Ulrich finds comfort in knowing
he could seek a lethal dose of medication
to hasten his death.
Ulrich was standing
next to the governor on Monday afternoon,
sun pouring in the oaky office,
as he signed
the bill into law.

Doctors and hospitals
and state officials
are scurrying to prepare.
Soon, the state Health Department
will get forms ready.
The lethal medication
is a liquid that the patient must
self-administer.

Hastening death;
akin to
yanking out feeding tubes
and removing respirators,
is not suicide, they say.
The underlying illness
would be listed
as the cause of death.

radioahead is on now and now its going what theeeeeeeee
ooho noi ** oh boh oh nho  hnoh ooh oh nhoo
whrejhrhehrehrherhehrehrhehre
whwhrahhwerhehrheh
worafdhajrd­jfldfjadjfkadjkja

YEAHHHHHH


UGHHHHH

SECOND COMINNG SEACOND COMING SECOND COMING

no no no no no no no

I had a revelation on the train
GOD has revealed himself
he hides behind flirtation with death
oh he hides
and the music
keeps going
and I have nothing
but the vibrancy of youth golden locked golden key that turns but I am a clumsy troll on top of a mountain, clumsy troll on top of the mountain wearing a frowny face, frowny face

and he drops his giant club in the ground
to sob and cry
because he couldn't get
his soup and wine
oh no
NFJNFODIJFAJDOJFAIDFJAIDJFAJDaf
dfaDOfjafjdf
a
fdjf
adjjf
adjf
j­jaf
dfjafaj
adfa


AFFJAFFAHHHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHAHAaaAHEe
r

herh
heR­RHEHRW WEEEE GOOOOO

lets go goleto glkegoetleeoaerj
doa
fj
dlfja
lfdjk;
fja
k;jf
dfja
df
j
af
aAHNND­ONEEE EODNEEE GONEEE ALLLLL

SPOILED

HES" wearbing a frowny face he's wearing a frowny face
he's crying because he's left to the mountain
in this video game world
press b
press b
press b
press b
press b
press b

I used to love
the ripple
of her.

I Cherished
placque suns.

I walked amongst
the withered oaky clouds
reaching to the earth
in capillaries
of lightning.

I made
****** on journeys
in the night
to the
licquor store.

I could take refuse
and morph it
in my hands,
because they were
her
hands.

She was the gravity of neutrinos,
I spun
and
spun,
and threw off layers,
as her bra
lay on the floor
and the laces
of her ******
lay
whitely
in the corner of the room.

I could've been anywhere
in those final seconds,
the club with it's thousand
orbitals of dancing brilliance,
the park
with it's millionaires
of hate,
the senseless
desert
of my
heart.

I was in the rainforest
feeling the universe
in droplets,
and my pores screamed.

Destruction
is something to reminisce over,
and I moan
like a cat in the night
with it's broken leg.

I moan
like a dwarf star,
getting smaller
and
smaller.

tap the vein
the very flow
a fizzle-POP
the gears whir

dry-eyed in the garage
suckling that oaky rind
spin the clocks
if so inclined

the mothers plead
but She still calls for you
repo the lung
the liver too

this sickly sweet memory
this one too many
this cool kid
strutting streets in denim jeans

--
c

My gums hurt-
the toothache is hard to swallow
when we
mend the broken bones
with the loose change in the couch
and the buttons from
worn out cargo shorts.

Take standard biology,
an ideal economy,
and authentic authonomy
with a grain of salt.

We can't find or feed
while we bleed.
It seeps from cortexes
into yesterday,
into today,
into some
puddle
huddled around the fire
for warmth.

We melt just as the ice cubes
in your lemonade
on days
where
nostalgia has no
tranquil, oaky shade.

Stand at the length of lions.
Its breath is about as tolerable
as greed is swallowable.

While these dreams go hungry,
we feast.

While wolves
eat our spines as meat,
we are sheep
turning yellow from the heat.

burnt dry air,woodfire smoke,crisp leaves underfoot,orangeredyellow in the trees,i wait for fall all year,

In dreams, I’m where the music plays.
I’m listening to the laughter, like it’s in another room.
My drink is dark, bitter and oaky tasting
and the peanuts taste like soap.
There aren’t any napkins.
Others are lines of light and shadow.
I feel an anxiety that I gnaw on,
like a dog works a bone.
My dream’s conflating memories.
Suddenly Lisa’s there,
she comes up from behind,
“Aww, your tag is sticking out,” she says
but before she can fix it,
I hear tower bells ringing.
It’s my alarm.

father-watching
faraway
triggered sweet by
memory plucked
from twinge of
heart at
husband whiskers
sprinkled in
the sink

​
father
slow transforming
out of sight
whisker white
a-creep through
long-time
beard of boyish
blondish-brown
​

sprouting
scraggled out from
ear and nose
and knuckle
round
​

eyes a-cave
and sunken deep
in shaded-over
cavities
​

for inward looking
more than
out


with no more
footballs
flung
about
​

and no more
children yanking
on the waking hours'
daggy trousers


for weeping
over old-time
music secret
in the dark


up with the
birds
down with
the sun


midlife
rush at last
a-hush and
calm in its
surrender
done


bones exposed
of parenthood
held frail a-clung
by gristle grey of
simple habits


coffee thick
and silky
run with
milk


and crispest
crusty bread
torn up
for dipping into
hearty stock


with olives
cheese and
ham on top


a drop
of something
oaky sipped
and languished


a-crawl with
thoughts of
father own
disintegrating


boyhood memories
coddled close
and satiating


with daughter
unbeknownst
father-watching
faraway


© 2017 Adelaide Heathfield

He was a Redwood tree in California,
born and raised in Missouri and
chopped down Virginia.
His spirit was oaky strong
and wrought with the wisdom of ancient bark,
but dead four years shy of fifty.
That was my father.

But a tree fell today.
A tree whose roots were rocked to
their core with hit
after
hit.

He raged while I danced around
the trunk of the father I remembered.
Hoping, praying that maybe the impact of
little feet on soft ground could
rock a forest back into rhythms of strength.

Feet do not make roots grow deeper.
Feet tear roots up.


I found him curled up and crying in the closet.
I should’ve looked for him sooner.

So let me answer the riddle:
the answer is
yes.

When a tree falls in the forest,
and no one is around to hear it
I assure you

it makes a sound.

And when they ask me what my greatest regret was,
when I am older than he ever lived to live,
I will tell them that I was not
with him when he died.

I will tear into bottom lip
like roots tear dry ground
and tell them that I was
branch of his branch and
vine of his vine, but I do not know
what he wished to say to me
in the last moments this earth afforded him.

I stand up straight,
just like she taught me.

I'm calm.

Collected.

But the table ahead is
hurtling through space,
a thousand miles to
the tick of a clock.

And the tick crawls
slow and alone through
the hairy forest. Oblivious
to the car chase ahead.

I turn the glass upside down
and pour the Cabernet.

Oaky flavours spill to the
floor and consume my world.

lately when it rains

and it pulls at all
the earth, humid and
oaky,

i wonder if it brings
the same out in me,

summer sweat, the
whos and wheres
buried down deep.

I have yet to make sense
of the muddled inks
that create your irises
A sort of a
composition
in chocolate
and oaky warmth

- not brown.

When searching
for a metaphor to describe you
the idea that circles back
and which I can not
nor will ever
be able to disregard
is that of an ice sculpture:
something for which you spend hours,
building up
only to watch it melt
helplessly
paralysed
I watched you
with her
helplessly
paralysed
I watched your temperature rise
and that husk around your heart
begin to thaw
like the way it did for me

And when I couldn't watch you anymore
when the pain became too great
that I had to deny myself
that pleasure of looking at you
with your chocolate composition
I turned away
and imagined you
imagining me

You are an ellipsis because you are possibility
You are plums stolen from the ice box
You are the forest, so lovely, dark and deep
You are the paragon of art
You, you talk like winter rain
You are like firm red grapes
like stretching
like that sunshine on winter mornings
but also like moonlight
in all its grace and purity and

love

you make me want to be a poet
if for reasons no more than wanting to impress you

They say that there is a place
on one's chest
that, when struck, stops the heart from beating

when we moved into the new home
after the divorce, things were
still rocky, we had just
“left” them in the dark
still don’t address them, not a phone call,
not even
now, not after even a *******
deathinthefamily
they are like the side of a house
that never gets light
the side of the house against a cliff
and we live in the sunny sea side
windows open
they are threadbare ghosts
like an old wedding gown
used only once
moths also eat holes in my grandmother’s brain and she forgets things
but perhaps maybe she will start to remember
the reasons she loved my mother instead of hated her.
they live in apartments above beauty salons
and in oaky gentrified railroad towns
but I am a **** but I think
it’s justified that we cut
them off like a sore, well
it’s obvious. Because they
didn’t treat my mother
well at all
And that is
unforgivable.

I spoke to a girl with questions.
Silky black hair up like a pine tree,
cappuccino skin studying me
perusing thoughts like vinyl sleeves.
Petite and slouched against the wall
I did not catch her name,
cozy aimless no-name.
New star, squinting glances,
eyes rolling around like owls.
My beard was brustling
like a wildfire up my cheeks.
Maple eyes, oaky eyes,
ebony eyes, rosewood eyes,
burning the dead wood within me.

Sat, June 27, 16
This morning as I sit on the steps in Memphis, TN, doing my morning thing. I realize that I am sitting enjoying a time of change.  It is a new day, a new moment, a new city, state, country, world because of change yesterday, there was a huge surge of energy, Love, Joy, happiness, amazement, positive, healing energy went off the chart and we all felt it, experience it. Yes even those who didn’t and wouldn’t accept it…they experienced it. For those who accepted it, it was a feeling that we have and continue search for…Freedom, Love, feeling the warm light of Gratitude.  Things they be changing for the better…for the Greater.
Yes, those who don’t accept change will try to build a wall or walls to block it, but they would also build a wall to block the change of toilet paper. The feeling of Freedom, Love, and Gratitude scares them. Some will hold out a hand and cry; “help me I’m scare.” Others will just fight…but change is here. Change is the mandate of time.  Open up to it, accept it, fighting change hurts and aren’t you tried hurting and trying to makes others hurt. Some will say; “NO!!!” and keep fighting.
But for the acceptors, receivers, the ones who look for the good, the ones who want to know…know how do we build for here and move forward. Time to step into Gratitude’s light and feel the warmth.
Me, I like this Loving, Positive, healing energy. I wake up everyday with it, looking for more. Friday, June 26, 2015 was a day of overwhelming feelings and sensations but I didn’t close down. I stepped on the ride, buckled up and said; “LET’S GO!!!” I Love the overwhelming feeling of Love that comes from around the world.
Open up to it – Love, Compassion, Forgiveness is Freedom. Don’t be afraid of these feelings of Freedom.  It is what we have been all searching for.  Stop judging, no labels…put holes in your walls and let the light in.  Open up and learn to live and work with this Freedom, you will be surprise at what you will find.
Let the Love, positive, healing energy take you on your ride. Let Freedom and Gratitude wash over you: You, We are not taking the steps forward alone…no never alone…
Namaste
The Divine in me, see and acknowledge The Divine in You…Always!!!!
Have a Grand day of Adventures and remember…BIG SMILES!!!


June 28th
Are you not bored with hurting and hurting others? I see your face when you’re talking and hear the words you are saying.  I also feel your pain at times. But I don’t see Truth, your Truth because if I did, I wouldn’t feel pain.
We are all Individual Expressions of the Divine; the Universe; the Greater energy. Yes, there is something bigger out there but there is also something Bigger inside…Stop blocking it!!!! You are a Divine Being!!! I am a Divine Being!!! Yes, we are different but we are so alike.  It is the differences in us, coming together, like a jigsaw puzzle that makes the Oneness…The Divine!  Look at and for the Good!  It is surrounded by all the stuff we pile on top of it.  Clear away the stuff. Let that Divine in you, see that Divine in me.
Forgiveness, Love, Compassion. I am not stopping you from being who you are…I am Like You – An Individual Expression of the Divine! I shine my light and let others shine their light. I don’t ask you to cover your light…why should I cover mine?

''''''
God, there I said it! God… The Higher Power, the Universe, The Divine – Whatever name you choose to use (a Rose my any other name, smell as sweet.) The Power I know accepts, not judge. If the last word you say is; Forgive me! Then it is done. And if you believe in the judge and you can if you want, why are you trying to take his job?
He sent a teacher, Jesus, that other name…from my understanding, taught Love, Forgiveness, compassion…did you miss those classes. You are not under attack from the outside. You are under attack from the inside.  If you are going to follow his teaching, then follow and stop trying to take the lead.  There is more than on way to the mountain top. Let each take his own path.  Stop standing at the bottom of the mountain yelling; “you’re going the wrong way!” Accept that, not everyone wants to walk with you or walk your way.  Accept and start your climb, on your path, your way and let others do the same.


7/8
Input-
We as Spiritual Beings having a human experience, receive so much input…it is hard to get through it all.  I do know that part of the process in developing a filter to help us see; what is needed now, what should be prepare for later and what’s not needed at all.  The biggest thing is what to let go off and when, why.  In the filtering process, figuring out what not to take so personal. Oh! We all take input personal. Now some of us don’t let it live with or in us but we all experience the sensations and that’s okay.  It when we live in it or bury it deep down, to bring it up at a later time that it becomes bad.
So many people give us input. Some with the intent to help. Some with the intent to hurt. Some with no intent at all, just want you to know their opinion. With all that’s coming at us, plus what we input to ourselves, it can get overwhelming especially with no filter or a weak filter.
I reached a point, where I hear it all. Some is discarded as soon as I hear it.  Some I store because it’s not needed and will soon be release back into the circle to come back around again, when needed. Some I use when making up my mind but it may not show.  It just didn’t compute for my best and highest…
To be con’t…

'''''''
The past is just a point of reference, not a way of Life. It’s oaky to visit, see the memories, use the sensations to refresh or make aware…but don’t make it a way of life.  You can’t change it but You can grow from it!


7/16
Starting each day…
Waking up to yes
Making choice to be happy
Moving from good moment to good moment, dealing with all the stuff in-between while continue to look at the good in everything.
Being aware and focus, living in the: Love and Gratitude’s light.
Looking for the lessons, passing on what I’ve learned. Putting it all in my hard drive for future use.
Surrendering, releasing, letting go and opening up to the highest.
Trusting “ME!”
Faith and Belief
Enjoying, laughing, smile and celebrating Life…
Everyday

''''''
When I fee a lack of trust, I look within myself. Trust to me is an inside things. Trusting that I’ve made the right choices for me. For when I stand in Trust of myself, I have faith and belief in my Being. I have trust I the people, things and situation I have chosen to added/place into my Life.
Today I stand with joy and Love knowing I have support and Love. I know, feel and celebrate the support and Love I have for myself. I am open and ready to continue creating Greatness.


7/19
Are you listening to understand or listening to reply, with excuse and being defensive? But if you listen to understand, you’ll see there is now need for excuse or to be defensive for being who you are…unless you are not sure of that yet.
…just a question


7/20
Please, stop saying; “I’m sorry…” for doing what you wanted to do. If you said you are going to do something, but from something you felt was more important and higher up on your list…just say, I can’t. Don’t ignore…you don’t have to say what you’re doing…just something came up. But you wait time the next day with a, “Sorry” and a story…just no more sorry, maybes or whatever. Yes or no is find.
Never be sorry for what you want to do but be respectful for what you said you were going or maybe do. The story has a better ending that way.


''''''
Greatness comes in all flavors just enjoy it with no limits
HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND!!!

Another day flies by
Another friend must die
Fear I bleed
As I saw figures from all corners
Sad and afraid so unvulnerable
Their lifeless limbs and bodies fall
I witness my friends lie at rest
Waiting for someone to comfort me
Screams and shivers down my oaky spine
Another day flies by
Another friend must die

I like a tasty gin and tonic,
Margarita, or daiquiri.
Whiskey, bourbon, scotch, or *****
Really don't do much for me.

But wine--ah!--a good glass of wine
Sits at the top of my preference list,
And when I'm in a social mood,
A glass of wine is hard to resist.

The words "social mood" are key,
For when I drink wine, I say with no shame
That if it isn't shared with somebody
Else, it doesn’t taste the same.

Yes, the shared experience
Is what gives wine its special flavor.
Every glass is a new adventure,
And every sip is something to savor.

Whether it's creamy, flamboyant, bold,
Fruity, bright, complex or not,
Fleshy, oaky, toasty, velvety,
Crisp, or buttery, wine hits the spot.

So any time you have a bottle
To share on any day of the week,
Bring it over. I've got the glasses.
Oh-la-la! C'est magnifique!

-by Bob B (1-16-22)

The apples are handsome and Pre-Cambrian with their foliage draping the canopy
with apple breath and shadow. An Orchard of Arias, hours from a glass of hard cider.
Cinder mittens on it’s oaky nose; as Autumn recalibrates the haste of fire…
The house slides into a sunset on a cinnamon bun.

I lean back in my chair and write this.



II


There was a God in my Breakfast. Gnawing at my Animus.
Spooking mirrors with my own face. And kissing my feet.

I knew it time for muffins, with Blueberries In
and a glass of cold milk from a Sacred Cow.

I slept through the Preamble of my Eminence
too enthrall of Another, and the Songs that kept track of it.

comet locked to inexplicable Love
feasting on the marrow of Sunshine
and Fuji.