (gas) excellent see
i.e. entrance untrammeled leeway
with minimal clash of opposing
titanic invisible entities
thus, aye abandon battering ram

to experience positive outcome
giving good n plenti profuse flood
unstoppable geyser spewing
plethora of appealing material
to arrange into cogent affinity,
energy, magnanimity and synchronicity!

Doesn’t it sick you that money is the apex of our world, rather than people or good? Those people who possess a sufficient amount of authority and - for that matter - vile in them, would replace you for a sum of bucks if they could within the snap of their fingers? Doesn’t that appal you, doesn’t it make you want to be swallowed by the floor and to submerge into a completely different world, one with different people, different concerns, different moral standards in which no money quite exists or, more realistically, at least doesn’t own the most priority in many of the individual’s eyes? If you have not ever sensed the pressure of disappointment bubbling up within you at the glimpse of what the world has become, or if you have never had the back of your hair raise up in dismay as you become enlightened with the horrible facts about this world called Earth, or not the planet, but the cruel people that inhabit it? If you haven’t, perhaps you are one of them, or perhaps you are just not in the mood to face the crude truth, and for that, I do not blame you, nonetheless, I wish that all those people greedy for wads of green paper could as well not care for all the luxuriates that will never make one truly happy. For pleasure is not, and will never transcend true joy, pleasure is temporary, often easy to achieve which almost always comes with consequences such as the harm of others, pleasure lasts then goes, leaving the person the same as they were previously before they had stooped down to the participation in quick pleasure which is exactly what the name says. If one cannot sense pure happiness, pleasure-evoking activities or luxuries such as a lavish apartment or an imposing smartphone device will not grant them it, it will simply blind them for awhile with a feeling they may misperceive as joy and then will leave. Taking this notion of, pleasure varying tremendously with joy, one should never feel envy to those with big homes and crammed wallets, as one can be far happier than them with not an awing amount of cash on their bank account, all you need is food, water and shelter, of course, ambition and a goal that one can check on once in a while to ascertain themselves that they are living up to your real potential will serve as extreme help, in fact, ambition is what keeps one going, the money will not. Pleasure is not bad at all, but using pleasure as hope for joy can be as because it lasts for a short period of time, after its absence one will strive to get the high back which can lead them to do absurd things, such as wasting money, little do those people know, all it takes to be happy is to accept yourself and accept growth and development which, in contrary, will take effort. Now, more than ever, it is time for those whom only perceive a good future with the possession of money to open their eyes, as pleasure sometimes serves to form a monster who only sees their treasure.

The last prescient perspicacious politician,
who presided at the White House
ran out of office despite victorious landslide win
most Democrats gave their signed,
sealed, and delivered grudging approval,
but could not stem the crowdsourced
riptide of repudiation, a buzzfeeding,
and deafening chorus
of dyed in the wool rambunctious raconteur
Norwegian bachelor farmers
linkedin to radical reprobates,
hence subsequently our boy
from Scranton, Pennsylvania
found himself exiled to Uranus.

Tis now the time for
Forty sixth American president
to best relinquish figurative reins
as commander in chief
cognitive delays erupt frequently
fostering speculation
as to his wherewithal to serve
as oldest commander in chief
(since inception of North American republic)
being an octogenarian
launching a second administration,
I strongly encourage him
to harken back

circa nearly two hundred
and fifty years ago,
when founding fathers
took the global stage
surrendering mantle to Young Turk
such tapping qualified
representative of Generation X
Millennials or Generation
failing to forget at two score and four
constitutes average age of Founding Fathers
some less than 40 years ol in 1776
with several qualifying as founding teenagers
and twentysomethings.

Young Caucasian men all
most of the Founding Fathers genealogy
traced back thru English ancestry
many could attest family roots
extending across various regions
of the British Isles, including Scotland
Wales, and Ireland.

Fraternization among the wealthiest people
in the Colonies when they drafted
and signed the Constitution,
they pretty much expected vested gentry
to continue to guide the young nation.

None of the storied lives
of the newly formed patriarchal government
predicated upon The Articles of Confederation,
prepared by John Dickinson,
and the Declaration of Independence,
drafted by Thomas Jefferson,
both contain the phrase
"United States of America,"
which name officially adopted
by the second Continental Congress
on September 9, 1776.

Hard fought pitched battles would ensue
(and still spark fiery protestations)
eventually securing enfranchisement
for sidelined populations meaning
White Anglo Saxon Protestant men
no longer the exclusive voting bloc...

Unless das auld Don brooks
no Barron naked lady,
and by hook or by crook wins carpe momentum
snags, nabs, clinches, et cetera
courtesy political landscape gerrymandered
to twerk a Republican landslide,
⁦Tuesday, November 5, 2024⁩
choice for forty seventh commander in chief
(the 60th quadrennial presidential election)
securing the mantle of führer -
taking a page from Mein Kampf playbook.

Welcome to triumphant Trump land,
a webbed wide world demanding fidelity
courtesy his totalitarian crushing paws
wielding ineradicable, indestructible,
incontrovertible ******* *******,
whereat trampling colossal pachyderm
crushing into pulp
competitors, (especially contenders
braying, fearing, and opposing Donkeyhotey)
on the playing (né killing) ****** fields
little absolute zero vestige of democracy.

Existential nihilism of mine
would get ratcheted to the max,
cuz autocracy will punish as a crime
any nonestablishmentarian characteristics
diametrically divergent
from the credo declaring
fealty to the national socialism
(a form of nationalism
with socialist characteristics
sometimes referred to as nationalist socialism -

paving thee way for ******,
a form of German nationalism
and fascism promoted in Germany
by the **** Party de rigueur paradigm
guaranteeing for life self declared dictator
and his iron maiden,
who will hastily usher legislation
decreeing unquestionable obeisance
to the prophet (profit) of money
the twin principles

(with a twenty first century
twist and shout) eminent domain
and manifest destiny,
particularly within the realm
describing the outer limits
of the solar system, where dark shadows
witness colonization of the Earth's moon,
and other planets'
promising natural satellites.

Where yours truly predice dystopia
the cut throat machiavellian methodologies,
he (who luxuriates in the role of tyrant)
and his cronies will bleed the electorate dry
proving the maxim
you can't get blood out of a stone
totally false, and fueling, jump/
kickstarting, and orchestrating
(videre licet burning fossil fuels
at the expense of Gaia)
foisting horrendous impetus
on third rock from the sun
maximum destruction the name of the game
far from whatever loss of life and limb
concerning rendering extinct
multitudinous genus and species
constituting the biosphere.

Fast forward bajillion years
Terra Mater Prada raiment she wears.