A far Country

A place that freely creates a state of mind the silk tapestries that flow and hold the shimmering glory
Told by exotic locals Madrid of Spain Tangiers of morocco Istanbul Turkey the music’s beauty strains

Through side streets and hideaways where love is discovered by chance or design only know this life
Crackles as a consuming fire the dance sweeps you along through mystery’s eye the smoke floats in

Layers in clubs with names that echo old Hollywood movies possibly you will feel that you have been
Introduced to Bogey and McCall a walk of desperate hours that spill out into rolling hills where laughter

Escapes your throat as if you were a long time prisoner and finally you find yourself suddenly free a
Richness pervades your soul as you stole away on this secret schooner with a stranger you traverse

Warm waters and calm seas a voiceless place where more can be heard as you slowly attune you inner
Being to rhythms at first foreign and then so natural stones in a jungle with writing left by other

Adventures that no longer could stand the staid and endless boredom now the sounds and sights hold
Danger that brighten the senses you were nothing but a tortured soul but now as if years have fallen

Away you feel as if you delved into centuries of secrets that have opened up to you because you took
The steps of chance and found a friendly world waiting to accept and adorn you with riches never

Seen in the safe life that only seeks shelter in the howling storm where all rootedness is torn loose
You go to a place of discovery where random harvest are stored lovers know their location as passion

Swells you rush across great waters and finally spent you drift into inland waters a cove of rest to abide
In after chaos of the stormy sea now when you speak there is a deep understanding that flows again on

Silk as at the beginning within has been created a sense of belonging whether you visit an African’s hut
Or a villa in France you are the spice of India or the bundles of silk that flow back from the desert

Caravan not just in the present but in ancient days to old Cathay you are a master in your own right
You set with the sheiks of the desert and they marvel at your presence of mind and it liquid quickness

That is as cool as an oasis and smooth as cool water to the parched tongue you are as the wayward wind
You come and go as you please mighty mountains you ascend or you’re brushing through the black

forest Your fitting place is a castle grand all because you decided life is a dream to be lived not an ordeal
to Endure get your ticket at freedom’s gate get on board child it’s never too late

McCall! while I was searching for a cat
in a kenyan's zoo,
something made noise like a rat
not knowing it was you.

I wanted to name you into class
of higher mammal,
but seeing you eating grass
is an assurance that you are a wild animal.

What's in a ******* day?
Ten days ago, I was in the
backseat of
a 2008 Chrysler Minivan.

One hundred days ago,
I was stumbling and
climbing in
Burlington,
reborn.
What's in a ******* day?

What's in a ******* day?
Three hundred and sixty-five days ago, I was trapped,
homeless and loveless,
in a private, Stepford-studded
sort of way.

What's in a ******* day?
You tell me--
but I've learned that while my streets may change,
the concrete is always the same.

One thousand days ago,
I passed the baton to Richie Sullivan,
thus turning my wild,
private reality
on its dainty little head.

Five thousand days ago, I learned that
Gregory was going to New Zealand
for three hundred and sixty-five days,
give or take a few. But
what's in a ******* day?

What's in a ******* day?
Yesterday I spoke with Janina,
today I did the same,
and tomorrow I will speak with her as well.

Yesterday I did not speak with Conor McCall
or Brian Gagnon
or Julia Ginsburg
though I knew them all once.
I will not speak with them today,
or tomorrow, either.
What's in a ******* day?

Just had major back surgery.  Sending her my get well wishes along with those from everyone who puts a heart heart on this post.
Get well Scarlett - we miss you.

I'll keep this brief
Davina McCall Presents comic relief
but evades tax like a ******* thief

I've got endless wit
you two faced hypocrite
you make me sick  

My friend said it's stupid to care
oh well ignorance is bliss
reading this story in the paper
made me ******

As September daze will soon arrive
recollections from a
psychologically checkered  past
loom large recalling  
tragic storied days of mein kampf.

Circa early nineteen seventies:
As a mere slip of a shy lad,
(who knew nothing
about powder milk biscuits),
I experienced unfettered amorousness
toward an equally introverted lass
(conjured courtesy my imagination),
though both of us
barely out of our boyhood
and girlhood respectively
unfettered infatuation naturally
found me wedded to Anna Rexia.

Unhealthy relationship between us
left the writer of these words
with ****** dysmorphic  
skeletal elements of harried style,
swiftly tailored over
mine ensuing tweener years,
which pronounced after effect(s)
still linger approximately five decades
after existential crisis indelibly pierced,
scored and tattooed permanent
anatomical and  physiological characteristics
within windmills of my mind
namely delicately impressed psyche
communicated this August 30th, 2022.

Imagine yours truly post pubescence;
(no matter ye never met me)
all that life in front of one young buck
argh... precious time squandered;
I blithely would surrender
entire corporel being
lock, stock, and barrel,
whereby mine fractured mindscape abustle
with rattle and hum of compulsions
most time consuming innocuous rituals
slavishly buzzfeeding pet peeves.

Anorexia nervosa ranked
as thee moost detrimental
upon cusp of prepubescence;
I metaphorically teetered
and tottered on the brink
of deep analogous
Russian Siberian exile.

While awaiting piano lesson
(circa early 1970's)
collapsed unto the floor
Barbara McCall, née Youngblood
helplessly watched her student (me)
he flailed, garbled, hobbled...
succumbed into heart of darkness
softly wailing "I cannot live anymore"
or some such grievous plaintive utterance.

Long befuddled long dazed journey into night
began to hound my doggone noggin
while in the throes of puberty
voices dictated me to forego
first one meal, two, then all hunger pangs
eventually stymied, squelched, and silenced.

Dumbfounded family members
(father, mother, and deux sisters)
baffled, and thought
precious progeny and brother respectively
possibly involved with drugs
(an easier fix in retrospect),
versus shattered psyche (mine)
analogous to Humpty Dumpty mishap
only far more serious.

Even curious peers queried me
during lunchtime understandably asking,
whether non intake of food
nsync and/or linkedin
with particular religion,
which inquisitiveness answered
with shrug of shoulders,

cuz reason without rhyme
i.e. existential crisis
impossible mission to communicate
at that moment, whereby
all ears and eyes turned toward me
I wanted to crawl into
a black hole and disappear.

I felt absolutely zero joie de vivre
(no surprise stating the obvious)
essentially loathed being alive
when fellow students grilled me
(unspoken tongue in cheek retort
cheeses crust inaudibly uttered).

A short while prior
before anorexia nervosa got free rein
to ride amuck
analogous to red
(angry) bulls running roughshod
think utmost helter skelter
my mother acquired degree
as licensed practical nurse
courtesy local vocational trade school.

She crafted nutritious concoctions,
yet interestingly enough
did not watch me like a hawk
rather left her sole skinny son
with task to consume sizable quantity
without dereliction to pour
said healthy drink down toilet.

I quickly established routine sipping elixir
whereby yours truly filled
little plastic measuring cup
then painstakingly nursed
said tumbler size capful
down gullet - good to the last drop,
which inexorably time consuming process
found hardly any spare hours
for any other (necessary
or otherwise) function.

Eventually solid food intake
integrated with pureed secret ingredients,
yet even the painful prospect receiving
iron inoculations into bony buttucks
(punitive punishment gladly accepted)
without curbing appetite for self destruction,
which as an aside mother dearest
never disclosed constituent parts
comprising blended conglomerate
when, some few decades later,
she went to her grave.